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nadvs · 9 months ago

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watch and learn (part eight)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

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The Sunday morning sky is cloudy, offering hardly any sunlight to shine into your dorm room. Considering the tangled, dreary way you woke up feeling, it’s fitting.

Liv comes over with smoothies from an on-campus juice bar.

“They call this one Hangover Cure,” she says as she hands you a tall, plastic cup. “So I got us both the biggest size.”

You smile and thank her, feeling like you have more of an emotional hangover than a physical one. You sit up in your bed as she sits in your desk chair, swirling the straw in her drink.

“So, what happened last night?” she asks.

You shrug and look down. You’re not sure you should hook up with Rafe anymore. You don’t understand how he can call you perfect and beautiful and baby during sex, but when you’re clothed, he acts casual. At best. At worst, he’s just a jerk.

You did share a tender moment last night at the party, but it lasted mere seconds before he turned the conversation sexual again.

“What always happens. We hooked up and I went home.” You take a beat. “You actually think he likes me?” Your voice is thin as you recall Liv’s text from last night.

“The jealousy on his face when I told him you were with Blake… was something else,” she tells you. “And the way he left with you?”

She gives you a knowing look and takes a sip of her drink.

“Do you like him?” she asks. Liv’s already heard all about your arrangement with Rafe, but whenever she hinted that it could be more, you laughed it off. You don’t laugh this time.

“I’d be an idiot to like a guy who tells me from the get-go that would never tie himself down with a girlfriend,” you say. “The jealousy was because he might lose his favorite booty call.”

“If you say so,” she says. You force yourself not to feel any hope from her words.

You think about the way Rafe looked when you asked him about his family last night. It was a small glimpse into a side you hardly ever see.

He does have a heart underneath all the attitude and temper and ego. And it’s clearly damaged. But you’re not going to make a fool of yourself hoping he shows it to you again, let alone opens it up.

“Anyways, look what Blake texted me,” you say. When you hand Liv your phone and she reads the message, she puts her hand over her mouth in shock.

“This is so cute,” she coos. “A man who directly tells you he likes you? That exists?”

“Apparently,” you say. “I think I’m gonna say yes.”

“You should,” Liv replies. “But, and don’t kill me for asking, would you say yes to Rafe if he texted you this?”

“He wouldn’t,” you say confidently, taking back your phone. “Okay, stop holding out on me. You made out with Sam? How did that happen?”

Your friend tells you about the rest of her night and you’re appreciative of the break from your own thoughts.

About half an hour later, Rafe is coming back from the gym when he hears your laugh coming from your room. He can’t pass up the opportunity to pound on your door.

“Too loud!” he calls, passing by. Liv gets startled and you laugh again, recognizing his voice right away.

“Asshole,” you quietly mutter. Liv looks at you for a moment, no doubt noticing the smile on your face.

After she leaves, you look at Blake’s text again.

Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

While you haven’t always necessarily felt an overwhelmingly strong pull to Blake, you definitely have a crush. You wanted him to kiss you last night. Maybe you could make each other happy.

You reply: you don’t have to be nervous :) a real date sounds nice.

When Blake responds, you plan to go out to dinner together on Wednesday night.

On Tuesday, one of your floormates knocks on your door to tell you she’s having a party in the common room that night. Since alcohol isn’t allowed in the building’s public areas, she lets you know the booze will be hidden to give the impression that it’s a dry party.

You decide to take the invitation. It’s nearing 9 pm when you enter the large room, its walls already packed with a crowd of students you’ve seen around the building.

Music is playing under the overlapping conversations and bottles of juice and soda are scattered around the room. You’re sure they’re all made to look innocent but are spiked with booze.

You dive into conversation with a girl who lives a floor above you when you pick up a solo cup and fill it with juice, barely glancing at the table as the overwhelming aroma of vodka hits you.

Rafe will never turn down an invitation to a party. When he comes through the door, he sees you standing by one of the couches and chatting with someone. Like always, you look pretty as hell.

He looks to one of the tables in the room to see stacks of different colored solo cups behind pieces of paper, words scribbled in marker. It must be some sort of party game.

The pink cups are behind a note that says Taken; the purple, Down to Smash, blue, Single; green, It’s Complicated.

He glances at you again to see you holding a purple cup. Down to smash?

You’ve been chatting for a while now, your cup empty and your head already sort of buzzing from how much vodka was in the bitter juice. You look up from your conversation to see Rafe gazing at you from across the room.

You hate how he can be so relaxed, in a simple t-shirt and jeans and messy hair, and still look so good.

He has a ridiculous effect on you. You accept this as a fact when you realize you’re overjoyed to see him. He’s captivating without even trying.

It’s the type of happiness you feel when you see a good friend, you tell yourself.

Your heart skips a beat when he crosses the space, closing the distance between you. You tell the girl it was nice talking to her before Rafe inevitably interrupts you.

He approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Interesting choice,” Rafe says.

“What?”

“That,” he mumbles, pointing to your cup.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh.

Rafe silently nods his head towards the desk by the door. You glance over to see writing in front of each stack of cups.

“Oh,” you say, brushing past him to look down at the spread. “I didn’t know the colors meant anything.”

You can still taste the juice you drank. The vodka was good, but the juice wasn’t.

“Yuck, I hate this flavor,” you say. Rafe looks over at the bottle you must have poured from.

You study the cups, and if you’re really honest, the green cup is the most fitting. It’s Complicated. Because you’re not looking to casually hook up with anyone else, yet you’re not devoted to someone. Single makes you look like you’re hoping to be in a relationship, when you already sort of like two guys at once.

“What’s complicated?” Rafe asks when you pick it up. He wonders if it’s because of Blake.

You give him that look he’s so used to by now, that look that somehow irritates him and turns him on at the same time. At least you didn’t pick up the Taken cup. He can still touch you if you let him.

For a moment, he imagines a world where he isn’t in a frat. Where you two meet like this, at a dorm party, and he doesn’t have to watch you get slowly taken away by a guy he introduced you to.

“I can’t explain it. That’s what makes it complicated,” you flirt with a smug smile. You decide to put the cup back, still holding on to the empty purple one, figuring you’re tipsy enough for a school night.

“Why not?” he asks, muttering his words angrily.

“Is being mad, like your default state?” you ask with a small smile. “Or are you just jealous?”

“What the hell would I be jealous of?” Rafe’s eyes dart away.

“Blake,” you reply bluntly. His blue eyes meet yours.

Does he not know how transparent he is? He was pissed when he learned you were with Blake last night. He basically yanked you out of the party.

“You know you could easily find another girl to fuck around with, right?” you say. “I know of two, at least.”

You think back to the girl he had moaning in his room and the girl he made out with at the mixer party.

“I wanna fuck around with you,” he says. You let out a disillusioned chuckle.

“Charming,” you mutter. The response tells you everything you need to know. He’s mad because he’s losing a fuck buddy.

“Are you with him or not?” Rafe asks sternly.

The conversation has ignited an alluring tension between you. You were considering stopping the hook-ups. But you melt under his gaze, head swimming, core heating.

You’re nobody’s girlfriend. Why not have great sex with a friend while you’re available?

“I’m not,” you say, looking down at your purple cup. “I guess this was the right choice for tonight.”

Despite the irritation and jealousy gnawing at Rafe, he happily surrenders to the rush of excitement prickling his skin.

“Why aren’t we fucking then?” he asks.

“We?” you tease, pulling at the string making him jealous just a little more. “I was thinking I should find someone else and put all my practice to the test.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a lazy smile, taking the empty cup from you and placing it on the table, replacing it with his hand.

It’s almost funny, considering he was so against holding your hand the night on the boat, but now does it in front of a crowd of people.

His grip is tight as you leave the room together. Pulling you out of parties to get naked with you is becoming a new habit of his.

You’re glad he doesn’t suggest going to your room. It’s easier to leave him after the sex than to be left.

With that thought, a moment of self-restraint hits you when his door slams behind you and his lips are on yours, hands cupping your face.

“Turn on some music,” you pull back to tell him. “Loud.” Hopefully it’ll keep him from talking. His tender words are too much if you want to protect your heart.

He flips on a playlist on his speakers. Of course he has one at the ready. You bet he has turned it on for lots of other girls.

The first few notes play. You love this song. You knew what kind of party music he liked, but who knew you’d have the same taste in slow songs as Rafe does?

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, his tongue swirling gently, his body curving into yours as you stand in the middle of his room, the gentle music filling your ears.

You both have your own pace, so in tune with each other now. He knows where to touch you and when, stripping layers off you between heated, deep kisses.

Once you’re in your bra and panties, you realize this might have to be the last time. Because his lips and hands feel damn near perfect as they roam over you. Because now you can only hope you find another man who can touch you and push you out of your comfort zone like this.

You urgently pull his shirt off and shift to sit on the edge of his desk, pulling him in, cupping his firm shoulders. Rafe smiles, amused by you taking control. You really aren’t shy anymore.

“You want me to fuck you on my desk?” he mumbles against your ear over the music. He spoke, but as long as it isn’t misleadingly romantic, you’re okay with it.

He unhooks your bra, squeezing your chest tenderly.

This is just sex. And with the confusion and uneasiness you’ve been feeling, you desperately want to get lost in the pleasure you know he can give you.

“Be rough with me,” you urge. Rafe’s stunned by your words, feeling himself throb with need.

“Look at you telling me what you want,” he praises in your ear, unbuttoning his jeans.

Once his pants and boxers are off, his hands grip your knees, aggressively pulling your legs apart. He presses over the dampness in your panties with his fingers, watching you through hooded eyes as your breath hitches.

“You wet for me?” Rafe mumbles. The moistness between your legs is palpable without you even needing to touch yourself.

“Might’ve made a mess,” you answer, looking down as he stimulates your clit, brushing over your moistened panties. Your words are so hot to him that he almost feels dizzy.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, pulling them down your legs.

He pushes your knees apart again, even rougher this time, massaging your bare pussy, coating his fingers in your arousal.

You’re so wet, so sticky, that his cock is aching at this point. He’s so glad you want it rough tonight.

Rafe finds the small of your back, nudging you forward so you’ll tilt your hips up how he wants you to. He takes a condom out of his drawer and you grab it out of his hand, ripping open the wrapper and holding his cock as you roll it down.

It’s intoxicating to him, seeing how bad you’re craving him. How’d he get so fucking lucky to be wanted like this?

Once he can guide his tip into you, he shifts to hold your hips down and look you in the eyes as he jerks into you hard.

The sudden jolt causes you to hit the back of your head on edge of his top shelf and while you giggle, his brows furrow in concern. He brings his hand up, resting it where you hit your head, thrusting into you again and letting the shelf dig into his skin instead.

The gesture is tender but then again, almost everything Rafe does during sex is tender. Why can’t he be like this all the time?

His other hand cups your cheek, pulling back and pushing into you hard again. Your breath hitches at the pressure of him curving up into you like this in the new position.

His thrusts start quickening, the desk rattling against the wall, the music throbbing within the walls of his room. Your pulse is skyrocketing as you take in his aggressive pressure.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, lost in the pleasure, eyes rolling. He gently tugs at the roots of your hair, coaxing you to tilt your head back and look at him with your eyelids half-closed and lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he whispers. “Like you were made for me.”

This is the shit that brings your heart into something that is only supposed to be about your body.

You press your fingers against his mouth to shut him up, but he takes the opportunity to shift and kiss your palm as he pushes into you.

“Don’t say that stuff,” you mumble.

“What?” he whispers with a mocking chuckle. “Thought I taught you to take compliments.”

“Just don’t,” you urge, leaning in to meet his lips again. Rafe kisses you hard but pulls back, forehead pressed up against yours.

“You still don’t think you’re perfect?” he rasps.

“It’s… it’s not that,” you say. Fuck. He’s just making it worse.

“I thought talking was good,” he says, almost in a whine.

“Just stop,” you tell him, kissing him again.

Rafe hates being told not to speak when all he wants to do is tell you how good you feel, but he gives into the confusing request when he hears the desperation in your tone.

Hell, he’d stop talking for days if it meant he could have you like this.

He deepens the kiss, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth. You groan at the sweet pain, shifting to wrap your arms around his body.

This position isn’t enough. You want him to be able to thrust into you as deep as possible.

“On the bed,” you say urgently. He hates pulling out of you but follows your instructions, watching you drop your feet to the floor.

When you sink onto the bed, your ass in the air, your pussy glistening, his stomach rolls with excitement. He settles behind you, propped on his left knee and his right foot, guiding into you again, watching his cock disappear as you swallow him.

You arch your back and groan, your pulse hard in your ears as he goes balls deep into you. He starts to go so hard that you feel like he’s splitting you open with every frantic thrust, your fingers bunching into his pillow.

The music is too loud. He wants to hear your pretty moans. He shifts off of the bed and you look back in confusion, watching as he shuts off the music and comes back, burying into you again.

“I wanna hear you,” he says. You rest your forehead onto the bed, pushing back onto him as he slams into you. Admittedly, you want to hear him, too.

Your breaths are shallow with his fast pace, sweat coating your skin. His stomach is starting to ache from how hard he’s working his muscles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Cum with me.”

You shudder as you find your swollen clit, rubbing just the way you like while he pounds in and out of you. Rafe loves the way his hands look gripping your hips, your ass recoiling with every move.

“You take it so good,” he says, voice ragged. “This pussy is mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You hate that his possessive words sound so nice to you. A deep pleasure starts to roll through you, your orgasm slowly reaching you. He can tell with the way you’re tensing that you’re close and he goes even harder, your skin slapping.

You moan and shudder through your peak, clenching around him. Rafe’s groan is deep as he feels his cock swell and tighten, releasing and spasming with hard jerks.

His chest is heaving as he pulls out, watching you limp to your side, your face soft and satisfied.

Rafe doesn’t bother to stand and clean up yet. He’ll worry about it later. He gives into the impulse to lie down behind you, his body curving against yours, arm wrapping over your chest.

Your eyelids are heavy as you come down from the high, thinking about the things he said.

“Turns out you need more pointers,” you say between heavy breaths. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a girl when you don’t mean it.”

“Like what?” he says into your ear.

“You know what,” you say. “I’m not yours.”

Rafe knows he fucked up by saying that. That’s the kind of shit a boyfriend would say. And he so clearly isn’t the boyfriend type and you so clearly see him as just a friend.

“Why are you so mad, huh?” he says, trying to dismiss the tension. “You’re acting like me in… what’d you call it… my default state?”

You laugh despite yourself. He feels an overwhelming sense of pride from making you smile when you’re clearly upset.

You try to sit up, but his arm is locked around you. His breath is warm and comforting on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t understand where you’re rushing off to. You told him aftercare was important. And for fuck’s sake, now he actually wants you to say and let him hold you for a little while.

You don’t like this. You two are getting dangerously close to cuddling. It’s like he’s trying to make you catch feelings for him. Just because he can separate affection from emotion, doesn’t mean you can.

“Hate to make you sad but I gotta go,” you quip. He exhales mockingly.

“I don’t get sad,” he says bitterly. This makes you still.

With those simple words, Rafe has said so much. You knew he was emotionally unavailable, but the clear disgust he has with the possibility of feeling sad is telling.

“Everyone gets sad,” you say. You think back to his father’s cruel scolding. “And if anyone makes you feel like you’re wrong for being sad, they’ve got their own issues.”

Rafe can’t wrap his head around this. He’s been told to man up all his life.

“Did you fall asleep?” you ask with a chuckle after he doesn’t reply.

“No,” he says quietly. “You honestly believe that?”

“What?”

He’s silent again.

“That it’s okay to be sad, you mean?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” you say. “What, you don’t?”

“It’s weak.”

You stare ahead at the wall opposite his bed, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can feel his heartbeat against your back. It’s gotten faster.

“Do you really think that? Or did someone make you think it?” you ask.

Rafe has never been challenged like this before. Whenever his father berated him for simply getting close to crying, he was told to grow a backbone. To stop his whining. His whole life.

“I really think that,” he finally says. If sadness wasn’t weakness, why did it always make him feel like he was breaking from the inside?

His coldness makes so much more sense to you now. It seems Rafe doesn’t allow himself to feel anything but anger.

“It’s a good thing you’re not the relationship type,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Some advice, though? If you ever find a girl you want to be serious with, don’t make her feel shitty for being sad. It’s not weak to have feelings.”

Rafe wants to know if you said he’s not relationship material because he told you himself or if you really think it.

Then he scowls to himself. Why the fuck does he care?

“You’re just full of advice tonight,” he says with a smirk, his hand running over your ass.

“That’s why we started this, isn’t it?” you reply, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Speaking of, consider therapy.”

Rafe playfully and gently slaps your ass and you giggle, squirming out of his grip. When you try to get up again, this time, he lets you.

His eyes take you in as you pull your clothes back on, his head propped up on his hand, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. You look at him, noticing how flushed he is from how hard he went.

Normally, being watched like this would make you nervous, but you’re fine with his eyes on you. You actually like it. You’re not sure if it’s because of Rafe or if you’d feel this way with any guy now.

Rafe watches you as you get dressed, getting deep in your thoughts like you do sometimes. How are you so damn cute?

You’re reconsidering your idea of if this should be the last time having sex with him. It feels too good. You’re still buzzing. While you’re single, why can’t you casually hook up with him?

“Fuck, you’re fun,” Rafe says, his bright smile and deep dimples melting your heart.

Okay. This is why you can’t. You started this because you basically hated him when you decided on it. Now, you can’t imagine hating the sweet, complicated man lying in bed watching you.

Maybe this was the last time.

“I know,” you respond with a smile, copying his cockiness. You finish dressing yourself and rush out to take a shower, wishing the water could wash away the complicated feelings bothering you.

The next night, an hour before Blake said he’d pick you up, you’re getting ready, music playing loudly from your computer.

Rafe is trying to make sense of a syllabus as your music floats into his room. He thinks of last night and immediately wonders if you’re hosting someone. And having sex with them.

As you try on your third outfit, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: loud af… do i need to tell on you

You smirk.

You: dude it’s not even quiet hours

You calling him dude reminds him of the way you called Blake babe the other night. He forces away the memory.

Rafe: partying by yourself?

You: yup getting ready for a date

Rafe looks up from his screen, disappointment wrapping around him like a heavy blanket he can’t shake off.

His stomach sinks hard. Harder than it did the other night at the ABC party when he heard you were upstairs with Blake.

You’re slipping away from him. Anger pools in his stomach but he tries to act casual, teasing you like he always does.

Rafe: who tf would date you lol

You roll your eyes at the text.

You: people with taste… jerk

Rafe: just kidding

You: hate u

Blake pulls up in front of the dorm building ten minutes late, apologizing profusely for his timing. You laugh and forgive him, sliding into his car to see he got you a bouquet of flowers.

He takes you to a restaurant off-campus, pulling out your chair. You sit across from him, taking in the way he’s sitting up straight.

“You look cute,” he says.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too,” you say. “Compared to the plastic bags you were in the last time I saw you.”

Blake’s smile is big, his laugh gentle.

“You have fun at the party?” he asks.

“I did.” And after it in Rafe’s dorm.

“Cool,” he replies. You nod, looking down at the menu. The way conversation between you moves reminds you of your study date. It’s not painfully awkward, but it’s not seamless.

You figure it’s nerves.

When your food arrives, Blake takes a picture of the table. Once you start eating, your discussion starts to flow a little easier, making jokes and pulling from topics you’ve discussed over the phone since you started texting.

Blake’s a gentleman, parking to walk you up to your door after he drives you home. His hand ghosts over your shoulder as you walk through the hallway, his touch warm.

When you stop in front of your door, Rafe can hear you talking. He saw Blake’s Instagram story. It was just a photo of food at a restaurant, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he was with you. The date you had was with him.

“You really liked the food?” Blake asks you for the third time. You chuckle at his nervousness.

“You picked well,” you reassure. “And thanks for the flowers.”

How original, Rafe thinks. He got you flowers.

A group of fellow residents pass by laughing. If Blake tries to kiss you, you probably won’t like it in such a public space.

“That was fun,” you say, stepping back a little, hoping he gets the hint that this isn’t the place to make a move.

“It was. Oh, we’re going to the beach on Saturday,” Blake tells you. “Not everyone, just a few of us. Bring Liv. Between you and me, Sam likes her.”

“Yeah?” you say with a laugh. “Sure. That sounds fun. I’ll invite her, too.”

“Great,” he replies, nodding.

“Good night,” you say. Blake gives you a tight grin and echoes the sentiment, stepping back to give you the space to open your door.

Rafe finds a text Sam sent him a few hours ago.

Sam: you alive?

Rafe hasn’t been to the frat house since the party last Saturday night. To be honest, he’s not sure how he can handle being around Blake. He can’t exactly lose his temper on his brother. His future at the frat will be shot.

But he wants to be at the beach if you’ll be there.

Rafe: yes lol whats the move this weekend

Thankfully, Sam mentions the beach plan Rafe overheard about. Maybe he loves to torture himself. Or maybe he just wants to take every opportunity to see you.

You pull up to the beach in Liv’s car on Saturday. The boys picked a good day to swim. It feels like a heat wave.

When you find the group of six guys, you’re happy to see that Rafe is one of them. He’s in his swim shorts, his baseball hat on backwards like usual.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say when he notices you. “Gross.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a smirk, flipping you off. He takes in how good you look in your dress, eager to see the bikini underneath. “Why the hell did you come? Brothers only.”

“Am I not basically one of you now?” you say, leaning over to greet Blake with a side-hug. Rafe’s smile disappears and he looks away.

Blake hands you a bottle of flavored seltzer and you look down at it, cocking your head, trying to figure out how to kindly turn it down. It’s the same flavor of spiked juice you drank last night.

“She doesn’t like that flavor,” Rafe mutters.

Blake meets his gaze, pulling the drink back towards his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. Funny enough, you actually mentioned not liking it on your date when you were swapping hangover stories. He looks at you. “I knew that. Sorry.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “What else you got?”

Blake leads you to the large cooler in the sand and you steal a glance at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched tight.

As the afternoon goes on, you realize Blake is less nervous talking to you when other people are around.

The eight of you play a game of beach volleyball. Rafe considers Blake lucky that he’s on the same team as him. He’d whip the ball at him every chance he got if he were on the other side of the net.

At one point, Sam serves it so hard that you have to duck onto the sand, the ball bouncing off your arm, leaving a stinging feeling.

“You trying to kill her?” Liv scolds her teammate. You feel a hand cupping your forearm.

“You good?” You look up to see Rafe leaning over you, his voice deep.

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe is pissed off beyond belief that Blake is just standing there like an idiot, watching you instead of making sure you’re okay.

“You alright?” Blake asks from his place on the court in front of you.

“Yellow card worthy,” you joke, getting up on your feet.

When the game wraps up after you all decided to stop keeping score ages ago, Blake approaches you, looking down at you with a shy smile.

“You wanna swim?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say.

The water is so cold that it feels sharp, leaving you and Blake to laugh together with every step into the sea.

Rafe is sitting in the sand with his buddies, watching Blake’s hand find yours. The view makes his stomach turn.

It seems natural between you two, the way you touch, the way you splash each other and laugh together.

He gets the same feeling he did the night of the mixer party, when he felt like his anxiety over losing you wasn’t just because he was losing great, casual sex. It’s not only that. It’s more. And that fact makes him uncomfortable.

But that shit just doesn’t come naturally to Rafe. Affection is like a foreign language to him. He’s not into the boyfriend stuff solely because he doesn’t want to do it. It’s also because he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

Buying flowers, planning dates… he’d feel totally lost. He can’t compete with Blake. Like Rafe always says, doing something serious like dating in college is a waste of time. Maybe he believes that because he didn’t think he’d meet someone like you. And because he doesn’t want to fail at it.

You and Blake stop when you figure you’re deep enough in the water, the sand soft beneath you, the sun shining down.

“I keep messing up today,” he says.

“What?” He looks down, shaking his head, lips twisting adorably. These cute, little moments remind you of why you have a crush on him.

“Can I kiss you?” Blake asks.

You smirk, relieved that you can finally do this and feel if your physical chemistry is there like you think it is.

When Rafe sees two figures join in the distance, his heart drops.

