#wilcox is just being wilcox

[beaningeneralacceptance]

“So, how was the new roommate?”

Her tone is suggestive but it takes Lynda a second to understand what she’s referring to. Her cheeks burst aflame, trying to shake off pictures from last night.

“Wilcox!”

“Lynda!” the girl chirps with a giggle.

[shuaflix]

driving lessons for dummies

❝ i can't parallel park, but i know all the lyrics to 'driver's license' by olivia rodrigo now. ❞

PAIRING ▸ kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor, smut, strangers to lovers au, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, weed consumption, mc has the worst luck imaginable, soonyoung is down horrendous, there is a minor car crash, very minor description of blood, hurt/comfort, almost car sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), grinding, oral (fem. receiving), praise, lots of teasing, overstimulation, pet names (both sexy and unsexy), friend group shenanigans

SUMMARY ▸ you've finally passed your written test and gotten your permit after six failed attempts. eager to get your license while attempting to avoid overpriced driving lessons, you enlist the help of kwon soonyoung, who only requires a STIIZY pod as payment.

PLAYLIST ▸ new romantics by taylor swift • see you again by tyler, the creator, kali uchis 

WORD COUNT ▸ 16,834 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is representation for all the girlies out there who can't drive. not me but

ONE OF THE MOST COMMON STEREOTYPES PERPETUATED AGAINST WOMEN WAS THAT THEY WERE DEEMED TERRIBLE DRIVERS. 

That, or they just flat-out couldn’t drive to save their lives. 

This sexist notion dated back to when the automobile was created, when driving was physically demanding work and men insisted they handled operating the vehicles themselves. Now, though, plenty of women drove just fine, but misogyny was the only thing keeping the stereotype relevant. 

After all, the only reason why women were considered “bad drivers” was because a man decided they were.

Screw all the women who revolutionized the automobile industry, right? Despite them being highly discouraged to take on the labor required of men, it was Bertha Benz who drove the furthest in a motorized carriage than anyone else. It was Anne French who was the first woman to receive a driver’s license. It was Marget Wilcox who invented the car heater, Mary Anderson who created windshield wipers, and Hedy Lamar who designed the wireless transmission technology that made the innovation of the GPS possible.

No matter how high that glass ceiling was, even if a woman demolished and obliterated it to pieces, there would always be a man out there who would push her right back down. 

Unfortunately, you were nowhere near smashing that glass ceiling because you had failed your permit test six times. 

Yes, it was embarrassing, but you were determined to get your license. At your age, it was getting ridiculous that you had consistently failed your permit test this many times. Plus, you were getting tired of asking all of your friends for rides. You envisioned picking them up in your new car with your shiny new license, grinning smugly at the shocked looks on their faces.

“I don’t think God wants you on the road,” Wen Junhui, your best friend since middle school, said as he dropped you off at the DMV. “If you fail a seventh time, I would personally just use public transportation for the rest of my life.” 

“If a sixteen-year-old can pass it without studying, then I can pass it,” you insisted. “Plus, I read the entire manual last night.”

“Yeah, except the sixteen-year-old passed it on their first or second try, and this is your seventh.” 

“Well, seventh time’s the charm, right?” 

“Right,” he replied, doubtful. He stopped the car in front of the DMV to let you out. “Well, good luck. I’m gonna go get gas and I’ll come back for you.”

“Thanks, Jun!” you chirped. “I swear I’ll pass it this time.”

“Sure.”

“Have some faith in me, please.”

When Junhui drove away, you steeled your nerves to mentally prepare yourself—not for the test but for interacting with the DMV employees. You weren’t a fan of being verbally abused by them, especially after having them roll their eyes at you the last six times you had to tell them you failed. 

But today would be different. 

Thankfully, the DMV wasn’t too busy today. You only had to wait twenty minutes until they called your number. After handing them the proper paperwork, you were directed to the computers to take the permit test. 

Since you were an adult, you only needed to get 30 questions correct out of 36. You had learned your lesson by now, so you actually studied the handbook this time. It took a while to admit to yourself that you weren’t blessed with common sense. 

First question. Wrong. 

Second question. Wrong. 

Third question. Wrong. 

What was happening?

By the time you had gotten five questions wrong in a row, your hands were shaking. The pressure started to set back in, and you were terrified about failing this exam a seventh time. Junhui would be so disappointed if you told him you failed again. 

You felt the back of your shirt cling to your skin once the sixth question was incorrect. This was ridiculous; you had studied, but these questions were strangely specific. It was like someone at the DMV had it out for you. 

Maybe Junhui was right. Maybe God didn’t want you on the road. 

You felt like your brain had entered auto-pilot to protect yourself from the discouraging loss of your permit yet again. You clicked through the rest of the questions mindlessly, hardly thinking about anything until— 

You passed! 

The white screen flashed in your face for about a minute before you could register it properly. All you could do was blink and stare until you pinched your wrist to make sure you weren’t seeing things. 

Had you really gotten the rest of the 30 questions right after your consecutive failed attempts? You were so worked up over the six you missed that the rest felt like a blur. Maybe the problem was that you had been overthinking the test this entire time. 

“I did it,” you breathed out to the woman at the counter, still in disbelief. “I passed.” 

“Congratulations,” she replied with little enthusiasm. She turned to grab papers from her printer, stapled them together, and handed you your brand new permit. “Have a nice day now.” 

“Thank you so much,” you replied, slightly distracted as you inspected your learner’s permit with wide eyes.

You had been waiting for this day for so long, and here you were, holding the permit you had spent years trying to obtain. You could only imagine how thrilled your parents and friends would be once they found out. 

Speaking of friends, when you checked your phone, you saw that Junhui had texted you five minutes ago that he was parked outside. He probably expected you to walk out with a gloomy expression and slumped shoulders, but you had a skip in your step this time. You finally had good news for your best friend. 

“Jun!” you yelled before you even opened the door to the passenger’s seat. “Jun, Jun, Jun, Jun!”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said sympathetically, but something about his automatic response definitely felt practiced, “you’ll get it next time.”

“No, Jun, I passed!”

His eyes went wide. “You did?!” 

“I did!” You squealed and practically jumped into the seat. Sinking back, a wide grin stretched across your face. “I finally did it.” 

“Yo, congrats.” Junhui grinned. “I guess the seventh time really is the charm, huh?” He started his car to pull out of the parking lot. “Well, now you just have to pass the driving test.” 

Your face fell.

You had been thinking about the permit test for so long that you forgot there was an actual driving component, too. 

First of all, you had never driven a vehicle in your life, not even illegally with friends. Second of all, you had terrible depth perception, which was probably not a great flaw to have if you wanted to drive. Thirdly, everything you prepared for the permit test had completely ejected from your brain. Your road sense was back to utterly clueless. 

“I’m gonna fail,” you said, defeated. “Jesus Christ, Jun, I didn’t even think about the actual driving test!”

“Relax, driving’s easy once you get the hang of it,” he replied. “What you should really be worrying about is how expensive those lessons are.” 

“How much are they?” 

“Uh, like, close to a few hundred.” 

“Total?” 

“No, per lesson.” 

“Per lesson?!” you cried. “Just for someone to tell me where to turn and brake? I can’t afford that!” 

“I’m guessing most of it is because they’re willingly sitting in a car with someone who doesn’t know shit about driving,” he explained, “but, yeah, it’s a crazy price. You do need to get that license before your permit expires, though, and you should probably get it done while you’re still here for college so you don’t run over the elementary schoolers back home.” 

You buried your face in your hands and let out a loud groan. “How am I gonna dish out hundreds of dollars? I don’t have that kind of money to spend when I have rent to pay off.” 

The corner of Junhui’s mouth lifted, more so exasperated than amused when he said, “I think I might know a guy.” 

Kwon Soonyoung. 

Junhui sent you his number after he dropped you off at your apartment. Apparently, Soonyoung was one of his good friends who also happened to have a side gig where he gave out driving lessons at a discounted price. Of course, the downside was that Soonyoung wasn’t exactly certified to teach people how to drive, but he was allegedly a good driver.

His lessons were normally for high schoolers, and he charged their parents around a hundred. For adults over the age of 21, though, he had a special offer that you couldn’t resist. 

You texted him to ask if he had any open spots for you. He took a few days to reply, but you eventually got a two-hour slot for the next week. You weren’t sure how effective his lessons would be, but you figured you would give it a shot since he was your age and giving out classes for cheap. 

When the day of your lessons rolled around, you were slightly anxious while you were waiting for him to arrive. You needed Junhui to reassure you for hours last night, promising that no, Soonyoung was not going to kidnap and murder you. He was a student at your university, actually, and he was a public health major who never had a murderous thought in his life.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’m outside your house 

Okay, if he wasn’t a murderer, then the least he could do was not text you like one.  

After replying with an omw that autocorrected to On my way! and left you feeling very distressed that your communication sounded overly-enthusiastic, you worked up the courage to walk outside to his Honda Accord. 

“Hi,” you greeted shyly when you opened the door. “You’re Soonyoung, right?” 

Honestly, you didn’t care if he was Soonyoung or not. The man sitting in the driver’s seat was probably one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. Even if he wasn’t Kwon Soonyoung, you would happily let him kidnap you. Maybe you’d even blush a little because he picked you of all people to kidnap. 

He turned to look at you, seeming a little surprised that you opened the door but smiling nevertheless. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?” 

When you nodded, he got out of the driver’s seat and motioned for you to take it. You skirted around the car to sit inside while Soonyoung took the passenger’s seat. 

You also got a glance of his off-brand, beige Fear of God Essentials sweater that read M.I.L.F. Hunter instead. Classy. 

“So, you came to me because you didn’t wanna give up your semester’s worth of college tuition for driving lessons,” Soonyoung said with an overwhelming air of confidence. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” You huffed. “Here, I heard this was your payment.”

You handed him a paper bag, not bothering to take out the receipt from the dispensary. Inside was the King Louis XIII STIIZY pod. One gram. 

“Ah, good. You know your stuff.” 

Soonyoung hummed as he examined the box, and you were just wondering when he would get to business and start showing you the controls in his car. You were slightly overwhelmed by his impressively relaxed demeanor. Maybe it would have been better if you settled for an uptight woman in her sixties. Pretty boys were always trouble. 

“You made the right choice coming to me. I’m a much better driver than those hags from the driving schools around here,” he continued. It was like he could read your mind; it was almost terrifying. “Plus, way less likely that I’ll get a heart attack in the passenger’s seat.” 

He was a total weirdo, but he was hot, so you supposed it canceled out in some obscure, mathematical sense. 

“That’s… good to hear, I think,” you replied. “So, are you, like, good at this?”

“Are you kidding? I’m basically the Lebron of driving.”

“I see.” You nodded along, unsure. “I don’t watch football, so…” 

“He plays basketball, but close enough.”

After spending about thirty minutes explaining all of the controls—from hand signals, to the dashboard, to the indicator—Soonyoung decided it was time for you to start driving on your own. You didn’t expect to move this quickly; actually, you didn’t think you’d even start driving until your second lesson. Thankfully, you gathered most of what Soonyoung had taught you, so you mustered up the courage to press your foot on the brakes and move the gear shift into drive. 

You looked over at Soonyoung expectantly, waiting for him to give you the green light to start driving. The boy only raised a brow at you, wondering why you hadn’t started driving yet. 

“Today would be nice,” he remarked.

“Uh, should I start now?”

“Sorry, I don’t have a starting pistol for you or anything.” He made a finger gun with his hand and pretended to fire. “On your mark, get set—”

“Okay, going,” you replied quickly, flushing with embarrassment. You pressed down on the accelerator and gasped as the car lurched forward. “Sorry!”

“Slowly!” Soonyoung cried out, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle, which you found highly unnecessary and felt somewhat offended about. “Press down slowly—gentle.”

The next hour of your lessons was a learning curve, to say the least. In your defense, it was your very first time driving, so you didn’t know you were actually supposed to look behind you before you switched lanes. Although Soonyoung kept reminding you, his instructions kept slipping your mind because you were focusing on several things at once. 

You sucked.

You were probably honked at around eight times and flipped off twice. It was a humbling experience, really. There was only so much a DMV victim could take, so you eventually had to pull over and try not to cry while Soonyoung consoled you. 

“C’mon, you probably didn’t even do anything wrong. It’s just their road rage,” he said, trying to duck his head to get a better look at you while you had your hands covering your face. “Plus, all those assholes were driving way over the speed limit. You were the responsible one back there.”

You sniffled, sucking in a shuddering breath before you gathered your composure. It wasn’t like you to be so vulnerable in front of a stranger like this, but it was probably the nerves of your first time driving coupled with the nerves of driving (and potentially damaging) someone else’s car. 

“You’re right.” You wiped at your damp cheek. “Fuck them. They couldn’t pass a driving test if they tried.”

“Well, technically, they already have.” 

“Not helping.”

He smirked. “Are you good to keep driving? Or do you wanna wrap this session up for today?” 

