#which means its exam season

[prussianmemes]

you should kill yourself if you spend 12 minutes sorting around your notes on your desk, making sure they look messy but also the prettiest ones are on top, posing your textbook open and having the most "academia" looking web page or lecture slides on your laptop screen before taking a picture and posting it on your social media story while quietly scrolling through songs to put with it.

[sskk-manifesto]

:)

[hinatashoyyo]

i have reached ginger island, and therefore i am in the top 0.1%

[autism-corner]

.

[heatwa-ves]

MAY 10TH.. EYES EMOJI.

[gghostwriter]

Knots of Yearning

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer lies by omission or in which Spencer acts like he doesn’t know how to tie a tie just to get you to do it for him Trope: Yearning/Angst; think season 1 Spencer Reid w.c: 1.3k a/n: when i thought of this idea, i was thinking it would be some cute light hearted fluff but when i started writing it, it became angst, filled with pining and tension so I dunno what happened but i finished writing it and thought it would be a waste not to post my rambly written fic. I might write a part 2 for this just to close it out to a happy ending. Let me know if that would interest you. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Two halves of a whole, the perfect pairing and yin & yang. Those were just some monikers that Spencer Reid had heard describing his partnership with you that started during the academy. He, being a genius in all things academic and psychological but severely lacking in the physical and combat department. You, on the other hand, filled those gaps—acing all physicals and being well known for being a shy but killer shot. Not to say you were lacking in the other categories, no, you came only second during written exams. 

So it came as a no surprise when graduation came and you both were cherry picked to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Spencer being chosen by SSA Jason Gideon and you being selected by Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. 

The two geniuses of the BAU and the apprentices were added to the roster of nicknames.

Ever since then, he had traded in his standard issued trainee uniform to a button down and a matching tie—a tie that he badly struggles with or so Spencer made you believe. He didn’t mean to lie at first—didn’t mean it to go this far but by the time he felt the need to tell the truth, it had been too late. Each moment you’ve spent close to his space, invading it really, had become the highlight of his days and fuel for his nights. 

He often wondered if you catalogued his reaction just like how he did yours. Did you notice his staccato breathing just like how he noticed your subtle inhalation of his perfume? What about the reddening of his cheeks and neck in contrast to your trembling fingers? Or how about his eyes that convey his utter devotion as yours focus on any exposed skin in between his tie and collar? 

It seemed like a dance between him and you, to see how the other reacts and to figure out who would cave under the mounting attraction that had been building since the first ‘hello.’ 

With his choice of tie for the day hanging loosely on his neck, you would shyly smile and as if spellbound, he would shuffle to your orbit in silent plea for help that he needed.

Each glide of your finger made his encompassing thoughts about the mundane stutter into a halt. How his mind would then bombard itself with questions as to how the universe created such perfection. Each loop of your hand became vivid imagery of his own nimble fingers caressing your palm and all its engraved lines as if they contain the maps to all hidden mysteries of the world. And each tug to secure the knot transformed into a loud beating of his chest, encased within it’s cavity, with chants of waxing prose on how your very being, mind, body, and soul, call to his in a way that even his expansive vernacular could never explain. 

But no matter how much he wished for time to slow down for these intimate moments to last, it never did comply. So here he stayed, lying by omission—yearning for you to notice him, memorize him, and end his pining for the woman who seemed too unattainable for his clumsy, stuttering self.

———

 You accepted the lie well. Maybe too well.

The first time a blue striped flimsy piece of accessory hung around his neck, a sudden burst of courage took over, bringing you to a stop in front of his lithe, towering body and hands reaching up to whisper caresses on the silk to mold it into a secure neck tie that centered itself on his reddening neck—the color matching the one that bloomed on your cheeks as you realized what you’ve done. 

Your mind had rationalized someone as smart as he knew how to fix a tie but your body had moved on it’s own, having have spotted a once in a lifetime chance to invade his well protected space—the same way he had invaded your mind in every waking and sleeping moment.

That same chance turned into a routine. A blessing that you had come to look forward to, your steps having a bounce in them as you enter the bull pen and spotting a different pattern tie hanging undone on his neck every work day.

You knew, with no backing evidence that Spencer has to be doing it on purpose but didn’t want to spiral much into thought as to why he would leave that intimate action up to you.

Did he take note of every reaction you had to his presence the same way you did? The slight rocking on your heels as he inhaled your carefully chosen perfume? The biting of your lip as you felt his honey dripping eyes on your face? If he felt the same, you wondered why nothing has been done and if you had another burst of courage, would you have acted upon the tension? 

Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe that was why you settled for accepting his poorly crafted lie of not knowing how to tie a necktie. 

It wasn’t really a lie if the other party knew the truth, right? Or was it a double lie now that silence has stacked between you and him? 

If you were being slightly honest with yourself, Spencer Reid had always fascinated you. Among the sea of gym built muscles during the academy, his gazelle stature has stuck out like a sore thumb and that intrigued you. How was it that a male, younger than any of his peers, that looked like he could grace a runway was in an institution that reeked sweat and masculinity? That very same question answered when you found yourself seated beside him in a profiler career talk. His intellect, that was why and although it seemed to alienate the others, not once did you feel inferior beside him. Rather, it pulled you in more. His quiet, unsure demeanor was the next to capture your attention. It was an invisible coat that he wore everywhere he went, sewn from years of bullying and ostracizing—similar to your experiences of having skipped a grade. Here was a comrade you thought and so, you silently orbited around his gravitational pull until he took notice and uttered the words ‘hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid’ in a low, trembling voice. 

You didn’t know when that same fascination turned into adoration. There was never a specific moment in time that you could pinpoint when it all changed. It just happened, one day you woke up and the past truth had transformed into a half truth—and the whole truth now being, you falling and yearning for a man who had a bright future in reading people’s actions but seemed too oblivious to the call of your aching heart. 

———

Morgan and Elle shared an exasperated look as they noted the two youngest members of the team silently flirting in the middle of the bullpen, yet again. They didn’t get how obtuse the two smartest people in the room were with their feelings for one another. 

“You think we should give them a push?” He whispered to his female partner.

Elle scrunched her face. “At this point, we might just have to confess for the other.”

And in that moment, another moniker was added to the roster. The dense lovers of the BAU, a nickname that the remaining members use only behind both the duo’s back as they become bystanders to what could be a match made in heaven. If only one would admit to the other. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Could you write for Daemon targaryen like currently after all those nightmares in harnehal he finds a prisoner of harnehal as the only person who brings him peace him falling in love with her and trying to be better person he still fights for team black obviously rahaenya is definitely not happy with these arrangements especially seeing him all dedicated all in love some things he never have done for her but she have no option currently rather accepting his second wife though at the end when team black would be winning and fight at harnehal like aemond Vs Daemon she ask for reader's head happy ending at the end please or anything you wanna write I just wanna see Daemon happy in love at end please

Finally I have time for my hobbies again! Sorry I left you waiting for ages, this term the exam season was tougher than what I have been accustomed to… Anyways, I have started writing some stuff and I wanted to post the intro instead of writing a full-length chapter 1 since it would have taken a couple more days (:

As a side note, I honestly have no idea where this story will be headed because I have no clear course planned, I had some little ideas and I just started writing them. Also I will be introducing stuff which is not in the asoiaf universe.

I am continuing to read Silmarillion from where I left off and let’s say the ideas about Daemon’s love interest are… inspired from what I have been reading (; Enjoy!

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: strong language, I am not a native English speaker, reader is (or will be) described with long hair

This is a very short introduction! Also the chapter is from Daemon’s pov. The title is inspired by Memento Mori by Lamb of God (the song has been a great inspiration for the story so far)

The dungeons of Harrenhal were cold, wet and lonely.

He had no idea when, how and why he had gone down there – one moment, he was in his chambers and the next, he was opening his eyes to the mossy stone walls of the dark dungeons with a torch in his hand. The line between dreams and reality was becoming thinner each day he spent in this cursed castle.

As Daemon walked past the empty cells, he tried to shake off this unsettling feeling lingering around him, dancing on his neck on its tippy toes, making him wonder whether he was indeed alone.

I doubt Simon Strong keeps prisoners down here, he thought while wiping the water from his forehead which was dripping from the broken ceiling. Maybe he has decided to lock up the witch?

Just when the Rogue Prince – correction, the King Consort – was about to turn back and leave the depressing, humid and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the dungeons behind, a soft humming reached his ears.

A soft, sweet humming of a song coming from one of the cells at the very end of the darkness.

“What kind of prisoner is Simon Strong hiding here?” Daemon asked, his voice created echoes as he waved the torch in front of him, trying to cast some light.

The humming stopped immediately, as if the sound itself was cut by a knife.

Daemon’s purple eyes widened upon seeing that the last cell was indeed not empty.

There was a young woman inside, looking at him with her eyes full of curiosity. Her hair had an unearthly shine under the dim moonlight. She tilted her head to the side. “You can see me?” She asked, it was the same soft voice from a moment ago, though the sweetness was no longer there to be felt.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Do people not see you?”

The young woman shook her head, her movements – no matter how simple they were – felt almost too harmonious. “Not normally, it is not intended that I am seen.” Stopping for a moment, she eyed Daemon from head to foot. “You are not really here, are you?”

The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a frown. “What do you mean? I am standing in front of you.”

She shook her head once again. As her soft whisper filled his eyes, Daemon started falling into the nothingness, again, for the unknown-th time ever since he had come to Harrenhal.

“Wake up.”

***

When he woke up, trying to catch his breath, Daemon found himself lying on his bed, as always. Anytime he had one of those weird dreams – he wasn’t even sure if he should call them dreams anymore – his consciousness would find its way back to his bed.

Unless he was daydreaming, which were considerably the worse.

“Who the fuck was that weird woman?” Daemon muttered to himself as he stood up, dressing up in his regular robes. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that he had to go down there, to the dungeons, to find that woman. If he were to wait until dawn, he feared she might be gone.

What was it that she said again? It is not intended she is seen?

Leaving his chambers with a torch in his right hand, Daemon shook his head to the thoughts flowing through his mind, causing his silver hair to move. “Weird woman,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the dark corridors of the castle with haste. “She somehow reminds me of the witch.”

The dungeons were as dark and wet as he remembered from the dream. A cold wind was wandering besides him, kissing the mossy walls and licking Daemon’s skin, sometimes whispering wicked words in his ears. Even the wind was odd here, in Harrenhal, but he had somewhat got used to it – hearing its eerie whispers whenever he walked alone during the hour of the wolf.

“Show yourself,” Daemon spoke with a strong voice which created echoes as he stood in front of that very cell from his dream. “Your king commands it!”

“Huh, king?” The same soft voice answered from the dark corner of her cell. The moonlight had left its shining spot, leaving the torch in Daemon’s hands as the only source of light in this entire corridor of the dungeons. “I answer to no king.”