(part nine)

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pboogerswbb · 1 month ago

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TOO LOST IN YOU - part VI

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: toxic!p, language, SMUT!

Wordcount: 7.3k (oops)

A/N: PALERIE IS BACK - i know you guys have been waiting to find out what happens after part 5, well guess what - you're gonna have to wait till part 7 :) i wanted to have you on the edge of your seats a lil longer, so this part will be a flashback to how paige and valerie met and how all that unfolded! don't hate me too much lmao. anyway again, you guys have shown so much love and appreciation and i'm so incredibly grateful!! ily all please enjoy and send me live reactions and feedback!!! i'm begging (@paigesbabygirl your wait is over)

September 2024

“Valerie, can you bring more tall glasses we’re about to run out!”

“Uh ok,” I yell over the crowd, wiping the sweat and the hairs sticking to my forehead with the back of my hand as I hurry to the back. Dread takes over me when the rack is empty, not a single glass in sight. We never should’ve hired that freshman Johnny to clean tables. I groan running back to the front, the bar lining up with rows of customers for what felt like hours now. It felt like all of Storrs had made their way to Ted’s tonight.

I was warned about the last weekend before classes start, that all the students pack into Ted’s and get shitfaced. Somehow it was still just me, Natalie and Thomas working - and this new guy called Johnny who I had a feeling was about to be fired. How were we out of glasses?

“No glasses, use pints!” I shout, the chatter of the students overwhelmingly loud.

“What?” Natalie yells and I just point to the pints towering next to her, knowing it was no use to talk in all this noise.

Natalie looks at me, her wide eyes showing slight panic, her hands mixing drinks expertly. She evidently had some years on me when it came to bartending. “Where the fuck is Johnny?”

“Not doing his job I guess,” I groan, carrying a rack of pints over to the bar. “I’ll go clean tables then, get us some more glasses.”

The red haired girl waves me off as I rush into the crowd, squeezing through and grabbing every empty glass in sight, adding them one by one to the tower I was balancing against my side, bringing them to the back to be washed. Once I return into the crowd of swarming students, I’m crushed between two groups of guys, elbowing their sides to make my way through. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back, the air felt heavy and humid, early September still as hot as July had been.

“Ah fuck!”

Suddenly I feel a splash of something seep into my tank top, the white thin fabric turning red and seethrough.

“What the fuck!” I yell looking down, the shirt sticking to my skin as more people pushed into my back, nearly making me stumble.

“Shit bro I’m so sorry,” A hoarse voice mumbles and I lift my eyes upwards to the tall blonde girl standing in front of me, a sheepish smile on her face as she scratches the back of her neck. “Someone pushed me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap, too overwhelmed and overworked to deal with this right now. Someone behind me trips, forcing me to stumble forward, the girl catching me and steadying me. “Whoa there,” she says.

“You good?” The blonde asks and I roll my eyes, what a stupid question to ask.

“You just spilled a drink on me, what do you think?”

“I’m so sorry, deadass. Lemme buy you a drink please.”

“I work here, I’m working.”

“Oh, shit.”

I look down at my top, completely ruined and unwearable - if not for the red stain then for the fact that the fabric had turned completely transparent, my lavender bra completely visible.

The blonde girl in front of me blushes, eyeing the way my nipples poked through the drenched top now. Noticing me watching her, she quickly looks up to the low ceiling of the bar, pretending she wasn’t ogling over my chest.

“You can totally see through it right?” I ask frustrated and the blonde only nods, clearly trying not to grin which only annoys me more.

“I’m so sorry, hold up.”

She seems apologetic as she covers my front from the view of other people, big hands confidently guiding me into the much quieter hallway where only a few people were lining up for the bathrooms. It’s only then I look up and really study the face of the tall girl in front of me, quickly realising who it was that spilled her Shirley all over my white top.

Paige Bueckers is only hotter in person, her jaw that much more refined, long neck and broad shoulders and the way she towered over you making her seem bigger than she was. Her blue eyes are flickering everywhere but my chest as she drags me into the desolate end of the hallway. I’m sure I would’ve felt starstruck if the situation had been different, but the stress from work and the fabric smelling like grenadine and sticking to my body was only irritating me further, the blonde in front of me to blame.

Suddenly Paige starts pulling the back of her white hoodie to undress, the white t-shirt underneath rising enough to reveal the tan skin on her abdomen, her shorts low waisted enough to show the tiniest bit of a tan line.

“What are you doing?” I ask confused as Paige pulls the hoodie over her head, fixing the shirt underneath it, silver chains dangling from her neck.

She hands the white hoodie at me, her blue eyes studying me. “What’s it look like, take it.”

I glance at the hoodie scrunched in her hands, being offered to me. The back of the hoodie is decorated with a large number 5, Paige’s last name written in big bold letters above it.

Publicly Paige might have been loved, considered kind and grounded, but on campus people knew more. Sure, the girl was adored. But it hadn’t taken longer than staying at Storrs for a few days for the rumours to reach me, about her endless roster of girls who she never let sleep over, who she seduced into bed and then never called or texted. It had become a joke amongst the students that everyone knew - when you saw a girl wearing a shirt with Paige’s name on it, she was either fucked by her or wanted others to think so.

I shake my head at the hoodie, not wanting to be marked as one of them. I didn’t wanna be part of some sick fantasy Paige had about claiming girls.

“Nah I ain’t wearing that,” I chuckle bitterly, pushing the hoodie back, a jolt going through my body when my fingertips brush hers.

Confused, Paige’s brows furrow as she grabs the hoodie back. “Please, I really don’t mind. I feel really bad, just take it. You don’t even have to give it back.”

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not playing into some weird little fantasy and wearing a hoodie with your name and number on it.” Paige is quickly taken aback, brows only furrowing further.

“You.. I… Huh?!” She asks bewildered.

“Please, everyone knows what those hoodies and shirts mean.”

“I got no clue what you’re talking about,” Paige chuckles, finding amusement in my defiance. “But I know you ain’t gonna work in that top for the rest of the night.”

She’s right. Why do I hate that she’s right? Thankfully the solution is right under my nose.

“I’ll take the t-shirt,” I say, my tone assertive. With a snort Paige’s brows rise as high as they can - I can’t tell whether she’s amused or shocked at my audacity. Perhaps a little bit of both.

With a chuckle she holds the hoodie over her forearm, piercing blue eyes landing on me. “Yo I don’t remember offering it.” There’s a spark in her eye, something that makes me bolder and certain that she’s enjoying this. So I play along.

“You don’t have to, I know you’ll give it to me.”

We stare at each other, both of us waiting for each other to fold. Finally Paige opens the bathroom door next to her, nodding her head for me to get in. She follows behind me, closing the door and locking us into the tight space. My back presses against the wall as she turns to me - I'll never forget the look she had on her face, the way her eyelids grow heavy and head tilts the tiniest bit upwards, making her neck that much longer. It’s in that moment, in the bright, fluorescent lights of the bathroom that I realise how blue her eyes are, how intense her gaze was.

An involuntary blush grows on my cheeks, for a moment forgetting why we were here in the first place. Paige had seemed to forget as well, her tongue darting over her lips to wet them, the tight and enclosed space forcing us both to notice a tension. I clear my throat, my eyes snapping to the ground.

“Sooo the shirt?”

“Oh right,” Paige murmurs, finally breaking the intense stare.

I watch the way her hand grabs the back of her shirt, pulling it over her head. I feel something stir in my stomach when I notice the rings decorating her long fingers, the muscles in her shoulders flexing as her arms lifted. She’s wearing a grey sports bra underneath, and I’m surprised by how broad she looks shirtless like this, how refined but somehow soft her stomach looked.

When I realise that I’m staring it’s already too late, Paige is grinning down at me and momentarily it makes my legs feel weak. Okay, I see what the fuss is about now.

“You good?” Paige smirks handing me her shirt and my eyes quickly flicker to the ceiling, back turning to her as I start pulling the damp top over my head. I can feel the blue eyes drilling into my skin, making me feel hot all over. Quickly I put on the white tee over my head, a whiff of deodorant and cologne making my head spin as I fix the much too large shirt. I tuck part of it into my bra, turning around and seeing the blonde pulling her hoodie back on, feeling a pang of disappointment when she hides the broad shoulders and the abs I had taken a liking to.

“Oh I’m Paige by the way,” she murmurs, pulling her head through the hoodie, hands sleeking her long hair back.

I snort, raising my brows. “Very humble of you to assume I don’t know who you are.”

Sheepishly the blonde scratches the back of her head, shrugging. “Nah, I knew,” she smiles. “I just wanted to find out your name ma.”

The nickname brings an immediate heat to my core but I do my best to keep my cool. I doubt the blonde needed any ego boosts from me.

Trying to remain chill, I casually chuckle. “I’m Valerie.”

“Valerie,” Paige repeats. I never loved my name but hearing her say it was making me seriously reconsider. “I’ve seen you around campus, you know.”

“Oh?”

Valerie. The name feels smooth slipping from my lips, I wanted to say it again and again. It hadn’t been my intention to spill my Shirley all over her, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t happy about the situation it had got me in.

I must admit I had seen the brunette before, in fact I remember the very first time I saw her. It was her voice that drew me in, impossible to miss as I was walking back to the dorms with KK, Ice and Azzi.

“HOW did you not know you need to add water to boil pasta?? What did you think boiling is?!”

There was something about the lilt in her voice, the way it echoed around campus, and the pure astonishment in her voice that got me to laugh before I had ever even met, yet alone seen her. I couldn’t help but turn my head, only to find that the owner of that beautiful voice was fittingly the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

It was her hair that caught my eye first, it wasn’t just brown but the tones of gold made it sparkle in the late August sun, her golden jewellery only adding to the twinkle. Her eyes were big, getting even wider the more shocked her voice got on the phone. The gloss on her lips and the way her shirt showed just a little bit of cleavage caused very inappropriate thoughts one should not be having about a person they didn’t know at all.

Her legs were shorter yet somehow she took such hurried steps she passed me and the girls without a single look in my direction despite my obvious ogling. It was that moment I knew I had to have her.

So it must have been God’s plan all along for me to spill that Shirley all over her shirt. Because now I had her in a bathroom, pulling her shirt off, unable to look away from her lacy lavender bralette, trying to get the way her nipples peeked through her soaked top out of my head. To my pleasant surprise, I catch her dark eyes leering at me before I pull the hoodie back on.

“You could’ve just come talk to me, there was no need to spill that drink on me,” Valerie chuckles, the annoyance in her tone making a heat pool between my legs. I should probably bring that up with a therapist.

Lifting my hands up in defiance I scoff. “Ma I swear it was an accident.”

“Sure.”

As she looks up at me I suddenly felt a desperate need for her approval, for her praise. Usually girls were quick to fold once I turned the rizz on. Valerie didn’t seem even a little bit affected - somehow it irked me and turned me on more simultaneously. For a moment I consider just pulling out the old trusty rizz hands but before I can process Valerie’s hand is on the door handle, stepping past me into the hallway, a whiff of coconut making my heart beat faster. I was usually smoother than this.

“Well thanks for the shirt Paige Bueckers,” Valerie smiles and walks out before I can say a word, leaving me speechless in the bathroom.

“Did you see the way he looked at me tho? Geno’s gon’ bench me for the whole season forreal.”

KK’s voice is faint in my ears as we sit at our usual table, leaning back on my chair to get a better view of her. Valerie’s pouring drinks to a couple guys, her nose scrunching a little as she giggles. Even in the dingy bar everything about her lit the place up.

I had come here three nights in a row now, sipping my Shirleys and trying to find courage to approach her with more than “A dirty Shirley thanks.” Normally approaching a girl and getting them naked into my bed was easy, nearly boring at this point - the five girls blowing up my phone on the daily proof of that. But something about Valerie was different, challenging. While it was intriguing it was also scary.

“Earth to P boogers?” KK pokes my side, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn my head to her, raising my brows expectantly.

With a roll of her eyes, KK nods towards the bar where Valerie was alone now, humming to herself and playing with the ends of her hair. “Go talk to her.”

“Nah.”

“Bro.”

“What would I even say?”

“Rizz her up girl! Isn’t that your whole thing?”

I throw my head back and groan dramatically, throwing my arm over my eyes. She’s just a girl, if she didn’t want me the campus was full of other girls dying to fuck me. Why was I tripping over a girl like this - mind you, a girl I barely knew.

In truth I hadn’t stopped replaying every moment of that night I spilled my drink on her over and over. Thinking about the way Valerie’s top clung to her skin, the way her tits looked in that bra had made me drag my hand down my stomach, between my legs. But it was the memory of the way she stared me down that had brought me over the edge.

“Bro, you can’t come back tomorrow without talking to her, that shit is called stalking.”

KK was right. A fourth night in a row of just ogling over her would be nothing short of creepy. Finishing my drink, I finally get up and walk to the bar, butterflies growing with each step I take. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

“Hey,” Valerie says, her eyes twinkling as she looks at me and I immediately wanna go back to the table and just forget about all of this. How was I supposed to form comprehensible sentences when she looked at me like that? When her hair was pulled up messily in a clip, loose curls framing her face, white t-shirt hugging her curves.

Before I have the chance to respond the brunette is already opening her mouth, a tiny grin on her face. “This is your third night in a row here.”

She’s noticed - no, she’s kept count. My confidence soars quickly as I look at the ground, my mouth twisting into a smile. “Oh you been counting huh?”

“Nah was just wondering if the student athlete was turning into an alcoholic,” Valerie rolls her eyes, leaning forward on her elbows against the bar, her breasts perking menacingly between her arms. I only let myself look for a second before using all my constraint to move my gaze elsewhere.

“Oh you worry about me?” My tongue slides over my lower lip, watching as she rolls her eyes once more. God I could get used to that sight. Her eyes rolling back because of me in a multitude of ways.

“Unfortunately it’s part of my job description.”

“To take care of me?”

Another eyeroll. “To not serve alcoholics.”

I chuckle softly, mirroring the brunette by leaning forward against my elbows. The faint scent of coconut makes its way into my nostrils again. “Damn, that’s a shame. They gon’ miss out on those Shirleys you make.”

Even in the dim lighting of the bar I can recognise the hint of a blush that rises to Valerie’s cheeks, her eyelids fluttering as she quickly looks away from me. The moment of silence is causing a stir in my abdomen, electricity palpable just for a moment. I got her, she’d be in my bed in no time. Maybe by tonight.

“Your shirt’s still in my dorm,” she says nonchalantly, breaking the tension of the moment by pushing herself off the bar and beginning to clear the glasses on the bar. I watch amused.

“You wanna keep it?” I grin, letting my eyes land on the curve of her ass as she bends over to pick up a beer cap off the floor. Goddamn, I better have that in my bed tonight. Rubbing my jaw I swiftly bring my eyes to look at the walls of the bar as the girl turns around, even more curls falling out of her clip now.

Valerie scoffs loudly like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “No.”

I kiss my teeth and raise my brows. “I could also come pick it up,” I grin, my blue eyes staring into the girl. “You know, after your shift ma?”

The look on Valerie’s face is priceless, a mixture of surprise and something I can’t quite recognise. Yeah I got her, she’d be between my legs in no time - those big brown eyes staring back at me as I pull on her hair, her perfect ass in the air.

To my bemusement, instead of blushing or getting flustered Valerie’s hand flies to her mouth as she bursts into a bright laugh, her eyes squeezing shut as she does. The grin on my face quickly wipes off as I shift on my feet, my arms crossing over my chest. Seems like I might have to wait a little longer than I’d like to for this one.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Valerie shakes her head. “If it’s one thing you got Bueckers, it's audacity.”

Her indifference to my flirting irks me. At this point I usually gave up, looked for another girl - not that I had to nearly ever. I don’t think I’d worked this hard for a girl since coming to Uconn. But there was something about the brunette in front of me, something I couldn’t quite place, that made it impossible just to give up. Maybe it was time to move on to a more challenging territory. The pussy would be worth it, I knew it.

“You want a drink?” Valerie asks, finally recovered from her laughing fit. Without even thinking I shrug.

“Shirley.”

“Which way?”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I wiggle my brows. “Dirty.”

With another eyeroll the brunette gets to work. Part of me wanted to keep saying stupid things just so she’d roll her eyes at me one more time.

I watch her work for a moment, noticing the golden bracelet with a small charm dangling on it decorating her wrist as I thought of any other way to get her naked as soon as possible.

“You ever been to a game?” I ask, convincing myself that seeing me on the court would have the effect it usually had on girls.

“No, this is my first year here so,” she mumbles absentmindedly, mixing the bright red drink for me.

“You should come watch me sometime.”

A smile. Valerie’s mouth turns into a smile. I’ll take that as a win. Feeling the tiniest bit proud I smile too.

“Yeah? You any good?” The brunette asks seriously, but there’s a hint of something in her voice that tells me she’s teasing me. Just that is enough to get me going. I rarely found the chase to be this fun, but with her? I was fucked.

I shrug and bring my arm up, flexing the bicep that had grown exponentially over the summer. “Best player in the country, they say,” I grin.

Her eyes land on my flexed arm, softening for a moment before she returns to stirring the drink. “Now who’s they?”

“Just come see for yourself ma.”

As she places the drink on the bar I reach for my wallet, pulling out 30 bucks and leaving it on the counter.

“Hold on Bueckers, your change,” Valerie stops me as I’m about to head back but I shake my head at her, walking backwards.

“Keep it. Come see me play sometime.”

“Pick up… pick up… pick up…” I mumble under my breath, phone against my ear as the steady slow beeps keep taunting me, reminding me no one had answered to any of the tens of calls I had made. Groaning, I put the phone on the table, looking through the back door of Ted’s, over the liquor shipment sitting in the bright evening sun. It wasn’t meant to come till tomorrow, when the boys could carry all of it inside. Now it was just me, my pathetically small muscles and boxes full of liquor bottles and beers.

“Fuck,” I groan when the phone finally rings. Picking it up urgently, Natalie’s voice comes through.

“Riri you called me like five times, are you good?”

“The shipment came early,” I panic into the speaker.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Have you tried-”

“Tried calling literally everyone. No one’s picking up,” sighing I push my hair back from my face, trying not to panic. “What do I do?”

“I’m out of town too,” Natalie murmurs as I’m leaning against the doorframe, digging my brain for any solution. A moment of silence falls between me and Natalie when I finally got it. Saying bye to the girl on the line I walk to the front - the bar is empty in the early Wednesday evening. But like clockwork at 9 pm the tall blonde opens the door and comes in for the 6th night in a row - this time alone.

Of course she looks great, wearing basketball shorts and a team USA hoodie she had grown too big for, evidently a little too small on her arms and shoulders, her hair in a ponytail. Her mouth twists into a smile as she sees me, long legs quickly reaching the bar.

“Well he-”

“Paige, I need your help.”

Paige stares at the shipment through the door frame as I shift on my feet, hating how I had to ask for help, especially from her. I, like everyone else, found Paige incredibly attractive, exceptionally charming. But the ego on her irked me. The way she looked at me like she could read my mind, the things she said to make me blush and that grin like she knew that it was just a matter of time before I’d join the long list of girls she took to bed and left high and dry. I refused to be one of those girls - but it was hard to ignore the flutters in my stomach that arrived routinely at 9 pm when the blonde made her way through the door and to the bar each night.

“How’d they leave a lil thing like you to deal with this?” Paige chuckles, elbowing me gently.

I rub my hand over my face, smiling too. “It came a day too early.”

Paige nods for a moment and shrugs. “Well let’s get to work ma.”

With that she pulls the hoodie off, left in black basketball shorts and a black matching sports bra. I let myself look just for a second. Eyes roaming over her broad shoulders, the muscles in her stomach, the silver chain with a cross on it. It didn’t hurt to look now and then - as long as I didn’t ogle.

One by one Paige and I carry heavy boxes full of bottles inside Ted’s, though I’m slightly distracted by the way the blonde’s back muscles flex when she picks a box up, the way her jaw flexes when it’s a little too heavy for her. A bead of sweat trickles from her neck downwards along her spine as my gaze follows it, a heat pooling between my legs as I watch her.

Out of breath and slightly sweaty, I push my hair back trying to catch my breath. Paige takes note of this, blonde hairs sticking to her forehead as she walks over to me. This September heat was no joke.

Her blue eyes roam my face as both her hands grab a hold of my hips. A jolt of electricity runs through my body, her touch igniting a fire I hadn’t felt in a while. Our gazes meet, Paige licking her lips as her hand pushes my thick brown hair off my face. I find my heart beating so hard I swear it’s trying to make its way out of my chest. For a moment I think she’s about to kiss me.

“Why won’t you go get us something to drink?” Paige murmurs, her voice deep and gravelly in a way I had never heard before.

My cheeks slightly pink I nod towards the boxes, my voice quiet as I speak. “But what about…?”

“I got it ma,” she assures me, never breaking eye contact. It’s almost dizzying, the tension between us. Reminding myself of what I knew about Paige’s roster, I finally look away, slightly disappointed when her hands drop off my waist.

Walking to the front I find the bar still empty of customers. I grab a bottle of water, chugging it in an attempt to bring myself to my senses. Don’t be stupid Valerie, everyone knows how this could end up if I make the wrong choices here.

Filling two glasses to the brink with ice and coke, I return to the back, eyes landing on Paige and her arms that flex as she lifts up another box, making my mouth go dry. I quickly sip the coke, ignoring the way my legs had been growing weaker the more sweaty Paige got. As the last box hits the floor and all the work is done, Paige closes the door finally locking the scorching heat out and grabs the glass from my hand. We both feel the same goosebumps down our spines as our fingertips graze, forcing our eyes to meet.

“Thanks for the help,” I murmur, my voice weaker than I’d like. Paige’s chest is heaving, whether from the physical strain or the tension of the moment I don’t know. “I owe you.”

Paige shakes her head, blue piercing eyes still locked in mine. “Nah, always down to help a pretty girl out.”

I hate that I blush, but I can’t help it. I hand the blonde the glass of coke and watch the way her throat bobs as she drinks, my lips itching to kiss there. I was falling for her tricks quicker than I’d like.

“I uh, how about you don’t have to pay for your Shirleys?” I offer, voice slightly shaky,

Paige grins and places her glass on a side table, leaning against the closed backdoor. “I don’t need anything free, trust,” she grins, heavy lidded eyes looking down at me. “Besides, how will I tip you then?”

“You tip way too much,” I giggle, brushing my fingertips through my long brown locks.

Paige shrugs. “I tip just enough,” she murmurs hoarsely, licking her lips as her fingers come up to toy with the ends of my hair. I swallow hard, my panties growing damp between my thighs. The blonde breathes out heavily through her nostrils, still watching me. “Just come see a game and we’re even.”

My eyelids flutter shut when Paige’s hand carefully moves from my hair to the side of my jaw and I can’t help but nod.

“Okay,” I murmur breathlessly, head spinning with need.

Licking her lips, Paige’s eyes land on mine. “Valerie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“O-okay.”

With all my restraint, all my plans to stay strong forgotten, I do the exact opposite of what I planned. Paige leans down and her lips crash into mine, an involuntary moan leaving my mouth. My stomach flutters as I lean into her, my hands wrapping around her neck as I get on my tiptoes to reach her better. The blonde’s hands land on my waist, pulling my body closer to her, breathing heavily through her nose.

It’s dizzying, the way she kisses me, the way her touch feels against my skin leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I feel completely overwhelmed yet dying for more, all the patience leaving my body at once. Like reading my mind, Paige’s hands fall from my waist to my ass, gripping harshly as she groans against my lips. My core is already throbbing, the sounds coming out of the girl kissing me only making it worse.

There’s a sense of urgency when Paige backs me into the side table, sitting me on it. My legs quickly wrap around her waist as her tongue slides over my bottom lip before biting on it gently. I let out a whimper that makes the blonde grin.

“Been dying to fuck you. Will you let me?” She pants against my mouth and I have no other choice but to nod, my body aching for her.

“Please,” the plea spills from my lips as Paige sloppily kisses along my jaw, all the way to my neck. She gently nibbles, eliciting a hiss from me when she reaches the spot under my ear that was most sensitive. She sucks on it harder, her hands gripping my denim covered thighs firmly.