“Let’s keep going.” You set the car in drive again, but you looked over at Soonyoung before you did anything else. “Thanks, by the way. I’m guessing most of your students don’t usually pull over to cry during their lesson.” 

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t say it’s happened before, but it’s not a bad thing.”

It was a good thing that you were able to hide your blush from Soonyoung. With the clearly embarrassing impression you were making on him, it would have been mortifying if he found out that he was also making you flustered. 

For the next thirty minutes, you slowly started to get more comfortable behind the wheel. Soonyoung was thankfully not overbearing as most instructors normally were, so you didn’t end up flinching every time he spoke. 

He made light conversation to make you feel at ease, which you appreciated greatly. At first, you just nodded or hummed in response, as you were too afraid to do anything but stare at the road ahead, but you eventually steeled your nerves and replied with actual words. Soonyoung was a natural conversationalist, so you didn’t have to worry about your awkward pauses or stumbling over your words. He led the conversation, sharing random tidbits of his life that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone the first time you met them. 

Everything seemed to be going perfectly normal until Soonyoung started queuing songs to play. 

The problem wasn’t the music. The problem was that Soonyoung had stopped teaching you to drive, allowing you to fend for your life while he sat back and relaxed. You weren’t sure if normal people were able to loosen up so easily while being driven by a complete amateur. 

Soonyoung must’ve been from a different planet, you decided. Some planet out there that deemed him the Lebron of driving. 

“Uh,” you started, “aren’t you gonna tell me where to go?” 

Soonyoung opened his mouth, as if he was going to ask what you meant, but then his demeanor completely shifted. 

“Pull over to the curb,” he instructed, “now.”

“What?” Your pulse raced, and you were scared that you had fucked up somehow. You checked your mirrors to make sure you hadn’t cut anyone off or anything, but there was no one behind you. Swallowing thickly, you pulled over to the curb as best as you could and parked the car, shooting your driving instructor a nervous glance. “Did I do something wr—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Soonyoung whispered, silencing you with a wave of his hand. “This is the best part.”

Your jaw clenched as Olivia Rodrigo’s vocals were drowned out by Soonyoung’s off-key singing. This was why he wanted you to pull over? 

“I knew we weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one!” he belted out. “C’mon, sing with me—oh, and I just can’t imagine how you could be so okay now that I’m gone!”

You folded your arms across your chest. With a reluctant sigh, you gave in and started singing along with Soonyoung. 

You weren’t exactly ready for your driving test, but after two more lessons with Soonyoung, you felt more confident about being on the road. Sure, you almost ran over a pedestrian once and drove on the wrong side of the road the other day, but at least you were capable of handling a vehicle mostly by yourself. 

There were times where you wondered if your driving lessons would be more productive with a proper instructor, not Soonyoung. He surely knew how to drive (save for when he went over the speed limit and only slowed down when he saw a cop car), but he was more focused on messing around instead of actually teaching you. You were pretty sure that he saved his proper instruction for high school students with parents, and you were just someone he liked to mess around with. 

That didn’t stop you from scheduling another lesson with him, though. It was going to be another trip to the dispensary for you.

“How’re the driving lessons going?” Junhui asked, still nose-deep in his anatomy textbook. 

The two of you were preparing for your upcoming midterms in a study room, but all you could think about was the little notification on your phone screen telling you that Soonyoung requested to follow you on Instagram. How long were you supposed to wait until you accepted his request? Would it be weird if you followed him back right away?

“I can’t parallel park, but I know all the lyrics to ‘Driver’s License’ by Olivia Rodrigo now,” you answered. “I’ve also been honked at thirteen times.”

You counted. Mostly because each honk kept you up at night, staring up at your popcorn ceiling, wondering why everyone (a driver who probably didn’t even remember your face) hated you. 

“Ah,” Junhui mused, smiling a little to himself, “so it’s going well.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” you mumbled. “But he’s nice. He doesn’t make me feel like crying. I think my dad would make me cry.”

Your phone buzzed while Junhui started going off on a tangent about how your dad was, indeed, a scary man. (There was an incident during parent’s weekend in freshman year where your father walked into your dorm room to see Junhui sitting on your bed. Completely misunderstanding the situation, your poor friend got lectured for almost an hour.) Soonyoung’s contact name flashed across your screen, and you were itching to read his text. 

Once you and Junhui settled back into studying, you turned on your phone to check your messages.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i see you in the first floor study room soonyoung (driving instructor): come to the second floor study room for a good time

Terrifying. But you were intrigued. 

After excusing yourself for a moment, making some lame excuse about needing to use the bathroom, you slipped out of your study room to head upstairs. You realized you had never actually seen Soonyoung on campus before, so a strange feeling of excitement consumed you, making your body feel light and your chest feel giddy. 

Outside one of the study rooms, you heard echoes of laughter and conversation, which made you feel instantly nervous. You were invited, though, so you steeled your nerves and opened the door cautiously. 

“Hi,” you greeted quietly, glancing over at the three strangers before your eyes landed on Soonyoung, who grinned once he saw you. 

The four of them weren’t exactly studying. Two of them were fiddling with the flatscreen fixed to the wall, trying to connect a Nintendo Switch to it; one of them was sliding joy-cons into controllers; and Soonyoung, who had his legs kicked up on the table previously, was standing up to walk over to you. 

“You came!” His tone made it seem like he was doubtful that you’d actually show up, so you were glad to prove him wrong. “Oh, yeah, this is Seungcheol and Mingyu”—he gestured toward the two who were setting up the TV, and then he pointed at the guy with the joy-cons—“and this is Seungkwan.”

“Hey,” the three of them chorused in broken unison. 

“Wanna play Smash Bros with us?” Soonyoung asked. “Perchance.”

“You can’t just say ‘perchance,’ dude,” one of the guys setting up the TV said. 

“I think it’s applicable, Mingyu,” the other guy said, whom you now deduced was Seungcheol. “Conceivably.”

“There’s no reason for either of you to use the words ‘perchance’ or ‘conceivably’ at all,” Seungkwan chimed in. 

“Ignore them,” Soonyoung said, holding the door open wider for you before you even gave him an answer. “They’re just idiots.” 

“You’re the biggest idiot here!” Seungcheol protested. He turned to you and explained, “He’s, like, the final boss idiot.” 

Mingyu snickered. “Final idiot.”

You found yourself giggling a little, distracted by their banter as you walked inside the room and sat down in one of the empty chairs. Soonyoung slid into the one next to you, even though he was sitting next to Seungkwan earlier. You were glad that none of his friends made you feel like your presence was strange or unwelcome, but you still couldn’t help but feel awkward. 

While Soonyoung was asking Seungcheol if he had finished connecting his Switch to the TV, you pulled out your phone to text Junhui. 

y/n: i’m playing smash bros??? with soonyoung on the second floor y/n: wanna join?

jun: my anatomy midterm is in 3 days, 2 hours, and 26 minutes and all i know rn is that tissues are to wipe my tears after i fail this exam, negative feedback is all im getting back from my professor, and brain cells r what im deficient in  

y/n: ok damn i’ll take that as a no

jun: i’ll be in here for the next 3 days whenever u decide to come back 

y/n: it’ll take an hour tops y/n: pls don’t camp here for 3 whole days 

“Jun’s not coming,” you announced. 

You heard a chorus of groans. 

Great. They were all Wen Junhui fanboys. 

After Mingyu and Seungcheol finished setting up the Nintendo Switch, you watched Soonyoung and Seungkwan play the first match. Seungkwan chose Villager (which was sort of fitting for him, actually) and Soonyoung chose Donkey Kong. You honestly had no idea how Smash Bros worked, so you were completely lost while you watched their characters fly around and knock each other off the platform. 

Soonyoung was screaming at one point, threatening Seungkwan with several promises to knock him out, which never happened. Seungkwan, taking a calmer approach, focused on using several commands while Soonyoung was already jumping out of his chair and on the floor. Mingyu and Seungcheol were on the sidelines, yelling out strategies for them at random and laughing occasionally. 

The match ended with Seungkwan being victorious. Soonyoung had gotten so riled up during the game, but he took his defeat like a champ, congratulating his friend and laughing off his loss. 

You were just amused at how quickly he switched up. 

“You want a turn?” Soonyoung asked you, handing you his controller. 

You hesitated. “Uh, I’m not really good at these kinds of games.”

“I’ll help you.”

You were up against Mingyu. He was a formidable opponent at first glance, but you hoped he wasn’t as competitive as the others. Maybe he would show you mercy because it was your first time playing. 

You held the controller with stiffly-bent arms, holding it up like you were reading a map. Soonyoung didn’t laugh at you, to your relief, but he gently pushed your hands down and showed you what all of the controls were. 

You chose the pink blob named Kirby. You weren’t a gamer by any means, so you had no idea what purpose the pink blob served other than being cute. No one judged you for your selection, though, which you assumed was a good sign. 

“Don’t go easy on me,” you mumbled to Mingyu, who grinned in response. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Your heart raced when the countdown started. It felt like the longest three seconds of your life, and you were starting to regret choosing Kirby, who looked harmless in comparison to Mingyu’s character: Samus. You kept telling yourself that it was okay if you lost; you knew how to handle failure since you were pretty bad at virtually everything. 

Soonyoung was cheering for your victory as soon as the match started. He was an absolute angel for doing so, but you were afraid you were going to disappoint him. 

In Mingyu’s defense, you did tell him not to go easy on you. Unfortunately, the guy really wasn’t holding back at all. In the blink of an eye, you were already astral projecting off the screen. 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

Maybe you should have swallowed down your pride and asked Mingyu to go easy on you.

Seungcheol playfully punched his friend’s shoulder. “C’mon, dude, it’s her first time.”

“Yeah, why’re you being a dick?” Seungkwan joined in, seeming more excited over having an excuse to target Mingyu than to actually defend you.

“She told me not to go easy on her!” he exclaimed, but no one allowed the poor boy to stand up for himself. With a pout, he turned to you and said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” You laughed. “I’m just bad at this.”

“Here, I’ll help you for the next round.” Soonyoung scooted closer to you until his knee brushed against yours. You couldn’t help but feel a little hot all of a sudden, but you made no effort to move away. 

The next round started with you dropping from the revival platform. You felt like your brain went into autopilot. You just heard Soonyoung talking in your ear while his fingers kept brushing against yours, telling you which controls were best for fighting Samus. Everything was going in one ear and out the other; you were so flustered that you could hardly think straight. 

You snapped back into reality when you heard three of them screaming, and you looked over with wide eyes to see Mingyu looking shell-shocked himself. 

You won. 

Soonyoung smiled. “See? You’re a natural.”

“No, it was all you,” you replied, shaking your head. It really was all thanks to Soonyoung because you had no idea what the hell you did. “It was probably just beginner’s luck.”

But, even so, a smile tugged at your lips, and you felt elated from your triumph. You thought back to Soonyoung’s hands brushing against yours, nearly swamping yours in comparison, and your chest felt a little warm. 

A little too warm. 

You put a pause on driving for a week and a half, informing Soonyoung that you had to focus on midterms before you could think about your driving lessons. Both caused you extreme distress, so you needed to cut one out temporarily.

Junhui really did camp out in the library for three entire days. You brought him food every day and forced him to go back to his apartment to take a shower. When you watched over his study room for him, Soonyoung would swing by and ask how you were doing. 

Brief interactions, but they were nice. 

You managed to get through your midterms without a single cry session in a bathroom stall. It was honestly a bigger success than your first Smash Bros win. 

Soonyoung and you grew a little closer. Two weeks ago, if someone told you that you would be FaceTiming your driving instructor every night before bed, you wouldn’t believe them for a second. Mostly because you assumed you would get a driving instructor who was pushing retirement age, and video calling someone that old at night sounded a little concerning and borderline adulterous.

You learned a lot about him. His go-to breakfast or midnight snack was Frosted Flakes, and he felt a little empty inside if there wasn’t a box of the cereal in his cabinet. He was loud most of the time, but he often got shy or quiet in loud settings; it was highly dependent on the crowd he was with. His love language was sending you pictures of cute animals and saying it was you two. (You also didn’t like calling this a “love language” because that implied there was something deeper than platonic feelings, which you were too afraid to come to terms with.)

“You have to start driving again now that your midterms are over,” Soonyoung said over the phone one night. He was sulking while you were doing your skincare routine, keeping your phone propped up on your desk. “You’re gonna start forgetting what you learned, and then we’re gonna be back to square one.”

He was (slightly) high tonight and you were the first person he called.

You were pretty sure that had to mean something. Unfortunately, you were too guarded to connect the pieces that were laid out perfectly for you.

“You just miss me, huh?” you joked. 

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Nothing could have prepared you for that response. 

You felt your cheeks burn, and you had to physically turn around to hide whatever expression was betraying you. You pretended to examine something behind you, but there was clearly nothing there, so you just looked like an idiot. 

You didn’t know what you were feeling. There was a clear difference in your emotions when you spoke to Soonyoung versus when you spoke to his friends. 