A condescending scoff left Daemon’s lips as he came closer to the bars made of steel, separating him and the weird woman. “You do live in Westros, do you not?” Daemon asked, not really waiting for an answer. “As long as you breathe in this land, you do answer to the King.”

A chuckle came from the darkness. “I have been breathing in this land before your ancestors flew across the Narrow Sea, Daemon Targaryen.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

[sarshles-cheescake-li]

Lu Guang's love language: Words of attack

The English subtitles for Link Click, from what I can see, universally translate Lu Guang's various insults towards Cheng Xiaoshi as "idiot." There may be a "moron" and "fool" or two in there, but I will be honest when I say that I don't really want to re-watch the entirety of seasons one and two to check. However, there is a little bit of subtlety in the exact words for "idiot" that Lu Guang uses.

Mandarin has… a lot of words for "idiot." Ones I can think off of the top of my head are 傻瓜，白痴，笨蛋， 蠢货，biao (an insult in the Muping dialect which I don't know the character for)，二百五，傻子，无脑，傻逼. For your reference, those are just the insults that specifically mean "stupid." If we get into other insults, we'd be here all day.

So the conclusion is that insults in Mandarin are an art. And man, does Lu Guang master said art perfectly. The insult he most commonly uses for Cheng Xiaoshi is 弱智 (ruozhi, weak intellect) which is one that allude to disability (please take this with a grain of salt! I really, truly don't know anything about the disabled Chinese community, so it's possible that it doesn't really carry the same meaning). This particular insult is interesting, because it's a really hard-hitting insult. Like, if I call someone 笨蛋 (bendan, stupid egg), it's a pretty weak, sometimes even affectionate term, frequently used by children. But ruozhi is an actual, legit insult, that someone will punch you for calling them. It's also something I would categorize as kind of an adolescent-young adult insult -- you would hear older folk using 蠢货 or 白痴 more often for "idiot." But Lu Guang calls Cheng Xiaoshi that like it's his second name.

The way Lu Guang uses the term, it takes on its own affectionate feel to it. He uses it whenever Cheng Xiaoshi's done or said something he's not happy with, even when the action isn't necessarily [being an idiot]. It's got a similar feel as a resigned sigh, or perhaps frustration.

But there are times when Lu Guang uses an insult that isn't ruozhi. During episode five of season one, while he's comforting Cheng Xiaoshi after a dive, he calls him 傻瓜 (shagua, stupid melon). Shagua is probably one of the most gentle of all the "idiot" insults, tied with maybe bendan. It's frequently used as a term of endearment, especially between couples (make of that what you will). The "stupid" in shagua also means a slightly different type of stupid than the one in bendan. If I had to define it, sha is stupid in terms of wisdom, and ben is stupid in terms of intelligence, in D&D terms. Like, if I failed my physics exam, I would be more ben. If I didn't read through my insurance policy before requesting my medication and had to cough up forty dollars for them (totally didn't happen just a few hours ago), I would be more sha. So Lu Guang, here, is calling Cheng Xiaoshi something like "unwise" or "naive," which is very fitting for the situation.

Interestingly, during Cheng Xiaoshi's flashback to Lu Guang in episode one of season two, Lu Guang cycles through three different insults: baichi, chunhuo, and bendan. Of these, baichi and bendan are within the "yeah couples call each other this sometimes" group, and chunhuo is a more genuine, demeaning insult. The fact that three of the nine different Lu Guang dialogues Cheng Xiaoshi flashes back to include Lu Guang calling him an idiot in various affectionate ways is pretty funny, I won't lie to you. There's also that a vast majority of the remembered sentences, even the ones that don't explicitly say "idiot," are basically Lu Guang clowning on Cheng Xiaoshi. As a side note, it's interesting that the last thing memory-Lu Guang says is bendan -- the softest, most childish insult, and the one with the most explicitly affectionate connotations in general use.

Lastly, in the twelfth episode of the second season, when the two are in the tunnels fighting and Cheng Xiaoshi tells Lu Guang to not push himself, Lu Guang responds with "baichi, you're not doing much better than me." In this case, he switches from ruozhi to baichi likely because it's a more serious situation, where the almost joking ruozhi wouldn't have been as appropriate. The stupid in baichi (the chi) is more of a "dim-witted" connotation, akin to calling someone slow or head-in-the-clouds.

In conclusion, Lu Guang's insults for Cheng Xiaoshi are:

弱智 (ruozhi) -- basically his nickname for Cheng Xiaoshi at this point, commonly used when he's annoyed with him or wants to make fun of him. Appears to be the default when Cheng Xiaoshi does something he doesn't like in a dive. 白痴 (baichi) -- the most commonly used alternative to ruozhi, I can't see any patterns of its usage. Seems to be the one he defaults to when the mood isn't right for ruozhi. 蠢货 (chunhuo) -- used only once (that I could see) in a sentence without context, so… /shrug 傻瓜 (shagua) -- a rarer insult, seems to be the one he uses when he's trying to comfort Cheng Xiaoshi but still needs to insult him. 笨蛋 (bendan) -- a more teasing, casual insult, one he flings out when he just wants to insult Cheng Xiaoshi in a non-serious situation.

[perksofbeingpoet]

a small thing that is promised to calm todd down when everything gets too overwhelming is playing with or brushing his hair.

which, unfortunately, is way too intimate a thing to ask his friends for- they help as good as they can already, trying to be quieter when todd gets that very intense look, passing him food that isn't too spicy or salty, talking loudly when a teacher is looking for people to get up front to the board, so that they'll gleefully pick the loudmouth.

but this is different; involves a kind of gentleness, of vulnerability that todd can't ask for. it means baring the parts of him that are most sensitive, revealing he's a baby bird in thunderstorms, asking for whispers and warmth in a place that doesn't offer these things.

neil still finds out.

which shouldn't come as a surprise to todd - neil has a way of catching him where he's most vulnerable, closing his palms around him as if he was a ladybug in a child's hand. careful now, don't hurt it. i'll keep it safe. i'll carry it off the pavement, put it where the grass sprouts in may-coloured strands.

so neil finds out, when they're laying on todd's bed (better sun in the evening), neil reading the script of his newest play, todd just breathing, trying to match the tides of neil's heartbeat below him, trying to slow down his own. and neil isn't sure what happens, because to his mind, nothing's changed, but suddenly todd's eyes have that frozen panic in them.

neil thinks he can feel the way todd's drowning in his own thoughts, and todd's thoughts tend to be quicksand in these moments. it's desparation, in the end, that gets neil to bury his left hand in todd's hair, carefully weaving his fingers through the sandy strands. he knows it's silly, but the urge to physically wipe the thoughts off todd's head is what makes him lightly trace his nails across the other's scalp, gentle, always so gentle.

and todd melts.

his breathing slows, and suddenly he's back, and neil's heart flutters like a dragonfly drying off its wings. he can help. not much, not always, but he can try.

he soon discovers that it helps after showers, too - todd is embarrassed enough to snap at him the first time, the first time neil's heard him rashly angry, but it only takes todd a week to come back and apologise, to say neil was right, but could he not make a big deal out of it. (and neil perry, king of theatrics, doesn't)

because showers can be overwhelming in these times, when todd's mind is a bridge wobbling on brittle foundations- standing there all wet, knowing he'll need to get out the stall, and dry off, and get his clothes and put them on and they'll still stick to him a bit and his toes will stay wet because the floor is cold, and- it's too much.

but neil can brush his hair, still wet and darker than usual, and the scratch of it along his scalp grounds him, puts his thoughts on a leash. neil will hum a song, and todd will ache with the sweet cruelty of love, the stinging tenderness of vulnerability.

and when todd gets into bed in exam season, and the sheets are fluffy and full of fresh air, smelling of spring and melancholy, he breathes in deeply through his nose. and neil walks over to him for a second before going to his own bed, three extra steps that make todd close his eyes and bury his face in the pillow.

and he runs a hand through todd's hair, and it feels like warm notes on a cello. like autumn sun falling through tall tree trunks, like a mug of cocoa, like a childhood kitchen table. his fingers trace lines across todd's scalp, reminiscent of the contrails of the plane that divides the sky three years later, like neil is already dreaming of it.

todd breathes and smiles.

good night, little poet <3

(i put this on ao3 even though it's ridiculously short, so you guys know what that means- the time of poet writing dps fanfiction has started, and the next ones are gonna be way longer)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hii can we get more Silver headcanons?

Yandere Silver Headcannons (2)

Part 1

The thing with Silver is that even when he’s sleeping he’s actively seeking you out

With his unique magic making his way into your dreams and even crafting his own

It just continues to get better worse

He in reality spends all his time with you

If not with you 

then thinking of you

Dreaming of you

Trying to get you to dream of him

He hardly spends time without you being in sight or in mind 

That he gets so irritable without you

Which often reflects in how sassy he is with Sebek

“Ha if I didn’t know any better I’d say you actually liked that human!”

“So? They’re an amazing person with a kind heart and a good attitude. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

“E-EXCUSE ME!?”

His mood shifting from perturbed to especially content

When you simply wave at him from across the way

“Silver you seem annoyed lately. What seems to be the problem?”

“Its…nothing. There’s just been a lot of work lately and I haven’t had time to–”

“Hey you guys!”

“Hello Child of Man!”

“...Hi (Y/n)...”

“You doin’ okay, lately?”

“I’m doing much much better, now.”

“Oh well that’s good!”

It’s such an obvious change that everyone close to him is able to pick up on it

Able to tell that the suddenly snippy Silver turns just a thousand times better

But he’s not awful

He’s never terribly mean

His father’s raised him better 

But he’s not one to silence his emotions especially since your such a hot-topic anyway

“I deeply care about (Y/n)’s test scores for this exam season.”

“But what about us Silver? Won’t you help us study too?”

“...I only am invested in (Y/n)’s scores though…”

“Please!”

“Hmmm maybe if (Y/n) wants to do a study group. But I’m not going to suggest that. I think I'd prefer it be just us.”

He’s just so frank about it 

He doesn’t see a reason to lie or skirt around the fact that he’s obsessed

He plans to pursue you and it’s better off that everyone knows about that

[croquis-el]

Why not an orange or what was lost again during localization

The first case of Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies (Gyakuten Saiban 5) greets us with the mummy Apollo (Odoroki Hosuke), a panicking Athena (Kizuki Kokone) and the defendant Juniper Woods (Shinobu Morizumi), who treats Athena to an orange to calm her nerves and wish her strength.

What if I told you that there is no orange at all?

これ････差し入れ持ってきたの。 うちの畑で取れた子なんだ。

kore sashiire motte kita no. Uchi no hata de toreta kona nda.

I brought this as a gift. It's from my garden.

あ、ありがとう! えーっと、これはイヨカンかな?

a, arigatō! E ̄ tto, koreha iyokan ka na?

Oh, thank you! Um, is this Iyokan?

うん。････おばあちゃんが言ってたの。

un. O bāchan ga itteta no.