“How wet are you?” The blonde murmurs, her breath hot in my ear sending tingles down my spin all the way to my cunt that was dripping.

“So wet Paige,” I whimper, feeling Paige’s hands travel up my thighs and squeeze again, other hand pulling off my white t-shirt, leaving me in a black lace bra and jeans. Paige pulls back and watches my chest, licking her lips.

“Goddamn look at those tits,” she mumbles, more to herself than me before her lips attack my chest, kissing all over, teeth grazing over my bra where my hard nipple is poking through.

The lack of contact between my legs felt excruciating, like some sort of torture. With a whine I roll my hips into Paige, pulling her closer with my legs. Her blue eyes look up at me from my chest menacingly, hand coming to toy with the button of my jeans.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Panting, I collect myself enough to speak. “Touch me, P.”

“I am touching you,” she teases, kissing along my neck again.

“You know what I mean.”

“Need to hear you say it ma.”

Frustrated, I tilt my head back, the need between my legs becoming overwhelming. Her hand was unzipping my pants now, torturing me.

“Fuck okay just touch my pussy Paige, now please,” I whine eliciting a smirk from Paige as her fingertips slip underneath my lace panties.

“You want my mouth or fingers?”

“Whatever you want just now please!”

“Oh you’re gonna regret saying that.”

With that Paige’s fingers make their way into my folds, gasping with me as she feels how wet I had grown in this past hour watching her work. With a practiced ease her fingertips press against my clit, starting to rub against it in tight circles.

“Oh fuck,” I whine, my head tilting back. Paige’s other hand quickly covers my mouth and suddenly I’m reminded that any customer coming in could hear us from the front of the bar.

“Gotta keep quiet for me, yeah?” The blonde reminds me and I nod, my eyes meeting hers. My moans are muffled by her hand as she continues the movement of her fingers.

“Fuck, gotta take these off,” she murmurs, her voice low and hoarse as she pulls my jeans down, moaning at the sight of my black, lacy panties. “Gotta see this pussy.”

Her hands pry my legs open, fingertips digging into my thighs as she slides my panties to the side, my glistening cunt proof of how bad I needed her.

Paige hisses, unable to look away as her fingers swirl in my folds, gathering wetness before returning to my clit, rubbing back and forth so fast I let out a loud gasp. The blonde’s free hand returns to my mouth, eyes warning me. “Quiet, remember?”

“Mhmm,” I mumble against her hand, my eyes fluttering shut as she speeds up even more, my pussy already throbbing, aching to be filled. Paige’s hand on my mouth pushes me backwards, my back hitting the cold wood of the table.

“Attagirl.”

My fingertips tease her entrance, circling around it menacingly. She looked incredible like this, even better than in all my fantasies, back arching and head thrown back, mouth covered by my big hand making her look even smaller for me. The sounds she was making were driving me insane, causing my own cunt to throb and soak all the way through my boxers.

Her hips buck, clearly not a fan of my teasing as she whines against my hand. God, I could listen to these sounds forever,

“You want my fingers?” I ask, panting just from my own need. She nods, her big brown eyes pleading, nearly making me come merely from the way she was looking at me.

“Two’s good yeah?” I ask, two of my fingers so close to dipping in. It takes all my restraint now to pound them into her when she nods. Instead I slowly push them in, my eyelids fluttering shut at how wet and warm and tight she felt around me, how I could quite literally feel her pussy throbbing around my fingers.

She gasps, her eyes rolling back at the stretch caused by me, and I can’t help myself when I lower myself onto her knee, grinding my cunt against the bones there making me groan breathily.

I start slowly pumping my fingers in and out of Valerie, unable to take my eyes away from her cunt, the way it’s swallowing me up, sucking me back in each time I try and pull away.

Hoping the brunette remembers to stay quiet, I pull my hand back from her mouth, kneading her left breast as I grind my own hips against her knee.

“More,” she whimpers, pretty eyes squeezed shut and back arching.

“Whatever you want baby,” I whisper, my own mind so drunk off her I couldn’t keep up with the composure I’d had in the beginning.

I push a third finger inside her, curling them just right to press against the spongy part inside her making her gush around my fingers. I could barely think straight, doing everything not to come all over her knee before she finished.

The sounds coming from her body are downright sinful, the wet sounds of my fingers curling inside her cunt making my legs shake. I don’t know how I’d ever get enough.

When I start pumping those three fingers in and out of her with more force, Valerie turns into a mess, her thighs trembling, body writhing on the wooden table and eyes squeezed shut, hands trying to grip onto anything they could - the table, her own breasts, even me. In a haze I offer her my free hand, letting her fingers grip my hand as I pump my fingers faster, palm hitting against her clit.

“Paige, I’m close,” she cries out, urging me on as her knee presses against my swollen clit in my boxers, forcing me to bite down on my lip hard to not moan.

“Fuck ma, so fucking sexy,” I groan, watching the way her head tilts back as her cunt tightens around my fingers.

“Yes, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“I got you Val,” I moan, rocking my hips back and forth on her knee, my juices gushing out of me as I fight my eyes from rolling back.

“Paige, shit, I’m-”

Suddenly she’s covering her own mouth with her hand, her back arching off the table as her cunt clenches around my fingers, but I don’t ease up, I keep up with my movements. The way her face is scrunching up is enough to get my own orgasm to take over me, my movements on her knee turning sloppy and desperate as I come all over her while my fingers pump in and out of her. I’m unable to look away.

A guttural groan leaves my body as Valerie’s muffled moans fill the room, waves of pleasure taking over us simultaneously. There’s something addicting about it, the way we’re both riding out our orgasms at the same time.

“Goddamn,” I sigh, eyes watering as my movements slow down, enjoying the way she’s throbbing around my fingers. Valerie’s eyes flutter open and I swear she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. We’re both panting, the moment over far too quickly to my liking. I could never be done that fast with a girl like this.

Pulling my fingers out, I kneel between the brunette’s legs, pulling the panties off her completely. Face to face with her glistening cunt I decide this is the most perfect pussy I have ever seen in my life - and there have been quite a few.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She asks me, her voice still shaky from her climax as she sits back up.

“Need to taste this pussy,” I murmur, my eyes locked onto her cunt, hands spreading it open, making my mouth water.

“Paige I have to get back to work,” she whines, looking down at me as I begin to kiss her inner thighs, pulling her legs over my shoulders. “There could be customers.”

“There aren’t,” I say matter of factly. Truthfully there was no way for me to know, but I needed to have my mouth on this pussy right fucking now.

“How do you- oh fuck.”

My eyes flutter shut at the taste of her, my tongue dipping inside her and slowly circling. I wrap my arms around her thighs, pulling her closer as I drag my tongue upwards through her folds to her red, swollen clit, lapping at it. I can already tell this isn’t gonna be a one time thing. There was no universe in which I didn’t get to have my face buried in this pussy at least once a week.

“Wait wait wait, too much-” she hisses but then I press my tongue flat against her and shake my head, making her gasp and throw her head back. I hum against her pussy, taking turns lapping her up sloppily and shaking my head against her, drinking all of her up.

“Valerie,” I moan into her cunt. I usually didn’t like saying the names of the girls I fucked during sex but something about the softness of the letters, the way the name felt in my mouth made me wanna repeat it over and over like some sort of oath, like a prayer.

“Taste so fucking good,” groaning I suck on her clit, listening to her hiss. “Could eat this pussy forever ma.”

The shake in her legs tells me I’m getting her there again, and her hands finally find my hair, making me moan as they pull on it suddenly. When my tongue precisely licks over the right side of her clit she lets out a guttural moan, my own need pooling in my boxers once more.

“Right there?” I ask, repeating the movement of my tongue, taking it as confirmation when she cries out and her back arches. Copying the movement of my tongue over and over again I keep working her, my face getting covered in her, my own spit dripping down her pussy making an even bigger mess. The thick thighs around my head are beginning to shake, pressing to the sides of my face. I pry them further open, with enough force to bruise her. The brunette doesn’t seem to mind though, her whimpers turning high pitched and desperate.

“Shit shit shit shit,” she repeats quietly, her whole body trembling.

“Gonna cum for me again?”

“Mhmm,” she mewls, nails digging into my scalp.

My fingers spread her pussy further apart, my tongue moving even faster on her clit now as her hips squirm, my lips following her.

“Paige fuck right there,” she gasps and I keep going, the strain in my jaw merely an afterthought, only thing on my mind getting the brunette in front of me to come all over my face.

“You got it baby, c’mon,” I praise against her, copying the movements from before as her grip in my hair tightens.

“I, Fuck-” she gasps and she’s coming again, pulling my face closer as she squirms all over the table, my tongue not easing up as the pleasure takes over her. I swear I feel just as euphoric, watching her like this.

When her whines turn high pitched I ease up my movements, wiping my mouth on her thigh before getting up from the floor. Valerie’s out of breath and her eyes are heavy, mascara smudged underneath her eyes and lips plump from the rough kissing. I don’t know what does it, but something I can’t control makes me lean down and kiss her. I never kiss girls after sex.

Just as I’m about to speak, the bell on the door jingles, returning both of us back to the backroom of Ted’s, the fluorescent lights suddenly harsh and overwhelmingly bright.

“Shit,” Valerie gasps and starts getting dressed in record time. I watch her, my brain still mush from what we just did. She quickly brushes her hands through her long hair and rushes to the front, leaving me alone.

“Hi, what can I get ya?” I hear her faint voice a little too perky compared to how she normally sounded.

Wiping my lips I stare at the calendar on the wall marking everyone’s shifts, but all I see is Valerie. Blinking stupidly I wipe my mouth, my mouth twisting into a small smile. The heat in my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach made themselves known - informing me that this girl would have me utterly, completely fucked from now on.

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#too lost in you #lilas writing #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x female oc #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 2 months ago

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Wicked the movie thoughts - spoiler version

I went to see Wicked today! If you want to read a spoiler free edition of what I thought you can do that here but otherwise below the cut I am going to talk in a lot of detail about the show and share my thoughts - they're overwhelmingly positive!! I loved this movie, I love this musical, and I have a lot of thoughts to discuss, I'm welcoming conversations about things I say or about stuff I didn't say but that you want to talk about let's absolutely chat, and this is all the way through going to contain spoilers for the plot but also for specific details, scenes, acting, etc, of the new movie so be warned if you don't want to read that

First of all, the genuine love and care that was put into the show and that can be seen not only in the acting but in the set, the music, in every aspect the care and the adoration for the theatre production was so clear, it was so lovingly crafted from the word go. I also felt like not only Wicked the musical but also Oz, in the original Wizard of Oz novel, in the Wicked novel, in the world and in everything that Gregory Maguire brought to the world, and so on and so forth was being treated with such care and being genuinely revered whilst also balancing well enough that I didn't feel like I was only ever seeing rehashes of existing material or a carbon copy of the past

Even as I was watching and thinking this, and thinking how well they had captured the feeling of watching something on stage, I was still wondering how they were possibly going to execute the Emerald City and the One Short Day performance because it's so iconic and so distinct in the musical but genuinely I was so impressed with the success of that scene. It both captured the essence of One Short Day on stage and added something new to it without taking anything away from the original and they deserve so much praise for that. I'm going to talk a little bit about the nail salon scene later when I discuss propaganda in Wicked (this is gonna be a looooooong post y'all buckle up) but other than that for One Short Day I just need to address, because how could I not, IDINA MENZEL AND KRISTEN CHENOWORTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't know they were going to be there!!!!!!!!!! I was losing my goddamn mind you guys omg

I was genuinely astonished. Like I'd seen them doing press and stuff but I assumed that was just because their names are so synonymous with Wicked I didn't realise they were actually going to be there!!

I really enjoyed the small stage production about the Wise Ones and the Grimmerie it was brilliant in concept and execution for worldbuilding and lore but KRISTEN AND IDINA OMG wonderful oh my gosh. Now was it on the nose? Absolutely. But I don't think that it felt forced, I thought that if you didn't know who they were then even when Chenoworth was singing to Grande and Menzel was singing to Eviro then it still wouldn't have felt strange or out of place, but of course I'm looking at it through the lens of a fan receiving fan service so generally speaking even though I know it's fanservice I'm still going to enjoy it and it's possible that through another's eyes it would feel different. I thought it was brilliant though and nothing will take that away from me

I think it's fair to say that the pacing of Wicked is kind of messed up and I have heard concern that because of that the act 2 movie will struggle; pacing of act 2 does get messy, but I cannot fault them in any way for splitting it into two movies ok because this was spectacular and I would not want to cut a single thing from it so yeah that's kind of all my thoughts on that point; I think that even if act 2 is harder to bring to screen that it can still be done in a high quality and successful way and especially after watching part 1 today I absolutely trust that this production can do that

I'm gonna now hop right back to No-One Mourns the Wicked (the pacing of this post is gonna be worse than the pacing of wicked). I was slightly concerned that Ariana Grande's intense recognisable-ness was going to take something away from the show because it would be hard to see the character she was playing rather than just Ariana Grande singing, if that makes sense, but from as early as No-One Mourns the Wicked my concerns were alleviated. Glinda is not an easy character to play, in my opinion, and she's not an easy character to play because she acts incredibly melodramatic in everything she does whilst her genuine emotions are incredibly subtle. What I saw in both Grande and Erivo was how fantastic their micro-expressions are and how much they can tell the audience with one or two features, often the eyes, alone. In No-One Mourns the Wicked , Galinda genuinely believes and will presumably continue to believe for the rest of her life that Elphaba is dead. And throughout her performance of the song, I more than once found it visibly notable that Glinda was on the verge of tears. She was smiling, she was singing, she was moving gracefully with her typical accentuated and dramatic movements, but the pain in her eyes was remarkable. This was a woman who believed that the only person she had ever had a genuine emotional connection with was dead, a woman who had lost not only someone she had manufactured a relationship with (Fiyero) and convinced herself that she was happy with what she knew was a false pretence of love to receive from, but also the only person in the world who had ever shown her real love and was finally being confronted by the fullest extent of the choices she had made but having to keep everything light and cheerful because of those very choices. Did that make sense? I hope I'm not just spouting nonsense. One of the most emphasised moments of this for me was when this massive effigy of Elphaba and one of the munchkinland residents hands Glinda the torch to light it; there's this blink and you miss it moment where Glinda looks at the torch, at the effigy, then back to the man who held it out to her, who's watching her expectantly, before she turns and tosses it on with a sense of urgency. Not only is this alone powerful, but I also think it's powerful that she throws the torch instead of standing at the effigy and taking care to set it alight firstly because she may not be able to bring herself to do so but also in a way that may be reflective of their relationship and the story: Glinda does not outrightly attack or harm Elphaba but she makes the choices that she makes, she throws her torch and whatever burns will burn.

I also felt that she captured the comedic elements of Glinda fantastically, with one of my favourite moments being when she melodramatically collapses kneeling in front of the bed as though she is sobbing into the quilt but just sits there perfectly still and the camera just stares at her for a few moments before she peeks up over her shoulder to see if Elphie's looking. The difference we can see between these two sides of Glinda's character was very well executed and I think we also see something of her more vulnerable side in some of these comedic moments, because ultimately she does (I'm going to talk about this later) feel unloved because of how shallow all of her relationships are and even in melodramatic, foolish or naive moments like the throwing herself on the duvet cover she is actively seeking attention because she equates attention to love - she so desperately claws her way to attention and popularity because she feels unloved and she thinks that this is love, so when it doesn't give her the feeling she was searching for she becomes convinced that it was because she doesn't have enough of it yet and she needs more. I thought that she was incredibly well captured and presented from all angles with her very many layers being well laid out.

Again with the insane jumping around but let's just dive headfirst into a couple of little details that I noticed whilst I'm thinking about them - during the Wizard and I when Elphaba is imagining her success and her dream she runs through a cornfield!! As though she is running towards Fiyero!!! I loved it. Like it's so tiny, but I love it. Another tiny one - loved the silver shoes for Nessa as a hark to the original book wherein the magic slippers were silver, but then in Popular when Glinda is going through her wardrobe and pulling out all these different options she gives Elphaba a pair of ruby red slippers and then decides against them and throws them away again!! Loved it as a teeny little reference. I also really lovedddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd and this one is more meaningful to the story but when Elphie has her magic outburst at Shiz right at the start where she sends Nessa into the air and stuff gets thrown everywhere, there's a statue on the wall of the Wizard that gets smashed. When it smashes, it's briefly visible that beneath the statue the wall was originally painted with a mural of animal scholars!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVED this detail, I was BUZZING. Like you saw it long enough to see what it was, there were three animals with a bear in the middle and I think the bear was wearing maroon robes and they were all clearly scholars

My personal theories on this is that either they were highly valued intellectual alumni of Shiz or that they founded the school, however there mya be lore standing on them that I am unaware of I started reading the book a long time ago and never finished it (I really want to read it but I haven't got around to it yet. I read enough to know what happened to Dr Dillimond in the book but I don't remember a lot after that)

Speaking of Dr Dillimond, I'm not sure if I just missed a detail or something implicit but I wasn't sure that they gave any real explanation as to why the poppies didn't knock Fiyero out????

On Fiyero: Johnathon Bailey understands Fiyero so well and it was brilliant. His performance very much took in the different layers of the character and the split between what he presents to the world and the intensity of the emotions he hides. Fiyero experiences emotion so intensely and feels such an intense response to others' emotions as well, and I think that you could really tell that whilst not feeling like anything was being taken away from the charismatic charming persona that you knew he was putting on. One of my favourite moments between him and Elphaba in this was when she siad something along the lines of 'you aren't as shallow and self-loving as I thought' and he replies something along the lines of 'how dare you? I genuinely love myself and I am deeply shallow' and I love this not only because his humour is enjoyable and his defence mechanisms are interesting but also because she immediately breaks through and says no, you're unhappy.

I promised thoughts on Dancing Through Life so whilst we're on Fiyero -> I don't at all intend to say that Bailey isn't a good singer because he is, I just thought that to some degree his voice didn't stand out from the chorus' voices in the same way that Erivo's and Grande's do and so the song did necessarily have the same bite to it as some of the others did/ That isn't to say that it wasn't a fantastic scene, because it was, and I loved the choreography and I was obsessed with the spinning bookshelves and all of it, the bringing the beat of the song in through the movement of the books was brilliant, and again he is a good singer and I think that having the actor's own voice in the movie is almost always the right decision

Okay I am going to make a post on its own about this as well because this is really long and I am so deeply obsessed with this I want to give it a chance to get proper discussion but one of my favourite propaganda-related details of this movie was Elphaba's nails. Yes, you read that right. Her nails.

In all of the imagery and posters of the 'Wicked Witch of the West' she is very often leaning forwards with her hands strangely position in the foreground and then her face behind them so your focus is drawn very quickly to the hands. In these images, her nails are always presented as extravagantly long, sharp, and claw-like. So in a world where animals are discriminated against and being used as the common enemy long before Elphaba is used as that enemy it's so fascinating that the dehumanisation of Elphaba has emphasis on her hands appearing strange or 'unnatural' and it makes me think of the line in Something Bad 'It's enough to give pause to anyone with paws' because that's where the emphasis on this distinction lies with no-one but humans having limbs that resemble hands - having Elphaba presented effectively as though she has claws in a world where animals are discriminated against and actively silenced, especially since she advocated against that silencing. And something I really enjoyed after having noticed the long nails in the posters during No-One Mourns the Wicked is that throughout the movie Elphaba has unapologetically long, beautiful nails that in a truly wonderful subtle aspect of Erivo's acting we get the sense she cares about even though they are never discussed. When she and Glinda go to the Emerald City we see this montage of their day during One Short Day and one of the things they do is go to a nail salon and we see Elphaba excitedly showing off to Glinda her long pretty nails that she loves so much and that make her feel pretty. Again this is such a massive testament to Erivo's acting skills because there's no dialogue about it but we know that she is so excited and we know that this is one of very few times that Elphie has felt pretty, she loves her nails. And they get used so horrifyingly against her. The nail salon is such a brief, subtle moment but it's so very well executed. There's also an earlier scene where she's alone with Madame Morrible practicing magic and when she reaches out to make the hand movements the camera cuts to show the shadow of her hand and it creates this emphasis on the length of her nails and how because of the shape of her hand midway through the movement the image looks like a claw or like a very stereotypical evil witch hands sort of thing. I also think that this moment is particularly powerful bc she's alone with Morrible and everything that Elphie does under Morrible's instruction is perfectly natural but what is seen on Morrible's stationary on the desk below her is representative of the propaganda that Morrible will turn the actions that she forced Elphaba to do into.

Also more propaganda stuff I could talk about the use of the word 'witch' for all goddamn eternity so I'm not going to hark on about it now but I will say that a piece of media like this one cannot be created today without acknowledgemnt of the difference between the word 'wtich' and the word 'wizard' and how they are presented, and I think that this was really interestingly handled in the word 'witch' not being said in the prequel aspect of it until Morrible labels her 'this Wicked Witch'.

Okay I think this is going to be what I finish off with but if you know this account you know that I LOVE a parallel and I was obsessed with the parallel drawn between family dynamics in Elphie's relationship with Nessa and her father, and then with the family that she's looking for and briefly thinks she could find with Morrible, the wizard, and Glinda. Yeoh said in an interview that Morrible's betrayal is realising that the mother figure isn't who you thought she was. Madame Morrible becomes Elphaba's maternal figure, and to her living memory realistically her only maternal figure, from very early on and this maternal view of her that we have through Elphaba's eyes is very much existent by the time we reach Sentimental Man, wherein the idea of the Wizard being able to offer her some kind of paternal love, that she has never felt because her relationship with her father is so fraught, is brought forth. Sentimental Man was very well performed in my opinion, it was the right decision to keep it low and subtle and close because it created this very specific closeness between Elphie and the Wizard and we felt what she felt, which was the exact manipulation that the Wizard wanted her to feel. When Madame Morrible enters the scene we then have both of these parental-style figures present telling Elphaba how precious she is, how amazing she is, how much they believe in her - essentially all these different things that she has been denied her entire life. What I find particularly fascinating about this is that what gets created here is exactly Elphaba's existing family dynamic - because Glinda is there too. This is what Elphaba always wanted - a motherly figure, a fatherly figure, and a sisterly figure - but it still comes at the expense of the sister. Glinda is being actively diminished and put down whilst Elphaba is raised and complimented for the purpose of manipulation and to be used for their purposes rather than existing for herself, just as her father diminishes and hurts her whilst complimenting and idolising Nessa but also manipulating her & never allowing her to live her own life. There's a moment where they're all stood around the grimmerie to get the four of them in shot with Elphie looking over the book, Morrible encouragingly at her side, the Wizard watching on from behind, and Glinda leaning over Elphie's other side to try and squeeze herself into the picture and I think that this still alone captures the entire thing so very well.

In a way, this is why Glinda turned round - without Elphie there, she gets love. When Elphaba had parental figures over her and no Nessa present to be better than her, she felt loved; when Glinda has parental figures over her and no Elphaba present to be better than her, she feels loved. The fundamental difference between them in the moment of choice is arguably that Elphaba's love for others, primarily Nessa, will always be stronger than her need for love from others, whereas Glinda's need for love from others will always be stronger than her love for others, primarily Elphaba.

In this moment, Glinda's warped distinction between love and popularity, as I discussed it earlier, is finally put to direct test and even though she loves Elphie and is loved by her in a way that she has arguably never been loved (we saw just how shallow her relationship with her parents was upon the arrival at Shiz. It's as shallow as her friendships at Shiz and romance with Fiyero.) she chooses popularity because she has somehow convinced herself that superficial love from many is better than genuine love from few. Elphaba's love for Glinda is probably the most genuine affection she's experienced in her entire life - but it doesn't come from authority. Elphaba's love isn't coming from someone who can raise Glina up or give her advantages and ultimately she is always seeking the approval of authority, possibly because she felt like she never received it from the authority that was her parents when she was a child, and she finds that feeling in Morrible and the Wizard, and arguably in the power that Fiyero's family could give her as well.