You didn’t want to compare Soonyoung to Junhui, who you knew since middle school, but you knew that you didn’t feel anything funny in your chest when you interacted with Seungcheol, Seungkwan, or Mingyu. They were great to be around, of course, but it was only Soonyoung who made you walk with a little skip in your step.

You hadn’t had a proper crush in years. Now, you felt like you were overthinking everything and analyzing every little interaction that could possibly be meaningless. 

It had only been a few weeks, but you supposed there was no exact timeline for these sorts of things—whatever this thing was. 

Whatever it was, though, you were in danger.

“Tomorrow, then,” you said once you regained a sliver of your composure. “Pick me up after your classes.”

“Sure.” He rested his chin in his palm, staring at you with an amused expression. “I’ll bring flowers.”

Possible Ways To Respond: 1. “You’re too sweet! Thank you.” 2. “Flowers? What’s the occasion?” 3. “Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, huh?” 

You went with a secret fourth option.

“Please don’t. I’m allergic.”

True to his word, Soonyoung picked you up after his classes the next day. 

You were pretty sure your lessons had gone over the regular quota, so you stopped by at the dispensary earlier to pick up another pod for Soonyoung. He didn’t look as though he was expecting anything when you got in the driver’s seat, though. In fact, he was perplexed when you handed him the paper bag. 

“What’s this?” he asked, growing sheepish. 

“Your payment,” you replied. “Also, I sort of lied about being allergic to flowers. I’m not allergic to flowers. I don’t know why I said that. I’m allergic to penicillin, though, but I don’t think that sounds remotely close to ‘flowers.’ Maybe I got confused? I don’t know.”

If this was an otome game, you had surely picked the bad relationship ending. Soonyoung’s face fell a little—just enough for you to notice—and you immediately felt guilt swallowing you whole. You meant for your words to sound lighthearted, but maybe they didn’t come across that way. 

But, at the same time, you didn’t know where you stood. Wouldn’t it have been unfair to not repay Soonyoung for the lessons? Was it unreasonable that you weren’t actually expecting him to bring you flowers for no reason?

Soonyoung recovered quickly, though, his smiling eyes crinkling at the corners. “So I can bring you flowers.”

“Hypothetically, you could.”

“But you don’t have to pay me anymore.” He looked into the paper bag, examining the STIIZY pod before scoffing. “If I keep stocking up on these, people are gonna think I’m a stoner.” 

“Well, I have to pay you for the lessons somehow,” you said. “So, if you don’t want the pods anymore, then I’ll have to start sending you money. I mean, what about gas?”

“You don’t have to worry about my gas tank.” He chuckled at your words and sat back to get comfortable. “What you should worry about is not hitting the curb.”

You flushed hotly. “Right.”

The first hour went smoothly. Soonyoung was impressed that you were gradually getting more and more comfortable behind the wheel, and he even congratulated you for changing lanes without muttering prayers under your breath. You were beginning to feel less overwhelmed with everything you were supposed to focus on, and you were certain that you were so close to everything clicking at once. 

That was, until a car crashed right into you on a local road. 

Thankfully, you and the other driver weren’t going too fast, but the force was sure to leave a dent in Soonyoung’s car. The collision wasn’t hard, by any means, but the impact jerked your body forward so that your mouth hit the steering wheel. The sting of pain radiated throughout your gums seconds later, and you winced and cradled your jaw. 

You immediately bubbled with rage as you pulled over to the curb, knowing that you had the right of way and he was supposed to stop and wait for you to pass, but you were still stiff with shock. Soonyoung’s eyes were fierce, looking back at the driver as if he was about to cuss him out, but then he turned his attention to you.

Before you could feel immense, crushing guilt over crashing Soonyoung’s car, you whipped your head around to make sure he wasn’t hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised if he completely ghosted you after this. You were probably the worst student he had ever come across, which was saying a lot considering most of his students were high school teenagers. 

“Y/N, are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked, sounding as frantic as his hands were. You felt his palm against your cheek and his other hand atop your head, making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere. 

“Are you okay?” you blurted out. Your breathing was erratic, and you hardly registered the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. “Oh god. Your car. Oh god, I—” 

“It’s okay, Y/N, it’s not your fault,” he said. “You had the right of—” 

When he turned to look at you again, he just stared, eyes wide and jaw hanging open—almost comically. It almost looked like he was more bewildered by you than the fact that his car was rammed into by another car. 

He was wordless for far too long that you had to ask, “Everything okay?” 

Maybe that was a stupid question. Clearly, everything wasn’t okay, and it had everything to do with the fact that you two had gotten into a car crash.

“I think you loth a tooth,” he lisped—a seemingly joking remark, but his expression was dead serious.

For a split second, a laugh bubbled up in your mouth. You thought Soonyoung must have been messing with you, but it was ridiculous that he could joke around in such a situation. It was when you touched your lip and pulled your hand back to see blood, though, that cold reality washed over you.

Your eyes went wide as saucers as you turned to examine your teeth in the rear-view mirror. 

The worst possible thing that could happen to a woman was happening to you right now. 

Your front left tooth was gone. 

“I-it’s not that bad,” Soonyoung tried, although he sounded unconvinced himself. “It’s cute! It’s like, uh, that dragon—from, uh… How to Train Your Dragon.” 

Your eyes were burning and your throat was closing up, but tonguing the bloodied gap between your teeth sent you over the edge. You had tears streaming down your cheeks and you were gripping the wheel so hard that your knuckles turned pale.

“Toothleth?” you cried, which led to a few choked sobs when you realized that you had a lisp now. Then, you were full-on crying into your hands because sure, you could get over being the reason why Soonyoung’s car had a dent in it, but you were pretty sure there was no replacing a missing tooth. The more you cried, though, the worse you felt as you tasted the blood and heard the faint whistles coming from the gap in your teeth. “I’m tho thupid!” 

Soonyoung was clearly short-circuiting, but you could tell he was desperate to calm you down by the way he was rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Y/N, you’re not stupid. It's okay, we just—”

“Thoonyoung!”

Soonyoung slapped his hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter. He was trying to take you seriously, but the little bursts of laughter that bubbled up in his throat were betraying him. 

You swallowed down your sob and continued, “Ith not okay! I loth my tooth!” 

“Okay, no more talking,” he ordered. “I know you’re very hurt right now, but you’re gonna feel even worse if I start laughing at your lisp, so don’t make this harder for me.” 

You scowled at him, but you kept your mouth shut because Soonyoung was right; you were not in the proper headspace to be laughed at right now. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go outside and talk to the driver who ran into us,” he explained slowly. “I want you to calm your breathing and find your missing tooth. We can drive to the dentist right after, okay?” 

You sniffled and nodded, craning your neck to watch Soonyoung get out of the car to talk to the driver. Then, you sucked in a sharp breath and examined the floor to find your loose tooth. Lo and behold, it was laying next to the gas pedal. You cringed as you picked it up, frowning at how bloody it was in your palm. There were a few napkins in Soonyoung’s glove compartment, so you wrapped your tooth in one and kept it in your pocket.

You heard some yelling from the other driver—something about having kids in the back and how you were going way too fast—and it all just made you feel worse. You felt horrible that Soonyoung had to deal with the repercussions, and after they exchanged insurances and the guy drove off, you got out of the car to see the damage. 

Surely enough, there was a decent-sized dent in the side of his car. It was right where the back door opened, and you burst into tears at the sight of it. Soonyoung wouldn’t have to deal with all of this if he wasn’t teaching you to drive.  

Still, he wrapped his arms around your shaking body and pulled you in close. He rested his chin on top of your head and sighed. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “The insurance will cover the damage. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“What about my tooth?”

“Okay, maybe there’s one thing to worry about.”

You leaned into his touch when you felt his hand carding through your hair. His motions were slow and gentle, as if he was trying hard to make sure you didn’t notice the gesture. You did, though, and you appreciated it. 

You started, “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he interrupted. You thought he was going to say something cheesy about how you had nothing to apologize for, but he continued, “You’re gonna say thorry, and I’m not gonna be able to take you seriously.”

With your face buried in his chest, you reached your hand out to punch his shoulder. 

Still, despite his snarky comment and the emotional distress you were experiencing over your missing tooth, a big smile crossed your face and his embrace left a warm, fluttery feeling in your stomach. 

Your heart was beating so fast that you almost thought it would stop. 

“Ew,” was Wen Junhui’s first reaction upon seeing your swollen lip. You could only see the top half of his face over FaceTime, but you were sure he had a look of disgust on. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you replied dryly, holding an ice pack to your cheek. 

Before Soonyoung drove you to a dentist, he scolded you for leaving your tooth wrapped up in a tissue. Apparently, your tooth was going to be fucked if it dried up, so his solution was to leave it in his half-empty water bottle that was left sitting in his car. You weren’t quite sure about this, but the dentist informed you that Soonyoung saved your front tooth. 

If he was with you in the room, you probably could’ve kissed him then and there—bloody mouth and all.

Thankfully, since you didn’t fracture or break any part of the tooth, the dentists were able to replant it into your gums without any complications. They told you it was a good thing you went straight to the dentist instead of waiting. Your front tooth would’ve been a lost cause if you waited another hour. 

It was really all thanks to Soonyoung. 

The procedure was quick and you were told that your avulsed tooth would be back to normal in about a week. The news filled you with relief because you were so sure you were going to be toothless for the rest of your life. 

Not that it was a bad thing. While Soonyoung was driving you to the dentist prior to the replantation, you had come to terms with the fact that you would be missing a front tooth for the rest of your life. You would grow old and tell your children the harrowing tale of how you got your driver’s license and sacrificed your front tooth for it. 

It couldn’t be all that horrible. Maybe you would grow an affinity for whistling.

Thankfully, that was all just your overthinking and your tooth was probably fine now. In seven days, everything was supposed to go back to normal, so you had your fingers crossed for a full recovery. 

“Of course that would happen to you.” Junhui laughed at your misery. “Shit like this only happens to you.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m the pinnacle of terrible luck.”

“So, what happened after? Did you make out with Soonyoung or something?” 

“No!” you exclaimed. Your cheeks started to burn just at the thought. “How do you expect me to make out with someone when I look like this? Soonyoung drove me home like a gentleman. He’s not into me like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing him for a while, anyway. I don’t wanna start driving again until my tooth is fine.”

“Then maybe you can go on a different kind of ride with him instead.”

“You need to stop.”

You didn’t see Soonyoung much over the next week. He told you that he had a few papers to finish before his schedule would clear up, so you were only able to text him occasionally and see him in passing, exchanging a greeting before one of you had to go. 

You saw his friends a lot, though. They were always in the study room next to the one you and Junhui liked to use, so you would stop by their room often to see what they were up to. They were usually either messing around or using the whiteboard for everything but its intended purpose, so you enjoyed taking study breaks with them. Junhui was the type to not take breaks because he was locked in on his work once he got in the zone, so Soonyoung’s friends were a breath of fresh air. 

Your Current Opinions on Soonyoung’s Friends:

Mingyu: Kind. Approached you whenever he saw you. Pleasant conversations. Swiped up on your Snapchat stories sometimes. Was unfortunately the only person you forgot to block from your story once when you posted a semi-thirst trap just for Soonyoung’s eyes.

Seungcheol: Friendly whenever he talked to you. A little awkward because you once saw him taking selfies at the gym instead of working out. 

Seungkwan: Not super buddy-buddy but sweet enough. Liked making fun of Soonyoung with you. He brought you McDonald’s once and you imagined a future with him momentarily.

Word also got around that your front tooth had been knocked out clean. Seungcheol let it slip when he accidentally referred to you as ‘Toothless’ the other day. You made a mental note to kill Soonyoung later.

The next time you ran into your driving instructor on campus was outside one of your lecture halls. You walked out in the middle of class to fill up your hydroflask. It was especially hot today, and you were seconds away from heat exhaustion. Soonyoung’s brows lifted in pleasant surprise once he saw you, and he missed his elevator to walk up to you.

“Whoa.” You paused for a moment, unblinking. “I keep forgetting you go here.”

“I’m the hall monitor.”

“This is college. We don’t have hall monitors.”

“Self-elected,” was his response. “Speaking of, I don’t see your bathroom pass.”

“I’m not going to the bathroom. I’m filling up my water. Anyway, why would I—”

“Just this once, I’ll let you off with a warning,” he interjected, pulling out a card from the pocket of his jeans. He handed it to you, and you accepted it after a moment of hesitation. “There’s your bathroom pass. Don’t let me catch you loitering around here again.” 

With that, Soonyoung walked off, leaving you utterly confused. 

You flipped the business card around to see his name and number printed neatly in the middle, and you frowned in response. There was some other fine text on the back, but you didn’t take the time to read it properly as you were still baffled. 

“I already have your number!” you called after him, but you just heard your driving instructor laugh to himself in response as he disappeared behind the elevator doors.

Later, after your classes ended, you went back to your study room with Junhui. He had been in the library since morning, deciding to skip his classes to prepare for his second round of midterms that he still had a few weeks for. 