Yeah. ...Grandma told me.

イヨカン食べると、 “いい予感”なんだって。

iyokan taberu to, “ī yokan”na n datte.

Apparently, if you eat iyokan, you get a good feeling.

(やば。わたし、なんでイヨカンを にぎりしめて涙ぐんでるんだろ)

(yaba. Watashi, nande iyo kan o nigirishimete namidagun deru ndaro)

(Oh no! Why am I clutching an iyokan and crying?)

Stop. Iyokan? A good feeling? Let's figure it out.

The iyokan (伊予柑 - Citrus × iyo), also known as anadomikan (穴門みかん) and Gokaku no Iyokan, is a Japanese citrus fruit, similar in appearance to a mandarin orange.

The name "Iyo" was taken from the ancient name of a place in Ehime Prefecture, the Iyo province.

The flesh is slightly sour and more bitter than an orange, but sweeter than a grapefruit.

There is a variation grown into a pentagon shape to promote good luck also giving it another nickname, Gokaku no Iyokan, which translates into "Pentagonal Iyokan"

(which is also very similar to the expression 合格 [goukaku] — to meet the requirements;

試験に合格する. [shiken ni goukaku suru]  — to pass (to endure) an exam;)

And what kind of "good feelings" are these?

In Japan, the citrus can be seen during springtime as a seasonal KitKat flavor with messages of "good luck" to students studying for exams on each packet. The name "iyokan" is also a near-homophone for "good feeling" in Japanese, and is used as such in its marketing.

“いい予感”

いい — good, beautiful; kind

予感 (よかん) [yokan] - presentiment; premonition

好感 [koukan] — a good feeling; kind feelings, disposition, sympathy;

___________________________________________

I am not surprised that the original name was lost (even the translator makes an orange out of this word). Although it is a hybrid of tangerine...

The localization successfully changed the meaning of the fruit, adjusting it to an orange. Still, the meaning of orange in Western culture varies - "fertility", "prosperity", "longevity", "strength" etc.

Although, it was possible to leave Juniper's grandmother Japanese, especially considering that the granddaughter learned the meaning of citrus from her. Well, that's my personal opinion.

___________________________________________

Dictionaries and forums helped me again, please don't scold me for shortcomings and mistakes. Just point it out

[shycloudkitty]

Could this Valentine's Day be any better?

Summary: Unfortunately, you are sick this Valentine's day. All the plans you made were gone to trash. Although, Leon still tries his best to make it a special day for you and him. And by best it means… the one that both of you will remember for the lifetime. ;)

Pairing: Death Island! Leon × Gn! Reader

Tags: Tooth rotting fluff, leon calling reader sweet nicknames, leon being a caring boyfriend. (A bit of negative self-talk from the reader's side), Also there's a few Nsfw jokes and a bit of suggestive content so…Not that much so don't worry.

A/N: If you couldn't tell, I wrote this while I was sick and college exams being like a week away 🥲. Also I am single and valentine's just around the corner and yes, I am sick🥲🥲🥲. Personally, not a fan of this combination (It sucks here😭). Anyways, it gave me the perfect opportunity to be delulu about Leon.

So that's what this is - me being delulu, but I hope you all enjoy this fic and have a good day. Thank you to @nexysworld and @luniaxi for beta read🥰

(Also I know it's not Valentine's Day today. Like I said I was terribly busy🥲)

WC: 4.5K

It's Valentine's Day. The day of love. The day of sweet chocolates, beautiful bouquets and heartfelt love confessions.

It was a special day for couples, young or old. A reminder that pure love never grows old or wither away, in fact it only grows deeper as time passes by. The day was a reminder to cherish it as long as you can.

Which is what you would have been doing with your boyfriend today, if you weren't sick. Yes, you are sick, why? Because you have bad luck. A really terrible one.

Out of all 365 days in the year you had to be sick today. The most important day and say goodbye to all the romantic plans you made. The candlelight dinner, the cute dinner outfit you bought. But, no now you have to kiss it all goodbye and just grumble about what could have been.

To say that you were disappointed and angry was an understatement.

You blamed the seasonal changes for the condition you were in. You are in bed, not even having an ounce of energy to sit up properly, a bad throat, headache, body pain, cough and fever.

The only good thing was that your high fever had almost subsided only because of your sweet, caring, most down to earth person, your boyfriend made it his mission to take care of you during these tough times.

The moment he knew you were sick, he dropped everything he was doing and immediately wrapped a blanket around you after he had you settled in bed. Making you hot tomato soup, your favorite ramen, chamomile tea, anything that would help you feel better.

You were in your bed, trying to take a good rest but the body pain you had was making it really difficult. It was noon right now but what could you possibly do besides resting anyways?

“It will get better, just rest. I'm here.” He said as you complained about the condition you were in. He tried to soothe you with the sweetest smile he could muster, his warm blue eyes reassuring you that it will in fact get better even if you didn't believe it.

You clutched your head when you felt the pain coursing its way in your head, giving you a migraine. “I can't sleep Leon…it's so difficult.”

Leon could see the tears of frustration slipping from your eyes as the overall pain troubled you from getting you even a moment of relaxation.

And it broke his heart to see you in so much pain. Knowing he couldn't take the pain away entirely. Even if he was cooking you hot meals and soup it was still going to take some time to heal.

If it was up to him he would move mountains just for you to feel better even for a second. He wished he could just snap his fingers and take all the pain you had and give it to himself. Obviously, he wouldn't say it out loud cause he knew it would get you upset but he really wished he could do all that.

He was willing to suffer, if it meant you would never have to.

Your tired body slowly felt the warm calloused hands, slowly bringing you in his arms and hugging you tightly but keeping his hold gentle, so as not to cause you any discomfort as he cuddles with you. And pulled the blanket over you both to keep you warmer.

You looked up at him with a tired face as he gently rubbed your back with his hand. Slowly massaging your back with his strong fingers, trying to get rid of those sore spots. You felt his soft lips on your forehead giving you a loving kiss, which already had you melting in his big arms.

“Feeling better?” He asked in the softest voice possible and brought his other hand to your temple. Rubbing the sore spot with his thumb gently, which had you crying in pain earlier.

Your eyes slowly closed and a soft relaxed sigh escaped your lips as you gave a small nod. His gentle touch, the sweet voice, the soft kisses surely gave you a moment to relax.

Leon peppered soft, gentle kisses across your whole face while still massaging your back and temple. Soon he moved his hands to your waist to pull you more close so you were pressed up against his chest.

You looked up at him, opening your eyes for a moment, looking at him and wondering how could he even tolerate to even stay this close to you, while you had a running nose & weakness all over.

You didn't feel pretty or cute right now, you felt sick and horrible. Hell, even you wouldn't stay this close to yourself. But here he was… smiling down at you, massaging your sore spots, cuddling with you, trying his absolute best to help you regain your health.

“Have something to say, Darling?” He asked when he noticed you staring at him, lost in thought.

You sniffled a bit and replied. “You know… you will get sick if you stay so close to me.”

You heard a warm chuckle, feeling him hug you tighter. “Worrying about me even when you are sick? You are too sweet for your own good, y'know.”

You rolled your eyes and hit him lightly on his arm. “I'm not kidding.”

Leon chuckled once more seeing the glimpse of the playful attitude you always had. It made him feel better that you were feeling better enough to talk.

He smiled and shook his head lightly. “I will be fine. Relax.”

You huff and say. “You say that now, but if we both got sick at the same time there will be no one to take care of us. Like how will I take care of you? When I'm not even able to get out of bed?”

It wasn't like you weren't grateful for his actions. Of course you were, but if he got sick because of you, the guilt would definitely hit you in the chest about it. Also being sick definitely made you cranky.

Leon raises an eyebrow at your words and tries to hold in a chuckle seeing you argue with him on this, trying his best to be serious. He then smiled and cleared his throat and slowly replied. “Well… first off I'm not gonna get sick. Second… even if I actually got sick, I'm pretty confident I could still take care of you.”

You looked up at him again, a bit touched with his words. “Are you sure?”

Leon playfully rolled his eyes. “Honey, I got infected with viruses you couldn't imagine. This is nothing. So yes, I'm sure.”

Well… he had a point. But you still had something in your mind that you were itching to ask.

You sighed, snuggling up closer than possible. Trying to relax your mind with his scent. Trying to remind yourself that he was really here and not to some far off mission.

You bit your lips nervously. “Are you mad at me for ruining this valentine day?”

Leon’s expression softened further as he realized that you feel guilty. It wasn't your fault, you couldn't control it. Plus, this didn't ruin anything. Yes it was a bit stressful but that was okay, your health was more important than valentine day. If anything this brought you both closer than ever.

“Baby… you can't ruin it just cause you got sick. I love you. Always. Why would I get mad at such a thing? If anything I am glad I got to spend this time taking care of you.”

He pressed a kiss on your cheek and continued. “You can't ruin anything. Ever.” You sighed softly as he said that. A bit relieved that he at least doesn't think it was the worst valentine day ever.

You closed your eyes, feeling the body pain ease a bit. The medications and the cuddling was really taking a number on you. Almost ready to fall asleep.

Leon noticed how you became less chatty, slowly falling in and out of sleep. He slowly sat up in bed, careful not to disturb your sleeping form. And took hold of your legs and slowly started to massage the sore points present in the legs. Fingers applying firm pressure to relieve any pain that you were still having.

A sleepy sigh escaped your lips when you slowly felt the pain go away, transferring you into a state of deep relaxation…

Leon smiled to himself when he saw you sleep, free from any migraines or body pain that you may be having. He continues his massages till he is sure you won't wake up. He then puts a warm blanket over you, and softly whispers. “Get well soon baby, I have a surprise for you tonight…”

Leon gently kissed your forehead and moved away. Now he had to prepare for the surprise…

(Few hours later…)

You woke up after 3-4 hours. Your eyes slowly opened as it adjusted to the surroundings, you turned your head to look at the clock on the nightstand.

5:30pm

You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. You were definitely feeling a lot better now. The body pain was still there but it wasn't that bad. You were still feeling weak but didn't feel like you still had a fever.

A few minutes later you heard some shuffling outside the room. You lifted your head to see what was going on and saw Leon entering the room. He smiled when he saw you were awake.

And came by your side and kissed your cheeks lovingly and mumbled. “Good evening baby… Feeling better?”

You thought about it then gave a small nod with a sigh. “Mmhmm…”

Leon smiled and planted a few soft loving kiss across your face. “Good… Because I have a surprise for you.”

Your ears perked up as soon as you heard that magical word. Surprise. You looked up at him and said, “A surprise…? What is it about?”

He smiled seeing the small spark in your eyes at the mention and gave a wink. “A valentine dinner for us at home, prepared by yours truly.”

Your eyes widened and raised yourself slightly on your elbows to look at him properly. “Wait- As in… A dinner date for today at our home.”