Okay super quick additions that i just remembered:

I loved loved loved the addition of her falling from the palace and seeing young Elphaba in the reflection and once again so freaking much could be said about the strength of Erivo's acting here it was truly beautiful and I found it like genuinely nerve-wracking even though I knew she obvs had to make it and the song wasn't over yk but yeah it was fantastic

When Elphaba's running from the soldiers & the flying monkeys just after the monkeys have been told to attack her and Glinda is chasing after her. They go through a narrow corridor of the palace lined by windows, and the wall are made of green brick. The sunset beyond casts pink light through every window. Every window is pink, all the walls are green. Elphaba is running and Glinda is following, trying to tell her to come back to the Wizard. As they run the flying monkeys start smashing the windows, so for every pace that they take THE PINK SHATTERS AND ONLY THE GREEN IS LEFT BEHIND. They are running towards Defying Gravity and for every step closer to it they become the less intertwined the colours are. The pink shatters and the green is left behind. It was visual poetry.

Okay I hope that this insane rambling made sense, I was partially transcribing this from voicenotes I sent to my friends when I got back after the movie and they actually got more than this so apologies to them and thank you for indulging me, and thank you to anyone who has bothered to read this lol I hope it was interesting - overall, excellent movie and I loved it!! Already can't wait for part 2

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bumbalina · 2 years ago

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“And I have talked to some genuinely mistreated men, and that was, indeed, how they reacted; they come up to me and say things like, “I really get what you’re talking about, because I actually had a pretty similar experience.” So I get immediately suspicious of a man who stands up angrily, and starts growling, “Why aren’t you talking about this happening to men?? This happened to me!!” This style of guy doesn’t express any caring about what is happening to women. Nor does he express any gratitude towards the women and men who are working to assist abused women and to stop abusers. There’s no sign that he feels any sense of common ground with abused women. So I don’t buy his story. I think what he’s really mad about is that we won’t shut up about what so many men are doing to women.”

“Twenty years or so ago, we started to hear that it was important to talk more about male victims. The argument was that it would give our movement against domestic violence more appeal, because men would realize that it can happen to them too. We’d broaden our reach. It’s been a tremendous mistake.”

“The domestic violence movement has de-genderized itself. The programs are now called “domestic violence programs,” not “abused women’s programs” as they were known before. We talk about abusers and victims as “he or she,” ignoring statistics that show that it’s overwhelmingly male-on-female. When we talk about the issue, we try to make sure we aren’t hurting men’s feelings with too much truth-telling. Has this broadened and strengthened our movement? No, not a bit. The domestic violence movement is far weaker than it was twenty years ago, not stronger. Many, many of the gains that we made are now being stripped away, more every year. (Women’s rights in general are being stripped away in our times, as you have most likely noticed.)”

“Don’t be apologetic about making women your agenda. Don’t apologize for putting women’s needs and rights front and center. When someone tells you that you should be talking about male victims too, I encourage you to respond, “There are hundreds of issues in this world that need to be addressed. Are you saying that I can’t address what happens to women unless I also address every other wrong that happens in the world? Why isn’t it okay to make women my focus?””

Excerpts from: Lundy Bancroft. Men’s Angry Messages to Me Part 2. November 14, unknown.

#lundy bancroft #please check out his blog it’s amazing #if only he dated his posts clearly #abuse cw #radfem

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gaywarcriminals · 2 months ago

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On Mouthwashing, Qijiu, cruel characters, and the role of discomfort in blorbo analysis.

I recently watched a playthrough and some video essays about the indie horror game Mouthwashing (spoilers ahead). For those not familiar, the game follows a man named Jimmy in a crashed spaceship where he reveals himself to be an unreliable narrator and fucked up in a variety of ways as the game progresses.

Although I’m not immersed in the fandom and thus have a limited sample size, I noticed that people treat him as nearly inhuman. He’s the sole bad actor, a terrible monster destined to hurt everyone. I find this deeply ironic considering the game’s themes of responsibility and accountability: isn’t this kind of dehumanization absolving him of his responsibility to act decently?

It’s also strange to me, because the game goes at lengths to show Jimmy has an enabler. Captain Curly is Jimmy’s friend and boss who is made aware of Jimmy’s erratic and violent behavior multiple times, chooses to do nothing, and ultimately makes possible many deaths through his inaction. Aside from Jimmy’s public outbursts, there are even scenes with a specific member of their crew expressing how unsafe she feels around Jimmy. Despite this, a decent portion of the fandom sees Curly as nothing more than one of Jimmy’s victims, which is curious to me when placed in contrast with Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu.

Yeah yeah I’m blorbo-brained, but I think there’s a lot of points for comparison between Qijiu and Jimmy & Curly, at least in terms of their dynamic and social roles. Jimmy and Shen Jiu are both antisocial assholes with an unhealthy fixation on the generally well liked and affable guy just above them on the totem poll. They’re both convinced their superior is looking down on them, and resent the power he has (SJ less so, he has a lot of other reasons to resent YQY). They both use what power they do have to abuse those below them. Curly and YQY, for their parts, are shown to be explicitly aware of most if not all of their friend’s worrying/dangerous behavior, but do nothing meaningful to stop it.

If they’re so similar, then why in the case of Mouthwashing is Curly often absolved of his complicity in the face of Jimmy’s overwhelmingly awful actions, whereas in the Scum Villain fandom, it’s just as common to see people pin all of SJ’s actions on YQY and vice versa?

Now, there’s a couple obvious reasons for this. For one, Mouthwashing is a horror game and Jimmy very effectively makes himself the antagonist, which lends itself to the interpretation of him as a the monster afflicting the other characters. For another, Jimmy sexually abused a shipmate, which is a particularly despicable crime (although so, I would argue, is child abuse). There’s also the fact that Curly is very physically robbed of agency for most of the game’s runtime, which might make it harder to see his power and agency before that point, but perhaps the most important difference is that to fans, Jimmy is deeply unlikable, and Shen Jiu is not.

Personally, I think the reason a lot of people make Jimmy out to be a monster and Shen Jiu to be tragically misunderstood is simple: it can be uncomfortable to like a bad person.

I don’t think there should be any shame in liking characters who are fucked up people that do horrible things, but I think it chafes at some sensibility within many of us, learned or innate, when we feel such deep emotional connection to a character who’s actions we would normally morally condemn.

I’ve definitely observed that in some parts of the Shen Jiu fandom– it's the kind of sentiment that leads to discounting his canonical actions in favor of fanon. I’ve never found those fanons very compelling because I have never had any discomfort with Shen Jiu’s canonical actions— in fact, him being a despicable if pitiable mess is what drew me to him (I’m typically quite the fucked-up-evil-guy liker). For once, though, I find myself on the other side of this discomfort with Yue Qingyuan.

I was thinking today about how one of the earliest things YQY says to SY!SQQ— his 9th line in the novel— was telling SQQ that LBH is strung up in the woodshed, where SQQ always leaves him after beating him. It implies not just that YQY knows about this singular punishment, but that this is an extended pattern of behavior. To me, YQY seems uncomfortable with the situation, but he does nothing to stop LBH from being abused aside from telling SQQ to “be less hard on him”, even though he’s the only person in the sect above SQQ, and potentially the only one with the authority to stop him.

If Yue Qingyuan knew, did Luo Binghe know the sect leader had found out? Did Luo Binghe know he had been abandoned to his fate?

Like Curly, I think that Yue Qingyuan’s most unforgivable fault as a character was enabling Shen Jiu’s abuse of Luo Binghe and potentially other disciples. I think YQY’s motivations made sense, and I understand the choices he made, but when I think about it for too long I can feel a deep pit in my stomach grow.

Why does YQY’s arguably lesser crime of enabling SJ bother me so much more than SJ’s own direct actions? Perhaps because I still want to see Yue Qingyuan as a good person, whereas Shen Jiu has already declared himself evil. Maybe I’ve been a little bit caught up in our unreliable narrator’s point of view.

Fascinatingly, despite his adoration for Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan cum Shen Qingqiu never (to my recollection at least), blames Yue Qingyuan for SJ’s actions. Instead, he sees YQY as one of SJ’s victims— someone that SJ as good as killed, even if it was LBH’s orders that loosed the arrows.

Shen Qingqiu has a tendency to, for lack of a better term, woobify his favs, and although LBH is by far the most frequent recipient of this treatment, I’d argue that YQY actually receives it more consistently. This is partially because he’s relegated to friendly NPC whereas poor Binghe is the Big Scary Protagonist, but the only time in the whole novel I can think of SQQ seeing YQY as a person capable of harm and fucking up is after YQY’s confession where SQQ puts it together with SJ’s flashbacks, but even then, SQQ sees him more as a cautionary tale for him and Binghe than someone who’s hurt others. Given this narrative bias, I’m honestly surprised* that more of the fandom isn’t simping for YQY too.

Ultimately, I think this discomfort is normal and worthwhile– something to lean into rather than away from. I’d even say it's necessary, should we ever hope to be more media literate than Peerless Cucumber.

*well, I’m not, but that’s a whole piece of fandom history better left untouched

#this one is real stream of consciousness lol #svsss #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #qijiu #mouthwashing spoilers #fish meta #fish rambles

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krypticcafe · 2 years ago

Note

Can you do a part 2 of the platonic reader and the 141+Alejandro where reader gets kidnapped and comes back? I love your writing!

No One Can Hurt You

Sequel to As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x task force 141 + alejandro + rodolfo

warning(s): language, canon-typical violence, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, mild gore descriptions for a hot second, implied ghost zapping a guy's balls, reader is lowkey traumatized, comfort, no use of y/n, no beta read, possible ooc?

a/n: I did NOT expect to get such an overwhelmingly positive response on the first part?? I was worried that the writing felt bland, but you guys seemed to love it, so here's the highly demanded part two!

synopsis: the 141 and Los Vaqueros weren't going to stand for what happened to you. No one would.

alternative title— fuck around and find out

"We found the guys your sources claimed to be the men that were there, Captain. But they're refusing to say anything to us. Honestly, it looks like they're just another pair of lackeys." Gaz was speaking over comms with Price after locating a suspect with Roach. The two had found the pair in a dingy old building, a safehouse conveniently placed far from heavily populated civilian areas.

"Should we-"

He was cut off by a series of loud thuds and glass crashing, immediately grabbing his handgun and running into the room where Roach was keeping an eye on their suspects.

Roach had one of the men pinned to the ground, repeatedly decking him in the face whilst letting out frustrated yells and broken cries. Blood splattered across the floor and on his visor, but he could've cared less, it wasn't his anyways.

"Roach, get off of him, that's enough!" Gaz practically had to tear his teammate away from the man with how Roach flailed, grunting and clawing at Gaz's arms to let him go. "Roach, we can't do anything if you bloody kill them!"

Pushing off Gaz, Roach seethed with pained eyes, nearly tearing up out of sheer frustration. "He's hiding something, I know he is! That sadistic fuck started bragging about what they did to the sergeant and- and the smug shit look he had! These are the guys, but they're not telling us everything!"

He knew it was a terrible excuse, but his own gut feelings about reading people's expressions had never proved him wrong before, not when he had an eye for reading people through their body language. Gaz hesitated. He understood why Roach lashed out and didn't blame him for losing his temper, hell, he rarely did, and Gaz would've done the same in all honesty. You meant as much to him as you did to Roach. They were the first friends you made when joining the 141, the ones who helped acclimate you to the team, and the ones who trained under Price alongside you like you were their sibling. But it didn't help that they nearly broke protocol, which would've compromised the mission and made your sacrifice and suffering for nothing.

Looking down at the unconscious yet still-breathing man, Gaz then noticed how the blood pooled around him. It seemed to stop spreading at some point in the floorboards and spilled into an unusually large crack in the wood that looked suspiciously intentional.

"Roach, take the other one and call for exfil but don't tell them to leave just yet." Once his partner left, Gaz kneeled down to the floor and knocked on the wood. It was hollow.

Seems they would definitely need them alive now more than ever.

"I don't know who supplies us, I just work for them! Just ask-" The man let out a cry as Soap held his shoulder, digging his fingers into it and balling his other hand into a fist before landing a solid punch into his gut. A moment passed he choked on air, the wind knocked from him, his mouth painfully dry except for the tears that dripped from his eyes.

"Tell us who you work for or things are about to get real nasty for you like they did for your friend."

"You're in it if you think I'm gonna say shit! The 141 is just a freak show, ain't it? Bunch of you cowards hiding behind stupid callsigns, what the fuck kind of name is—" That earned him another beating. He wailed, writhing in pain against the tight restraints, but ultimately wasting his energy. He only stopped when he heard screams and crackles of what was undoubtedly electricity coming from behind one of the walls of the room.

"So you do know," Soap growled, beating him once more and backing up when he retched from pain. Blood dripped from Soap's knuckles, to which he scowled in disgust and irritation, his accent growing thick, "No, you just had to make things a fuckin' mess, dinnae you?"

Normally, it was Ghost who took care of interrogations, at least the more painful parts of it. But Soap needed to let out his anger in a useful way, he needed to hear the sickening crunch of ribs so that he could remind himself of what you went through and erase any sliver of doubt or sympathy in his mind for the enemy. Every splatter of blood that'd spill when he'd throw a fist across the guy's face was just another testament to how much he despised what happened and how desperately he needed to let it all out.

The man, in his bleary-eyed haze, made out another figure that entered the room. It was Ghost, with a box of electrical clamps in hand. "What is he doing here?"

Soap and Ghost made a silent exchange of words, nodding to one another in confirmation and speaking purely through eye contact. It only created more fear when Soap left the room and the man was all alone with the lieutenant.

"Hey hey hey where are you going you can't leave me with him! I did what I had to do, it's not my fault your friend was collateral—" The man choked on his words when Ghost pulled out two clamps and tested them, both emitting a spark and loud crackles that echoed off the walls. "—fuck! Oh god, no no no—what the fuck are you gonna use that for?!"

The lieutenant was a different situation. Sure, he wanted nothing more than to dig his hands into the man's open wounds, curl his fingers until flesh separated from bone, make them feel just exactly how much they got 'under his skin'. He wanted to hear the satisfying pop! of bones and cartilage. He wanted them to writhe like worms on a scalding sidewalk, pathetic and left for dead. But that wasn't enough, they didn't deserve the time, the effort, nor did they deserve the pleasure of a quick death. No, he needed to make them suffer.

Ghost brought one clamp up to the man's crotch with one hand and held a rusty knife with the other, lowering himself to look directly at his target. It was at that moment the man came to the realization that he wasn't captured, no, he fucked around, pulling off the stubborn shit act until they'd inevitably grow bored of him and move on, maybe put him out of his misery if he was lucky enough. But there was no moving on, there was no luck in this ring of hell. No, not with what had already been done and what couldn't be taken back even if he begged. The 141 was revered for their soldiers and their work, but it was a myth all at the same time. They were said to be efficient and ruthless, better to surrender to than to suffer at the hands of. Since they were off the books, it was a mystery as to what lengths they would go to, just how far they would push the limits.

He had fucked around, and now he'd find out.

They locked eyes, one pair filled with fear, the other devoid of any emotion. There wasn't the sympathy the man prayed for, nor the anger or violence of Soap, not even a hint of mercy or hatred. It was so empty of feeling that it almost felt dismissive, as if the man wasn't a human held hostage but an object, a book to be torn open for answers, then tossed aside. If Soap had been his judge and jury, then Ghost would surely be his executioner. He felt small, insignificant, and hopeless under the gaze as the man he truly believed was death incarnate responded to his question.

"Last. Chance."

One by one, Price and his crew had cleared the facility, evacuating workers and eliminating guards and cartel. After bringing their "guest informants" to the brink of delirium, wrenching them like wet towels to get every drop of info. Along with the intel Gaz gathered from a hidden basement where hard drives of transactions were being kept, they found the main supplier and other bases. If they took down the heart of the operation, it would cause a domino effect, shutting things down to a point where the Los Vaqueros would be able to handle them on their own. With every bullet shot, they were closer to their goal and closer to making up for what they considered a personal failure to protect one of their own and many more.

Maybe it was crazy that their primary motivation beyond recovering the drugs was to seek justice for a single soldier. But it was to prove a point. To prove that they weren't just a team of highly skilled and trained soldiers, to prove that they were a force to be reckoned with, and to prove that you were no less valuable of a member than the others, all of whom would lay their lives on the line for one another. After all,

The 141 was not to be messed with.

Making his way through the rooms and getting closer to the center of it all, Price was interrupted when a door to his side busted open from a man toppling back into it, falling to the ground. He tried to scramble back, a boot quickly stomping onto his chest. Alejandro towered before him, pressing a rifle to his head, growling in Spanish, "Where is your leader?"

The man responded, and without hesitation, the colonel gave him a quick and painless death for his obedience. Looking up, Alejandro nodded in acknowledgment at Price, "I'm not the only one that owes your sergeant, they protected my men, and I owed them a favor even before that."

That caused Price to chuckle, even despite their current circumstances. There was no denying how much of an unnecessarily reckless saint you could be with those you worked with. "I suppose you got a location from that poor bastard?"

"Yes. Have our teams regroup, it's going to be a long night for us all, my friend. But it's worth the trouble for Las Almas and the kid, no?"

"Yes, indeed." Price hummed, the two making their way out and on to finally settle the score.

You woke up blinded by a bright light, briefly contemplating if you were dead and if heaven was actually real all along. But after some time passed, your eyes adjusted to the all-too-familiar setting of the infirmary with its barren walls and sickly sanitized scent. With a groan, you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows until a hand gently pressed you back. Puzzled by the motion, you rubbed your eyes and found your captain looking back at you.

"Easy there, soldier." Price cautioned, and you kept your eyes on him as you laid back down. He had a small smile on his lips, but the way he looked at you signified that he was still concerned for your state, "You alright? Need the nurse or anything?"

"No," You shook your head, wincing at how hoarse your throat was. Price laughed softly and handed you a cup of water he had prepared at the side of your bed, and you started to wonder if he had always kept one there for you and if he even regularly changed it for you. You wouldn't put it past him to, the ol' sap.

Gulping the cool liquid down heartily, you took a few breaths before continuing, "How- how long was I out?"

"About a few days, no longer than a week." He shrugged, your eyes widening in response, "Cut yourself some slack. When you came back, you were bleeding out all over base and in hysterics. Doctor told us that if you got back any later, we would've lost you from the blood loss alone."

"Just the blood loss? Not the drugs? I would've figured the latter would be the end of me." You chuckled until you saw Price's expression, muttering a sheepish 'sorry, too soon?' and sipping your water cup, "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"Well, you did punch Garrick square in the chest, but he's been through worse. Wouldn't stop making puppy eyes at you the entire time after, I think you wounded his heart. Ghost had to restrain you afterward, and you were too weak to do any real damage at that point, just kept screaming your head off until you passed out."

"Shit," You cringed, your face burning hot with shame, "I'm sorry, Captain. I should've been more careful, I could've compromised the mission and-"

"Don't be. Sure, you made a bloody fool of yourself, but you saved your team in the process. And that's got to count for something, yeah?" He nudged you gently, "So don't beat yourself up, especially after you fought your way out of hell."

The sympathetic look he gave you held unspoken words, No one could've known. You couldn't have known. The urge to tear up right then and there was strong, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already apparently had. Biting back the sting in your eyes, you only quietly nodded in response.

"Good. I'm proud of you, got that?" Price stood from his seat, giving your head a firm pat, "Rest up after they're done with you, alright? Can't have one of my finest on the sidelines for too long, now can I?"

"Honored to be one, Captain." You faltered for a moment, "Wait, 'they'?"

Price only gave you a sly shrug and left the room. You remained to wonder what he meant for approximately ten seconds until Gaz and Roach burst in, the latter immediately glued to your side. So this is who he meant by "they", why were you even surprised?

"Feeling alright there?" Gaz smiled, taking a seat at your other side.

"I should be asking you that, didn't you get all heartbroken after I punched you?"

"I shouldn't have asked," Gaz groaned, shaking his head despite his smile, "Cheeky as ever, huh? Can't even be sympathetic without you trying to make fun of me."

"Well, I for one was pissed!" Roach interjected, "Right after you got here, we got to work on finding the assholes who hurt you and made them eat shit for dinner. Man, I wish I could've been in the interrogation room with Ghost and Soap but Price said I'm only finding an excuse to beat them up more."

Gaz raised a brow, "You were finding an excuse to."

"Well yeah, but I was only gonna mess with them a little bit, not zap their balls like Ghost—"

"I'm sorry, what?" You coughed, stunned by all the information coming out of them and hardly able to keep up. "What happened when I was knocked out?"

"Price didn't tell you? Oh, well," The two began to give you a run-down of events, from how Roach nearly beat the living hell out of your torturers, to the hidden basement, Ghost and Soap's whole interrogation (with great detail via Roach intel), and how both Price and Alejandro held a whole operation and shut down the suppliers.

Gaz shrugged, "Of course, it was mostly to shut it down and for the sake of Las Almas-"

"-but I mean, we also had to defend your honor!" Roach huffed, passionately signing to emphasize his point, "At least I wanted to. Seriously, how fucked up is it that they drugged you? It wasn't even helpful, they're just sickos that-"

Before Roach could further rant, Gaz tugged at the back of his uniform collar and glanced at his watch. "C'mon Roach, we've been here for a good hour and Price has us on duty right now." Roach only whined at Gaz in response but he ignored it, giving you one last glance, "Get some rest and get well soon, mate. I can't babysit all on my own after all."

"Hey!"

You broke out in laughter, watching the two leave and waving them goodbye. While you wished they could've stayed longer, your heart still warmed at the thought of how they cared, waiting for you to wake up and immediately being at your side. It reminded you of how you stayed at their side when they got sick from a mission in the rain and you didn't, so you felt somewhat obligated to help them as the 'survivor'. Perhaps they felt the same way too, that as your friends, they felt obligated and willing to stay by your side in return.

Hours passed since Gaz and Roach had visited, morning turning to late afternoon. The only ones who did pass by were either other soldiers on base needing medical attention or the nurses themselves, who regularly checked up on you. It wasn't exactly the company you wanted, but it was better than agonizing silence and isolation, which you quickly found to be the worst of it all. Not the scars, not the stiff bandages, not even the sickly clean smell, but just when things were silent. When things were silent, your mind went back to the time you spent, the hours you waited in between questions and beatings with nothing but you in your own head fighting for your consciousness. The buzz of the fluorescent lights in the infirmary drilled a hole in your skull the same way that singular overhead light had, drowning out your thoughts in an uncanny way. The IV drip was no better, it kept you awake the same way the rhythm of your own blood dripping had. You hadn't even noticed the way your breathing suddenly turned ragged just like it did when—no, you had noticed, but you didn't want to.

It shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did, it was only a few hours, you've been through worse, others have been through worse.

But god, the silence.

"You doing okay there, uh-" A nurse walked in through the curtains, pulling up the clipboard at the end of your bed and reading your name, "I'm just going to administer some painkillers real quick, okay?"

Unconsciously, you nodded and watched in a slight daze as she pulled up a cart of medical supplies. Your hands balled into fists to stop the trembling you weren't even aware of but somehow knew you had to hide. It hadn't quite registered to you what was going on or what she had said, even as you watched her fill up the syringe and flick it. But the moment you felt the needle against your skin, you roughly grabbed her wrist, causing her to yelp and drop it.

Your hands began to tremble again, growing clammy. You became all too aware of how muffled the nurse's panicked words were but how sharp the ringing in your ears was, piercing your brain. Words wouldn't come out of your mouth, replaced with small, quick breaths while your eyes darted around to find something, anything to focus on with your blurred vision.

"At ease, sergeant." A heavily accented voice spoke, ripping you from your haze and you turned to find that familiar skull mask standing by the curtains.

"I... I'm sorry," You mumbled, letting go of the poor woman's wrist and hanging your head apologetically. Your breaths returned to normal, the lights were less bright, and the noise was gone for now.

"I think it's best if you ask the doctor to try other kinds of painkillers with our friend here, miss. They aren't too fond of needles, ain't that right?" Soap appeared behind Ghost, trying to keep things lighthearted with how tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate in. The nurse nervously nodded her head before walking away with the cart, understandably still shaken by what had happened.

"I'd ask if you're doin' okay, but it seems a bit obvious now, ain't it, Ghost?"