You told him about your encounter with Soonyoung, noting how strange it was that he casually had business cards on hand. Junhui asked to see the card, so you handed it over to him. 

Upon closer inspection, Junhui raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Hall monitor rizz.”

“How was that rizz? He told me it was a bathroom pass and left.”

“Well, I’d consider it rizz since he’s asking you out on a date.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “You think he’s asking me out on a date?” 

“No, I know he’s asking you out on a date.” Junhui flipped Soonyoung’s business card around to show you the fine print: Schedule our first date with the number provided on the other side of this card. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Says it right here. He’s just shy, Y/N.”

“Shy? Him? He doesn’t look like the shy type.”

“He’s shy,” he affirmed, “around you, at least. I mean, you’d get shy around the person you liked, wouldn’t you?” 

“I guess, but…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “No, this is normal, right? Dates are normal. We’re just two normal adults going on a normal date. Nothing weird about that, right? I shouldn’t feel so weird about this. Do I sound weird? Am I weird?”

You didn’t realize you had gotten up and started pacing until you turned to see Junhui looking at you with concern hanging in his brows. You sucked in a sharp breath and sank back into your seat, burying your face in your hands. 

“I’m in way over my head,” you mumbled. 

“You’re nervous ‘cause you have a crush on him,” he replied. “Nothing weird about that.”

“I have a crush on him,” you echoed, more so to yourself than to Junhui. 

Although you were partly in denial, still tossing and turning the prospect of crushing on Soonyoung around in your head, Junhui took your words as confirmation. He hummed knowingly and turned back to his textbook, leaving you to ruminate for the next thirty minutes in silence before you excused yourself. 

You were currently speed walking to your usual bus stop, hoping you would be able to stop thinking about Soonyoung and the business card tucked into your pocket. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of you developing a tiny crush on him. 

You hadn’t had a proper crush in ages. The last time you had strong feelings for someone was in high school, which promptly ended following your first date—after an eight month talking stage. You proposed going to the fair, which seemed fine until you threw up on the ferris wheel and received an ‘I don’t think this is going to work out’ text later that night. 

And why were you so flustered over this, anyway? After all, you had been anticipating the day Soonyoung would make the first move. Plus, you were an adult; overthinking your feelings like this was so high school. 

Whatever. You had nothing to lose.

You pulled out your phone to text Soonyoung, a small smile crossing your face once you caught sight of his profile picture again. It was a picture of him with all his hair flying every which way in the wind and his mouth open to yell some profanity. 

y/n: date. y/n: this week any day 

soonyoung (driving instructor): WHOA!!!!!!

y/n: what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day

soonyoung (driving instructor): tomorrow night

y/n: okay

soonyoung (driving instructor): okay

y/n: okay.

soonyoung (driving instructor): okay. soonyoung (driving instructor): can’t wait

y/n: me neither

soonyoung (driving instructor): pick you up at 8

y/n: i’ll be ready

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’ll be even more ready

Your heart didn’t stop pounding for the rest of the day.

To be a woman was to perform. 

You were currently performing an illegal U-turn. 

Soonyoung held onto the ‘oh shit’ handle fixed to the ceiling, his face contorted in absolute fear as he repeated, “Wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane—”

“Sorry!” you exclaimed, swerving back into your correct lane after checking your mirrors. You swallowed thickly before saying, “I’ve got it under control now, I think.”

Of course, you had been nervous the entire day and a half leading up to your date with Soonyoung, but how you felt right now had completely reigned over every emotion you were feeling before. 

Throughout the day, you had butterflies in your stomach and a little skip to your step, but now you were terrified of things you had never even worried about before. The reason you took a U-turn in the first place was because Soonyoung told you that you missed the parking lot entrance, causing you to panic in the middle of the road (which, on your part, was not very smart.) 

In short, Soonyoung should not have let you take the wheel, and you should not have gotten this worked up over him planning to take you to the local fair. 

What were the odds that you were back in the place where you had an awful last date? You could almost feel the bile rising up your throat.

Soonyoung’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched when he asked, “A-are you sure you’re ready to schedule that driving test?” 

“Yes! I’m ready,” you said, “but, to make things clear, my driving today is not representative of my driving any other day.”

Somehow, you and Soonyoung wound up making it to the fairgrounds’ parking lot in one piece. You deflated upon hearing the sigh of relief escape Soonyoung’s lips once the car was in park, but it was well deserved. You were surprised he even let you drive in the first place. 

The fairgrounds were packed with people—mostly students—so there were several couples going around with their fingers interlocked. You were now hyper-aware of your fingertips, wondering if you’d get the chance to brush them against Soonyoung’s and slowly slide your hand into his. 

He ended up paying for your ticket, and you didn’t have much room to argue about it because the employee was already taking his card before you even noticed. You told Soonyoung you would pay for something else—food, rides, raffle tickets—but he ended up covering everything for you. Of course, you were sure Junhui would have scolded you because turning down a guy paying for you was apparently equivalent to turning down the guy himself. So, you swallowed your pride and let Soonyoung take the lead. 

You went on a few rides with Soonyoung, shared a churro, and you took a picture in front of the ferris wheel. You were having a great time, actually, and almost all of your nerves had all but melted away. All that was left to deem this a perfect date was to actually ride the ferris wheel, which was exactly what you were absolutely terrified of. 

“Not good with heights?” Soonyoung asked as you two were getting into the seat, pulling down the lap bar for you two. 

You wondered if you looked as ghastly as you felt. “Not so much.”

You weren’t good with a lot of things, to be fair.

Smooth talker Soonyoung took that as his opportunity to slip his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together with a shy smile on his face. “You can close your eyes if it gets scary, or just keep looking at me.”

Honestly, that sounded scarier than the possibility of plummeting to your death from the top of the ferris wheel. You weren’t sure your heart could handle staring at Soonyoung, especially with how flustered his gaze made you feel. 

“Hey, could I ask you something?” you asked, nearly shying away when Soonyoung fixed his gaze on you. “When did you start liking me? I mean, I had no idea.”

“Uh…” The ride started moving backward as Soonyoung hummed in thought. “Probably that first time you were in my car?”

Your eyes went wide. “You mean our very first lesson?”

“Yeah, I thought you were cute—a little weird, but cute.” He grinned. “I think it was when you fell asleep over FaceTime that one night when I started catching feelings.”

Your cheeks burned. You weren’t sure if you could pinpoint a specific moment like he did; you just remembered your heart started beating faster when you saw him one day, and the rest was history. It was almost incredible how blindsided you were by his feelings, even though he had integrated himself into your daily life so naturally.

“And then you posted that one picture on your story once,” he continued, voice growing shy once he realized what he admitted out loud, “and that was when I knew I was really in too deep.”

You blanched with embarrassment. He must have been talking about the thirst trap because that was the only time you ever posted yourself so confidently. How were you going to explain that you blocked everyone else from your Snapchat story just for him to see that?

A nervous laugh bubbled from your lips. “About that—”

Before you could get any other words out, though, you became painfully aware of your surroundings. Your seat started swinging with the strong winds, and you realized that you were at the very top. If you leaned over enough, you were pretty sure your seat would tip over and drop you and Soonyoung right out. The very thought paralyzed you to the core. 

Just as Soonyoung was in the middle of asking if you were okay, the ferris wheel started moving faster, and you yelped and clung onto him as you two went down. You were fine with the slow pace with breaks in between, but now that you were moving at full speed in one go, it was downright terrifying. 

Soonyoung seemed to find it hilarious, though. He laughed and wrapped an arm around you while you were the very picture of fear. You buried your face into his chest and dug your nails in so hard that you were afraid he would feel them through his sweater. 

Finally, it came to a stop. The ride operator started letting people out one seat at a time, but you and Soonyoung had ended up at the very top again. You raised your head to sit upright again, letting out an exasperated breath, but Soonyoung drew you closer. He was still laughing, and it made you blush uncontrollably. 

“Just so you know, I’m good with any other ride!” you tried to defend yourself. “Well, actually, save for roller coasters and drop towers… oh, and—”

“Y/N,” Soonyoung cut you off with a smile, his voice hardly a murmur. Before, you could barely hear him over the excited cries and shouts in the fair, but now your attention had zeroed in on him. You felt disoriented as he placed his warm hand on your cheek, tilting his head and leaning in. “C’mere.”

You were too shy to admit it, but you had fantasized about making out with Soonyoung before. Of course, you never knew what type of kisser he was, so you just settled for whatever fantasy played out in your head.

Now, though, with his lips pressed against yours, you felt something hot and needy stir up inside you as he tugged you impossibly close to his body. Your stomach fluttered when you let slip a whimper, which Soonyoung didn’t let go unnoticed. He pulled back for a moment, his gaze darkening, promising to return to that later, and he returned to kissing you. 

When you were almost near the ground, you and Soonyoung pulled away. There were definitely far too many children and parents around for you two to be kissing like that, but now you were anticipating how things would be once you two were alone. 

“You two have fun?” the ride operator, who appeared to be an older teenager, asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

All you could do was nod and duck your head in embarrassment while Soonyoung beamed brighter than the flashing lights. 

You spent some more time with Soonyoung on a few more (tamer) rides before you two decided to call it a day. Your feet were getting sore, so he courteously offered to drive the both of you home. However, you had an itching feeling that he just didn’t want you behind the wheel again. 

“Wanna get something to eat?” he asked once you both were inside the car, and he turned his head around as he reversed. “There’s a good froyo place down the street.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you agreed quickly. Deep down, you were hoping this date wouldn’t end just yet.

Soonyoung played Olivia Rodrigo’s new album as he drove, rolling the window down so that the wind tousled his hair. You thought he looked cute that way, and you had to keep your hand under your thigh to keep it from reaching over and running it through his locks. 

When he parked in front of the froyo place, it appeared completely dark inside. It was also evidently clear that the only cars parked in the lot were the overflow crowd of people from the fair who couldn’t get a parking spot at the fairgrounds. 

“Did we miss it?” He frowned, pausing to look up the store hours on his iPhone. “Man. I didn’t want our date to end like this.”

“I don’t want it to end, either.”

Soonyoung looked over at you, studying your expression carefully before asking, “Do you wanna chill in the back for a while, then?”

You knew what that meant. And you had specifically worn your matching lingerie set just for this moment. 

You unlatched your seatbelt, and Soonyoung followed suit right after. “Yeah, I’m down.” 

“Wait, there’s something I need to do first,” Soonyoung said in a soft voice, looking down at you with gentle eyes. 

For a moment, your heart jumped to your throat. The way he was looking at you sent butterflies to your stomach, and you couldn’t even imagine what he was going to do next. Something about his tone was so sincere that you were sure he was going to kiss you, especially when he started leaning down. 

You let your eyes flutter shut, waiting for his soft lips to meet yours. Your heartbeat felt like a drum in your ears. 

But nothing happened. No kiss. Nothing. 

You opened your eyes to see what Soonyoung was doing. When you saw him hunched over, fiddling with something near his ankles, your face deadpanned—not a flicker of amusement. 

Soonyoung had put his Crocs in sports mode. 

First of all, wearing Crocs on the first date was absurd.

Second of all, putting your Crocs in sports mode on the first date was absolutely preposterous. 

Yet, it was the perfect thing Soonyoung had done to put your nerves completely at ease. You ended up bursting into laughter at the very sight, making his head shoot up while his eyebrows were drawn together, perplexed. However, he happened to hit his head on the steering wheel as he did so, which only made you laugh even harder. 

Your sudden surge of confidence spurred you to crawl over the gear stick and straddle his lap. Shocked, Soonyoung gripped your thighs and straightened up. Before his lip could curl up in amusement, you wrapped your arms around his neck and slotted your lips with his. 

He broke for air for a moment, breathing out, “Well, hi.”

“Hi.” Your nose gently bumped against his. “Having second thoughts?” 

“No!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. “I just didn’t wanna start anything because I wasn’t sure if you were ready.” He threw a glance over his shoulder before looking out the window. “Plus, this place isn’t exactly private.” 

You looked out the window while Soonyoung’s warm hands returned to your thighs. It was true that there were empty cars around, but there weren’t any people in sight. It was still early in the night, so you were sure people would stay at the fairgrounds until midnight. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung started again, “what was that you were gonna say on the ferris wheel? Before we, uh, made out.” 

“Oh.” Shame bubbled in your chest when you realized what he was talking about. “Nothing important.”

“Tell me.”

Moonlight shone in from the window, illuminating the side of Soonyoung’s face and his neck, showing off his prominent collarbones. His low voice reached your core in a way you had never experienced before. You flushed with embarrassment because you were certain Soonyoung could feel how you clenched. 

You looked out the window, as if you could mentally escape through it. Find a way to get out of the situation you were in. 

“Fine.” He huffed lightly before placing a hand behind your neck and drawing you closer. “I’ll just get it out of you, then.”

Notably flustered, you gasped when Soonyoung’s lips latched onto the side of your neck, biting and sucking the tender skin. You croaked out some lame lie about forgetting what you were trying to say, but Soonyoung persisted. He ravaged the column of your neck like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. 