His smile widened further as he took both of your hands and gave it a light squeeze and nodded. A blush rising in his cheeks. If you didn't know any better he was getting a bit shy and a tad nervous too. Such a cutie pie.

“Well… I thought since you were so upset about the whole situation and I know you had plans and everything… So… I decided to bring those plans to you.” You could swear his whole face turned into a cute puppy as he told you about his plan.

Your heart melted, no you felt like your whole body melted and formed a puddle in bed. The thought of him doing so much just to see you happy and cared was enough to give you a whole swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

You were glad Leon came into your life, glad that he chose to be with you. You didn't know what you did to deserve to have this amazing man all to yourself. His icy blue eyes, his sweet demeanor, the way he made you feel… It was amazing.

You didn't know what love was until you met him. Yeah, you thought what love was before him but being with him was just… magical. He remembered almost everything about you. Yeah, yeah the bar was in hell and whatever bullshit.

But if a man like him, who literally fought bioterrorism for a living. Who probably had the most stressful job on this planet did such thoughtful gestures, who almost turned into a puppy when he saw you, looked at you with such warm and sweet eyes… It was hard not to fall in love with him.

You gathered a bit of strength and immediately hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck and dropping a kiss there. “Thank you… I love you.”

Leon chuckled as he hugged you back. “Love you too. And it's the least I could do.” he saw how your eyes almost started twinkling and how your face brightened up to a few notches. And that's how he knew the job was well done.

Leon dropped a light kiss on your lips and softly said. “Want to get ready for it?”

You gave a nod and he smiled. “Good…Want my help with any of it?”

You were still feeling a bit weak from the illness but it was a lot better. But you weren't stupid enough to say no to his request. So you agreed.

Leon being the gentleman he was, helped you get out of the bed and basically carried you to the bathroom to help you shower. Why would he let you walk when he could just pick you up like a cat and go wherever he wanted?

As you both entered the bathroom he helped you get out of your clothes, prepared some hot water bath, lit some of the scented candles that you preferred to have while taking a bath.

You relaxed in the bathtub while he started to wash your hair. Gentle fingers massaging your scalp, threading through your hair replacing the leftover pain with a feeling of pure bliss. You had a smile on your face as he continued and looked over at him.

“Thank you…”

He met your eyes and smiled. “For what?”

“For… everything. You are the best boyfriend I ever had.”

Leon's smile brightened, feeling a surge of pride in his chest, he then kissed your forehead. “At least I'm best at something.”

You chuckled as he poked your cheek playfully and went back to washing your hair. He then tilted your head a bit and slowly poured down water on your hair to get rid of the shampoo. He then helped you shower through the rest of the body.

When you were done, he helped you get out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around you. You looked up to see him, to see his face getting scrunched up lightly as he focused on wrapping it tightly around you. You loved it when he would do that, he looked so cute when his nose would just scrunch up lightly as he focused on whatever he was doing. It was simply adorable.

“I feel like a kid getting help in dressing up after parents made me bathe.” You made note as he searched for your clothes through your closet.

Leon had a hearty laugh at the comment and gave you a playful shrug. “Get sick like a child, get treated like a child.”

He turned towards you, taking out the outfit that you previously bought for the ‘dinner date’ you both were supposed to have before you got sick. And helped you wear it.

You smirked at him. “Oh really? Should I start calling you daddy then?”

Leon paused for a moment, his eyes immediately flicking back to you. That nickname always did something for him. And you knew that very well…you couldn't help but just poke him a bit.

A blush rose in his cheeks as cleared his throat and said. “Uh huh… Why don't we just focus on the task at hand. Which is getting you dressed.”

You couldn't help but giggle as he avoided the topic. “Oh you don't like that? I could swear that you did.”

He gave you a stern look and narrowed his eyes a bit. “Babe… don't.”

You chuckled and decided to play dumb. “What? I was just asking.”

Leon cleared his throat again, his blush deepening and slowly said. “I am glad you are feeling good enough to tease me like that. Having fun?”

“Very”

“I could tell.”

You chuckled, deciding to cut him some slack. It's not like you wouldn't like to test his patience a bit more… Maybe after dinner you might.

Leon finished helping you dress up then he also helped you with your make-up, helping you tie your hair up in a bun when you finished giving touch ups to your face.

“Like a doll. You look amazing.” Giving your ass a light smack.

You squealed in surprise which made Leon grin wider and hug you tightly in his arms. And peppered kisses all over your face. “Feeling better?”

You nodded with a bright smile. “Yes, very much so.”

Leon grinned. “Ready for the big date then?”

You eagerly nodded and Leon took a blindfold from his pocket and held it in front of you. “Want you to wear this first.”

You gave a mischievous grin, opening your mouth to come up with a quip but Leon beat you to it. “It's for not ruining your surprise, dummy.” Rolling his eyes at your antics.

You scoffed playfully. “Hey, I didn't even say anything and stop calling me that. It's mean.” You gave a fake pout and Leon couldn't help but chuckle.

It was moments like these that made him feel like that life was worth living. The small domestic moments that he never thought he would get to experience. That perhaps it was worth fighting all those man-made monstrosities and risking his life, if this is what he came home to. His safe haven.

You were worth protecting and taken care of. You deserved every bit of love he had in himself and even his life if you wanted.

Leon turned you around as he tied the blindfold around your eyes. When he finished, he gave another light smack on your ass which made you chuckle. “Well this refreshes some memories.”

Leon kissed your neck and playfully whispered. “Want me to refresh them even more after the dinner?”

You blushed and even if you couldn't see his face because of the blindfold. You bet he was smirking down at you. “Well… Maybe?”

Leon chuckled, taking your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. “Well… I guess you have one more surprise after dinner then.”

You blushed even more and looked away. He grinned seeing you at a loss for words and smiled. Knowing he won that. He then took your hand and said. “Now dinner. Careful not to stumble down on anything.”

He then guided you out of the bedroom, helping you walk down the hallway to your surprise in the living room. He then stopped and slowly removed your blindfold.

Your eyes fluttered open and saw the scene in front of you. Your eyes widened and your hands flew to your mouth to contain the excitement filling your body.

The living room seemed like it was heaven of some sort. Filled with her favorite flowers, rose petals on the floor guiding the way towards the table, present in the middle of the room. The table was decorated with a beautiful centerpiece, filled with roses. The whole room was decorated with red balloons and candles.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you were gonna get proposed or something.

Wait-

You immediately turned around and gasped as you saw him down on one knee. An engagement ring in his hands looking up to you like you were his whole world. You were his whole world.

And it seemed like the whole world stopped for a moment, just for the two of you to have this.

You had like dozens of questions running through your head. Like how the hell did he plan all this? Did he take some help? Of course he did. But how did he do all this, the planning and decoration? And was this really even happening? Or your imagination? Was he really proposing to you? Like right now???

Leon noticed that you were well… speechless. So he took one of your hands and gave a gentle squeeze. That seemed to get you out enough of your confusion and shock. Your voice came out in a little whisper. “Leon… I…”

You didn't realize at first but you had started tearing up. Wiping your tears, you looked down at him and he was almost there, on the verge of tears but holding it in for your sake. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and cleared his throat. “Did you like it…?”

You had a small chuckle & managed a nod while you were tearing up. Oh, it wasn't even a question that you liked it. You loved it.

Leon looked down at the ring in his fingers once more. He had a whole speech prepared on how he always thought you were the one. (Which Claire and Sherry helped him prepare;)). Now he swore he forgot all of it when the actual moment came.

Leon cleared his throat and looked up at you. You looked stunning, even with tears running down your cheeks you looked the most beautiful person ever stepped on this earth. He took a deep breath and started. “Well… to start… this is not how I planned things would go…”

Leon saw you getting confused a bit then explained. “I was originally gonna do it in the restaurant we were gonna go to… but then you fell sick and I had to bring some improvisation to my plan.”

Leon saw your little smile peeking and his confidence rose up a bit. “Umm… I had been thinking about this for a while. Like a year... And you were also dropping hints all over so yeah, I wasn't dumb enough to not understand them…”

You had a small chuckle and shook your head lightly. It was true, you tried to tease him with some videos of couples getting proposed to all he used to reply with was a small “hmm… nice.” And avoid the topic. And now that he was here he seemed so…vulnerable.

He continued. “I know you felt like you ruined this Valentine's Day. But you could never do that. You could never ruin anything. I know I said that earlier but I want you to understand that fully. Everything about you is… Perfect. Magical. There aren't enough adjectives to describe what it's like when I am here with you. You make me feel… safe and loved.”

You felt yourself tear up more when he said that. You could have never thought he felt like that with you. But you knew he was saying the truth the way he was looking at you.

He interlaced his fingers with yours when he gave a gentle squeeze again this time. “The past few days when you were sick, I loved taking care of you. To show you the love you've given me. The love you show me when you take care of me after missions, patching me up, preparing me delicious food even when you are busy with your office work. It's just… I can't believe that I deserve all that. And yes it's not the first time I took care of you but moments like these… helps me to show you and return that love your way.”

He takes another deep breath to calm himself, not yet realizing that he was tearing up at this point. “So, with all the hope I have right now, thinking I haven't exactly messed up all my speech… Will you marry me?”

You didn't know how you were even exactly standing right now after his speech. You were speechless. You had so much to say… but you couldn't even come up with one word. You gulped and took a deep breath and slowly replied.

“Yes Leon, of course I will marry you…”

Leon sighed in relief and let the tears flow from his eyes freely, holding nothing back and slipped the ring on your fingers. And stood up properly this time. He immediately brought you in his arms, cupped your face and kissed you. Pouring all the love he had for you, the love that couldn't be expressed by mere words only by actions.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the passion you had for him in the moment. His body pressed up against yours. Feeling his warmth and excitement pour into you.

You both slowly pulled back, foreheads still touching and in each other's arms, having a big dumb smile on both of your faces. “Leon… I… don't know what to say… you… did all this?”

Leon gave a light chuckle and shrugged. “I had help.” And kissed your forehead.

You sighed softly and looked down at your ring. “So now I'm your fiancée hmm?”

Leon nodded and hugged you more tightly. “Yeah. Deal with it. You are not escaping that.” His tone got a bit playful as this continued.

You giggled and playfully said. “Actually, kind of looking forward to be Mrs. Kennedy.”

Leon grinned and cupped your face once again. Having the softest eyes he had for you at the moment. “Oh yeah? Me too. The name suits you.”

He then kissed you softly on the lips again, rubbing your back and just holding you in his arms like you would drift away right now.

You both stayed like that for a moment and he asked. “Feeling hungry yet?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Yeah a little bit. What do you have for me?”

Leon grinned and pulled away, taking your hand in his and walking towards the table in the center. “Come with me, I will show you.”

And so you did. Your heart is still beating with excitement that you will soon get married and be his partner for life. And you couldn't wait for the day to come.

Maybe this Valentine's Day wasn't that bad after all.