The other grunted in response, sitting down at one of the chairs by your side. "You'd think they'd know better with these kinds of things."

"Don't be mean now, they're just doing their jobs," The scotsman chuckled, turning back to you, "Now, aren't you quite the sight for sore eyes? Sorry we couldn't make it earlier, we got tied down with paperwork after the whole fiasco, you know about that yet?"

"Yeah, I didn't expect you guys to get the job done so fast."

"Aw, did you want us to leave you some left over? If I'd known, I would've told Ghost to go a little easier on the lads." Soap was the only one trying to make any conversation out of this visit and you already knew the reason for Ghost's silence. It was just like in the helicopter after you took the blow for him, though you were pretty sure a pun wouldn't be enough to break him from "brooding" like last time.

"Sure. Would've loved to get a few punches back on them," You teased back, "But thank you guys. Really. I know it wasn't the main purpose, but I really appreciate that you guys had my safety in mind. Never figured joining the 141 would come with vengeance perks, or am I just that special to you guys?"

"You little shite, you," Soap cackled, ruffling your hair.

"Looks like they beat us here, Rudy." Alejandro's voice chimed out of the blue, appearing soon after.

"Too bad, I was hoping we'd have them to ourselves," Rodolfo hummed, followed behind with a gift basket in hand, "At least we bought something, eh?"

"Oi! We would've brought something too, we just wanted to get here as soon as we got back." Soap pouted, "Tell 'em Ghost."

"Actually I was hoping to get a 'get well' card on our way here." The masked man mumbled, ignoring his partner's offended gasp.

"You seein' this?" He whined, but you also ignored him, favoring the sweets that were in the gift basket.

"How'd you know this was my favorite?" You gasped, your reaction had the two Vaqueros looking at each other with proud faces.

"I have my sources."

"Ale, you just asked around base."

"That still counts as sources."

The whole lot of you started breaking into conversation, the boys exchanging their accounts of their ambush. In return, you shared what had happened when you were caught and how you escaped in a small summary of events, which led to them ranting about the men they interrogated and about the drugs themselves. Even Roach, Price, and Gaz popped in one last time for the day to visit you and join in on the discussion. Seeing them all like this, gathered around your bed, laughing and bantering, it almost made you forget all that had happened. You wanted to cherish this moment, keep a mental picture of it framed over the locked box in the back of your mind. Being in the military never allowed much room for friends gathering and all this chit-chatting outside of pubs, so it was a rare sight for sore eyes.

In a way, it made your life a little more meaningful. Reminded you that you weren't just a "good soldier", you were a teammate, a friend. You were important, someone worth fighting for. A purpose.

Although the job was harsh and you always felt like you had a gun to your head, that everyone wanted you dead on the battlefield, the 141 always showed you that someone out there still cared, still wanted you to fight and stay alive. Even if life tried to put you six feet under, they'd be there to pull you out without hesitation. You didn't have to doubt or question why, you already knew the answer.

You were family.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn't last for long, the poor nurse from before had been startled by the sheer volume of people around you, especially when most of them were high-ranking. Regardless, she chastised them for keeping you up when you needed your rest (you didn't) and began to shoo them all out. It was almost comedic how the group of giant, intimidating men left with little resistance in a pile of shame. Christ, they look like a pack of sad puppies, you humorously thought to yourself.

Ghost was the last to leave, hesitating to say something by the way he just stood there, curling his hands into fists. You had to force yourself not to laugh right then and there. For someone who was so silent and stoic for most conversations, he was easy to read. It wasn't hard to notice how his eyes kept flickering to your bandages the entire time he sat there, followed by the flashes of concern on his face every time you had coughed from laughing too hard or accidentally hurt yourself by shifting your body too quickly.

"I'll be alright, Simon." Giving him a reassuring smile, you hoped he'd take your words to heart, "Don't worry about it, I'll be on the field right as rain again in two days tops and you can kick my ass around all you want then. Promise."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and you began to worry that maybe your words were too cheap for him to believe, or maybe that he was more upset than you'd originally thought.

"You better be sure." He finally responded, "I take my promises pretty seriously, remember that, sergeant."

You stared at him all googly-eyed until your lips broke into a wide grin, beaming brightly at him and shouting as he left.

"Message received, L.T!"

a/n: AAAA I haven't written this much in so longgg. I had the first half already down from the last part because it went on for too long, but this one is nearly DOUBLE the word count. It's bound to have some grammar mistakes, but I hope that doesn't ruin the immersion too much. Let me know what you guys think!

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thankskenpenders · 1 year ago

Text

Sonic Prime: "Season 2"

Eight more episodes of Sonic Prime are out! They're labeled as "season 2" despite just being the next eight episodes of the first (and presumably only) season, allowing Netflix to market it as multiple seasons without having to give the cast and crew raises. They love doing that shit to their original cartoons. Ugh.

Anyway! Last time, I gave the show some leeway because it was still finding its legs. This time, though? We're now two thirds of the way through the series, and sadly, I think it's time to accept the truth:

While there are parts I like, a lot of this show... kinda sucks?

This multiverse sucks and Rouge was robbed

Previously, I noted the pattern of each universe spotlighting a different friend of Sonic's (Tails in New Yolk City, Amy in the jungle world, Knuckles in the pirate world) and predicted that, hopefully, Rouge would get her time to shine next. And with 16 episodes left, surely there's time to explore new worlds that are more interesting than the jungle and pirate worlds. Those were just the warm up act. Right?

...Right?

Nope! That's it! There are no more worlds.

This multiverse show where anything is possible really is just about another Eggman-controlled dystopia world, a jungle world, and a pirate world. That's all they came up with! Just those three, and two dead worlds that don't really count - one a featureless wasteland, the other a ghostly echo of the original Green Hill dubbed "Ghost Hill." (Sonic's friends appear here as holograms stuck repeating a single line each. It gets old immediately.)

The jungle and pirate worlds and their inhabitants being so overwhelmingly generic becomes unforgivable the moment you realize this is all we're gonna get. It just leaves me wishing they'd thrown this whole concept out and finally made a normal Sonic cartoon with no twist in its premise. A few of the new takes here are good, particularly Nine as a darker riff on Tails, but so many of them don't feel anything like the fun characters they're supposed to be. They're stock cartoon characters wearing the Sonic casts' skins.

I'll admit my bias is showing, but god, Rouge is REALLY done dirty by this setup. The normal Rouge we see in the first episode is so fun for how briefly she appears, but then in all the other worlds she's reduced to a generic action girl with zero personality. What's her purpose, exactly, when every AU version of Amy is ALSO a straightforward action girl? It drives me absolutely insane that they gave us a PIRATE ROUGE and she doesn't care about treasure. They do nothing with this! How!!!!!!!! She's just never gonna get her turn. It's so obvious that Rouge is only in this show so that they can have another girl, but you could swap her out with another character like Blaze and it'd make no difference.

Speaking of the pirates, though...

The way things play out in the pirate world is so stupid

Previously, with the Paradox Prism shard within reach, Captain Dread Knux was regressing into his old obsessive personality. I'm fine with this. Sonic and Dread both want the shard, they're gonna fight over it. Obvious stuff. But the actual impact it has on the story is maybe the stupidest bit of writing in this entire show so far.

Basically, while fighting a couple of the Eggmen and their robots at sea, Sonic has to briefly run over to the enemy ship to fight them and grab the Paradox Prism shard while Dread and his crew remain back on their ship. Dread goes "Oh my god, look! Sonic's abandoning us! Traitor!" While Sonic is... like 200 feet away. Still in clear view. Fighting the guys who are trying to kill them. Retrieving Dread's beloved treasure for him.

And yet, Dread's crew buys this! And when Sonic runs right back over with the shard in hand, they're all like "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY US" and turn on him.

It's just. What?!

This isn't a huge part of the "season," but I highlight it as maybe the worst moment of the show's character writing. I'm reminded of Thorn Rose's backstory from last time, where she was depicted as suddenly snapping one day when she saw her friends pick one too many berries in the jungle. Sometimes a character just needs to pivot for the story to work, and they aren't really interested in getting there smoothly.

The Chaos Council fucking sucks

I tried so hard to like these guys, but they drag the show down so much.

The choice to have a team of five different Eggmen really just means that Eggman has been split into five one-note characters. Four of them revolve entirely around the most trite, predictable, boomer-ass jokes based on their ages. The teenage one is whiny and just wants to play video games. The young adult one is a vegan hipster who does yoga. The old one is cranky about all the whippersnappers and has a bad back. The baby is a baby. These are jokes that would've been tired if this show aired 20 years ago.

The odd man out is Mister Doctor Eggman, the middle-aged one with a toupee who's the stand-in for regular Eggman. But even he kinda sucks. The other four all being one-note joke characters means that he has to be the straight man of the group, so he's just very dry and serious and plot-focused without any of Eggman's fun eccentricities. He's neither particularly funny nor particularly sinister, which is just about the worst place for an Eggman to be.

He doesn't even have any incompetent robot lackeys to bounce off of, because the unfunny alternate age Eggmen fill the quota for bumbling secondary villains. But also, like... Orbot and Cubot are in this show! They were in the first episode! Where are they? God, I never thought I'd miss them so much...

But, okay. It's not ALL bad.

The highlights

There's a recurring theme here, which is that the best episodes are the ones where Sonic is pitted against a foe who can match his speed and they just let the animation carry it.

The first of the new episodes is mostly about Sonic fighting Shadow, and BOY is their fight fun to watch. Said fight happens because Shadow blames Sonic for shattering the universe and doesn't trust him to fix things. Shadow wants to restore their world, but he refuses to see the various AU counterparts as the same people Sonic once knew, and he doesn't really care what happens to them. Ultimately, though, he begrudgingly accepts that Sonic really is the only one who can hop between dimensions for Plot Reasons, and therefore lets him go try to do things the nice way. He sadly spends most of his time waiting around in the void between worlds, but in the last episode of the batch he and Sonic get to team up against the Chaos Council's forces and it's very cool.

As far as recent interpretations of Shadow go, this is a good one. He's a great foil for Sonic, which just makes me wish he could travel with Sonic to the different worlds. He's cynical and overly pragmatic in his approach, but his points aren't entirely wrong. His anger feels justified. They even let him have some snark! And Ian Hanlin is really great in the role - definitely a contender for Shadow's best voice ever. He just sounds so natural.

The other speedster Sonic fights is Chaos Sonic, the Chaos Council's take on Metal.

He can talk! Deven is basically doing a Jaleel impersonation for him? People are very mixed on this.

The idea behind Chaos Sonic is to turn Sonic's obnoxious smack talk and zingers back around on him, and I don't hate this idea, even if a lot of fans find him annoying compared to Metal Sonic. (Some comparisons have been made to Archie's Shard, but I assume this is a coincidence.) Like the rest of the script, his dialogue certainly isn't anything to write home about, but the fights he gets into with Sonic and co. are so damn fun and dynamic that I have to like him. I also like how expressive his eyes are on his dome screen face, and the animators have a ton of fun with the fact that his torso and head can rotate 360 degrees.

Unfortunately, he's destroyed at the end of his debut episode. I'm praying he gets rebuilt, because this show desperately needs better villains than the Chaos Council.

Again, the animation in Prime is maybe the best animation in any official Sonic media, period. I just wished I liked the characters and worlds enough to be invested in more of the fights. It's hard to care about the dozenth group battle against the generic Eggforcer bots and the baby in his Fisher-Price mech.

The note we end on

After fighting a giant glowing replica of the normal Eggman for... some reason? Episode 16 ends with Sonic and Nine getting into an argument over what to do with the Paradox Prism shards. Sonic wants to restore his original world, but Nine still wants to create a new, better world out of the one that's just an empty wasteland, believing he doesn't belong anywhere else. Nine angrily runs off with the shards, and Sonic is distraught as he realizes that Shadow was seemingly right about how he shouldn't trust Nine.

I kind of like this conflict, mostly because Nine is the standout character of this show. But my main problem is that we don't know what will happen when everything is fixed.

The logical assumption is that the alternate worlds will just... stop existing, right? That must be the idea if Sonic and Nine are treating restoring the original world and creating a new one in the Shatterverse as mutually exclusive options, right? If the Shatterverse disappears, will Nine and the rest all stop existing, too? The show seems unwilling to discuss this possibility, so I'm left not really knowing what the stakes are in this conflict. Nine becomes a whole lot more sympathetic and Sonic becomes a whole lot more monstrous if restoring the world will erase most of this show's cast from existence, but the thought that this could even happen doesn't seem to have crossed Sonic's mind. Sonic seems to want to take his AU friends back to the regular Green Hill - he at least wants to introduce Nine to his normal friends - but like... he can't really do that, can he? They're not gonna have four Tailses running around.

I don't really know what direction this is all headed in. I guess we just have to keep watching, even if I'm past the point of accepting that this show is mostly very mid.

It's just frustrating that everyone else working on this show is clearly giving it their all while the writers at Man of Action phone it in for so much of its runtime. The scripts drag this show down so, so hard. There are moments and episodes I like, but you have to slog through so much mediocrity to get there.

#tkp post #other media

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prettynice8 · 1 year ago

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Kinkmas Day 16: Sex pollen

Pairing: Denji x male reader

This guy

Summary: The lust devil infects you two with spores or whatever, making even more horny than usual.

Warnings: Rampant horniness, kissing, dry humping, smashing, doggy style, public area? taking Denji's virginity, dub con? Sex pollen DUH

Word count: 1104

It should have just been a normal mission; you and Denji (mostly Denji) would kill a devil and be done with it, but not this time. You were just normally going on patrol, you weren't even a devil hunter, but you liked the company of Denji, as if you wanted him inside of you. You two had just been walking in a random abandoned warehouse, quite roomy, which probably added to the eeriness. You were talking about random shit, hot people, Makima, smash or pass with devils, who would take care of power if either of you were to die, everyday things. That was all until you were randomly attacked by a devil.

Before either of you could have the time to react, the air began to fill with red mist, it smelled like roses, how pleasant. It clouded your vision, you couldn't even see Denji who was right in front of you, and then suddenly you heard a voice.

"I wish I could stay and watch dinner and a show, but I must be off, sorry." The voice was alluring and high pitched, it sounded like a stereotypical gay man in fact (I imagine the lust devil to sound like a homosexual). Then, just as quickly as the devil arrived, it was gone.

"What the fuck do they mean by that?" You asked, the mist clearing up, almost as if it left with the devil.

"I don't fucking know!" Denji honestly answered, just as confused as you are. For a while you just sat there in your confusion, until your pants started to feel unbelievably tight.

"Do you also feel a little weird?" You asked Denji, not much of a question since you could clearly see his red face, drool starting to collect in his mouth. He looks over at you, giving you a tunnel stare.

"I don't know." He said, slowly walking closer and closer to you. You stay still, trying to figure out what is going on. Denji doesn't have the same concern, the only thing he can think of is getting rid of the overwhelmingly painful hardship he has.

You notice the incredible tent in his pants, you try to think about how or why this is happening, but you can't take your eyes off his clothed dick, and thus can't take your mind off of it.

"What are you doing?" You asked, already having a thought on what was on his mind, which is probably the same thing that's on yours, hard core smashing.

"I don't know." He responds again, finally face to face with you.

You two just stand there, looking longingly into each other's eyes, before Denji finally makes a move, putting his lips on yours, giving in to the over empowering temptation. You can't talk though, instantly reciprocating these emotions, kissing him back.

His lips are surprisingly soft, moving with yours perfectly. You both stay like this, until only kissing isn't enough to satiate your desires.

Your hand goes to rub Denji's already painfully hard clothed cock, you even feel it throb in your hand. His hand goes to grab your ass and then he starts to rub his covered dick with yours, his rubbing becomes so aggressive that it causes both of you to fall over, him being on top of you, just like he wanted.

Denji continued his dry humping, while also kissing you more passionately, his tongue swirling around with yours. You moan into the kiss, his dry humping getting quicker as he tries to chase his release. Sadly, just rubbing his cock on yours simply isn't enough, he needs the full experience.

You notice his hard thrusts and offer your own help, putting your hand in his pants to rub it raw. He starts groaning at the sensation, as his hand does the same with your member, rubbing it without precision or technique.

Denji stops jerking you off, opting to take off his clothes and get straight to the point, showing you his glorious cock. It's about average length, but incredibly girthy, he also has a lot of pubes, looking as if he never trims. You follow suit, removing your clothing as well. You two go back to kissing each other, this time roughly, pure tongues and teeth clashing together, wanting, no, needing to be as close to one another as possible.

"Hands and knees." He ordered, in which you quickly obey, doing exactly as he says. You look back at him, waiting for him to enter you, needing to feel him inside.

He does what you wish, giving one quick kiss before finally entering your ass. Slowly but surely, he makes his way in, his large girth making it slightly difficult to fit all the way in. It takes a while but eventually he does make it all the way through.

He gives you little to no time to adjust, wanting to have this burning sensation go away. You're not complaining though, wanting the same thing.

His thrusts are uncontrolled but effective nonetheless, causing a moan out of you every now and then as he ruthlessly hits you from the back. Denji even let's out a groan or two, loving how tight your hole is, almost as if you two were made to fuck each other.

He leans down and puts his bare chest on your back, wanting more skin-on-skin contact, which is why he also starts rubbing your dick. The sensation of this added on to his attack at your ass makes you an official moaning mess.

He uses his other hands to grab your face so he can kiss you, wanting your lips on his again. Your mouth is already open so he can have full access to your tongue. The kiss is feral, saliva spilling into each other's mouths, down your chins, and onto the floor, teeth clashing together as you two just can't get enough of the other.

His kiss, hand, and dick work perfectly together to make you cum, which is exactly what you do, spilling all over the abandoned building's floor. Denji follows closely, dumping a massive load in your ass, some even spilling out onto the floor.

The burning sensation is finally gone for both of you. Though you notice that Denji's dick is still hard. Denji then notices the cum spilling out of your ass and puts on your underwear.

"I want it to stay there, until we can go somewhere and do this again." He said sensually.

"Where?" You asked, putting the rest of your clothes back on.

"As soon as possible." He replied, doing the same.

Thank you random devil mist.

THE END

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bigwishes · 11 months ago

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Hi there,

I was wondering if you could curse me with muscle growth so that I become one of those big dumb bodybuilders that always thinks he’s to small and keeps growing and taking roids. Smarts and stuff don’t matter. I just want to become a muscle monster. 💪💪💪😈🍆

Well that seems like a very easy thing to do, and of course I can't help myself but let a man become a bodybuilder, which in my opinion is the peak of what a man should be. It'll be a rather simple change, one you wont even notice it. Over night in your sleep you'll completely roid out into a big meathead and on top of that you'll always be filled with motivation to workout and go lift. Lets take a look at what you've become so far...

You look at yourself in the mirror, your first day on your newly inspired gym kick and you can't but help feel so pathetic and tiny. Every guy you pass seems to smile and pay you a complement, but you can't work out why, all of them are so much bigger than you. Even the guys who aren't bodybuilding or powerlifting are so much bigger than you.

You continue to flex in the mirror and a guy asks if you could give him some tips for growing biceps as big as yours but you simply shrug and explain you don't know much about the gym. The guy looks at you incredibly confused before walking away. You continue to sigh looking at your reflection wishing you could be a bodybuilder.

You step on the locker room scales to start your new progress tracking but you can't make out what the little things are showing up on the screen, you thought for a minute it might be a number but than looked down at your hands and your doubt was confirmed, it couldnt possibly be a number because numbers only went up to 10 because thats how many fingers you have.

You go out to the weights and begin to lift at random until something feels heavy. Unfortunately it was just a pathetic 2 pound weight but that seems to be all you can lift. Guys from around the gym stare at you. A few every poke their gym buddy and point at you smiling. You look in the mirror keeping an eye on your form and become overwhelmingly embarrassed as it was clear by your pathetically tiny reflection that you were doing something wrong and the experienced gym goers were having a laugh.

I hope you got what you asked for bud. I made it impossible for you to see even an ounce of muscle on your body or weight on the bar. The 2 pound dumbbells you are curling are really 80 pounds and everyone is amazed by how big you are. Unfortunately you didn't care about a brain so you are too stupid to even know how to workout correctly you just simply do your best to lift heavy, and it'll work too. You'll never get to notice it but I thought it best to remove your genetic limit for muscle growth. Eventually your traps and pecs will consume your neck and you'll become so ridiculously big it'll be a workout just to move, but you'll never notice anything. You'll always stay pathetically tiny in your own reflection...

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #reality change

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pomegranate-pen · 23 days ago

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The Aeon's Gaze.Veritas Ratio x GN!Reader.

summary: when outer space was quiet and your small ship was filled with a cacophony of tears and sad songs. Where once stood an excited traveler ready to see the world, now was a crying wanderer experiencing their first heartbreak, vowing to never call another planet ‘home’ ever again,

You remember asking yourself, Akivil, how have you ran this path? How can the express experience friendship and comradery and even love like no other in the world, and then so easily leave it all behind? Why can’t you do the same? Why must you feel so lost?

Why must you feel so alone?

you're trapped in a haze of dreams. Yet, through the mists of autumn leaves, blizzard snow and a space station bustling with researchers, in each and every illusionary minute of your dream, an indigo haired man is present. Like he’s in the back of your mind, stuck in like glue through every thought and theory that passes by you. and soon, as you stop acting in your dreams, as reality and illusion becomes one and you realize you’re in a fake, made-up world of your psyche, you stare into his golden eyes curiously, one question lurking echoing through your mind.

why wasn't Dr.Ratio a genius?

tags: uhh kind of slowburn? reader is a magic professor. reader is gender neutral. father figure screwlum. I have been writing this post two million times now I cannot for the life of me tag send help.fluff, future fluff. toothrotting fluff. BUT also angst.lots of angst. lots of nerdy talks because it's dr.ratio guys ofc there's gonna be nerdy rambles. this entire fic can be seen as a love letter to ratio and a character exploration of him ngl.

Word count: over 16k.yes.yeah.mhm.send help.

chapter1. the unreasonable reason for magic

Dr.Ratio has always been…difficult to get along with, to say the least.

It’s not like you despise him- nor do you wish any ill will towards him. But it’s common knowledge between everyone that knows even the slightest bit about him that Ratio is known to uphold his own opinion to the highest of status, he sees his ideas as superior to the ‘simple-minded’ (his words, not yours). You’ve heard his students, as you’ve met them once or twice during your months as a professor, call him the very definition of a researcher. What other academic and overwhelmingly strict professors would want a researcher to be. Bold, confident and utterly obsessed with knowledge. Ratio holds his opinion in high regard not because of pride or confidence-though they certainly have a play in it- he does it because his opinions all derive from knowledge itself. He doesn’t like when people speak of things they have little knowledge about, and so, he himself constantly strives to store the most knowledge he can in his peculiar mind.

You don’t think you’ll ever get along with him as a friend, let alone a colleague. Hell, you’re not sure if he’ll see you as a person worthy of speaking to, because you see- Ratio is an honest man, blatantly so. He says what he thinks and wholeheartedly shows a person if he thinks they’re worthy to hold-up a conversation with or not. One of those blatant methods is his mask, one where you’ve always found yourself smiling at. The sheer absurdity of it, the stern and reactionless block of delicately sculptured stone leaves you holding back giggles for no reason whatsoever. You’ve heard fellow colleagues call it unnerving-uncanny even, yet you find it the complete opposite. It’s amusing, it’s delightful to look at. It’s a full treat to glance at him and see him intensely conversing with someone with the mask still on, his voice high on emotions while his face unmoving as ever.

Colleagues who have spoken to him are confusing as well— some find him to be respectable, a determined and highly intelligent person whose conversation always activates the gears in your brain- other’s find him to be too prideful, a snob who thinks he knows more than anybody else, understands things better than others do, “mean-spirited.”your co-worker Rina called him. “mean-spirited and somewhat elitist- but rather than his elitism being laced within status and power, he is attached to knowledge. If he thinks you’re simple-minded or do not have the same IQ or higher than his, you are deemed unworthy to even glance at, let alone speak to.”

“I think he’s nice.” your other colleague, Byron adds, while Rina glares at him.“you only say that because you think he’s hot!”