You scooted up on his lap, sitting right on top of his growing bulge, which roused a throaty groan from him. You could feel Soonyoung twitch under you, and it was all that was needed for you to start grinding your hips slowly on his lap. And then he started guiding your hips down onto him. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers dig into the grooves of your hips to take control of your motions. 

“Tell me,” he beseeched, and you shivered when you could feel his smile against your jawline.

You let out a whine. “It’s embarrassing.” 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, distracted as he looked up at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. His hands never left your hips as he watched you grind down on his lap. Soonyoung’s eyes were unfocused for a moment before clarity bled back into him. “It was about the Snapchat story, right? That one picture you posted.” 

“I don’t remember what that was,” you attempted to lie smoothly, but you were pretty sure your expression betrayed you once Soonyoung slid a hand under your shirt to cup your chest. 

“Yeah, you do. The one where you were wearing those thigh-high stockings.” You saw a flash of darkness in his eyes. “Can’t believe everyone got to see you like that.”

“I wouldn’t say everyone,” you muttered. 

“Hm?”

His thumb, after his hand managed to creep under your bra, found purchase on your nipple, rolling and circling around the supple flesh as he pleased. You only managed to let out a cry before Soonyoung was pressing you further, ordering you to answer him before he made you fall apart. 

You were so caught up in your own pleasure, practically chest-to-chest with Soonyoung, that you hardly noticed the knock on the window until Soonyoung jolted upright and straightened his back. 

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, voice still thick with lust that was ebbing away. Thankfully, you both were still mostly clothed, but Soonyoung had his pants nearly down and you had your shirt riding up past your waist.

The officer stopped knocking to give Soonyoung the opportunity to roll the window down after he was decent. It was evidently an uncomfortable situation for both parties. You turned your head to the side, screwing your eyes shut and hoping you would blink out of existence if you tried hard enough. You never thought you would have a cop at your window before even getting your license. 

“Hi,” he greeted sheepishly once the window was down. “Sorry, we’ll get going now.”

“Yeah, uh…” The officer trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a long-winded sigh. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but keep it in the bedroom, please.”

“Thanks…” Soonyoung trailed off, looking for some sort of identification tag. 

“Officer Hong,” he answered flatly. 

“Thanks, Officer Hong.”

“Don’t let me catch you two again.”

“Oh, probably not me, but once she gets her license then it’s over for—ow!” Soonyoung yelped when you pinched him in the side, effectively shutting him up. He immediately apologized, “Sorry, Officer Hong, it won’t happen again.”

The encounter with the police officer was awkward, yes, but somehow, Soonyoung was unfazed once you two had gotten off with the warning. He coolly looked up at you and asked if he could come over to your place tonight. You agreed, of course.

The drive home was perfectly fine. Soonyoung made sure you weren’t too startled by the officer and asked how you liked the fair. You thought it was all pleasant conversation that would continue once you were in your living room, but Soonyoung pinned you up against your front door as soon as you were inside. 

His strong arms caged you in his hold, and you could only helplessly look up at him and warble out some pathetic question, asking if he wanted water or snacks. He turned the offer down, obviously. 

Since you two had already gotten this far, you figured you might as well let Soonyoung in on your little secret. Although it was slightly humiliating to admit, you realized tonight that far more embarrassing things had happened to you. 

“You really wanna know, don’t you?” When he nodded in response, you sighed and explained, “What I posted on my story… I blocked everyone else so that only you’d see it.”

Well, him and Mingyu, but the latter was purely accidental. 

Hearing your words flipped a switch in Soonyoung and he completely froze up, as if he had stopped functioning altogether.

“Well, technically, you and Mingyu,” you rambled on, “but that’s only because I forgot to block him from my story. You know, I have, like, two hundred people on Snapchat, so I figured I’d accidentally skip over someone, anyway. But I don’t think he even paid any attention to it. I feel like he’d—”

He cut you off by sealing his lips over yours, and all the noise in your head simmered down. All the fluff filling up your brain billowed and sank back down. You remembered when you were a middle schooler, giggling and replaying the scenes in movies that were exactly like this. Now that you were actually living in it, though, you couldn’t get enough of Soonyoung. 

He broke away for a breather, lips hanging barely an inch from yours and your foreheads touching. His heavily-lidded eyes found yours, gazing at you longingly through his lashes. 

“No offense,” he started with a smirk, “but I don’t really care about Mingyu right now.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you shut it as soon as you realized that you had nothing intelligent to contribute. You recognized that most of your mindless ramblings probably killed the mood—for you, at least.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the side of your neck. As he moved down to your chest, Soonyoung’s kisses grew sloppier and open-mouthed. He tugged at your shirt, and you helped him remove it with ease, snapping your bra off in the process and letting it fall to the floor. His hungry gaze upon seeing you bare before him made you ache for more. Soonyoung let out a groan and let his tongue drag over your nipple, circling and flicking around the sensitive skin until you were moaning shamelessly.

With his head ducked so that his lips could ravage your chest, Soonyoung bent down just a little bit more to wrap his arms around your thighs. He scooped you up in his arms swiftly, making you yelp, and he walked you to your bedroom after you whispered where your room was. He was so strong that you hardly had to hold onto him, but his strength was a double-edged sword because he had you pinned down on your bed in seconds. 

A grin crossed Soonyoung’s face as his lips returned to your chest. This time, his lips made their way down your body, to your stomach. You curled your hand in his hair, tugged hard because you wanted more, but Soonyoung was relentless with his teasing. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you squirm under him and ache for more. They were slow and torturous, and you only grew more needy as he made his way down. 

“Can I take these off?” he asked, fingers slipping into the waistband of your pants. 

“Only if you take your clothes off, too.”

You heard him chuckle before you felt cold air starting to hit your bare skin. Soonyoung unzipped your pants and tugged them down your legs until they were bunched up at your ankles, which you struggled to kick off until he bent down to move the fabric off your heel. You shuddered when he snapped the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers at the sides and twisting the fabric. He sure was enjoying toying with you, and you weren’t sure you could handle any more teasing. After what felt like forever, Soonyoung pulled the last of your undergarments down and marveled at your bare body.

“You’re unbelievable,” he all but growled, running his hands down your sides, to your hips, and past your thighs. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

You sat up, looking up at him with a pout, which only seemed to drive Soonyoung to the brink of madness. 

“You’re still clothed,” you observed.

“Yes.”

“Take it off.” You folded your arms across your chest. “I can’t be the only one naked.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he replied with a laugh. You supposed he could see your expression falter, nearly letting some pathetic sound fall from your lips, so Soonyoung cooed at you and ran his thumb over your lower lip. “Oh, you like that? Like it when I call you princess?”

You did like it. You liked it too much for your own good, and it was almost humiliating.

Soonyoung towered over you as he peeled off his shirt, grabbing it from the nape of his neck and slipping it off in seconds. Your eyes ran over his beautiful expanse of skin, from every defined muscle in his abdomen to the little goosebumps that pricked his arms. You reached out to run your fingers down his abs, letting them trace each groove and dip in muscle. Soonyoung shivered at your very touch, but he allowed you to make your way down to undo his belt and pants. 

Your fingers were fumbling, but you managed to remove the latch after several failed attempts. He guided you with his steadier hands, but you were determined to do it yourself. Finally, you pulled his belt free and pushed his pants down his legs. 

He seemed to be slightly embarrassed, but Soonyoung was already rock hard. His cock sprang up so that the tip pushed past the waistband of his boxers. 

“Don’t worry about that,” he grumbled, sinking to his knees and placing his hands on your thighs. “I’ll take care of you first.”

He grabbed your knees and pushed them apart, staring at your soaked cunt like it was everything he ever wanted. Soft kisses peppered the inside of your thighs, working up to the apex of your legs. You felt the cold air hit your core and shivered, but then it was hot all over again once Soonyoung licked one long, slow stripe that made you writhe and cry out in bliss. He had to press your hips down to keep you from moving too much. 

But his movements were so slow and torturous. You were going insane by how much Soonyoung was teasing you with his kitten licks and lazy drags of tongue. Tears welled up in your eyes by the time you had been edged away from another impending orgasm, with him letting his dissolve as soon as the heat bloomed under your skin. 

Kissing your cunt. Plunging his tongue into your core. Licking at your walls until they trembled and shook with the warning of release. You were agonized by how good Soonyoung was making you feel.

“Please,” you begged, your voice breathless as your body felt lightweight, “let me cum, please.”

“Hm.” He seemed to consider it for a moment before saying, “Tell me three things you like about me, and I’ll let you cum.”

You laughed, but it died on your tongue as soon as you realized there was no amusement on his face.

“You’re kidding, right?” You swallowed hard, knowing you had your answer already. “Oh, you’re not kidding.”

He was making you work for your orgasm. This was mortifying; you never expected Soonyoung to be so cruel, and you never expected it to be so hot.

“Three things, baby,” he said. “Start with number one.”

“One,” you started, your voice shaky as Soonyoung returned to snaking his tongue past your folds, “I like how you treat me so well and look after me, like—oh, right there—yeah, like that.”

“Two,” you continued, more so in a whimper because Soonyoung was skillfully using his tongue to reach places you never thought to stimulate before. “I, ah—I like the way you look at me and when you tell me I’m beautiful.” You sucked in your teeth when you felt him press his tongue flat against your clit. “Soonyoung, please.”

“One more,” he murmured.

“T-three,” you breathed out, and by this point, your legs were already shaking. Your brain was turning to mush and you couldn’t help but clench at Soonyoung lapping at your soaked cunt. The tremor in your voice was unmistakable when you admitted, “I love how you’re so much better at this than I ever could’ve imagined.”

He breathed out a laugh against your cunt. “Am I really?” He tightened his grip on your hips to suck on your clit, making your back arch and your chest feel light. “You think about me that often, princess?”

��Mmhm,” you confirmed with your eyes screwed shut. “Thought about you whenever I was—”

“Don’t finish that,” he warned, though it almost sounded like he was pleading with you, “or I’ll go crazy.”

Your nerves felt like they had tangled themselves into several knots that kept tightening in your stomach. You shuddered and moaned with each motion of Soonyoung’s tongue that brought you closer to your release. He was merciless with the way he dipped his tongue in your core, rubbing your clit with his thumb in slow circles.

Your walls tightened one last time before you were finally blinded by your white-hot orgasm, and you hardly even realized that hot tears were streaming down your cheeks. Soonyoung was eating you out unabated, not even giving you a break between each wave of pleasure that hit you. After your climax subsided and coherency gradually bled back into you, Soonyoung finally pulled back and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

You grabbed his arm before he could say anything. Soonyoung looked you in the eyes for a moment, alarmed, but the worry knitting his brows together melted away once you pulled him down for a proper kiss.

With your arms wrapped around his neck and his knee between your legs, Soonyoung eventually found himself lowering his body until your chests were pressed together. He kept himself up by his elbows and pulled away to look at you. He brushed your hair out of your face and leaned in for another kiss.

As you two became a tangled mess of limbs, wrapped up in each other and far too occupied to care about anything but making out, you moved your hand down Soonyoung’s abs to wrap your hand around his cock. He groaned against your lips and rocked his hips against your touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with lust. After reaching back to tug his boxers down, freeing his cock from the restricting fabric, Soonyoung looked down at you with desire glazing over his eyes. “May I?”

“Please do,” you answered.

You cried out when he started rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt, teasing your folds like he did before. You were aching already despite your previous orgasm, and you thought you were going to die on the spot from how needy you were.

“Turn onto your stomach,” he ordered. You were confused for a moment, but you ended up being manhandled by Soonyoung, anyway. He flipped you over and positioned himself at your entrance, keeping one hand on the back of your neck. “Good girl.”

The side of your face was pressed into the sheets, and your hands were desperately reaching for anything that gave you proper leverage. You ended up grabbing onto the pillows just as Soonyoung started pushing his cock inside you. You swallowed down the gasp that dared threaten to escape, and Soonyoung pressed kisses to your face and made sure you weren’t crying from how big he was.

With more filth and praises whispered into your ear, you were clenching and unclenching around him, making Soonyoung groan whenever he felt you tighten. It took a while for him to ease his way into you, but once Soonyoung had finally nestled inside of you, it was as if a switch flipped in him.

He was thrusting as soon as you gave him the green light. You were blindsided by how intense he was, hardly having any control over your own body as you held onto the sheets for dear life. Soonyoung held your hips with a bruising grip as he fucked into you.

Hot.

Everything felt hot and sticky. Your sweat-matted hair clung to the back of your neck, and you felt like your sheets were uncomfortably damp. Despite it all, though, you couldn’t get enough. You needed more, wanted more. Soonyoung was relentless, even when your box springs creaked and the frame rattled against the wall. 

You felt his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck. You’re taking me so well.”

Still overly-sensitive from your previous orgasm, it didn’t take long for you to reach your limit a second time. Soonyoung pounded into you with fervor, and even he was quickly falling apart. 