Phew. So that's done. Ngl I started this a few days before Valentine's Day. I was definitely gonna post it then but exams took priority 🥲. I also think I went too delulu over him lmao. But anyways, I really do hope you all enjoy this like I am sorry if this wasn't that good. Half of the time my brain wasn't working.

And I hope you enjoyed Valentine's Day with your loved ones. Have a good day🥰

-Bella

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 4

Last episode ended with Simon coming home to a smashed window, this episode starts the morning after, Simon takes the bus to school, while Wilhelm is anxiously waiting for him.

Culture: At a high school level in Sweden, there's national tests in Swedish, English, and Math. Like everywhere else, the purpose of these tests is not only to grade students, but to align all schools across the country to combat grade inflation.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent is trying to cheat by looking at Nils' answers.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent draws a dick in the gravel while waiting for the others to be done with the test.

Subtext: This entire episode is overflowing with examples of privilege. For Vincent, and many other rich kids like him, studying and learning doesn't matter, they'll graduate regardless, so he doesn't care about the exam, he only cares about the graduation party.

Cinematography: Even with Felice and friends being completely blurred out in the background, you can still see Stella and Fredrika turning to look at Sara, and then turning their backs on her.

Culture: In the US, a lot of people are using "socialism" as a catch-all phrase which means politics they don't agree with, regardless of its actual ideology. Likewise, in Sweden, a lot of people use "communist" in the same way about generally left-wing politics, which is what Vincent is doing here.

Subtext: Wilhelm asks Simon if he can reconcile the conflict of dating a royal while being anti-monarchy, but the real question is of course if Wilhelm can reconcile the conflict in himself.

Subtext: This is where the show's political stance shines through, and this argument, that Wilhelm wasn't allowed to choose his life for himself, is the main argument they're gonna use in the finale.

Subtext: Wilhelm is weakly defending the monarchy, but just ends up repeating what his mother told him; it's a privilege, not a punishment, but does he believe it himself?

Subtext: The letter-to-yourself plot is mainly there in order to help August along his redemption arc, but here the show is using it to reinforce the point of the previous scene. Who does Wilhelm want to become? Does he have a choice?

Culture: In Sweden, Säkerhetspolisen, SÄPO, is the government agency in charge of national security, which includes providing security and assigning bodyguards to the royal family.

Subtext: Note the great use of passive voice here by Farima to avoid taking responsibility for the decision to force August to join the birthday foundation event. She's also expertly bargaining with Wilhelm to get what she wants.

Subtext: We know it was the far-right assholes who posted comments to Simon's videos a couple of episodes ago.

Blink and you miss it: Jan-Olof really perks up when Linda talks about moving to Gothenburg, because that would probably mean the end to the relationship between Wilhelm and Simon, which would solve all of his current problems.

Subtext: Like Farima, he bargains with Linda and Simon to get what he wants, for Simon to stop posting things to social media. It's almost as if their strategy was to do nothing at the start, waiting for things to blow up so they could swoop in, help out, and start making demands in exchange...

Blink and you miss it: The option to inactivate and hide your social media account is right there, but of course Simon has to choose to delete everything, because it will cause more drama and anguish.

Blink and you miss it: Fencing! Woohoo! I did fencing for five years as a kid until 8th grade or something, but I only did foil, and not épée like these students. I have absolutely no idea where these two are coming from or going to though, where would they practice? Is there a hidden fencing hall somewhere on the grounds that we haven't seen yet? How many kids at Hillerska are fencing? Also, he's carrying a practice blade and not an electric competition blade, so that checks out. Of the three types of modern fencing, épée is unique in that the entire body counts as a valid target, while in foil only the torso counts, and in sabre only the upper half counts. Oh wow, it looks like the gear is now wireless and every fencer carries their own indicator lights. Cool! Back in my day you had to be strapped in with a cord for competitions.

This tumblr is now about French School fencing. Allez! Touché!

Subtext: The narrative is that it's perfectly ok for the crown prince to be gay, as long as he's not gay gay.

Culture: The show keeps saying this, but in real world Sweden it's no longer the case. Supporting los jibbities is viewed as a completely mainstream and inoffensive opinion, on par with supporting human rights in general.

Subtext: Another example of privilege is being in a position to do a lot of good, and then just not caring about it. Simon is fighting for the causes he believes in, so seeing Wilhelm just casually throw it away is extremely disappointing for him.

Subtext: Unlike Vincent, August is actually a natural leader, someone people listen to, which is why he manages to quiet down the room when Vincent is unable to. Maybe a good quality in a future king?

Subtext: Simon is continuing the argument from before. Wilhelm could have shown solidarity with mental health causes or LGBT causes, but chose not to. However, he immediately decided to join in solidarity with the other rich kids protesting the school rules, which is rather selfish.

Subtext: Colour theory! Sara in purple, because part of the reason she's back at school is that August asked her to? And Simon in yellow, because he sure isn't loving Wilhelm very much right now.

Subtext: Just a reminder that Sara has actually been completely out of the loop since the end of season 2. She has no idea about the school rules, what's happened at home, how it's going with Simon and Wilhelm, or what's happening at school.

Blink and you miss it: Fredrika is so close to stop striking as soon as she's threatened with repercussions.

Subtext: I keep hammering this point home: The culture is in the walls, it's not something some of the kids made up. The visiting alumni were also hazed as new students and kept it going as third years. Same for the parents of all these kids. They're all part of the system, they all kept the cycles of abuse going, because they want the school to be like that.

Subtext: Privilege is thinking you can get things your way with almost no effort. None of these kids have ever struggled or protested something for real and then not been given what they wanted, so they seriously believed they'd win immediately.

Subtext: Another theme of this season is bringing secrets out in the open. We've all seen August struggling with body dysmorphia and an eating disorder since season 1, but no-one has ever called it out and put words on it, until Simon immediately recognizes it and calls it out.

Subtext: ...while the rich kids are just stuck in denial, because eating disorders is for poor people or something, it's not something that happens to them. And if it did, you certainly wouldn't admit it to anyone else.

Subtext: August tries to jokingly fend off Nils because he doesn't want anyone to know that the letter actually meant something to him, until Nils pushes too hard, and August punches him.

Subtext: Vincent talked a big game about striking in solidarity, but when they're caught as hilariously unprepared as they are, they're not pooling their resources in solidarity with each other, and instead resort to selling them to the highest bidder. Capitalism in a nutshell, illustrated perfectly by the behaviour of spoiled rich kids. Also, pet peeve, the English word for the currency of Sweden is "kronor", not "crowns".

Lost in translation: They're actually repeating a single word in Swedish, "svikare", which is pretty hard to translate. The verb, "svika", is a bit worse than letting someone down, but not as bad as betraying someone. The adjective, "besviken" typically means disappointed. So "svikare" means a person who is letting other people down, disappointing them, or betraying them.

Subtext: The culture is in the walls of the place, but the kids are also pretty damn complicit in continuing all the shitty traditions. This looks like a game of strip poker or truth or dare that went off the rails and just resulted in more bullying, with everyone joining in.

Subtext: The other girls are upset with Felice because she broke the code. You don't snitch to outsiders, you don't tell the truth, you keep up appearances.

Blink and you miss it: Henry won the potato chip auction, happily ate the entire bag, and passed out in a chair, clutching the bag. Mmmm, sourcream and onion.

Subtext: Speaking of closing ranks towards the outside, this also applies to this strike. It would be bad PR for the school if anyone outside found out that it happened, so it's better to solve it quietly and discreetly. Vanessa can trust the kids not to snitch. Vincent is also right, the parents, who are paying the tuition fees, are on their side.

Subtext: Felice can't be seen talking to Sara, so she checks that the coast is clear, and then drags Sara into a private bathroom to have their conversation.

Subtext: Likewise, Sara was probably Felice's first real friend.

Subtext: Nice little foreshadowing. I would have loved seeing Simon's drawing though!

Subtext: Well, he could have just made his social media private, but the show has to maximize the drama, so here we are, piling on more examples of how Simon is losing himself to the monarchy, that maybe he can't reconcile the conflict.

Subtext: Erik spent three years living at Hillerska, of course he wouldn't have told his then twelve year old kid brother about all the shit going on at the school. August spent an entire year living with Erik at the school, seeing what went on first hand, so of course he knows a side of Erik that Wilhelm doesn't.

Subtext: August has been trying to keep his mouth shut and avoid Wilhelm, but since they have yet another fight, he decides to drop the bomb about Erik to hurt Wilhelm.

Subtext: Again, the culture is in the walls. This is not something that only Erik's class did, once. It's probably been happening to all the boys for decades. It happened to the current second-year students, it happened to Erik, and lots of students before him who kept this shitty initiation tradition going.

Culture: Let's talk about the gay porn hazing a bit more. To me, this is an urban legend. I heard about it when I was a teenager back in the 90's, but I don't personally know anyone it happened to, or anyone who did it to anyone else. It was always hearsay, it happened to a friend of a friend's brother, or a classmate's cousin's friend or something similar, as is typical of urban legends.

Let's also make one thing absolutely clear: It doesn't work. The homophobic idea behind this shit is that if you are forced to watch gay porn and get a boner, you are gay, and if you don't, you're straight. But that is actually not true, erections don't work that way, and the fear of being found out is quite the boner killer. Also, what if you like guys, but the guys in the porno aren't your type? There's just so many ignorant misconceptions behind this idea.

I've also seen a lot of fan comments that keep playing into this ignorance; that the only reason Nils decided to stop the tradition was because he obviously failed it. Or that the only reason August is against it is because he failed, and the only reason he failed is because he's secretly not straight. No. Remember that the test doesn't work. Nils probably passed, despite actually being gay. August might have failed, despite being completely straight. Regardless of what happened, they both found it humiliating, and that is why they made a pact to stop it.

[blue-jisungs]

silent hug

author's note. this is veeeery self indulgent bc my exams r killing me so yeah 👍

genre. hurt to comfort (i think?), classmates to friends ??? idk man just whipped n cute sunoo

summary. in which your classmate comforts you when you tear up in class :(

warnings. cursing, reader is in a bad place mentally,, kinda hinting to academic burnout? ,, crying :( + not proofread, sorry!!

word count. 1286

with a heavy sigh you plopped down on the chair, putting your bag on the desk. the walk from the bus stop to the university tired you out but at least you got four or five minutes before the classes started. so you rested your head against the bag and closed your eyes, taking in a little more sleep than you could get this morning.

the final season is coming to an end, finally. but weirdly enough, you don’t feel relieved. sure, there’s only three or four exams left – and you haven’t really studied for them but that’s a thing to do the day before, isn’t it? – but you can’t help but feel the exhaustion. your friends chat about how there’s less things to take then it was at the beginning, sure. but the closer you get to the midterm break, the less motivation you have. and the tiredness that accumulated throughout the whole month is seeking its way out.

which is why you’re a mess nowadays. promising yourself to study but ending up doing everything but studying, falling asleep at ungodly hours (and regretting it later)… or shutting yourself down from the world. your friends got used to it, everyone has their lives after classes after all. but you carry on with do not disturb on most of the time, missing out their conversations on chats and tiktoks they’ve sent you. sure, you could’ve read them later – but there’s a sinking feeling of guilt (and a dazzle of overthinking) that you’re such a shitty friend.

all of this causes your negative emotions to bottle up. and you know it’s not a good thing, especially when you feel like you’re about to cry when a minor inconvenience occurs. but you’re stronger than that, no? the thought of locking yourself in your room during the break keeps you alive, pushing the sadness – seemingly – away.

a sudden tap on your shoulder caused you to open your eyes and lazily shift your focus to your classmate, sunoo. you looked around and didn’t see your friends… well, they probably skipped the classes since some of them are careless just like that.