“Perhaps, but can you blame me?” Byron gushes. “ he’s too gorgeous to handle. You may all think that he wears the mask as a statement, but I believe he wears it because he knows he’s beautiful. so he wears that ridiculous thing just to make sure the students don’t get distracted!”

“Oh please! He’s not that hot. Sure his eyes are mesmerising and he somehow can pull off purple…and his voice certainly does add to his attractiveness…and his abs-“

“ ooook— this conversation is getting out of control.” You’d quickly cut in, leaving the now embarrassed colleague trying to explain their reasoning while the other one laughs. Safe to say, the reputation of the ever so famous Dr.Ratio, amongst other employees of the intellegencia is varied, and it depends on whom you ask. There can be no label put into him other than ‘popular’. But this reputation does not hold a candle to how your students like to describe him. to them, he’s the strangest and harshest teacher they ever had, but he’s also what pushes them to improve and show their value in the university. Whenever they come back from his class to yours(whether if it’s from another day or merely a few hours,) you find them to be mentally exhausted, sleepless and even malnourished. Five minutes of your class is spent on letting them rant about their troubles with him- though, they never say whom they’re speaking about exactly. The teacher is left as ‘that one stern teacher before your class’ and he has become a ‘he who shall not be named’ sort of rule amongst your students. A ‘voldemort’, some nerd (you) might be keen to say. The horror stories you’ve heard about his teaching methods and assignments makes you feel bad for wanting to do a surprise pop quiz that day as well. but unfortunately, you have a class too, and it’s your responsibility as a teacher to teach however much you can in the small duration you have in each class. After all, magic is an important and impossibly difficult subject, and though you understand that the subject Ratio teaches must be of a difficult and utmost importance, you cannot let the students see yours as something to yawn at.

You’re no genius, and even if being amongst the intellegencia professors makes you one in others' perspective, it is still something you’d completely deny if directly asked. The only reason you’re a professor here is because of your extensive knowledge and passionate love for magic. Magic of any kind, whether cursed or blessed, inherited or physical trait, from aeons or from the wonders of space- any sort of magic is fascinating to you. you’ve spent most of your years being a wanderer, traveling between worlds and planets mastering all kinds of magic, to the point where most people just started seeing you as a researcher rather than adventurer. You’d spend days in a planet's library cherishing every and each book with even the word magic in it, any friend you spoke to you’ve talked their ear off about magic with. Passion has become talent, and talent has become knowledge. That is how you found yourself being offered the role of professor, and it’s a job you’ve started to cherish, because it’s basically them paying you to info-dump however much you want about the only subject you found pure love for.

‘genius’ is a highly inadequate title for you, you’d much prefer just the term ‘researcher’ because in truth— that is still who you are. You’re a researcher- more precisely- you’re a wanderer. Soon, you’ll get bored of this teaching gig and then fly off to visit another planet in the vast-less galaxies and learn more about magic- maybe even discover an undocumented one which you can write extensively about and make it into a book. When one is only great in one particular subject, can they really be called a genius?

This— in truth, is the main reason on why you don’t speak to Ratio. You’ve heard of his statement-his extreme low-tolerance of people he do not seem worthy of his time- and so, you’ve already came to the conclusion that he might not fancy a conversation with you, let alone a discussion regarding the different methods of teaching yo both have, because truly, from what you’ve heard from your students, it’s obvious that you two are like sun and moon, your methods are total contrasts. Where he enjoys bringing students up individually to the front to analyze their solving skills on the board, you don’t put time on that, rather you quiz them and give them ‘group projects’ so they could master a collection of spells together, all while also giving you a group essay about a certain magic that hasn’t been documented well-enough yet and can help them broaden their scope on the limitless and infinite forms magic can have. If someone fails to meet his expectations, he quickly sends scolds them and explains to the rest why that person’s methods were horribly false. But you prioritize helping the person you’re questioning learn their problem first before turning back to their seats. He deems exams and pop quizzes the very buildings of his grading for someone- while you believe the person’s activity in class is far more of importance. He gives no second chances, you either fail or survive his class, but you always can’t help but feel bad for the ones failing- giving them a chance to give you essays and reports that can somehow enhance their grades. He’s the stern teacher while you’re the kind one. You’re too different, you believe. You’re the high acceptance rated class while this is, horrifyingly, only three percent.

“I-I’m not saying I think he’s hot!” when your mind goes back to the conversation at hand, you see your two colleagues still bickering. This time, the embarrassed friend seems much more frustrated, while the other much more amused. “I’d rather die than to date that guy. His personality is hard to endure and his reputation far worse.”

you give a soft smile. “I’m glad I at least don’t have such a shaky reputation. It’s only been a few months and I’m already overwhelmed with work.” You gave a chuckle, yet, silence overtakes the place. For a moment, you think they’re probably busy just sipping their drinks, yet as the seconds pass and no comment is added, you look back up to them confused.

They look at you concerningly, shocked even. As if they couldn’t believe the words that left you. you felt your nerves shake.

“what? What is it?”

The two give a glance to each other, unsure on how to break the news to you. speaking in some sort of glance-language, the previously amused friend forces the other to speak. He groans, looking at you with a guilty plea. “ uh…well,” he falters a bit. “h-haven't you noticed?”

The question makes your heart drop for a moment. “notice what?”

“ aeons , you seriously didn’t see anyone’s ugly stare at you?” the other asks, all while she looks at you with disbelief.. Shit, you have noticed those.

“..I just thought they did that because I was new?” you replied confused.

“Well- it is but—“ he sighs, unsure of how to explain it in the kindest way possible. “…it also has to do with how you got here.”

You look at them confused, mind clanking together to piece together their broken words. Then, in a moment of brilliance, your eyes widen and you feel breathless.

“ They think I’m a nepobaby ?!” the ends of your hair stand straight. The shame and embarrassment of the entire weeks of working here now coursing through you. The wall of ignorance, the wall of bliss some might call it, has now broken, and you’re left to witness the typhoon of horrid rumours drown you, the cold shrieking wetness leaving you shaken, the warm coffee in your hand now feeling cold.

“Worse,” she adds, hissing at the severity of what she will add. “ They think you’re a sugarbaby.”

It’s like the mythical Kraken beast from your home planet has come to attack and swallow you whole.forcing you to drown deeper in the dark waters as you look at the two friends with a painful expression, disgusted by the very idea of it all.

It was true that it was by Genius Society's member seventy six’ recommendation that you were considered for the position, yet that hadn’t changed the rigorous meetings, interviews, past studies and travel checkings you had to go through to get accepted for it. this is the intelligencia guild,after all. Although you are known for your research and scholarly skills in magic, so are many others, and it was through the filled basket of candidates that they soon landed on you.

“That's…I….” you didn’t know what to say. Even the very image of you and Screwllum dating leaves you astonished. To you, Screwllum was merely a good friend, a father figure even. He used to be your motivator when you felt utterly helpless in your pursuit of magic, the one who saved you one or three times in the Herta space station when they were under attack, just as you saved him. He was a comrade, an old robot who reeked of wisdom and kindness. One might argue the most normal of the geniuses. All feelings you ever had of him were platonic and for the longest times, you thought people have also perceived your relationship as such. Apparently not. “I need to go.” Was the only thing you could huff out before leaving the scene immediately, using your class that would start in a few minutes as the excuse.

-----

Late in the nights where only a few guards remain, there are only two teachers obsessed enough with their work as a teacher that they stay for longer hours in the place. That would be you and the alabaster headed genius. Late at night when you’d feel the bones in your neck cracking from exhaustion, you make your way to the office lounge for a break, you glance in, seeing that the statue head is on the counter and you quickly scurry away. it feels wrong- to see the true face of the man so keen on hiding it amongst most people. Sure, you find his reasoning to be ridiculous, but you’re not one to overstep others’ boundaries. If he sees fit to scare and intimidate people he claims are ‘simpletons’, then so be it. it’s a silent agreement to not bother each other one bit, even if you both need the lounge at the same time. The other just has to wait five more minutes before they get their coffee.

As your mind is hazy and sleepy as ever, you intend to repeat the infamous routine. However, time is everlasting, yet also constantly in change. Or, this is just your flimsy excuse on the situation at hand.

With the night-light in your office being your only source of comfort, you find yourself unable to check even one paper. Mind boggled with the supposed ‘rumours’ that have been circling around you since the moment you’ve stepped in here. you felt guilt, you felt embarrassment and most of all, you felt offended.

You spent years of your life suffering for magic, living for magic. Breathing magic. You;ve abandoned everything, your home on earth, your friends, your sense of normalcy and sanity for the sake of reaching the unfathomable, reaching the power that was never granted to your own world. Though you do still stand strong on the belief that you are no genius, that doesn’t mean that you’re not a scholar. It doesn’t mean you’re not a scientist in your own right. a seeker of knowledge, to solve the unsolvable, to travel the unending galaxies to answer a question that remains unknown even to you. What is magic? What’s its true purpose?

It’s bitter, really. How one influential man’s name can change the course odf everything you’ve worked for. Not that you blame Screwllum— you’re certain that he got this job for you out of concern for your well-being. Especially since your last hang-out, where you got drunk out of your mind with him on the cold tiles of your bedroom in the Herta space station, sobbing into his shoulders about the infinite loneliness you feel as a wanderer of space—

You quickly shook your head. Your mind needs to focus on work, not meddling memories of the past nor unimportant rumours. With a sigh, you get back up from your seat, taste buds already craving the utter bitterness of coffee, all while your mind begs for a quick nap, which you’re sure would be an eight hour sleep instead.

You dismiss it, trying to distract your desperate body with ideas for your next lessons instead. As your mind comes up with new ways to explain curse-based magic and exorcism spells, your hand wanders off to the door knob. You were so distracted by your new ideas that before you knew it- you were inside the lounge with golden eyes piercing through you.

Eyes full of wit and intellect, judging you a bit before his gaze softens for a moment- then his brows furrowed and it looks as judgmental as ever once more. hadn’t he been wearing his common greek-like wardrobe, you would’ve mistaken him for a complete stranger trespassing the building.

“Are you just going to stand there?” his voice startles you. you hadn’t even realized you were standing frozen. In instinct, you gaze at the table a few feet away from you, noticing the alabaster head placed on it. shit. If only you weren;t so dazed, you would’ve avoided such a strange interaction.

“sorry.” You could feel your nervousness seeping into your voice a bit, you berate yourself for it in your mind. “…I won’t bother you too much. I just need to make some coffee.”

He stays quiet, only taking a few steps to the left, giving you a clear way to the coffee pot. With a mumbled thanks, you start making the coffee. Silence overtaking the atmosphere and making things even more awkward. Aeons, you should’ve waited five minutes, you should’ve been careful.

Perhaps you can make conversation with him? The very thought leaves your mind as soon as it comes. What in the world were you going to ask him? How was his day? Who is he? You already know that, and from what you know about him, or more precisely, heard about him, he seems like the type to dislike short meaningless conversations.

But then again, what others heard about you are the complete opposite of who you truly are— so maybe it’s best you give it a shot?

“Dr.Ratio, is it?” you turn your head to him. “ I’m L/n, I teach-“

“I already know who you are,” he huffs. . For a moment, you’re left speechless and (though you’ll never mention it to a soul) charmed by his accent .“there’s no need for such feeble introductions.” He walks around you slowly, eyeing you as your gaze follows his confused, unsure of what he’s exactly inspecting. He stops, right next to your side with the coffee pot almost near finished with its hard work, the room is silent. You decided to focus on his face a bit, eyeing the red-like pupils of his that make his eyes pop. Truly, your work-friends weren’t lying, he is kind of pretty. His gaze goes up-and-down on your figure, right then, he gives a scoff and takes a few steps back, giving space between the now offended you and him. Seriously, what’s up with this guy? Was he a prick just like everyone else said?

You try to ignore the interaction, quickly taking out a mug from the cabinets so you could pour your coffee and leave in peace. Unfortunately, he speaks up.

“magic is an incredibly difficult subject to teach.” He starts off, arms crossed and his gaze away from yours. “ Its very meaning still alludes to many geniuses, with every research of them leaving more questions than answers. its comprehension is far worse for simpletons and a nightmare for imbeciles…wouldn’t you agree?”

The mug is soon left forgotten as you process his words. The atmosphere becomes tense as you realize that he’s interrogating you now, wanting to know the truth for himself. Your posture straightens, desperate to show an ounce of confidence as you answer honestly.

“it’s true that magic is unexplainable for geniuses. But there's a reason for it. geniuses want everything to make sense, they seek logic. Magic is pure chaos, it’s illogical. Once you finally accept that magic is completely illogical, the easier it would be to learn it. “

He hums at that, a finger on his chin as his eyes close in thought. “…a reasonable answer.” He mumbles to himself, leaving you to be left even more confused than before. His eyes snap open one more, eyes brimming with more curiosity. “Then let me ask this— L/n,” you’re getting a bit sick of him not using ‘professor’ or at the very least a formal title before addressing you. insecurity suddenly strikes you. Perhaps you deserve such treatment with all the rumours floating around?

“You say that mastering magic means accepting it as the way it is— then, how about understanding? From your words, it can be easily deduced that understanding this subject is beyond impossible and something that’s best to not question— if that is the case, then why are you here ?”

There's something almost blinding in his eyes, as if he’s reached the boiling point of the case, has finally set out the perfect trap that no fraud can escape. You realize that in this moment, it’s not only your professionality and position that is being questioned here, but it’s also your dedication for what you do and if you’re doing your job right. if you were granted the position of a professor this quickly, are you even worth it?

With a deep breath and clear mind, you look him dead in the eyes. “you sure do like twisting words, Dr .Ratio” unlike him, you have respect for such things. And it seems that your use of his title intrigued him a bit, as he raised a brow. “ which is unlike what people say about you. you seemed more like a man of logic to me.” for first impressions, he’s been hitting all the marks for a prick. as he hears your words, his expression falters only a bit before it goes back to monotone. Not even a bit offended or at the very least somehow affected by your words. You find that even more infuriating, yet decide to not show any more of your agitation with his sudden interrogation in the middle of the night. “I said it’s difficult, yes. But what I meant by impossible is clear. If one wants to master it, they must accept it and try not to understand it. but if one wants to understand it, then for a much easier path, they must master it first. They must accept its chaos and then try their best to comprehend it. That is what held back a lot of geniuses from understanding it. That is why I’m here.”

“I may not be a genius, yes.” His eyes squint at your words. “but I am still a scholar, and now, a teacher. I’ll do my duties to the best of my capabilities.”

A moment of silence passes by, your eyes staring intensely into his, waiting for an answer. He hums a bit in thought, a small smile etching his lips as he un-crosses his arms and walks to the table to grab his alabaster head.

“the best of your capabilities, you say.” He turns back to you once more. “ Well then, we must see if this ‘very best’ of your work truly does fit the standard, don’t we?”

The mischief in his eyes leaves you confused. “…what are you implying, exactly?” had your mind been in the gutter and you wouldn’t have seen him as a total douchebag, this line of his would have had an entirely other meaning. Especially with how his eyes bore so intensely into yours now, as if he’s analyzing your very being in nanoseconds.

“yes, that will do.” he hums, ignoring your question. He walks away, near the edge of the door before he stops again- giving you one more glance.

“wait - what ?” This was too much implied fiasco in one night, a truly abysmal situation you’d rather not engage in. Even so, you’re not sure if you can convince someone as steadfast and stubborn as him to leave you be, not unless you want more suspicion on you. With a sigh and a pinch of your temple, you ask tiringly, “ when will you be visiting?”

“Wanderer or scholar, it doesn’t matter to me. Your words are confident, but you lack evidence. I’ll be the judge of your work, L/n.”

Ratio merely shrugs, leaving you alone in the lounge with a now cold coffee on the counter, and a head full of thoughts to dwell on.

----

You were always a night owl, but never to this extent.

That, is the first thought you have as you finally get a grip on reality. All with the help of a red-pin stinging your finger as you tried to hastily take it out of your board.

Scraps of paper littered from the ground floor to the very walls, red lines linking everything together as if it’s a clue board for an unsolved murder, at last, the words of the ever-so-peculiar Veritas Ratio has left you rewriting every single one of your study plans in the night, all un fear of somehow,someday, in one way or another your teaching and skills will be questioned, and if the very debate against you is by none other than the world’s most stubborn scholar than you’d rather take the shovel out of his hands and dig the bloody grave they set for you all by yourself. But that’s quite the pathetic sight, isn't it? and in any case, you’d hate to see the smug smile of the bastards who've been spreading rumours about you all these months like a bunch of teenagers as you’re crushed. You’d be damned to let them play as Nanook for a day, even if it is for only a few hours.

Therefore, here you are, with eyes bloodshot as ever, taking a quick picture of your board and sending it to the group chat. Asking the two colleagues of yours that were all awake for much different reasons than yours- (one was gaming all night and the other binge-watching their favorite melodrama for the 100th time)- on how good of a study plan it is.

RatioSimp: dude.

RatioSimp: please go to sleep.

Y/n : that does not answer my question.

RatioSimp: if I tell you it’s good would you finally go to bed? We’re the ones with the cancelled classes tomorrow, not you.

RatioSimp: wait.

RatioSimp: WHO CHANGED MY USERNAME?!!!! AND WHY CAN’T I CHANGE IT?!

Y/N : rip but it’s true tho

RatioSimp :I would’ve blocked you rn if you didn’t help me with checking the exams papers yesterday.

Y/N: Whatever you say Ratio simp.

RatioSimp: *RatioSimp has attached an image of a google search bar, ‘how to hack and change someone’s username’*

RatioSimp: revenge shall be mine soon.

Y/N: good luck coming up with a funny username by then

RatioSimp: Are you calling me unfunny??

*Y/n has left the chat*

RatioSimp: IS THAT A YES??!!

Your nerves eased down a bit, yet the pit of acid in your stomach was still bubbling to an abnormal degree. You can’t help but imagine a disastrous scenario where the duke might find your teaching methods horribly relaxed- they might find it to be far too soft for such a harsh school and reprimand you for such, possibly even fire you as a result. Though, truthfully, you do not care about the status of your employment, what you’re more worried about is possibly being forced to be harsh on your students, and even if they did fire you, the substitute being far harsher or worse, unable to teach such a subject.

Magic is confusing, magic is difficult. It’s not meant to be fully understood, so you cannot teach it by the textbook’s definition of it. magic is always changing, always becoming more than it once was. With limitless power comes limitless knowledge, and magic is something no one can call themself an expert at, not even you. hell , if you’re the best professor they could find at the moment, someone who does not even have the confidence to call themself a genius, let alone let others do so, then who in the world(s) would they choose next?

you sighed, feeling the very weight of this workload affect you right now at this moment. Glancing at your phone and ignoring the abnormal amount of messages, you glance at the clock and note the time. Holy shit . Your work starts in two hours .

With an exhausted sigh, you feel your eyes starting to waver a bit, begging for some shut-in. Though the very idea of sleeping for only two hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth, it is far better than showing up to your class tweaking and ticking like a time-bomb from all the caffeine you would’ve been desperate to consume.

You take a glance around your room, tching a bit from seeing the mess it has become. Something far from aesthetic and beauty that the internet fools you to believe in, in which all the colors of all the books match and the handwriting between the scribbles of neat yet a tin bit crumble up paper is all cursive and pleasant to look at. Oh, and who could forget the pretty mugs all tied in together, one of them laced with a motivational or sarcastic quote that just screams ‘I’m a scholar’. No no, it was nothing like that. For that aesthetic, though pleasant and calming to look at, like all other aesthetics and pictures are based on fiction, on lies. They are a representation of what people wish being a scholar was like. Happy, enlightening, calming and riveting. Yet, it’s nothing like that at all.knowledge can make someone go mad, it can make them lose sleep and sanity. It makes you forget that this house isn’t truly yours, it’s just a small apartment you’ve rented that barely had a thing in it other than a bed, bathroom and a tiny kitchen. No decorations, barely any lights and not even a pillow for the supposed be you got (which was incredibly fragile and creaky, always making you fear that it’d break on you in the middle of the night). Yet now, the empty, cold and lifeless room has become more fit to be a crime scene. From asylum to murder. How fitting! it’s like the very papers you’ve ripped apart and torn out or messed with just explain the story themselves. A lonely human free from the asylum’s care finally basks into the world again, finally tastes the true meaning of freedom. Only to find themself frozen, a heart with a sinkhole, that just keeps getting deeper and deeper the more time passes and the more that their isolation consumes them. The very house they got, the very fresh start they found has now become their new source of madness, their new asylum. They may have left the asylum, but the curse of loneliness and fear of abandonment has never left them. It is chained to their very being now- changed to their hands like in a vice, tight grim that makes their very fingers shake as they write out their sanity, as they write with pure insanity.

You clear your throat, feeling an itch in it that has never been felt. Aeons, is the lack of sleep getting to you now? you can barely even think straight anymore- let alone try to comprehend the carousel of thoughts that are going through your head.

With a sigh, you shrug off all the litters of paper, pencil and pens off of your bed and crawl into the sheets as the bed creaks with even an inch of your movements. The constant shrieks and creaks makes you wince in annoyance until your ears get used to it, and your mind succumbs to dream land as your head hits the pillow.

You feel like you're safe now, between the softness of your new bed sheets you bought a week ago and the little blue lamp giving you comfort through the eerie night. Yet, as your poor body thinks that this is finally it, you will finally get the rest you so desperately need, a certain, mischievous and evil mind of yours starts asking its dark questions of the day, ones that literally keep you up at night.

How long has it been since you’ve made a room yours ?

During your travels, there was rarely any time or, frankly at the start, any money for booking inns and hotels. So most of the time you were left camping or sleeping in empty rooms a few employers of yours offered for your services. In your time as a student, you’d often sleep in bunk beds with others and so decorating a room was usually unnecessary. After all, why try to make it yours when you’ll be only staying for only a few months or weeks? Why put on such time and effort for something that is meant to last for years?

And yet— these clusters of paper, you buying bed sheets with your favorite designs and hell-even the goddamn board you bought and installed in this room- these are all signs that someone lives in this building, someone lives in this room. someone is a part of this world, alive and important to the city around them.

Your other rooms were always left untouched, not even a pot or table moved one inch to the right or left. Your suitcase was always packed, your fridge was constantly empty. Yet now, in this room there are signs that you live, that you are no mere viewer of this world now, but a part of the play they’re all acting in. an actor who doesn’t even know their lines, let alone the play they’re in.

With a now heavy heart that matches your mind that was swimming with heavy memories- you grab your pillow, take a deep breath and scream into it with all your might, hoping, begging and even praying it will make the pain go away, that it will help your mind shut up and for your heart to stop throbbing in pain.

You tried to ignore the little teardrop marks that spotted your pillow as you finally drifted off to sleep.

-----

You craved something stronger than coffee.

The exhaustion that coursed through your veins was phenomenally high, your cup of sad black and half-assedly brewed coffee was becoming stale on your tongue. No matter how much you drank, you didn’t feel one bit awake.

“huh?— P- Professor L/n ?!”

The sudden voice of a student merely walking by stopped you in your tracks. Aeons, did you look that bad? Never in your life have you heard a tone so exasperated and shocked by your appearance. The student, along with a group of their friends approached you with worry, all giving different surprised reactions at the state you’re in. it took you a moment to realize exactly who they were-but when you did, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“oh…Dimitri.” You greet the first boy who noticed you. a student of yours who sat in the front row seats and was constantly writing down notes. He was a good kid, though at times his constant parade of questions were annoying- nevertheless, he had a golden heart, and his friends never shied away from teasing him about his nerd-like nature. Speaking of…

“You look like shit, prof.” the boy in the red jacket spoke, grinning.his clothing instantly reminded you of who he was. It was Caleb, the kid who sits in the back of the class. He never paid attention to class, not unless the magic you were speaking about involved pyrotechnics.His amused look quickly shifted to one of annoyance as another kid with glasses hit him in the head.

“watch your language, dumbass .” Glasses kid spoke. His voice instantly reminded you of who he was. Tulio. Always first in and first out, an incredibly punctual kid with a strong love for illusion magic.