“That’s it,” he got out, teeth gritted. “That’s my girl.”

You pulled him down for a deep kiss, muffling both of your moans once you were clenching uncontrollably around him. You were falling from your peak and Soonyoung fucked you through your orgasm, even though he was on the verge of one himself. 

He pulled out right before he was about to cum, and you could only hear his groans before you realized he had gotten off, too. For a moment, you thought Soonyoung abandoned you on the bed. His voice sounded distant all of a sudden, and you were too tuckered out to move. 

Then, he returned with a towel and several tissues for you. You turned onto your back again to make out his silhouette entering the room and taking a seat next to you. Your eyes were shut as Soonyoung cleaned you up, and you only opened them once he pushed your hair back and kissed your cheek. 

“Wanna go again?” he asked with a grin. You were impressed by how quickly he was able to recover. You, on the other hand, needed a few minutes to recuperate. “The night’s still young.”

“Yeah, sure, if you use a condom this time,” you breathed out, turning over onto your side. “Just give me five.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your chest rise and fall until its rhythm steadied. Your breathing was even again, but when you opened your eyes, you saw neon green glowing in the middle of the room. 

“Soonyoung.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. You were not getting dicked down by manga censorship. “Why is your dick glowing?” 

“I prefer glow-in-the-dark condoms.” 

Typically, when two individuals had feelings for each other, it would often bloom into a relationship.

It was quite clear that you had feelings for Soonyoung and he had feelings for you, so, naturally, one would expect the two of you to start dating. However, it felt like you both were testing the waters around each other instead—dipping your toes into the dating pool. You two were exclusive, but not exactly together. 

You were perfectly content with taking things slow, but that didn’t necessarily mean Soonyoung didn’t end up over you almost every other night. The sex was great, of course. Mind-blowing, even. 

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan seemed to catch on quickly. There was no mistaking what was going on after you went over to their apartment to play Catan, and then you and Soonyoung disappeared into his room afterward. The next morning, when you walked downstairs in Soonyoung’s shirt to eat breakfast with everyone, you could pick up on their unspoken realization that you were hooking up with their roommate. 

Seungkwan even made an offhand comment about you and Soonyoung being a thing—whatever that was supposed to mean. 

You debriefed Junhui on the entire situation, of course. He seemed less surprised about you sleeping with Soonyoung, though, and more interested in the outcome of your driving test (which, you had to admit, you were terribly worried about). 

The night before your dreaded behind-the-wheel exam, you received a call from Soonyoung.

You weren’t sure what to expect when you picked up the call. You knew that he’d been planning on getting high with his housemates today, so you weren’t exactly sure if this phone call was going to be private or not. You were half-expecting Seungcheol to answer for him instead. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung greeted, voice slightly muffled. With the way the audio sounded, you suspected that he wasn’t holding onto his phone at the moment.

“Are you busy?” you asked. 

“No, just trying to get the pod you gave me out of its packaging.” You heard a few strained grunts from him before he exclaimed, “I got it!”

“I’m proud of you.”

“That’s what I’ll be telling you after you ace that driving test,” he said. He paused for a moment (which you guessed was him taking a hit). “You ready for it, by the way?”

“Not really.” You sucked in a sharp breath. “The good news is that taking years to pass the permit test has helped me memorize all the rules of the road; the bad news is that I have severe anxiety and probably won’t be able to utilize anything I’ve learned.”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. You drove just fine with me, didn’t you?”

“But that’s you! How am I gonna drive properly with some scary old guy who probably hasn't ever smiled in his life?”

“Just relax. Remember to slow down on your turns and check your blind spots when you’re changing lanes.”

Your voice grew shy when you admitted, “This is gonna sound weird, but I kind of miss our driving lessons.”

“Even when you lost your tooth?”

You grimaced. “Even then.” 

Soonyoung laughed along with you for a moment before he simmered. The silence on the other side of the line didn’t feel uncomfortable, but you felt like each nerve end of yours was on fire. 

“I didn’t want it to end either, Y/N,” Soonyoung said after a while, his voice dropping an octave. 

“Really?”

“I don’t wanna be in a world where we aren’t in a car together, whether I’m telling you to stop driving under the speed limit or we’re crashing into that Honda Civic that knocked your front tooth out,” he started, and you scratched the back of your head. Yeah, he was definitely high. “And, maybe… maybe the missing front tooth was really the catalyst for all the memories we made along the way. Maybe, in another universe, that tooth never fell out—or existed. Maybe the concept of that occurrence manifested into this universe as a—”

“Okay, it was cute at first,” you interrupted, “but you’re definitely in that other universe right now.”

You had never been this much of a nervous wreck.

Actually, scratch that. You were probably this much of a nervous wreck at least thrice a week. You functioned on being anxious several times a day, so this was honestly not a new feeling. The only problem was that you had never driven with anyone other than Soonyoung, so you were slightly on edge as you turned into the DMV.

“Please return my car in one piece,” Soonyoung said, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle as you went over a speed bump, which you found highly unnecessary. He pointed to the starting point for the driving test. “I’ll wait for you outside the building over there.”

“Sounds good.”

“And remember: if you’re gonna fail the test, make sure you fail it big time. Don’t fail it by going ten over the speed limit, or something boring like that.”

“That’s terrible advice, Soonyoung.”

“I’m playing. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Thanks, I’m just so—oh my god!” 

You stepped on the breaks immediately, gripping the wheel tight as the car lurched forward. The man who was crossing in front of you doubled over onto the hood of the car before standing upright again. You rolled your window down to yell an apology, but the man paid you no attention and kept walking with a scowl on his face. 

“I almost killed him!” you cried, slapping a hand over your mouth. 

“Well…” Soonyoung didn’t seem to know how to reassure you as he was still immobilized with fear himself. He managed a shaky grin. “On the bright side, he’s alive and you’re not facing a lawsuit.”

You swallowed hard. There was no way this exam was going to go well. 

After handing in the necessary paperwork inside the DMV, they approved you to go outside for your driving test. Since Soonyoung was letting you use his car while he waited outside, he sat with you until your examiner came by. He did everything he could to calm you down, but, ultimately, it was up to you to pass. 

While Soonyoung was giving his seat up for your examiner, you closed your eyes and tried to take deep breaths to mentally prepare. 

“Ma’am, can you turn on your left turn signal?” the examiner asked from your window. 

When you turned to look at him, you felt something inside you shrivel up and die. 

The man you almost ran over was your examiner. 

In your daze, you managed to follow his instructions as he asked you to point out various things, such as the windshield wipers, defroster, and foot brake. All the while you were already preparing yourself for failure because there was absolutely no way this man was going to let you pass after almost becoming your victim. 

Once the pre-drive safety check was over, he circled around the car to sit in the passenger’s seat, looking down at his clipboard for a moment. You held your tongue, hands clasped together in your lap. Were you supposed to apologize? Would he even care about your apology? It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, right?

You started in a meek voice, “Oh, about what happened earlier, I’m so—”

“I’m Jeonghan, and I’m gonna be scoring your behind-the-wheel test today,” he cut you off with an air of indifference, looking back down at his clipboard. “Whenever you start the car is when the test begins.”

“Right—yes, okay.” You swallowed thickly and gripped the wheel, looking behind you to make sure no one was coming. Since there were a few cars driving by, you decided to wait for a moment. “A-are you having a good day?”

“I was.”

You wanted to crawl in a hole and drop dead. 

After the road was clear, you turned out of the DMV and started driving down the road, checking your speed and mirrors every so often. You had always been comfortably driving with Soonyoung, who would just help you reroute if you missed a turn. Now, though, if you missed anything Jeonghan said, you were going to fail (and probably die). 

“Take the right coming up here,” he instructed.

You remembered your turn signal and to look back over your shoulder. Soonyoung had taught you well, but you were afraid that his gentle instructions would only take you so far. Jeonghan was the most intimidating person you had come across (mostly because you almost killed him), and you should not have been trusted to drive someone you were terribly scared of. 

After you made the turn, you sighed in relief at the long stretch of road ahead. You attempted to cover it up by clearing your throat and making small talk with Jeonghan. 

“It’s pretty cold today, isn’t it?” you asked. Stupid question. You had no idea how cold it was. Soonyoung’s car felt like a sauna because you cranked up the heater, or maybe the heat was from how nervous you were. 

Jeonghan promptly ignored you. “Change lanes and take the next left.” 

Albeit your state of disarray, you followed what he said. You decided to give up on small talk altogether, coming to the conclusion that Jeonghan just hated you and didn’t want to converse with the person who almost murdered him in cold blood. 

You were pretty confident that the rest of your driving test went horribly. You almost went ten under the speed limit to make sure you didn’t run over anyone else in the school zone, you shrieked when the railroad lights turned on and you had to wait for the train to pass by, and you looked both ways about five times when you were at a stop sign. 

Jeonghan told you to park the car once you reached the DMV, so you pulled into an empty parking space. You were praying that he wasn’t still grading you because you were most definitely occupying two parking spaces right now. 

“Okay, so,” he started, looking at his clipboard before turning to you with a deadpan stare, “you drive too slow.”

Oh. That was intentional because you didn’t want to deal with another hit and run, but you stayed quiet and nodded. 

“And,” he continued, “you overthink too much when you’re behind the wheel. Don’t hesitate before you stop or make turns, or you’re just gonna run into trouble that way. You can’t be paranoid about driving, otherwise it’s gonna be hard for you to be on the road.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line. This was it. He was going to fail you. There was no way you were going to pass when you were being criticized for your entire performance. You didn’t blame Jeonghan, though; you probably wouldn’t pass the person who almost ran you over, either. 

“Well, you were cutting it really close,” he said, circling some parts of your examination sheet, “but you passed.”

Your eyes grew wide.

You passed.

You passed.

You turned to Jeonghan and cried out, “I passed?!”

“You know your car, you know the rules of the road, and you did all your maneuvers just fine,” he continued. “You slowed down in the school zone to make sure you didn’t hit any kids, and you were careful about your turns and stops. Just remember not to be too careful, though, or you might run into someone.”

For the first time, you heard a small snicker of amusement come from him. 

“I—I’m so sorry about that,” you blurted out. “I thought you were gonna fail me for hitting you with the car.”

“Like I said, the test begins when you start the car.” He handed you your papers and got out of your car. Before closing the door, he turned to you with his clipboard tucked under his arm. “You should go tell the DMV you passed and get your temporary license before I mark you down for this parking job.”

You gulped, unbuckling your seatbelt in a rush. “Will do.”

Jeonghan stalked off to grade another new driver, you supposed. When you got out of the car, your eyes immediately scanned the perimeter to search for Soonyoung, and there he was, waving you over from the sidewalk with a bright grin on his face. 

Before you could even make your way over and break the news to him, he yelled out with his hands cupped around his mouth, “That’s my girl!”

You blushed, stopping in your tracks and staring at him for so long that it took a car honking at you to propel you back into motion. You scrambled over to Soonyoung, eyes wide as saucers and still frazzled from the emotional turmoil you went through with Jeonghan.

He wrapped an arm around you. “You know, no matter the result, I’m proud of you for trying. There’s always next time, you know?”

“Soonyoung—”

“Did everything else go well, though? Other than you almost killing him, obviously.”

“Soonyoung, I—”

“It was probably just bad luck, honestly. I mean, it was a recoverable bump, not even a full-on crash! You were going so slow that anyone could walk that off.”

“Soonyoung!” you yelled, thrusting your score sheet into his hands. “I passed!”

His eyes widened. “You passed?!”

“I passed!” you squealed. “I have to tell Junhui! I mean, he totally thought I was gonna fail my first two or six tries!”

Soonyoung crushed you into a hug, which would’ve been more endearing if your ribs weren’t being squeezed so hard. “Holy shit, Y/N, I’m so proud of you.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Be my girlfriend,” he spoke against your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin, and you immediately froze.

Kwon Soonyoung wanted to be your boyfriend. Even with everything that had happened—from the STIIZY pods, to the car crash, to the glow-in-the-dark condom—you still felt relief flooding your veins at the thought of Soonyoung liking you as much as you liked him. It almost felt like you were in a dream.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally remembered how to breathe.

You pulled back to look at him, and even though it was the middle of the day, it felt like all the stars were out to make Soonyoung shine brighter than usual.

“Be my girlfriend,” he repeated, softer this time, and his eyes were gentle as his hands reached for yours. Your lips immediately tugged down and your eyes were welling up with tears. “No, no, no, Y/N, don’t start crying at the DMV.”

You wiped at the corner of your eye. “I can’t help it. I always cry at the DMV.” He smiled down at you fondly, waiting for you to gather your composure. You mustered up the strength to lift your head and nod eagerly. “I accept.”

He was your boyfriend now. The word felt strange on your tongue, but it also filled you with inexplicable happiness. And when you saw how Soonyoung’s eyes crinkled at the corners, you thought you could definitely get used to this. 

“You’re so cute.” He laughed, pulling you into his embrace once again. “How about we go get something to eat after you tell them your score?”

You grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

While Soonyoung was waiting in the car for you (and probably readjusting your terrible parking job before he got yelled at), you walked into the DMV and stood in the same line you were in months ago for your permit test. You remembered the anxious feeling of possibly failing your written test a seventh time, but now you felt a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders. 

“I did it,” you gushed to the woman at the counter, handing her your score sheet. “I passed.” 

“Congratulations!” she chirped, examining the papers before turning to type something on her computer. She turned to grab your temporary license from the printer and handed it to you. “Here you go. Your real one should come in the mail in a few weeks.”

“Thank you so much,” you replied, inspecting your new license with bright eyes. 

You failed your permit test six times, only passing on your seventh attempt. While other children were getting their licenses at the age of sixteen, you were still trying to pass the written test in your twenties. And, yes, you had severe driving anxiety, but you crossed that hurdle yourself and finally passed your driving test on your first try. 

So, that glass ceiling? Consider it smashed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you've made it this far !! :') i've been wanting to write for hoshi for so long and this was just so fun <3 also BIG shoutout to everyone who asked to be on the tag list because although i couldn't respond to everyone (mostly because i figured i would end up tagging everyone twice 🧎‍♀️ ), i mega appreciate your interest ♡ hope everyone's having a wonderful day/night !!

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[meret118]

“I have yet to find one of them that I felt was credible enough for me to actually file documentation for that voter,” he said. “So as a good steward for voter registration, which is what I’m charged with doing, I should not act upon stuff that is proven to be not credible.

”This year, election officials like Wilcox have spent valuable time sorting through pages of these mass voter challenges. And voting rights advocates worry that the trend could result in eligible voters being removed from the rolls, or from accommodations like being on lists to automatically receive ballots in the mail.

. . .

But experts and election officials who spoke to HuffPost said voters should confirm their registration status now — before the November election season heats up — just to be safe.

. . .

The month following that election, True the Vote teamed up with Georgia Republicans to challenge the eligibility of more than 364,000 voters in the state, based in part on U.S. Postal Service address-change data.

. . .

Some voters only found out their registrations had been challenged when they didn’t receive requested ballots in the mail for Georgia’s January 2021 U.S. Senate run-off election. Ultimately — after courts stepped in — the vast majority of these challenges were rejected. True the Vote’s list “utterly lacked reliability” and “verge[d] on recklessness,” a federal judge later observed.

. . .

At least one Georgia county has signed a contract to use the software, and in May, the director of the Florida Division of Elections sent county officials a list of 10,000 names to review that a local “concerned citizen” had generated with EagleAI.

. . .

Other efforts are state-based, including the “Pigpen Project” in Nevada and “Soles to the Rolls” in Michigan. Some even go so far as to go door to door to ask voters to confirm their information, raising concerns about intimidation. The Republican Party is also involved in the effort — in June, a federal judge rejected a GOP lawsuit alleging Nevada officials had failed to properly maintain voter rolls. (The GOP’s data was “highly flawed,” the state said.) A similar suit, against the state of Michigan, is ongoing.

And some states have made mass challenges even easier. In Georgia, S.B. 202, passed in 2021, allowed anyone to formally challenge an unlimited number of registrations, and S.B. 189, passed this year, requires voters to defend their registration against even frivolous challenges, sometimes at in-person hearings. It faces a lawsuit.

More at the link. Check your registration!

[disneytva]

Team Spidey joins forces with Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur to stop Green Goblin's dino-mech. Diamond White and Fred Tatasciore reprise their roles as Lunella and Devil Lafayette from the Disney TVA series.

"Moon Girl And The Dino Dilemma" premieres TOMORROW on Disney Jr. and Disney+.

 “That’s the Marvel universe that that fans have loved for generations. I knew a lot about the Moon Girl project from being the exec for Marvel on it, and I just thought, hey, we’re doing a season about Dinosaurs, How great would it be? How do we not include Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur and introduce that character to a slightly younger audience?” ---- Harrison Wilcox EP and Showrunner of Spidey And His Amazing Friends

[demoisverysexy]

Brad Wilcox

What a good framing of what sets us apart as saints. We are not better than others, we are just here to make the world better, and so we are asked to do and be different. Its a much better framing than the one we usually get, where just by virtue of being saints we are super duper good and amazing. No. We arent better, we are just asked to do things differently.

For us in queerstake, this is doubly so.

Also I love the way Brad speaks, its so funny.

[comicarc]

𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐕𝐈𝐈)

previous • next

"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)

wc: 2182

Night dawned on Gotham, blanketing the city with a moonless sky. y/n made her way to the hole which she had descended into all those nights ago, now completely covered. There was a barricade with two large men standing guard, checking people into a tent by verifying them on a list. y/n was apprehensive, not only because if anything went wrong she could die, but also because it was apparent there were no other girls there. Gulping down her hesitation, y/n attempted to exude an air of confidence to make herself seem unapproachable, as she took confident steps to the front of the line. Maybe she was being too cocky, but that was better than being seen as prey. 

Ignoring the groans and whistles of the men lined behind her, she looked the guards in the eye and mustered all her energy to her voice as she announced her name. She prayed they couldn’t hear the waver in her voice or the tremble of her hands. She was scared witless, but the wire pressed against her chest lay a constant reminder that her actions weren’t in vain. 

As soon as she was let in by the guards, y/n hid in a corner to catch her breath. Bruce had given her earrings to work as comms, so upon hearing her very loud pants, he reassured, “Hey, everything’s fine. The plan’s working and no one suspects a thing.”

His words had eased her rapidly racing heart a little, allowing her to emerge from her corner into the lion’s den. Before her lay rows and rows of tables resembling an assembly line. Red mushrooms on one end turned into some liquid solution at the other, being crushed, mixed and packaged throughout the sequence. Why did anyone want her here?

Someone appeared behind her as she took another stepping, introducing, “Ah here’s the lady of the hour.” He took her by the waist and spun her to face him as he continued, “I’m Jared Steve, head of the operation.”

He wasn’t like a typical creep, Jared was tall, muscular, and looked like he could get any girl he wanted. But his voice and his mannerisms gave away the ugly truth. “And what exactly is this operation?”

“Already interrogating, are we? He said you were feisty, but I never expected you to have this much fire.” He smirked, his curling lips sending a shiver down y/n’s spine. 

y/n remained quiet, as he brushed off his own question, “Well, it’s a new kind of drug. Something that the market’s never seen. Our main target is the children, for obvious reasons. They’re scared, stupid, or lusting to escape life.”

“So, what do you need me for?”

“You’ve got a reputation for being inconspicuous. Nothing intense, I just need you to plant this package in someone’s house. I’ve got the address right here, all you need to do is sneak in, leave it there, and text this number. With all the money you’ve smuggled for Philip Wilcox, I’d say this will be pretty easy for you.” He handed y/n a piece of paper with the details, before intensifying his tone, “Don’t fuck this up, or it’ll be your head being slaughtered.”

y/n took a moment to digest all the information she was given. There was no clear motive behind the operation other than it being a cash grab, but from what she heard, there was enough evidence to prove the existence and maliciousness of the operation. In thought for far longer than she was supposed to be, Bruce chimed through the earring urging her to come back to reality.

“You’ve gotta do this tonight. I’ve got high hopes for you, that is of course, if you’re anything like your mother.”

The offhanded comment caught y/n off guard like a deer in headlights. But ignoring it, y/n turned away from Jared and walked out of the tent, ready to end things for good. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The address led to the apartment next to hers on Crime Alley. It’s proximity to her own ‘home’ had raised her suspicions but she had no time to doubt. All she had to do was get in & get out and then all her worries would dissipate. No more ties to the Falcones. 

The box she held seemed to get heavier with each step, threatening to slip from her hands. Though confined in cardboard, y/n could tell there was something metallic inside with the light clink she heard every few minutes. 

Standing outside the door to the apartment she was meant to enter, y/n paused and let the silence surround her. Carefully, she leaned an ear against the door and listened. There was no shuffling of footsteps, no voices, absolutely nothing indicating that there was a soul inside. Taking it as a green light, y/n set down the box, fished out a bobby pin from her pockets, and fiddled with the lock until it was unlocked.

Taking the box again, this time adjusting it between her left arm and hip, y/n tip-toed inside, making sure she didn’t make a sound. Seeing that the coast was clear, she set down the box on a wooden dining table right in front of the entrance. Standing upright, she took a deep breath as if physically relinquishing the anxiety and stress that had been plaguing her. It was finally over, she was free. 

But, of course, nothing good ever lasts, and just as y/n was about to leave, sickeningly thin fingers grasped her wrist. “You’re here to kill me aren’t you?” The voice sounded defeated as it spoke. “I deserve it, I know that, but I’d hoped that it would be on my own terms.” 

Curious as always, y/n wanted to know more. So, she did exactly what she shouldn’t have as she inquired, “What…did you do?”

“You don’t know?” He lightly chuckled before resuming, “I killed some very important people.”

“A Falcone?” 

“Two Waynes.” y/n heard Bruce gasp through the earring. The target was Joe Chill, and if he knew he was going to be killed then the package had to be a bomb.

“Why?”

“I was dumb and desperate. I thought I could hide, get away from it all with one final job, but Gotham stays with you, even if you leave it. Trust me kid, this isn’t the end, its just the beginning.”

“Why warn me about an inevitability then?”

“So that you don’t make the same mistake I did.” Unhanding y/n, he placed in her palm a stack of files and pushed her outside of the apartment. As soon as she fell onto the carpeted hallway, the cardboard exploded and took Joe with it. 

The apartment burst into flames, the fire rapidly spreading to other parts of the building. Instinct kicked in and y/n ran to her own apartment, gathering her stuff in a backpack before the flames could reach her. After a few minutes of packing, she raced out of the apartment and stood a few feet from the entrance, watching the flames engulf the building in a matter of moments. 

The bomb couldn’t have gone off without the sender knowing it had arrived. Either there was timer or someone tracking her, the latter of which seemed a more reasonable option. Thinking back to her interaction with Jared, y/n remembered he had touched her waist. Feeling her midsection, y/n felt a bump on the back of her jacket. A tracker.

The bomb had left her ears ringing, so she hadn’t registered Bruce’s voice until after she crushed the tracker. “y/n, what the hell happened? Are you alright? Was it Chill, did he do something?”

“I’m fine, let’s meet back at your mansion in the morning.” Bruce continued talking, but y/n had enough for the day. Taking off the earring, removing the wire, and stuffing the files that Joe gave her into her backpack, y/n began walking.

She couldn’t sleep on the street or any bench, so she’d have to settle for a rooftop. Lucky for her, she knew exactly where to go. Arriving at her destination, y/n climbed up a pipe, settled in a corner, curled into herself, and fell asleep clutching her backpack and watching the sky. 

What is to give light must endure burning, so she had decided that the darkness of this night would cool her. Under the blanket of stars, she’d relinquish the buzzing in her mind, allowing it to fly with the fireflies. By morning her thoughts would be silent enough for the joy of freedom to echo through the hollowness of her skull. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Left hanging by y/n, Bruce’s anger blinded him from his sense of compassion. What did Joe Chill have to do with the Falcones? If they were involved in his parent’s death, he had to have a surefire way of getting Carmine convicted. 

He’d been investigating for months and had finally found a cop worthy of his badge. A certain detective Jim Gordon had both influence and honesty in his blood, just the perfect combination to put one of Gotham’s most malicious cronies behind bars. He’d be able to convince Dent Sr. to help with getting a lawyer and the case in general. y/n would get him his evidence. Everything was in place for his plan to work. 

But y/n, she needed to be safe from it all. After all a promise is a promise, and Bruce Wayne always keeps his word. She hadn’t left his thoughts for days, and even now she occupied his mind as he worried for her life.

Sense finally kicked in, and Bruce rushed out the doors of his home, heading to Crime Alley to find y/n. The explosion must’ve surely hurt her, and he couldn’t leave her there to fend for herself in such a bad area. 

An hour or so later, he found y/n on a rooftop freezing in her sleep. In the place where his parents were murdered, the place that haunted him every night, left him tossing and turning until bags formed under his eyes, Bruce knew he’d die here too. It was only a matter of time, for here he was helpless, and no amount of money would save him from death he had cheated. But at that moment, watching y/n smile in such a decrepit state, he couldn’t help but let the thought of her dying overshadow his own fears. 

Slinging her backpack onto his shoulder and picking her up in both his arms, he held her even tighter than he had at the bar, allowing her face to sink into his chest as he walked to his car. Setting her gently in the backseat, he drove out of Park Row back to his mansion. 

Upon arriving back home, he didn’t take her to the same bedroom as the previous night. Rather he sat in the backseat, letting her head lean in his lap as he brushed her hair and watched the color return to her skin. 

In the comfort of silence, he felt as though he needed to get something off of his chest. Thus, he confessed, “Wayne means many things to many people, and to each I am a different person. I’m a rich asshole, a pitiful orphan, an influential figurehead, a reckless idiot, or a gold digger’s dream, but really, I’m a curse. And you, you’re the only one who makes me feel human.