"it’s about to start" sunoo smiled gently and you noticed the way his ebony gaze lingered on you for a while longer. great, you should’ve put at least some foundation.

"thanks" you nodded and took out your ipad, the other hand rubbing your eye. here we go…

"i feel like… some people in this class don’t take my lessons seriously" the professor started and you froze, heart skipping a beat. he couldn’t possibly mean you, right? “the final exam is around the corner and some of you… did not too well on the quiz"

oh, well. it’s definitely aimed at you.

"i’ll hand them out at the end of the class and then run over your mistakes. now we’ll do a revision. and you better listen" the man says and you could swear his piercing gaze is drilling into your soul.

an unpleasant feeling of warmth creeped into your face and once again you curse yourself for not putting any makeup. sunoo glanced at you, a sad smile on his lips.

the professor approached you at the end, when all of the students already left. putting the paper sheet with a nasty P– on it, you frowned. hey, you passed!

"y/n, i’m really disappointed. i don’t know what’s going on but that’s the worst work of yours so far. pull yourself together. there’s so many major mistakes… spellings… it’s not an academic level. you were one point away from not passing this one" his words hit a cord in your heart, your palms beginning to sweat. he patted the paper and returned to his desk, grabbing his stuff.

and you didn’t even know when that happened – your sweaty palms shaking, breath getting stuck in your throat, vision blurry because of tears.

you packed your things and wanted to leave but your legs felt too weak. your professor left, causing you to end up all alone in the room.

you sniffed, trying to wipe out the tears but they seemed to have other plans.

"don’t cry, idiot. it’s fucking embarrassing" you breathed out to yourself, voice barely above a whisper.

"y/n, if you want… oh. are you okay?"

you would normally look up to see who that was but the realization of someone even seeing you in such state caused your face to redden even more. pulling your t-shirt up to hide your face in it, you felt like there was no way out: you couldn’t possibly stop crying. it was like your professor’s words triggered something.

"i’m… hey, it’s okay. did he say anything bad to you? or do?" someone approached you and you shook your head as a no. "can i stay here?"

you hesitantly peeled from your shirt and noticed sunoo. his gaze softened upon seeing your teary eyes, lashes wet and flushed face.

"just… don’t mind me" you mumbled and hid your face in your shirt again. you just couldn’t stand someone seeing you in such state, whether it was someone close or a stranger.

"i… i don’t know what he said but i’ve noticed that there’s something going on with you. and may have heard what your friends said... do you want to talk about it?" sunoo asked gently and all he could hear were the harsh sobs leaving your lips.

"they talk about me behind my back?" you whined, your shoulders shaking even more. his eyes widened. that was not the best thing to say…

"no, no! i mean they said you look really tired lately…" he explained hastily and suddenly you looked up. your shirt was soaked with tears and your face was a mess, your pupils blown and wet stains on your cheeks.

"i’m so tired, sunoo. i don’t think i can handle this anymore… and everyone seems to be doing great… just not me…" you mumbled, sending him a sad smile. the pearly tears balanced at the edge of your waterline, ready to spill. he shook his head.

"you’ve got this, i know you do. you got here somehow in the first place, no? if you want, i can help you. with anything. i’m not the smartest but i do understand some things so…" he stopped talking upon seeing your curious gaze.

"why are you doing this?” you asked, sniffling.

"i just… you’re my classmate in a need of help. i couldn’t stand there and not do anything when i heard you cry. and now there’s no way out, isn’t it?" sunoo joked and his face lit up. oh, this boy was a literal sunshine.

"you said everything?" you mumbled, unsurely. he nodded, a caring smile tugging on his lips "can… hmpfh… can i hug you…?"

the words were so quiet, sunoo barely heard them. but he noticed the begging look in your eyes and who was he to deny? it’s not like he would mind, either.

sunoo just opened your arms and you hugged him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist. he patted your back soothingly, letting you let out all of your pent up stress.

a part of sunoo’s heart raced because he wouldn’t have ever imagined that he would hug his hallway crush. the other part which caused his heart to race was the embrace itself, your smell and you in general – and he was happy he could help you.

neither of you didn’t have to talk right now. a silent hug that expressed more than a sentences could ever. and both of you knew, sitting here glued to each other and in comfortable silence, that it was a beginning of a beautiful friendship.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ocean-minho ,, @s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 10.

Summary: The last few days of the year at Oxford! Celebrations to be had, but also you contemplate what may come next for Oliver once the semester ends. Meanwhile, in a brief moment of downtime, you try and discuss Felix's weirdness from before exam season, but he can and will try and seduce you instead of having a real adult conversation. But unfortunately he may have had a point, because that real, adult conversation fucking sucks.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: discussions of oliver's father dying, discussions of jealousy

A/N: 5623 words. wrote this directly after finishing ch 9. and then was like, what if i edited this. which means the ending of this chapter is COMPLETELY different to what it was originally, and is a bit of a downer. but we need conflict, you know? and sometimes its genuinely hard to have these adult conversations at like 21 years old. emotions and such. also there's a wizard hat. half edited then i completely rewrote the ending and that's absolutely unedited. how are we feeling about leaving oxford finally????

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

It's always a big deal when the first years finish all of their exams and get their final results. Or, well, the rest of the students make a big deal about it. You're not sure who started the tradition, or how long ago, but it's a tradition you hold dear to your heart nevertheless. The first year of university is nothing if not overwhelming, survival of it was to be celebrated.

Last year the cheering crowd of your more senior students had made you feel like you had conquered the world. This year, you were bursting at the seams with excitement to be able to share in the tradition from the other side, especially since there were several first years in particular you wanted to celebrate with.

Everything about the tradition seemed tailor made for your brand of joy. It's bright bits of costuming and ticker tape canons, balloons and medals for the undoubtably exhausted first years. Clustered together by the main doors of the examination school, you and your friends press yourselves against the barriers that had been put up to give all the first years enough space. Still, front and centre, many of you, yourself and Felix included, had been handed medallions to give to first years, while the rest were all still clutching each other and giggling with excitement, reminiscing about how loved you'd all felt at this time last year, seeing everyone cheering for all you'd accomplished.

For the past few days since your exams had finished, those in your group particularly committed to the bit, you and Felix among them, naturally, had been frequenting as many of the local charity and party shops in town. Each of you were desperately searching for delightfully garish garments and props to wear and share.

The moment Felix had spotted the sparkly, pink cowboy hat on a mannequin, paired with a violently lavender feather boa, he'd clung to them like his life depended on him owning them, hearts in his eyes, absolutely refusing to let them go. On the other hand, the sailor hat for Ollie was your idea; something more understated for a man more understated than either Felix or yourself. While Felix wanted to protest, wanted to give him something a little more flashy, you thankfully got him to compromise by allowing him to pick your accessories. Which is how you ended up with a hot pink, bedazzled 'Mother Of The Bride' sash.

And a blue, pointy wizard hat.

Anticipation grew in the gathered crowd, all chatter and smiles and giggling as you waited for the doors to open. In amongst the growing noise, you turn the medal over in your fingers, gazing at it with pride, excited to be able to be the one to give it to one of your closest friends. You still have your own from last year, usually pinned above your desk, but right now in a box ready to be taken back to Saltburn for the Summer.

The moment you all heard the tell-tale creak of those large, wooden doors, the cheering began, and you're glad to be pulled from your thoughts and back into the moment. It grew into a cacophony, a roar of joy and delight as the ticker tape canons went off and the first years streamed out in a river of excitement.

Farleigh's always cut a defined figure in any crowd he's in, considering his height, but you'd also given him the heads up to look out for the blue wizard hat to find you. At first you saw him scanning the crowd, but it takes him barely a second to find you. He lights up, eyes fixed on your stupid hat, and he breaks away from the pack at a full sprint. He doesn't even let you give him his medal at first, he's laughing at the top of his lungs, reaching all the way over the barrier to pull you into a hug, almost dragging you over the railing. There's nothing to be said, only a joy that has gone beyond words.

"You're a wizard!" He finally manages amid laughter as he lets you go, leaning back to hold you at arm's length, taking in your whole outfit, "and," his head tips in further confusion, "mother of the bride?"

"And you're a first year graduate," you grinned, "do you want your medal, or do you have more important follow up comments about my outfit?"

"I several have follow up comments but- oh my god," his eyes go wide and he suddenly seems a little breathless, like it's only just properly hit him "I finished a whole year," there's a genuine quality to his voice that's not often heard from Farleigh; still half laughing, but it's almost disbelieving, full of hope without any hint of irony, "not, like, just a week, or a semester; a whole year. A whole year at Oxford University." Lowering his head, he finally lets you put the medal on him.

For a long few moments he holds it out in front of him with pride and joy in his eyes; a precious, rare sight for you to behold. Then, very suddenly, he grabbed your face, bringing you close with this intense, shocked look in his eyes.

"I topped three of my Lit exams," he hissed with actual disbelief, almost making it sound like a scandal, "I took a hit before my Modernism final and spent nine pages arguing that Trainspotting was Allen Ginsberg's Howl for the postmodern audience. I don't even know if I believe that. How was that the best essay they saw?"

"Farleigh," you chuckled, "you might actually just be very good at this." You gave his cheek a fond pet, but after a moment, a hand reached over to tug at Farleigh's shoulder, breaking your stalemate.

"Congratulations, mate!" It's Felix, all smiles, unsurprisingly, "why've you got that look in your eyes?"

"He took one of his exams stoned and still topped the class," you grinned slyly, before your gaze fell on Oliver. As if sensing this, Farleigh slid over to give Felix a proper hug and congratulations, leaving space in front of you for Oliver to step in with a shy grin. You tug on his sailor hat with a fond smile and he turns even redder.

"Congratulations, Oliver Quick."

"Thank you," his gaze flicks up for a moment, stifling a giggle, "wizard."

Puffing out your chest as you mock-straightened your pink sash you hold your nose in the air.

"And what of it?" You put on a faux serious voice. Oliver has to duck his head to hide how much he's laughing at the bit. Once you let it go and deflate, you do then gesture for him to come close, wrapping your arms around him.