“since when did you care?—“

“since you once called the craziest professor around here a ‘ shit-faced greek stone’ right in front of him —“

“both of you, stop.” Dimitri hit both of them in the head. His attention quickly turns back to you. “are you alright professor? You look like you’re going through one of- ehh…” Dimitri looks around for a second before leaning in. “ one of ‘you know who’s exams.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, which, in hindsight, perhaps sounded like a cry for help.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” was you reply. “ Just make sure to have your notebooks on hand. Today’s session is a wacky one.”

It seems like your tone was not convincing enough for Dimitri. His eyes only looked at you with more concern. However, they quickly lit up with hope as he started rummaging in his bag.

“Well, now you’re starting to scare me, prof.” Caleb continued the conversation. “I was hoping you’d have us test out spells again at the lab.”

“eh…well, maybe next time, Caleb.”

“..can’t it be today?”

Your brow rose . “ Why should it be today?”

Caleb and Tulio glanced at each other for a moment with an indescribable expression, as if they were trying to communicate something with mere blinks and breaths. Before you could question further- Dimitri excitedly takes out the energy inside his bottomless bag (it seems like the bottomless/teleportation spell you’ve taught the kids are getting far different uses then what the dukes and fellow colleagues might expect).

“Here ya go prof! I drink this anytime I need a pump of energy in me!”

You take it, giving it a good look and grimacing about how tall the drink is. You turn it around to check its description, only to become pale at the percentage of sugar and caffeine.

“uh…is this-..is this healthy?”

“not at all.” Dimitir laughed. “but it’s always helped me go through hellish exams.”

Exams. Right. This is just like an exam. And unfortunately for you, the voldemort of the university is the judge of it all. He's the one designing the questions, the one who set the date to ‘I don’t know ill I just pop in one day and say exam time asshole!! And ruin your entire fucking week or maybe, horrifyingly even, month now by haunting your dreams every night about this god awful shitty disgustingly bad and outrageous fucking exa-“

You quickly open the can and gulp down the entire thing.

You could hear Dimitri choking on the rest of his rambles, all while Caleb laughs in astonishment and Tulio hisses in second-hand regret.

You take a deep breath, letting the strawberry gas filled taste invade your mouth with its insane sugar and spice. “…uh.thank you, Dimitri. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“y-you sure you’re okay prof? you can cancel today’s session if you want-“

“no no. I’m fine. I think. Maybe not.Maybe yes. Maybe-“ shit, not even a minute and the caffeine is already making you feel hyper. “just uhh- just get to class in time and have your notes ready. Today’s session is gonna be a long one. “

“you…already said that…”

“d-did I?...” yep, this seals it. Screwlum was right, caffeine would be your downfall.“ ….I’ll see you kids later.”

----------

You swear you just saw Qlipoth watching you by the window.

Your heart is in a strange state. Not in disarray, yet so close to its edge. You're holding yourself back from talking outloud and doing every tricky movement imaginable, unable to mask it all. Yet, you try to, desperately. Trying your best to not weird out the students that are pouring in, awaiting the class to fill and for the chatter to end.

You take a glance at the room. there seems to be no sign of an alabaster head. Which means that for another day, you’ve survived. And for another night, you will be tortured.with a sigh and deep breath, you close your phone and tap the board, bringing the class into motion

Today’s session was all about emotion-based magic-commonly love spells and such- but also consisting of different varies emotions that one can casts spells of, yet, it’s a complicated process, and is in need of an experience and course in a multitude of topics such as neuroscience and psychology. You’ve mostly covered the history at first, explaining which aeon it came from and which planets are the most successful at generating this sort of magic without any need of these specific sciences, but for average magic users, such as the students in your class, it was needed to understand at least the slightest bit of them so they wouldn’t screw up the spell and cause horrid damages to the brains of their subjects, truly, it’s one of the more delicate magics, one where you’ve repeatedly warned them not to use at their current intermediate level, best to leave it for another year, decade even, because this magic was even a hellish thing for you to learn- you still remember when your teacher at the time cast one of the spells on you and you ended up crying for five straight hours, ranting and rambling about all the things in your life frustrating you most- even reaching the point where you confessed that you thought you were unlovable-that in all this time of your travels, you have failed to find enough love for another that you’d decide to stay, or even someone loving you so much that they’d want you to.

You quickly shake your head- taking a quick sip of water as the students gingerly take down notes. You pick up the marker to write down another spell on the board once more- yet falter as you see a porcelain white head poke out between the rows of students.

There he stood, in all his prideful glory, with crossed arms and a statue for a head that has become a nuisance for you now- being unable to see his expression and honest reaction to your teachings. Students , whom must've noticed his arrival much sooner than you, only share small glances to the ‘he who shall not be named’ professor and then each other. You stare for a moment, unable to process anything at that point. Heart in a complete panic and anxious thoughts consuming your mind. You close your eyes, decide to imagine this as pure hallucination and continue your teaching as if no strange man is there. no, the stern teacher your students always talk shit about is definitely not inspecting your class right now. He totally just didn’t see you info-dump about your hyperfixation like a child. absolutely not. Nope nope. This is still a completely normal class, a completely normal day and your bloodstream is completely normal and not now,as you’re guessing, slowly starting up a timer for full-shut down mode in the next three hours. Maybe two.maybe one. Maybe even just five minutes -

No no don’t even guess!! You’re certain your body is as happy as a clam!! Your arms are most certainly not begging for a break right now!!! your mind is definitely not shutting down as we speak!!!and this? This is a very normal class. That’s all it is. A class about magic. Specifically- psychological/emotion-based magic - the one which doctor fucking Ratio is now inspecting-

You take a deep breath midway lesson- calming down a considerably small amount of your stress and continue as if it was nothing important, ignoring the man whose eyes never left your form.

----

“ you did great professor .L/n !” one of your students whispered before leaving. Others gave the same anecdotes or just thumbs ups and smiles. Yet, it did nothing to comfort your panicked mind. Sweet? Yes, but very unhelpful, because the man himself was still quietly sitting at one of the row seats, his fingers grasping his chin in thought.

If you weren’t in such a nervous state, you’d giggle at the scene you’re seeing right now, the stone head still amusing you to no end. With a quick amount of confidence and motivation, and by seeing how he’s still unmoving from his seat, perhaps wanting to stay and think a bit more, you approach the stairs leading up to him and with each step closer, you could feel your neck suck in more breath and hear your heart beating faster. You cleared your throat, hoping your stress wouldn’t be evident enough through your voice.

“so…you’ve finally visited.”

He doesn’t glance up to you, nor does he respond. You can hear your mind berating you to the galaxies and back for thinking with your heart and not logic- not assuming that he might've wanted some quiet time instead.

You reach out your hand, hoping for a handshake or at the very least his attention. “It's been some time since we last met, hasn’t it?”

Still, no response.

Okay, fuck this guy. the least he could do was say hello back- or maybe you’re the prick here now? Aeons, you really need to leave—

“you mentioned something about happiness spells, about how they generate more chaos than they do ‘happiness’ in a person.” He finally speaks.” Could you elaborate?” His voice is smooth, yet it still shows his confidence and pride clearly, though, it should be said that since he’s curious, his voice should sound more confused and in need of clarification, yet here, it’s like he’s truly taming his task seriously, his inspecting you and your knowledge of the subject you teach personally now. And so, you decide to answer it as clearly as you could- as if you were teaching a new lesson.

“ The spells will enhance one’s serotonin and their outlook on life becomes incredibly positive at that moment, so much so that this positivity they have slowly descends to toxic positivity the more they’re influenced by the spell. Enhancing any kind of emotion can cause multiple behavioral problems, because the patient in question’s mind all other emotions they feel is simply ignored for the one that’s been enhanced. “

“hm, good. So you weren’t just bluffing over there.”

You’d feel offended, yet your mind reasons that his action is not necessarily out of disrespect, rather it’s from caution.

“it’s foolish how people resort to magical drugs to somehow fix their life rather than proper therapy.” He then scoffed. “ But perhaps, they do this because they fear facing the truth about themselves. That maybe, if the problem hasn’t been solved in a day or so, they’re the very root of the problem.”

Something about the conclusion made you feel iffy, it felt somewhat wrong. And so, you bit the bullet and countered, “ well, I don’t think it can be that simplified.”

He tilts his head, you see it as confirmation to continue.

“ Though yes, you could argue that the problem could be from them entirely- there’s also the possibility that the problem could be another person. It’s hard to convince yourself you’re the problem, but it’s much more difficult to convince someone else that they are. There’s also the aspect of the person whose problem being a loved one- if that’s the case then one could feel horrible for even mentioning the idea of them being in the wrong.”

Ration then snaps his fingers. “aha, well that’s where you prove that I’m right. ” He then turns around to the board that’s far away from you. whether it’s for dramatic effect or if he’s truly in thought, you’re not sure.

“If the person themself can’t find the courage to face others and confront them about the issue, then they’re the problem. They need to face their fears directly, if not, the problem will only worsen, and they will soon be left with quick and temporary solutions that’ll never solve the wider problem at hand.” He turns around to face you once more. “they need to have confidence, in their own abilities and knowledge, they also need to have trust.” This is starting to feel somewhat personal now. “ in themself and others. if one is on the run all the time, there will soon be no home to go back to.”

“…are we still talking about psychology spells?” you gulped, feeling like someone intruded into your privacy without your consent or awareness of it.

To your luck, he doesn’t add anything else to that topic, only humming in what you can only describe as amusement. For what? You're unsure of, and would rather not know anyway. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. He then leaves, without bidding goodbye, yet as much as you want to feel annoyed by that, you find it to be in character for him. As you’ve said before, you’re no genius, and perhaps, he’s sensed that in you from the moment you started arguing back with him.

You’re about to just leave the classroom, taking your phone and other belongings with you, yet you pause for a moment, frozen at the door as you’re reminded by something horrid.

You didn’t ask his opinion on your class yet.

Another fearful thought hits you.

What if he thought you were terrible?

With a new pit of anxiety, you leave the classroom wanting to scream your head off. If the aeons were kind enough, which from what you’ve studied they’re often not, they’d give you the sweet release of death already.

-----

You couldn’t focus.

The dimly lit office room that was once your oasis to work at has now become a nuisance. Your essay was coming to a complete halt— your mind going nowhere but the meeting you had with Ratio a few days ago. Thankfully, nothing of importance has really happened. You hadn’t had anyone call you in for a questioning or anything of that embarrassing sort, yet, a part of you has become selfish. Especially since you heard your companions speak about how the kind yet notefull criticism they got from their inspectors was exceptionally helpful. In that moment, you realized that you wanted to know if you’re doing well too.though you don’t really agree with all of his views, you still consider them valuable, you’re eager to improve, especially since you might not even work here for long, considering that your wandering and urge to adventure slowly but surely building back up.

Or, maybe, you just wanted to see Ratio again.

You shake your head and huff in annoyance. No, that couldn’t be the case. It shouldn’t be. You’ve only met Ratio once, and from the get-go he seemed like the type you’d best stay far away from. Grouchy, overly-confident and full of insults. You were certain that had you been wrong somewhere or faltered for even one moment in your answer, you’d be facing the nastiest of insults and wishing you would’ve never met him.

Nevertheless, your mind was your enemy. The constant curiosity brewing within you, the questions and insecurities you now have of your work ethics and your brief, yet thoughtful conversation with the alabaster headed man has left you unable to complete your work and in need of the freshest, cheapest and saddest coffee the office lounge had to offer.

With a tired sigh, you get out of your seat and office, walking down the cold halls and basking the vastless stars that shine brightly within the windowsills. Memories of traversing alongside the endless bundles of light left you in memoryland; where the space was quiet and your small ship was filled with a cacophony of tears and sad songs. Where once stood an excited traveller ready to see the world, now was a crying wanderer experiencing their first heartbreak. Vowing to never call another planet ‘home’ ever again.

Why must you feel so alone?

The bitter thoughts soon fade when you find yourself at the office lounge’s door.

This time, the place is empty.avoid of any mathematicians and alabaster heads. The only thing you are met with is the same old coffee pots and empty chairs.

Something behind you cuts the silence.

“..haven’t you had enough coffee for the day?” the accent, the sarcasm and the underlying curiosity, that was Ratio alright. “you were one cup away from a stroke when I saw you earlier today.”

“...I’m making tea.” You huffed, now embarrassed by your lack of sanity today.

“Tea has the same amount of caffeine as coffee.” His tone was so stern, you almost felt like one of his students. Someone who turned in a paper late and is now facing punishment.

“What do you suggest I have to keep me awake? Water ?” you grumbled, finally turning around to see him. your eyes widen for a moment- realizing that he doesn’t have his alabaster head on once again. Yet you quickly shake away the thought, not wanting to look flabbergasted in the face of a man who's been torturing you the entire week.

“ Perhaps you shouldn’t stay awake in the first place .”

You stayed quiet at that, knowing fully well that he’s in the right. you really do need sleep.now more than ever.

“It's not by choice.” He rebottled.

“said the man who is also awake.” To that, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Then we’re in the same situation, Doctor.” You huffed, filling up the kettle with water and setting it on the electric tea-stationary. A peaceful silence fills the room for a moment, only the rumbles of the kettle being heard as its heating the water to its boiling point. In this quiet moment, you wonder if you should ask the golden question. If you should seek the answer to all your doubts. Perhaps it was out of stupidity, perhaps it was out of exhaustion and lack of self-awareness, but you dared to jump into the lion’s den, then berated yourself in your mind for comparing this task so unbelievably horrifying, and finally asked the question that's been on your mind the entire day.

“….did you like my class?....”

Ratio rose a brow, curiosity gleaming from his eyes as he crossed his arms. “oh? What value does my opinion have on this subject?”

“I-I don’t know.” you shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed now. you weren’t one for interrogation, especially when you’re the target. There’s something about ratio’s eyes that make you feel like a test subject, as if you’re an intriguing piece of gemstones that he’s been tasked with knowing every inch of. “you were the one who visited out of nowhere.”

“And that didn’t strike you as odd?” he countered.

You huffed, eyebrows furrowed as you felt a headache coming. “I’m…assuming you were sent by the intellegencia guild’s heads?”

“So you do possess basic deduction skills.” His sarcastic and slightly coy-tinged voice irked you for a moment, but you didn’t let your annoyance show. Instead, you merely sighed and crossed your arms as well, looking at him with the same amount of fierceness he was giving you.

“Are you going to keep on dodging the question?”

He scoffed, closing his eyes for a moment and opening them up to judge you. “ Are you that desperate for other people’s approval?”

“hello??? You’re the one who interrogated my classroom??” was all you could say as you looked at him in disbelief.

He merely hummed at that, before adding “well, I had to. after all, they asked me to do so.”

“and?....” you anxiously whispered. He looked at you blankly.

“Well you didn’t receive a letter promptly firing you now, did you?” gosh, why does he never give a clear answer? Must he always speak in riddles?

Nevertheless, you knew what his words meant. You’re safe. For now, at least.

“Still,” you pouted. “that doesn’t answer my question professor Ratio. What did you think of my class?”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“well it mattered for the intellegencia guilt heads, hadn't it?”

“they did not specifically seek for me.” He argues back, then gives you a scrutinizing glare. “you’re lucky I was in that meeting. Had I not volunteered, you’d be fired by now.”

Your heart dropped, the kettle was forgotten and only his words remained. “..w-what do you mean?”

“Your reputation here is far worse than you think.” He speaks as if he’s scolding you for a mistake, as if he’s warning you. “the intellegencia guild isn’t as sophisticated as you think it is- nor is it filled with geniuses .” He glared at you, and you’re honestly wondering what he’s so offended by. You did say you don’t regard yourself as a genius, didn’t you? “There are rumours about you. true or not, it doesn’t matter. They’re spreading like wildfire, and you only have a handful of options on how to react to this situation.”

You could feel your heartbeat racing, you really just don’t know what to say at this point. You’re feeling a mix of incomprehensible emotions, and your eyes are filled with distress and caution as you try to steady your breathing.

It seems like he’s done speaking, and as he turns around and walks to the door, your instincts flare up, and you say something out of your own control. A slip of the tongue.

“Then what do you want me to do?!” you ask in desperation. The lack of sleep, the stressful days, depressing thoughts and every bullshit in-between finally getting a toll on you.the kettle howls with you, finally reaching the boiling point and switching itself off. “what must I do to get their approval?!”

“Who said anything about gaining their approval?” he questioned. “ Surely, you can think of other ways to prove your worth in this place.”

Ratio stills in his walk, his back turned against you, yet his frozen form is enough to let you know he’s in shock, in disbelief. And when he turns around to meet your gaze, your deduction is supported by the look of disbelief and slight disappointment that he gives you.

“…what other way could there be?” you let out a tired sigh you didn’t know you were holding in. “you’re not suggesting I fight with them now, are you?” you then grimaced. “ I’d never stoop low into doing anything that relates to public humiliation for them either.”

Ratio sighed, a hand coming up to rub his temples. “…quite the stubborn one…” he mumbles to no one in particular, and you can’t help but give an exasperated huff. “If you really want my input, I’d say a few of them deserve a proper humiliation just to knock some sense into their empty minds. But this is your matter, not mine.”

“you’re right. and so I won’t be humiliating them.”

Ratio’s eyes widen only for a moment, as he gazes into your determined eyes with some sense of deep understanding. But….an understanding of what , exactly? You weren’t sure. And no matter how much you were analyzing his every tick and move, you couldn’t pinpoint it.

“…..then I wish you the best, wanderer. ” And with that, he leaves the office. Leaving you alone with a cold kettle.

-----

Perhaps humiliation was the right call.

“Aeons, you look like shit.” The exasperated gasp of one of your only friends, the one you love to tease (bully) so much catches your attention.

Because as you sit here on the lounge, with the fellow co-workers now pouring in one-by-one, you really aren’t sure how you can gain their approval, while also keeping your pride intact. Because after all, there is no way you’ll grant them favors by doing their research or grading their papers. Not only will it make you their scapegoat for work, but it’s also vehemently against the intellgencia guild rules, and that could easily worsen your reputation if not treated with the utmost care.

“Morning to you too, Ratio simp .” You yawn, bringing the coffee closer to your lips, yet the bitter aroma makes you gag, and you learn the cup away from you instead and give a disgruntled sigh.

Byron rolls his eyes, sitting down beside you. “Seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“…you won’t like the answer to that.”

He looks at you with a mix of pity and disappointment,and as soon as Rina joins you both at the table, he looks at her with a pleading stare. “knock some sense into them.”

“you think I haven’t tried?” she scoffed, taking a sip of her own coffee. “they’re the utter definition of stubborn as a bull.”

“We know.” they both say in harsh unison, and though you know their angered voice is all out of concern for you, a bit of your heart breaks at such reactions. Great, now even your only friends hate you.

“I’m right here you know.”

You rest your head at the table for a moment, taking a deep breath and clearing your sad thoughts before sitting straight again. “I need your help with something.”

“Does it relate to fixing your sleep schedule?”

“No.”

“Then we’re not interested.”

You huff in annoyance, clicking your tongue and looking at them with plead. “it relates to my reputation here.” to that, they look at you with pity and intrigue. Aeons, you always disliked it when people look at you with pity. What is there to be sad about? You’re totally fine. Your life is absolutely normal, right?

“you two have been here longer than I have. What do I have to do here to gain respect?”

“well…most people who join the guild already have some respect and admiration latched to their name..and others started out in a neutral social placement before achieving high respect here for their accomplishments…” Byron tapped the table, his head in deep thought.

“…but I’m at rock bottom.” You concluded, feeling your shoulders slouch.

“Exactly,” Rina nodded. “ We never had a case like yours before.”

“Actually,” Byron’s eyes suddenly lit up, looking at Rina. “ We did have one. Remember?”

“hm?” she hummed in confusion at first, before her eyes lit up as well. you looked at both of them with befuddlement.

“...what is it?” you questioned with a bit too much enthusiasm, no matter how hard you were trying to hold it back.

“ well…before you, we had another magic professor. Professor Malbin. He lost his position as a professor due to urging students to do unauthorized experimentation revolving around toxin magic.”…toxin magic? ..you’ve mastered toxin magic years ago, and your master has told you about its unresearched capabilities and the dangers it can bring to someone. Producing toxin out of thin air is hard to achieve, but trying to make specific toxins is even worse. It forces you to tamper with reality, to tamper with science and even at timed your own body. Plucking out small atoms from the world itself to create something utterly new and poisonous. A true danger for newbies indeed, and something you should always heed carefully when learning. You remember your own first time when dabbling in toxin magic. It was not fun at all. the dizziness, the state of uncertainty, the heightened senses and the feel of your magic, your very essence of becoming faltered and uneasy was painful, to say the least.

“they couldn’t find the students who were involved, but they did find Malbin’s private files about this research, and that’s why they fired him. But guess what? His research on this has garnered a lot of praise. So his reputation hasn’t dwindled, rather, it went up.”

“that….explains everything.” You frowned. No wonder the malic and rumors towards you are so penitent. They think it was unfair for Malbin to be fired. They see him as a far more worthy person to be called a professor rather than you. some wanderer the guild picked up from Screwlum’s advice. “so…I must conduct a research that is just as good- or hopefully even- better than what Malbin has done?”

They both give a glance at each other and then look back at you with not-so-motivating shrugs. “probably, yeah.” Rina replied, while Byron hummed.

A sigh sipped past your lips, a headache slowly forming into your mind as you drink-up the coffee in your hand while withholding your gag and exhaustion from the constant bitter taste. You really need to start eating something sweet with it lest you want to throw up. “…research it is, then.”

--------------

The room is dark, cold. You stand in the black void in utter confusion, and…discomfort. You can feel fear and nausea course through your veins like blood. You can’t speak, only feel. You look around you for anything, something in this dark, shapeless void.

“You left me.” a shaky, broken and horrifying familiar voice echoes inside the room. you don’t dare to turn around, afraid of what you might see.

A horrid silence takes over the room. you could feel him staring at you. you could feel his piercing, hatred-filled gaze. Your mouth opens, shaking and barely holding it together.

“…you were mara-struck.” You utter, tears forming in your eyes.

“And whose fault was that?” he scoffed. Aeons. You missed his voice. yet you want him to just stop talking. To just stop hating you. to just stop telling the truth-

No.no.remember what Screwlum said. Echo his words. It was not your fault.it was not your fault. It….

“…there was nothing I could do.” your voice was barely a whisper, barely a breath.

“you and I both know that’s not true.” His words were like a dagger to your heart, piercing your very being and making your knees shake, buckle and fall to the ground. Your hands coming up to your ear instinctively, holding your hair in a deathly clutch. You see drops of water forming in the ground…and you realize that they’re in fact your tears. You’re crying. your heart feels like it’s getting stabbed into millions of pieces. Echoes and memories, his giggles, his soft smile, his blood-curdling scream all crash into your head like a wave. You wanted to scream, yet your lungs wouldn’t let you even breathe.

you plead for mercy, head down near the ground as you see his shoes now, he’s peering down at you. you don't want to look up, afraid of what you might see. The yellow leaves cascading down are already too much.

“Was it worth it? is it still worth it, Y/n ?” you missed how he called your name. you hated the fact that this is how you hear it.

“It's all your fault wanderer.” His sharp claws reach out and grab your hair. You let out a screech of pain as you’re forced to look up and see his face.

Papers fall everywhere as your body lurches awake. Sweat and tears cascading down your face. The office is dimly lit, your computer being the only source of light. Your breaths go from quick and ragged to calm and steady as you gulp.

Water. You need water. You look around the room for your mug, and as you finally find and quickly grab it, you curse at its empty contents. Great, now you have to get up and go to the office lounge. What time is it, even?

You peer at the clock on top of your door. Shit, it’s midnight. You’ve overstayed, again . Perhaps brainstorming immediately rather than seeking sleep wasn’t the best idea. Your body has seemingly forcibly shut itself down mid-way through your work and made you fall asleep.

You slowly get up, trying to shake the mental image of his mara-struck face out of your mind. Tiredly so, you walk out the office and on a familiar path to the lounge. You hope that you’re alone, that no one gets to see you this worn out,as if you’ve just walked out of a storm.