"Proud of you, Ollie," you murmur, giving him a tight squeeze.

"Don't know if I could have done it without you and Felix," he admits softly.

"Of course you could have," you assure him with warmth as the two of you begin to pull away. Oliver's eyes meet yours, blue and intense and that same familiar searching that you're so used to by now that it's something of a comfort. For just a moment, you want to reach out, to touch him, to hold onto his gentle expression and this moment in your own two hands. You wonder if he can see it in your eyes too, can see you repressing that urge.

"Wouldn't have been half as good," with the smallest of smiles, just edging on knowing, neither his expression nor his tone gives away enough for you to know exactly what he could be meaning or referring to, if anything beyond general companionship. So you play it off, you let anything you might be holding onto, anything that might be too much for such a public forum, pass.

"Of course," you say loudly, blithely, tucking your arm in Felix's beside you to get his attention, "we're wonderful company!"

"What's this?" Felix turns, eyebrows raised as he looks between yourself and an amused Oliver.

"Just saying that Oliver's year is better for having met us," you say simply, airily.

"Without a doubt!" Felix agrees without any kind of hesitation. Farleigh rolls his eyes, but is laughing as he calls both you and Felix incredibly vain.

As the excitement begins to die down and everyone begins to filter out, your group begins to meander towards the road that leads off campus, with yourself, Felix, and Oliver trailing behind.

"What's next? I mean, what's the plan now? I know there's a thing tomorrow, but -" Oliver's tentative again, quiet and meek again, acting like he's on the back foot again.

"Step one," Felix begins matter-of-factly, "pub; celebrate; get shitfaced." You see Oliver glance dubiously at your foot-high, velvet wizard hat once more. He's been doing it a lot. You can't lie, you've gotten very attached to your stupid look for the day and do plan to keep it all night.

"Even with that?"

"I'm gonna die in this hat I've decided," you say easily, to which both boys snicker at your assertiveness on the subject. But soon enough, Oliver raises another question.

"And- and tomorrow, that's the- I heard there was an end of year gala," he hesitates as you and Felix both automatically confirm. It did not seem to soothe any of Oliver's nerves and he finally brought up, "It's black tie; I have a black tie - bow tie, actually - but I don't really have anything else that'll match the theme -" he babbles awkwardly, looking all kinds of mousey and small with his head bent like that, hands fingers twisting together in anxious shapes. Both you and Felix are quiet, stuck in thought, and it takes you closing your eyes for a few seconds, trusting your arm in Felix's to keep you on the right path, before it hits you.

"Walters of Oxford," you open your eyes, "on Turl street, I think," you pause for a beat, reconsidering, "maybe double check that." Squinting for a moment, you try and recall, "ten minute walk, I think? Depending on your route, I guess. Not far is the point." But when you look over at your companions, both are frowning at you, something incredulous in their eyes. "To... hire a suit," you explain almost sheepishly under their respective gazes.

"How did you do that?" Oliver asks softly.

"Why did you know that?" Felix adds, bewildered.

"Isn't it handy to know the best place to get good suits and expert repairs done?" You shrugged a little helplessly. However, as you let your gaze drift, you find yourself recalling something India had said about you always needing to be a step ahead, to always have contingencies in place so Felix need not ever be inconvenienced for too long. Whatever; you push the thought and India's past negative tone from your mind, telling yourself it's good information to have anyhow.

"Anyways, I was also looking into good places for suit hires, in case the worst happened, and wouldn't you know it, Walters does that too."

"I'll- I guess I'll head there tomorrow morning," Oliver says awkwardly.

Felix drops your arm for a moment, wrapping his arm around Oliver's shoulders, bringing him in close.

"I look forward to see you in a suit, Ollie," there was no mistaking the flirty tone he was using, and from the glimpse of Ollie's face that you could see around him, he was turning red under Felix's praise, "handsome man like you all done up," he trailed off, ruffling Oliver's hair before he let go, cheeky smile on his face and bounce in his step. He has to be aware of Oliver's nervous, starry-eyed gaze locked upon him, but Felix just strikes up a conversation with you, enquiring if you would be going in a suit or a dress.

"I'm going in a wizard's hat." You declared.

"I love this bit; you aren't even drunk yet!" Everything you do is worth it if it means Felix will look at you like this, with delight shining in his eyes and in his words.

The night - what you can remember of it - is phenomenal. Benji calls you Archmage of the Bride and it's the only thing anyone refers to you as for the rest of the night, everyone else loudly correcting anyone who gets it wrong. Aside from that, everyone is babbling and bright and so enthusiastic about the gala the following night and what they'll be wearing.

Oliver is quiet, tucked in between you and Felix, nursing his pints longer than anyone else. Felix's arm is around him, as it always seemed to be, and as the night goes on, more and more you get the urge to tip your head and rest it against Oliver's for several long moments at a time.

But there's something different about tonight. Oliver doesn't reach out to you, even subtly. His thigh against yours is forced proximity, but his hands are always on his drink and his ankles are crossed beneath the table. Whenever he looks away, you start to notice that it's not at you; Felix seems to hold his attention more than anyone else, but on any other night, that wouldn't really surprise you. You want to ask what's wrong, but by the time you realise something is, you're not sure you're even capable of stringing two coherent words together.

You think back on what he'd said on the way to the pub, his voice small and nervous.

What's next?

You ponder as you leave the pub with several others in the group, thinking hard. Had he meant more than just the immediate? Your next was Saltburn, Oliver's next was... ah. Junkie mum and no dad.

Someone sticks a finger in your ear. Immediately you jump and clutch protectively at your hat -

"Fuck off 'm wizard!"

"I'm seeing if I can feel your thoughts, they look serious," Farleigh, somehow more sober than you, is still cackling. Your drunk mind doesn't like that he's laughing at you, even if it's an objectively funny situation, and you spend the rest of the short walk stomping and pouting, with Farleigh laughing and calling you ridiculous the entire time.

You awaken on the second last day of living on the Oxford University campus for your second year, with an absolutely killer headache. You don't remember getting back into your dorm, but apparently your drunken self was kind enough to steal an entire pitcher from the common area and fill it literally to the brim with water. Far less had spilled on your bed side table than you'd anticipated.

What you do remember, however, is the numerous thoughts you'd had about Oliver. Both last night, and over the past few weeks. As you take some painkillers and drink water out of the pitcher, you gaze across your room to few newspapers you've had sitting under a pile of textbooks since the second week of exams.

It's almost midday. Taking the papers, you pack yourself a bag of whatever you'd need to get ready for the gala on top of your little project, and pull your garment bag from your wardrobe. Swinging past the on-campus café, you pick up arguably too much food for you and Felix to share before the event, then heading to his dorm.

"Get fucked," Felix shouts through the door, muffled probably by his pillow, when you knock.

"Felix, open up!"

"No! What time is it?"

"Midday!"

"Fucking midday?!"

From behind you, one of the doors flies open and one of Felix's scowling dormmates spits for you to shut up or fuck off.

"Grow up or eat shit; it's the afternoon," you flip him off with a scowl. The door slams shut. Immediately you turn and kick Felix's door. When he opens it, he does not look happy. In return, you smile sweetly at him, thanking him with the most saccharine tone you can manage.

"Brought us food," you offer, as if trying to placate him, but instead Felix pointedly falls face first upon his bed, pulling his pillow over his head in defiance. Just glad to be finally let in, you potter around his room quietly, carefully avoiding his boxes of already packed belongings.

Putting all the food on the table, you start on some of it yourself as you keep working almost silently. You hang your garment bag up next to his, put your nice shoes by his door, put all your accessories and other things you needed to get read in their own, distinct pile on his dresser before you settle yourself in his desk chair, pulling out one of the newspapers and carefully going through it.

The Liverpool Echo.

Your eyes flick briefly over the articles, not really paying any of them much real attention, at least not until you got to the obituaries. These you scoured. Names and faces and dates and sweet words about caring, loving people who you neither knew nor cared for. No Quicks. Next paper.

It takes you quite some time; you're thorough and you'd gotten quite a few day's worth from around the time Oliver had found out the news about his father in case it had been reported earlier or perhaps a few days later. Prescot didn't have it's own newspaper, but the lady at the news agency you'd phoned to order them assured you that the Liverpool Echo was received by the people of Prescot too.

"Are you reading the paper?" Felix's voice actually makes you jump, having so engrossed yourself in your reading, forgetting he was still there. Looking at the clock, then at him, you see him still looking groggy, but more bemused than anything. Then, after a beat, he looks to the pile of ones you'd already gone through on the floor by your feet.

"Food's cold," you told him, going back to your reading.

"Why are you reading the paper?" Propping himself up, he begins to stretch and finally, properly wake up for the day.

"Been thinking about Ollie," you tell him with a distracted air, folding up the paper in your hands after a minute more of poring over it, adding it your growing pile despondently. Thankfully, instead of making a snide comment, Felix yawns, asking you what exactly you'd been thinking.

"I know he said he's fine, but his dad still passed," you said softly, gazing at the small stack you're still yet to read, but feeling no urge to pick any more up, "and he hasn't been home, and when he gets home, I don't know..." you sighed, sitting back and looking at the ceiling, a kind of ache in your heart that you hadn't expected, "I wanted to try and find his obituary, to see if anyone said any nice things about him, but I'm not having any luck."

"I don't think he was the kind of man who had obituaries written about him," Felix tells you with a kind of resignation, "but I get that it's one of our last days," he extrapolates, voicing your intentions as easily as if he could read your mind, "and you want to try and give him a nice moment, to show that people care about him, before we, you know, fuck off for a month and a half and leave him."

"Grim, when you put it like that," you hummed, "but yeah, essentially." Felix made a noise of sombre agreement.

Finally, however, he rose from his bed, slowly meandering over to the desk and picking through the food you'd brought. For a long few moments he idly flicks through the few papers you had left on his desk, carelessly shoving each over as he doesn't even open them.

"What about that rock thing my family does?" Mouth half full of a sandwich and leaving the papers alone, his curiosity over them apparently sated, Felix sits himself on the floor by his bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he contemplates, "doesn't have to be all that serious, can be just about saying goodbye and letting go. Closure and shit, you know?" He swallows, looking at you with bright eyes, as if waiting for you to validate his idea, "like we did with my dog when I was a kid."

"That's actually a very sweet idea; I think he'd love that coming from you," you slowly begin to smile as you turn the idea over in your mind. Felix, however, wears a look like he's almost confused, but you can't begin to imagine what until he opens his mouth -

"What do you mean 'coming from me'?" Despite his apparent vague distaste for your wording, you can't help but laugh, rolling your eyes.

"Ollie would love the idea of lighting a bag of shite on fire on his mother's doorstep if the suggestion came from you; I'm saying it's a lovely idea, and he's very fond of you, it'll mean a lot to him."

Quiet filters in with the sunlight. You watch Felix, Felix watches himself pick at his nails.

"Very fond of you too," it's completely and totally neutral. It's also a fucking loaded statement if you've ever heard one come out of Felix's mouth.

"Felix." When he hears the warning notes in your voice, you know he pretends not to.

Reaching over to his bedside table, the unnecessary arc of his arm has him catching the light, muscles lean and taught with his effort to not otherwise move. Heat of the day had already begun to infiltrate the room, but this angle and the light makes the beading sweat along his skin glow; he's always been able to take advantage of a hot day in a way you've never seen of anyone else. Felix, of course, knows exactly what he's doing. Felix learned long ago how to perform at the drop of a hat; no-one was better at objectifying him than he was if he wanted to, "don't do that," you mutter, knowing that even you weren't immune to the way he could manipulate people's eyes upon him.

"What?" It's too innocent to be anywhere near truthful. You see the edge of a smirk before it disappears behind a cigarette and his sudden, aloof façade.

"We haven't talked about what happened," you tried, you really did, "we swept it under the rug for Ollie's sake, and then we had exams, and we -"

Felix lights his lighter, head angled so he can look up at you through his lashes, so his hair falls and curls and turns gold in the flickers of the lighter's faint fire. For another second he holds your gaze, confusing and teasing all in one; like he adores you, but like it's a challenge. Then he moves again, poses again. One leg up, one leg stretched out in front of him, cigarette resting so lazily between the fingers of the hand that he rests on his thigh, plays a staccato beat with his fingers against his bare skin. Nudity was never taboo between you, so why were you losing your train of thought over Felix in his boxers, a sight you'd seen arguably a hundred times before.

Looking anywhere else on him doesn't do you any favours, the beautiful body you've marked and called yours - jealousy, right, that's -

But his head tips back, falling back against his bed as smoke rings rise from his lips and the column of his throat is caught by the light. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, you catch only the briefest flash but he knows you can fill in the rest, knows you see the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

"You know we need to talk, otherwise you wouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what?" He shifts, legs spreading a little wider, and when he looks at you, he's wearing that smile you've seem him turn on countless girls before, teasing, flirting, look in his eyes like he's getting high of of the very idea of you. Lips quirking into a cocky smile, he raises his cigarette to his lips, watching you with an almost lazy kind of arousal. Like every girl he's looked at like this knows they could get him in bed without even trying, without even knowing they were being seduced, "something wrong, love?"

And it's fucking working.

"Fuck, Fi," you have to close your eyes, putting your head in your hands. He laughs and it sounds like fucking syrup, all teasing and warmth, but you can't fucking do this right now; "are you trying to get me in bed just because you don't want to talk about the fact that you were obviously jealous of Oliver?"

This silence is far more bitter, as is Felix's tone when he finally speaks.

"What would I have to be jealous of?" Sounding like a man in denial.

"That Oliver is good to me without needing you as an audience," you push the heels of your palms against your eyes, words and thoughts escaping you that you didn't even realise you had. The next breath you takes shakes. Audibly. Felix clears his throat, but he doesn't seem to know what to say. Now that you've said it out loud, you can feel your face beginning to heat up, tears stinging your tightly closed eyes, the way you begin to tremble.

"I know," you start slowly, carefully thinking about your words this time as you say them, "that you love me, Fi," it's gentle, reassuring, but frustrated nonetheless, face still in your hands. But your breath still shakes as you try and keep it level, "so I think part of you is- is scared that if I find someone who could love me," even the thought of your next words sit bitter and heavy on your tongue, so you have to take a deep breath, try and centre yourself, "without you," you pause, swallowing hard, feeling traitorous tears escaping you, "that I might realise I prefer- prefer that, or something," here is where you start to break, where your voice cracks and you can't keep your hands against your eyes so all you can do is hang your head and hope he doesn't see your tears, "but you've spent all your time assuming, and pouting, and thinking badly of a good friend, and you haven't even asked me!"

Finally, Felix speaks, his voice weak; he sounds moments away from tears.

"I made you cry."

You hadn't even realised how far beyond Oliver this went, how tightly you'd been holding onto this, these thoughts and feelings, keeping them coiled in your chest, until just now. Hearing his words, your crying finally becomes audible, even to you, even if you hadn't meant it to. Today was meant to celebrate, not... this.

"I don't-" he voice catches in his throat, and you hear him sniffle softly, "I don't know if I can ask you that." He admits. Finally, when you look up, you see his expression carefully neutral, looking over his shoulder with both his knees drawn up to his chest. God he can't even look at you.

You know Felix Catton too well; he is terrified.

In the moments that follow, you slowly pull yourself together. You dry your eyes, and nod, while trying to school your expression into something lighter.

"Okay, Fi," you tell him, and try to make sure he knows you're being sincere, "it's, um," you sniffle as you try and smile, "it's a loaded question, I know."

When he bites his bottom lip as subtly as he can manage, you know its to try and keep it from wobbling. There's guilt written all over his face as he watches you move around his room. He doesn't get up, doesn't move, just watches and listens.

"I'm -" you take a deep breath, looking around the room and forcing a smile, "I think I'm going to get ready for tonight with Farleigh, is that alright?"

"Yeah, 'course," he says, as if on autopilot. After a beat, as you collect up your things, Felix finally looks around his room, at the boxes and the things you'd brought with you. Suits, matching and side by side in his closet, bought alongside a third in the set for Farleigh that you know he'd be wearing tonight too. You take it out, lay it over a taped-up box full of his books, ready to go, and finish collecting up your accessories.

"You should talk to Ollie," you tell him, double checking your bag, unsure of how you were managing to act like everything was suddenly okay. Felix nods, watching you once more, gaze a little glassy, far away and looking almost lost, almost guilty again. Part of you is desperate to stay, to comfort him. But as much as he may want it, it's not what he needs in this moment.

"Fi, are you listening to me?" You asked, firmer this time, and he seems to surface from whatever thought's he'd been stuck in, giving you a faraway smile as he nods; it's almost believable, "I know you care about Ollie," you say warmly but firmly, "please talk to him," wetting your lips, you deliberate on your way to the door, picking up your garment bag, "be good to him; Ollie's the only audience that matters there."

"Does this change..." Felix is looking at the floor when you finally make it to his door, "us?"

"Are you still jealous of Ollie?" You try to make it sound joking, since you were pretty sure of the answer, though Felix shakes his head with a frown.

"No, 'course not," he mutters, almost as if to himself, but he doesn't seem to have finished his thoughts on the matter, so you give him a moment; "I've been an asshole, haven't I?" He finally mutters looking out across his room, "a right asshole to someone who's only ever tried to be a bloody good friend to me."

"You kind of have," you agreed easily, and Felix finally looks at you again, the slightest furrow in his brow. There's nothing particularly, prominently beautiful or posed about Felix in this moment; he'd dropped the pretense long ago.

Looking at him now, looking up at you with those helpless eyes, all folded up and far smaller than he usually appeared, all you can remember is the kid afraid of scary movies and his sister's Goosebumps books, who'd stayed up late with you when you'd cried your eyes out in your first year of Secondary school when your parents missed your birthday again, who never let you forget how much he loved you, even for a moment, since you'd met. Your best friend. Always.

"I wish you'd just trust how much I love you too, Fi," voice and expression softening. Slowly, Felix stands, makes his way over to you, wrapping you up in a hug.

"I do, and I will better next time," he mumbles faintly, apologetically, "'m sorry."

There's something melancholy about still parting ways, even after his apology, but both of you seem to know that it's for the best.

Farleigh is glad for your company, and you do a good enough job of appearing alright that he doesn't seem to pick up on the strange mood you can't otherwise shake. Still, you're quiet, Farleigh talking enough for the both of you in between a range of CD mixtapes he'd put together for his own enjoyment.

On your way into the gala itself, you're ahead of Farleigh by a few paces, eager to get in and get yourself a drink, but you brush past Oliver, waiting, looking, as always, out of place. When you tell him he looks lovely, you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, and barely stay, while you hear Farleigh, behind you, taking his time with antagonising your poor friend.

Felix is leaving the event as you're arriving. He almost crashes into you, bottle of champagne clearly stolen from one of the tables, in one hand as he's running from the venue.

"Hey, hi," despite both your best efforts, there is still clearly some discomfort in the air between you. Felix's eyes roam over you, almost out of habit, but there's an appreciative look in his eyes as he meets your gaze once more, "I think, I, uh, I'm going to skip this one and hang out with Ollie," almost like he's trying to invite you. But after everything, this can't be something you do; this isn't your tradition, this isn't your moment to share with Oliver. He'll never get it.

He's Felix Catton; he's the sun.

"He's going to enjoy that so much more than hanging around here," you smile brightly. Felix looks a little surprised, a little put out that you had apparently not picked up on his offer, or that you had and had decided to decline.

"Yeah, I- I thought so," he almost seems a little stunned by how cold this interaction was between you, compared to the usual, boisterous comradery you shared.

"Have a good night, Fi," finally, you kiss his cheek and slip into the entrance hall of the gala building, weaving through beautifully dressed students to find your gaggle of friends for the night. Throughout the night, you get asked where Felix is, and you shrug with a blithe smile every time.

My Felix <3: i invited ollie to spend summer with us

Tomorrow you would be okay.

Tonight, however, you planned to dance with your friends, drink enough that you either stop feeling so weird in your damn brain, or feel perhaps even worse, and probably end up crying.

Tomorrow everything would be okay again.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wouldn’t school start in April, cause that’s when it starts in Japan and it’s a Japanese game?

[Referencing this post!]

That would be incorrect! TWST is a Japanese game, but that does not necessarily mean that all in-universe logic follows Japanese norms. We should not assume that a game’s country of origin informs its lore; we should look at the lore itself!

NRC is said to be designed after a British boarding school, and it is heavily implied that its school year is similar to the British model as well. You can easily tell this is the case from looking at the months and seasons referenced in the main story.

Book 2 features an interdorm tournament (which is similar to homecomings that traditionally take place mid-October). Japanese schools do not have homecoming; it’s purely a western thing. From what we know about book 2, we can assume the beginning of the school year must then be in September (book 1 occurs during the first week of the school year). Book 3 mentions end of the semester final exams (with the threat of remedial classes if you fail, thus cutting into your winter break) while book 4 explicitly takes place during said winter break. Book 5 begins “in the new year”, meaning it must be January, and then book 6 occurs a few days later. Book 7 takes place in spring, but before summer break since the third years are still preparing and applying for their fourth year internships.

If the NRC school year started in April as you’re suggesting, then it’s weird that no summer break was ever mentioned even though a winter break was. It also messes with the pacing of the main story. That would imply that books 1 and 2 occur in a short span of time, then there’s a long stretch of 5-6 months were nothing important happens because the next significant series of events isn’t until November/December. That doesn’t work as well with the main story’s narrative that OBs are happening consistently and so close to one another despite supposedly being rare.

I hope that clears things up for you! The ages I listed in the original post are correctly calculated based on this information.