However, fate loves to torment its favorite punching, and as you slightly open the door, you’re met with locks of purple hair and the most intriguing of eyes. furrowed brows screaming of intellect and deep thought, a face so ethereal that you’d almost mistake him for a god. You’ll have to, unfortunately, admit that he is quite handsome. Still, it doesn’t really defend him regarding the case of his attitude.

Horrifyingly enough, his expression falters. “ I can hear you.” His words leave you jolting, sleepiness now fading away and being left with absolute shame and embarrassment at your own horrid and cringe-fail behaviour. “ It's obvious that you haven’t had a proper sleep yet.” The sigh he gives leaves you even delving into more self-deprecation in your mind, all while you slowly walk-up to the counter and prepare your own set of caffeine-induced bitterness.

“Sorry.“ for a moment, you wonder if you should mention your last comment that happened merely seconds ago before the eerie silence, but you soon decide against it, wanting to ignore it with every fiber of your being and hoping to aeons that he’d do too. Instead, maybe small talk would do. “…so what’s keeping you up at this time?”

“ Pop quiz preparations.”

You gave a joking wince. “you’re gonna surprise them tomorrow, eh?”

“next week, actually.”

“…and you’re preparing now?”

“There'll be multiple quizzes, on each day of the week.”

You look at him with disbelief, a concern for the students etched on your face. To that, his brows furrowed and he huffs in defense.

“It's essential to their learning.” He defends. “ I must make sure these lessons stick to their minds and don't fade away with time.”

“…I can see your reasoning behind it.” you mumble. “but…”

“but?”

“..won’t it crush their grades and spirit?”

“grades don’t matter. It’s what you learn that does.” He said with a firm tone.

He stays silent at that, and you take this as an opportunity to drink up the water your body so desperately needs.

“while that is true, that is not how the guild would think now, is it?” you open the fuacet, pouring water into your mug as you continue. “It's just like you said, the guild is quite flawed. And so, they’ll only care about the number on the paper, not the student’s own skill.”

“…one pop quiz it is, then.” You’re actually quite shocked by this outcome, as you look at him with disbelief.

His brows scrunch up in slight annoyance. “What is it now? surely you’re not suggesting for me to not do a pop quiz at all?”

“no..no..it’s just that…” you peer away from his gaze, a little overwhelmed by its intensity. He always looks like he’s studying you. like he’s trying to decipher your being. You’re certain it’s out of habit for him. a born genius, always thirsting for knowledge. “ …I didn’t think you’d be so easily convinced.”

“And why would you have such a belief, might I ask?”

“Well….” you tap your foot a bit in stress. Shoulders tensing up. “rumor has it that you’re quite difficult to reason with…”

“…guess we’re both victims of untrue rumors.” You reply, your finger swirling the rim of your mug.

“ah, well,” his voice had a sort of lilt to it, a lightened, slightly condescending tone. “ not all rumors around here are true, are they now?...or perhaps you’re suggesting otherwise?” oh, sneaky. And Unfortunately, he;s right.

“that we are, L/n.”

A silence takes over the room. you finally take a sip of your water, relishing its refreshing taste and your body soaring in victory since you finally drank something healthy for once this week. You forgot how good water tasted,how heavenly its cooling effects were for the mortal body.

You wonder if he’ll ask you the same question. and to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t. you don’t pay any mind to it, treating the silence as a peaceful one rather than awkward as you walk up to the windows to view the stars.

Stargazing has always been a favorite activity of yours, even if you’ve travelled all thw galaxies. There’s something about these glimmering dots up on the sky that leaves you in a blissful daze, deep in thought with no grief or heartache polluting your mind. They bring you a sense of clarity, of peace.

A frustrated groan gets you out of your daze as you slightly flinch, giving a small glance back at Ratio. He seemed stuck in his own mind, glaring at the pristine looking book he had in his hands as he seemingly scribbled out something from it with a disgruntled look. Soon, the discontempt expression becomes one of scholarly intrigue once again, and he taps his pencil on the book as he thinks.

His eyebrows furrowed again. “must you be so insistent on your gawking?”

You could feel shame and embarrassment course through you like a large hammer striking your head. You immediately jolt your head back, away from his gaze as you huff in embarrassment. “ sorry…sorry….” Aeons, how many times have you apologized for your strange behaviour tonight? Why is it so hard for you to hide your intrigue for him? What's so interesting about him that keeps dragging your mind deeper into analyzing his every move?...”I…I don’t know what’s gotten into me..sorry.” you pray to Nanook to just come and strike you down now where you stand. You’d rather embrace death than to revisit this awkward moment in your life time and time again at three in the morning when you can’t sleep. You’re certain it’ll be added to the collection, a collection which your bring will excitedly choose from, like a child in a candy store.

He closes his book, sits down on a chair and crosses his legs, his hands resting on his head. “Is there something you’d like to ask me, L/n?”

You hesitate on answering, wondering if there truly is something you wanted to ask him, which would explain the strange intrigue you had on him. with a nervous nod, you reply. “…what’s...gotten you so frustrated just now?”

His eyes light up a bit, his once furrowed brows losing a bit of their intensity. “ah, for a moment there I thought you were going to ask me my thoughts about your class again…it’s good that you can take no for an answer.” He hummed. “ Though, this current question of yours isn’t of any value either. for what purpose would I want to explain my current issue to you?”

“well..perhaps I can help?”

“Do you have expertise in the area of physics?”

“No.”

“then you cannot help me.” he quickly concluded with a pep in his tone, crossing his arms. “It'll merely be a waste of time for me to tell you.”

“well..hey now…” you suddenly felt defensive, as if you had something to prove, as if you wanted to prove your worth. Not only to him, but the entirety of the guild as well. “I’m certain I can still help in some way. Even if I’m not an expert at physics, that doesn’t mean I can’t give my insight as a magic expert.”

“magic is in everything .” You replied. “ it is the unsolvable, and non-understandable science. It is the things we cannot properly explain, but they still exist around us. so I’m certain that one way or another, any problem can have magic involved in it. Just like how science is in every step we take, magic is too. Science is the peace, while magic is the chaos, and together they create life itself within this realm.” You were too into your ramble now, too deeply focused to notice the intrigue in his eyes shining brighter, and his frown slowly dissolving. “ Hell, think about our creators, the aeons. Can we truly only explain them in a scientific way? Must we not speak of magic and the unexplained phenomenons they produce as well? magic is in science, and science is in magic. the solved and the unsolvable. It’s that simple.”

“How are you so sure your magic expertise can help?”

How could you not hear of the land of dreams? The land where all wishes come true, where all your worries fade away. the place where you wanted to isolate yourself in, the perfect escapism, the perfect place for shutting down the world,pain and grief around you as you wither away. a place which Screwlum delayed your departure for, then quickly assgined you to this professor gig so you’d never run away from reality. You tense up a bit as you hear it’s name again, but nod away.

“That simple…huh?...” Ratio mumbled, tilting his head. “ Well then, enlighten me, L/n. Here is my problem,” he opens his book, and suddenly, the notes and scribbles float up in a glitch-like blue font before turning into a holographic blue screen. Physic equations, circles and archives about neuroscience and dreamscapes litter the holographic board in a series of what you can only describe as genius cacophony. “ I assume you heard of Penacony, yes?”

“well, the intellegencia guild has been researching its dream-related abilities for a while now,” he continued. “and I have tasked myself with researching its dream-bubbles.”

He suddenly brings up a video in the holographic screen, which was showcasing a person touching the bubble and suddenly getting pulled into it. “it’s a new, unknown teleporter that transports people into specific personal moments in their life, often blissful ones. The bubble seems to produce a visual space inside its circle that only the people inside the bubble can see. “

“so…kind of like a virtual world?...”

“You could say that. But, the physicality and contents of this bubble are completely unknown to us..moreover, it’s not a creation of the family at all. it just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and more of it is producing out of thin air. I want to know how it’s made, and how it appears.”

“Well, the answer is obvious.”

“Is it now?” he looks at you incredulously. “What is it, pray tell?”

“It's magic.” you shrugged, and he gave a disgruntled groan in response.

His face became deadpan, a frown on his face once more. “ things cannot be that simplified, wanderer.”

“I disagree, Doctor.” You mutter. “ It's just that simple. Penacony is the prime source of a magic utterly and completely rare in our universe. Dream magic. These bubbles are obviously a by-product of it.”

“..dream magic…” he tutted in thought, hand firmly placed under his chin. “…so how are they made then? What happens within dream magic that creates these bubbles?”

“I…don’t know.” you shrugged. “I’ll have to see the bubble in person to determine that.” And from what you can guess, they’re in penacony. So, no, you really can’t help him, not unless you miraculously book a space ticket to that place and somehow manage to get there in time before tomorrow’s class.

Ratio stares at you a bit, nods and quickly gets up, walking away to the exit. And for a moment, you think that’s it. That's the end of your conversation, and the end of your lackluster aid to help him. that is, until he stops his tracks and looks at you expectedly.

“well?”

You froze for a moment, looking back at him confused. He gives an exasperated huff as his brows furrow. “Are you coming or not?”

“h-huh? To where?” you then huffed. “surely you don’t mean penacony-“

“ah yes, because I can most certainly teleport us there in an instant.” He said sarcastically. “I mean to my office, L/n. I have a preserved dream bubble there.”

“I see…” you cleared your throat, now a bit embarrassed by your own reaction. Truly, what is up with your deduction skills today? “lead the way please.”

------

The bubble shined with the wisps of light blue and gold, tantalizing its bottled illusions.

You were in a daze of its glory, the whispers and giggles it produced, perhaps from a sweet bottled dream, called out to you like a siren fooling a lonely pirate. It is in this moment that you realize why Screwlum stiffened in what you can guess was horror when you told him about your leave for penacony. Penacony was made for the lonely seamen of space, the siren of the damned. and you, were the most cursed being Screwlum has ever met.

“ well ?” Ratio snaps you out of your trance, and you shook your head and slid down the stressed up bundle of bile that was stuck in your throat. You take a few steps closer to the bubble trapped inside the glass podium, eyes scanning every whisp of magic and sensing its power.

“May we take it out of the case?” you asked him, and he looked at you with stern brows.

“any contact with it may cause you to see the confined illusions within it.” He steps closer. “If I am to open this, I must make sure that you will proceed with caution,wanderer.”

“I will…I mean, what can be so harmful about a tiny bubble?” Ratio gave a disgruntled hum to that question, giving you an earnest stare that you could only guess was demanding for you to be a bit more serious about the situation at hand. You cleared your throat. “uh..yes yes, I’ll be careful,Doctor.”

Carefully, ration clicks a button, and the glass podium starts deconstructing itself right before your eyes. The bubble’s once confined energy pollutes the entire place, overwhelming you with the intensity of its power. You take a deep breath, reaching out your hand to reconnect with its atoms somehow. To speak to the magic inside it.

“there’s so much magic…how can you look so…relaxed under its influence?” you huffed out the question as you glanced at him, seeing his unbothered figure. He looks at you in deep thought, eyeing your overwhelmed form as you are busy controlling colors and wisps of the air.

“….it seems that the magic affects you more than it does me.” he hums. “perhaps you are an expert at your field…but tell me, why do most skilled magicians always find themselves more influenced by the magical auras around them? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?...shouldn’t they be immune to it?”

“It's not a question of immunity, Doctor. Rather, it’s a question of how much you can speak to it.”

Ratio gives you an incredulous look. “ pardon ?” His eyes were filled with intrigue and bafflement. “Did you just say ‘ speak’ ?”

“…in my eyes, magic is a person in of itself.” You paused for a moment, trying to hear the whispers wishes and unspoken stories of the magic within. “The most skilled people I know in this field are ones who treat magic as anything but an object. Some treat it like their god, others their enemy. The truth is magic is a living being of its own right, in a cosmological field outside of our mortal perspective…magic has lived as long as aeons have been around, and for some, magic is considered an aeon in their own right.”

“..and you, L/n ... .what do you see magic as?” he asked through the whispers, fierce eyes stuck on your expression as you try to pay your utmost attention to the task at hand.

“…a friend.” You mumbled, the wisps of flown magic going around your arm like ribbons, the whispers getting louder and clearer as they entered your ears and spoke of the unspoken. The illusion laid within the confines of water.

“…so you were correct.” Ratio cut through the silence, finger under his chin in thought, looking back at the bubble again. “…the bubble’s confines can be understood by researching its magic capabilities…”

“I’m not done yet, Doctor Ratio.”

“ oh ? Is your dear friend spilling secrets to you?” you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his reply, glancing back at him before reverting your attention back to your friend.

“Jealous much, doctor?”

“of you or the magic?”

“you tell me.”

“hah, as if.” He turned his head away from you, but you were keen enough to notice his small smile.

“that didn’t answer my question.”

“Not all questions need answers, Wanderer.”

“suit yourself.” You sighed. “But since I’m much kinder than you, I will answer yours—“ you gave him a cheeky smile, and he rolled his eyes at it, further fueling your newfound enthusiasm. “ You see, magic is quite the cheeky being. They don’t like giving answers that are straight to the point. Rather, they like to speak in riddles only aeons could fully comprehend. But, that doesn’t mean understanding it is impossible...it merely makes it harder.”

“and? What have they whispered in your ear exactly?”

“echoes.” You replied. “Echoes of memories deep within the bubble…some familiar…some unknown…I can’t really link any of them together…and all I can guess right now is that the bubble uses its illusionary powers to create a dream sequence solely indulged into the fantasies and dreams of the people that are nearest to it…to prove this…I need a few answers. who else has touched this bubble that you know of?”

“hm…many people have but…the last person who did besides me was the student who bumped into it…I believe it was…” he then tched, as if the very name of the person gives him a headache. “ Caleb Stones…” he sighed. “..the most troublesome student I’ve ever faced…” he mumbled.

You quickly get to work, speaking to the magic that was now within your mind, checking your dreams and desires. Wisps of your own magic appear, and inside your conscious, you kindly ask to see Caleb’s dreams, to see his deepest desires laced within a dream. For a moment, you think to yourself if this could be considered as crossing a personal boundary or not…is it ok to look through someone’s deepest wishes without their consent? Especially if they’re your student? Nevertheless, you’ve gone too far in, and the magic is more than eager to show you the illusionary powers it was capable of.

Sounds of claps echo through your mind, cheers buzzing in your ears and ‘congratulations’ being muddled within your area of hearing. You see yourself in graduation garb, and soon, you can feel the strange sense of pride, enthusiasm and joy of course within you. you see a bunch of your coworkers, you included,looking at you with prideful smiles, a piece of firm paper right in your hands. You take a deep breath, looking at the paper with buzzing excitement, as a familiar voice echoes a speech.

“Caleb Stones…” as the voice echoes, you see a familiar face in the crowd. One that you wished to never see again. fall leaves, withered body, mara-struck eyes. “We thank you for your incredible contribution to the research of---“ Your breath hitches, heart dropping to your stomach as your hands slip and the framed paper slips into the ground and shatters.

You gasp, falling back from the sudden influx of magic as Veritas calls out your name in worry. You take a deep breath, trying to dissociate illusion from reality. Trying to forget the autumn smell and poisoned immortality.

“…I know you have like two hundred phds and all, but there’s no need for a check-up, doc.” You try to wheeze out the joke with an exhausted smile, heart still in a bundle of disarray. Ratio’s brows furrowed, grumbling in annoyed disappointment.

“…are you alright?” you didn’t even notice that Ratio kneeled down beside you, hand on your shoulder as he checked your pulse. “…are you feeling any sort of pain?”

“ eight . They’re only eight PHDs.” He clicked his tongue.

“you act as if it’s a completely normal accomplishment.”

“it is to me—“ he then quickly huffs. “ aeons sake, why are we even talking about this right now? do not try to avoid the situation at hand L/n.”

“I’m not. I told you I’m fine.”

“You got blasted into my office’s wall.”

“Well, that’s just a Tuesday for me. just like how collecting PHDS is a normal task for you.”

“ for how long are you gonna—“ he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing and letting his frustration out through the huff. “ Has the sudden blow to the head messed up your mind? Why on earth do you keep bringing this up?”

You shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile. “joking helps me cope, I guess.”

A flash of understanding sweeps through his gaze before reverting back into the same scrutinising and analytical glare. “I see.” He pauses for a moment before asking, “ what have you witnessed within the bubble?”

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts and answer. “....Caleb’s dream. The dream magic was just a bit more than what I expected I could handle, that’s all.” you lied through your teeth, feeling the guilt set into you. yet your mind warned you of the consequences of showing your heart to another. never again will you let anyone see your fear, your heart, your humanity in its rawest form.

Ratio hums in thought, tapping his finger under his chin as he gazes back to the bubble. “….an incredible influx of dream magic that can sense your deepest desires and create its illusions…..” he then gives an exhausted sigh, a small glimmer of weakness from a man who always seemed in power. “…perhaps it truly wasn’t related to its physics at all.”

You felt a bit guilty, knowing what it's like to be faced with failure when you desired success. “….the strongest weapon of a researcher is their power to admit they were wrong about something.” You tried to comfort him. “ if we were to just be stubborn in our ways, we would’ve never prospered to the point we are now.”

He stays quiet for a bit, his smart mind in a deep thought that you could only assume was speaking in an ancient scientific language or hell, maybe computer codes laced with socrates and shakespeare-esque writing. Whatever it was, it seems like your words left him in a silenced splunder. You merely hoped the silence was because your words rang true, and not that he realized you’re a complete dumbass who doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

To your luck, he finally speaks. “….then a new research must begin.” He gets up, coating off the minimum amount of dust off his robes, and you realize how awfully squeaky clean his office floor is compared to others. you can see your reflection on the ground, and you wonder if this is what people truly mean when they say the floor is clean enough to eat on it. you think to yourself, does he scrub the ground himself, or does he hire a maid? And if so, is it a weekly,monthly, or daily wash? Your ridiculous trails of thoughts vanish the moment he outstretches a hand for you, and as you take it, you feel a buzzing comfort within your heart. It was strange, because now you’ve realized that you’ve….never really held anyone’s hands before. Only one person ever had that privilege, and he used to take your scarred hands into his soft, often cold ones as you walk around the aurum alley in search of vendors to binge-eat snacks from. Ratio’s hands, however, were the complete opposite. Despite being soft to the touch, it was far more muscular and meaty than yours. You could almost sense the years of training he had just by the weight of his palm holding yours. His hands were warm, deeply warm. As if the blood that runs through him is lava, a contrast to his cold and brooding nature. And once again, like the wanderer you are, you wonder, what does his heart feel like then? Is it as warm as his hands? Or as chilly as his attitude? Or are you just alluding yourself with these rambling thoughts all to avoid the reminiscence of the bitter past? Of the cold hands and cheeky smile, of the soft texture that were never meant to fight, never meant to shed blood or break. “ tell me, wanderer, do you have any plans for this term?”

You looked at him a bit perplexed, unsure of how to answer. Yes?..no?....“not…really?” yep, that’s the best way to put it.

“good. Well, sad and disappointing for you, but good for me.” he hums nonchalantly,only adding more to your grimace.

“did you really have to put it that way?”

“—would you like to join me in this research?” he ignores your question, adding further insult to injury. his words were like a bathtub full of salt, one you’d fear a wounded,emotionally sensitive person to fall into.”I could use your expertise in the magic field. “

You hesitate for a moment, eyes wandering away to the bubble once more, fearing the surging power within it, yet also, craving the chaos it contains. You’ve always been like this when it comes to magic. Screwlum has often called you a ‘magic-addict’, with Herta once adding, “it’s like you breathe magic to live.’ A burning curiosity blazes within you, desperately wanting to become the dead cat they always hum about, desiring the satisfaction that will revive you, the understanding of the world beyond you. therefore, with a nod, you give Ratio a reply. “…it’d be quite a pleasure, Dr.Ratio.”

Ratio looks deep within your gaze, searching for something, what that thing is, only aeons would know, and how desperately did you wish you could speak to them. He then lets out a sigh, eyes as steel and inquisitive as ever. As pretty as ever. “….just Ratio will do, wanderer.”

------

Ratiosimp :……..

Rina :……

Y/n : what?

Y/n : why are you two so quiet???

Ratiosimp :…….

Y/n : the fuck is ‘…..’ supposed to mean????

Y/n : pls reply with something other than dramatic pause in the group chat. I did NOT just spend hours texting in such excruciating detail just for you two to be dramatically silent.

Rina :…I….

Y/n : you are not helping.

RatioSimp : LMMMMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU FUCKING DUMBASSS

Rina: the REAL Ratio simp. Hell one could say you’re a future Ratio fucker.

Y/n: I hate both of you.

Y/n: I am deleting this group chat and blocking you both.

RatioSimp: YOU DUM-DUM

Y/n: STOP

RatioSimp : YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIND A NEW RESEARCH TOPIC FOR YOURSELF

Y/n : ENOUGH

RatioSimp: NOT GO HELP THE OTHER WEIRDO WITH ONE

*Y/n has removed RatioSimp from the group chat*

Rina : So when's the date? Or do you guys wanna skip that and get freaky in his office instead?

Y/n: goodbye.

You grumble in utter embarrassment as you turn off your phone and dramatically throw it to your bed, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it for dear life as you knew it.

Unfortunately for you, Byron was right. you were supposed to find a new research topic with this 3rd all-nighter in a row, not stupidly aid and accept the offer to help someone else with theirs. In fact, you should’ve told Ratio you are, despite others’ belief, busy with your own research. You just– didn’t know what exactly the research was yet!!

Yet here you are, now tangled with the man of utter mystery himself, the face of stone and marble with such a distinctive look on the world that you still find yourself trying to comprehend.

With a sigh and a hand through your hair, you lay your head on the soft pillows, the nerves in your brain all rejoicing at the prospect of you finally resting for once in these hellish hours. as your thoughts aimlessly drift by with whines and grumbles about everything, you find yourself fast asleep, trapped in a haze of dreams. Yet, through the mists of autumn leaves, blizzard snow and a space station bustling with researchers, in each and every illusionary minute of your dream, an indigo haired man is present. Like he’s in the back of your mind, stuck in like glue through every thought and theory that passes by you. and soon, as you stop acting in your dreams, as reality and illusion becomes one and you realize you’re in a fake, made-up world of your psyche, you stare into his golden eyes curiously, one question lurking echoing through your mind.

Why wasn’t Dr.Ratio a genius?

--------A.N----------

GUESS WHOSE BACK WITH ANOTHER FANFIC SHE’LL ONLY RELEASE ONE CHAPTER OF AND THEN FEEL OVERWHELMED AND LEAVE??? *points to herself* THISS GUYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

But no seriously if this gets enough attention I may actually have the motivation to continue it. The main reason I falter in continuing fics is usually burn out, terrible and horrid attention span due to my adhd (yes I’ve been officially diagnosed. But honestly look at my fics man how did you expect me to be neurotypical) and TERRIBLE TERRIBLE perfectionist mindset. And I mean TERRIBLE.i swear to you, each and every fic of mine has like—a poor draft filled with over 10k words that im too scared to continue and too nit-picky about it because I keep feeling like I’m utterly deeply incompetent and that my writing is ass. So I tend to give up before I cook, because I’m so utterly scared of failure lmao. I’m hoping by scratching this from being a oneshot to a full-blown few chapters fic, I can break this cycle and finally finish writing ALL the fics I’ve published without the fear of perfectionism. I think a main part that helps me get through it is seeing people actually enjoy my writing tbh. Like if people enjoy it and express that joy to me, my perfectionist urge dies down a bit and I feel more confident in myself. But since I’ve been writing for either unpopular characters orrr for characters so deeply popular your fic can easily get lost in the sea of fics out there, I’ve not received the attention my perfectionist mindset so desperately craves, and so I’ve been lacking in confidence in my own work. Im hoping with this fic it can all change T_T

Anyways if you want this fic to continue PLEASE RAMBLE PLEASE COMMENT RAHHHHH it truly gives me the motivation I need to continue this. Kudos/likes/votes ain’t enough folks i need to hear ALL your thoughts elfknwrnblskbwr

#dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr ratio x reader #drratio #drratioxreader #veritasratioxreader #hsrxreader #hsr #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #ratioxreader #hsrratioxreader #hsrdrratioxreader

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