“I know it sounds stupid, but it started in our first year at the Academy, when you got a 100% on our chemistry test. You beat me, and no one beat me. It felt refreshing to have someone see past my ‘power’ and treat me like I wasn’t a god amongst humans that shouldn’t be crossed. And so I started to retaliate, hoping that I’d get your attention. 

“Honestly, I’d never studied for a test in my life as hard as I’d done for you. Just so you’d look my way and think I’m not like the other guys, that I used my wealth and endless resources to further myself instead of blowing it off on pointless stuff. And when that didn’t work, I wanted to get you jealous, using other girls. And when that didn’t work I used the race, to try and impress you.

“Now in hindsight, all that may have come across as a completely different message, but what more can you expect from a boy who has never known true affection? 

“I’ve hurt everyone I’ve been with, from flings to my parents. I can’t seem to give people happiness. I thought I could help you, save you from the real Gotham, beyond the Academy, but look what I’ve done…”

He hesitated, before placing a kiss on y/n’s forehead and admiring her sleeping figure. A part of him hoped she had heard him, that his feelings could be understood. But another part prayed she hadn’t, for he feared she’d only be hurt even more knowing the truth.

˖ ࣪🦇𓆰♡𓆪🦇ִ ࣪⋆

taglist: @earth-to-name

[kassandrasdisciple]

~spoilers for ATLA, LOK and ALL COMICS~

A critique of

(Significant Spoilers / final panel spoilers)

Tl:dr at the end

Disclosure

Hi, this is going to be a critique specifically about how June and irohs interaction in bato of the watertribe (BotWT) was delt with in the bounty hunter and the tea maker (BHatTB).

I recognize this is only 1 page in a 78 page long comic but I think it's worthy critiquing how this was handled. I've watched both shows, read all the ATLA comics, along with the one shot ALTA comics, I'm not meatriding for Iroh in this as you'll see, neither will I do the like for the writers of the show or the comics, I also won't demonize either, I'll just be stating what i disagree with and what direction I think would serve the world/characters better.

1. The Comic in Question

This comic is an okay comic, like the other one shots it's self-contained, if you don't read these, it's fine as they won't come up in any other works from avatar studios (apart from maybe Azula: and the spirit temple). Due to this microcosm, they have all focused on characters or world building that either the audience or the writers think is worthy of expansion (the metelbending academy, sukis imprisonment, ect). You'll also notice a meta theme in that all these comics are woman-focused, expanding the role and background of our female cast, this is a mystery mouse KaTool that'll help us later. This is interrupted by our deuteragoists of BHatTB.

The plot, in summary, is that June is hired to capture Iroh by an old soldier who served under iroh and wants revenge for Iroh leaving him in Ba Sing Sei. In the background is tea cartels and the dying career as a bounty hunter in a peaceful world.

The title would lead you to believe that both protagonists have equal impact but make no mistake this is an Iroh comic. I love Iroh as a character, bit this comic was written with the explicit effect of maintaining his pedestal. After hes captured by June he gives the "perfect" apology by hitting all the action points, initiating the apology and leaving June to accept it on her own time. Later we get an acceptance of the apology and she starts working for Iroh, making it explicit that he's been forgiven by June for how he acted in BotWT.

Secondly, in the beginning and end of the comic he explicitly rebukes his warmongering ways, apologizing to a earth kingdom protester (side note: this scene is a whole thing, I personally found it distasteful but I'll leave it to another day) and later apologizing to his ex-soldier while reinforcing his repentance for being a general. This is a more general apology to all the people who make "Iroh is a war criminal" memes.

2. Why was this nessesary

Because BotWT aged like milk. There's a conspiracy theory that the third writer, Ian Wilcox, was blacklisted from writing for the show after this, but I can't find any evidence other than the fact this was the only episode he wrote, compared to others writing multiple episodes, however he was a busy writer so he might've just not had time. Also both Bryan and Micheal are credited so their just as complicit.

It makes the most likeable fire nation character so far seem incredibly creepy. Unfortunately it aired in 2005 and this was an incredibly common gag, especially in anime(and still is), which avatar took a lot of inspiration from (think of master Roshi from DB or Jiraiya from Naruto). Iroh is filling the pervy old man trope and in the early 2000s that was perfectly fine.

Tragically time isn't stationary and as writers rooms for cartoons have gotten more diverse we've all come to the conclusion it's weird as fuck. I think it's weird as fuck. However why did 1 scene from 1 episode nearly 20 years ago (I just gave myself psychic damage FUCK I'm old) need a comic tie in?

Because media literacy is dead and CinemaSins.

Okay no, so the TL;DR is that Iroh has become a mascot for avatar studios, but also people make perv and war criminal memes about him, and you don't want to sell merch with the war criminal on. So they did the beauty and the beast remake move and made a follow-up to address all the CinemaSin-esque takes.

Unfortunately the interesting part of Iroh is that he was a war criminal (this is a joke, IK they dont have Geneva, chill). He was an interesting shade of grey but when you put someone on a pedestal they either stay in the sky or fall, and avatar studios decided to build some scaffolding. This entire comic was a way to scrub the morally bad parts of Iroh away, and personally? I think that's pretty boring, so what else could we do?

3. The ReWrite

So first thing what's the comics theme? I don't want to change too much so let's keep that the same, luckily I think June's mum sums it up.

Freedom, and along with that, responsibility to grant freedom. June wants to be free and gives freedom to Iroh, Iroh wants to be free of his guilt but to do so he must take responsibility, Fan and the others wanted freedom and took responsibility for their lives, making a homestead, and lastly Keung wanted Freedom from his past and was going to make Iroh take responsibility.

Metatextually this is also a comic about freedom for Iroh and June's characters by taking responsibility for what happened in BotWT, so we'll keep that theme.

Secondly, I lied about not making big changes, we're kicking out Iroh and the tea cartel plot. Our new title is The Bounty Hunter And The Fire Lord. Our new plot is going to be set after azula and the spirit temple, and follow an unsuccessful attempt my Zuko to find Azula with June's help. We're keep June struggling to find work, and even meeting Fan and the ex-hunters. We're also going to keep the fallout of BotWT.

5. Why Zuko

For this story I envision a fire nation that is returning to pre-war mentalities, and I think in this nation sexism would be returning hard. Just like the UK after WW2 women had been moving towards egalitarianism but were shoved back to the household once peace was established. In this climate Zuko doesn't know what to do, remember, the 2 non-genociding states are both patriarchal with misogyny baked in, the Water tribes are Overt, but outside of Kyoshi island we don't see women in power in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko doesn't have a societal reference for equality other than his homeland, and he's previously been erasing alot of fire nation culture (dragon hunting, colonies, royal deification), he's now dealing with advisors trying to tell him how women should act and he's frozen, should they be like the water tribes?

Secondly, Zuko has no female advisors, he has Katara and Toph as friends, he has Suki and Mai in the palace but none of them know the court machinations, not like Azula would. His mother has been out of the court longer than she was in it, and is still pretty traumatized. So, spurred on by his need to do the right thing and as another excuse to bring Azula back into the family, he hires June to help him find his sister.

I know it might seem out of left field but personally, it would be great worldbuilding for how we went from the treatment of Zeisan and Ursa to fire lord Izumi. Secondly Zuko is always itching to reconnect with Azula in the comics and he loves making bad decisions, he's also got more backstory with June than Iroh.

Onto the meat of it, on their road trip June opens up more to Zuko, same as she did with Iroh, and zuko uses June as a sounding board for all these questions he wants to ask Azula. June has traveled the world's underbelly, she knows what women are capable of and the calculating demeanor means she gives similar answers Azula would.

Eventually Zuko says he could've asked Iroh for his help on the topic, but June snorts at him, she tells the story of what happened to her from her POV. We don't have Iroh to give us a perfect apology, we have Zuko having to choose if he defends his uncles honour or not, who does he believe? This is what his story is about, does he believe his advisors or the women of his country.

Let June use her knowledge of what the dark side of the world is like, let her say what a noble fire nation man probably grew up hearing about women, especially when in the beginning of the war we see no female soldiers, so the gender roles where probably still enforced.

If you want to address Iroh's actions then have them serve the greater narrative, how have women been treated by the fire nation, and also don't have the interaction be kept to just June and Iroh, have it between a woman extending trust and a Fire lord who all to often puts Iroh on the same pedestal as the audience.

If you want, you can have a final scene with Iroh, where he sides with June and apologizes, but I think what we where given serves only the male cast and relegates June's story to a checklist, instead of treating it like a narrative she should get to control.

TL:DR

BHatTB whimped out on adressing Irohs actions, and it's easy to see that they did so just to get people to stop bringing it up. I'd instead propose this conversation happens with Zuko; with Zuko being treated as the audience, glamourisng Iroh, and June reinstating that he's still a human man, and that he isn't free of societal influence.

Have it be about freedom, both individually and societally, and responsibilities; to those you hurt and to those you've sworn to protect.

Again, this critique was focused on this one interaction, if I was to do a full rewrite I would change other aspects and flesh out how I think a June/Zuko road trip would go, still it would be vastly more interesting than what we got.

[ladysmutwriter]

Hatefuck (part 1)

Brian Wilcox x Female Reader

⚠️:(uploading this from my phone so I can't make the post fancy) Eventual smut, MDNI, mockering, bullying (?), I haven't seen the movie I just saw Dano's scene pack.

You hated Brian, in fact, he was the reason you quit Mickey's- you just couldn't handle the asshole.

You didn't even know why he latched onto you like some sort of leech, always taking his chance to insult you or mock you, being extra disgusting next to you only to laugh at your disgusted face.

God, you wanted to beat him up. All you were asked was to do an extra day then you'd leave, because lately there was more clients so you'd have to help the other guys.

You washed the dishes, the soapy water up your elbows as you cleaned and cleaned, Brian unceremoniously throwing more dirty dishes making it splash all over your uniform. Then you moped the floors, once too many times him walking right over where you cleaned, making you clean the mop and go again.

Luckily, the day passed quickly, as now everyone was clocking off, the only ones left being you and Brian.

You tried to pull your shirt up to take it off, but one of the rhinestones of your belt catch the fabric of the shirt, stopping you as you had your arms up pulling.

Noticing your little struggle, Brian chuckled to himself as he went behind you, one of his hands laying on your hip as the other fixed the part of the shirt that was stuck to your belt. You noticed how you felt his breath on your back, his fingers on your hip lightly pressing down as he struggled with your belt, your face going red. You hated the asshole, why was he being so nice now?

As he finally undid it, he muttered "done" as he turned around to keep putting on his bracelets.

Taking off the yellow shirt, you fixed the wrinkles on the top you wore underneath, and then your pants, applying some perfume to hide the smell of fried oil that clung to your clothes and hair.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to give Brian a piece of your mind, after all, this was your last day- it's not like they could fire you now.

Tapping on his shoulder, he only turned his head to see you, and you had to grab him by the shoulders and turn him around, pressing his back against the lockers.

He let out a complain as his his face turned into a surprised one- it was the first time you saw him make a face other than fucking mocking someone or bored. (Or talking about shooting up Mickey's)

"You're a fucking asshole" you said as you grabbed him by the sides of his black hoodie, pressing him against the metal lockers behind him.

You didn't know if it was just the adrenaline in your veins, but he didn't even had the chance to give you a witty comeback before you moved your hand to grab him by the chin, your lips moving against his limp ones, too surprised to even answer now.

Breaking the kiss, you fixed his now wrinkled hoodie, took your bag and left.

[covid-safer-hotties]

University administrators appear unconcerned that COVID is increasingly rampant on Ontario campuses - Published Oct 15, 2024

By Steve Wilcox

'We are witnessing a failure in public health as vulnerable people are being left to self-organize around a larger systemic problem'

From the University of Toronto to Wilfrid Laurier University to Carleton University, students across Ontario are begging one another to take precautions against COVID-19.

Statements like those below, posted by students to Reddit, a social media site that hosts unofficial forums for universities across Canada, appear on a daily basis now.

“I swear every lecture I go to at least 7 people are one cough away from respiratory failure.” – r/UTSC

“Guys, can you please stay home if you have the god awful cough?…I really don’t want to get sick and some of you aren’t masking or even bothering to cover…” – r/WLU

“Please wear a mask if you’re sick. It seems like a basic courtesy that if you’re coughing and sneezing you should be wearing a mask. We are students and missing class obviously impacts our learning and how much work we can do” – r/CarletonU

On forums like r/UofT you’ll find students using the internet’s equivalent of shouting to implore people to protect themselves and others:

“WEAR A MASK IF YOU’RE SICK OR HAVE BEEN SICK RECENTLY FFS. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I’VE HEARD SOMEONE SAY ‘yeah I’m sick’ OR HEARD SOMEONE COUGHING AT 100000 DECIBELS WITH AUDIBLE PHLEGM AND THEN THEY’RE NOT WEARING A MASK…” – r/UofT

At Laurier, where I research the relationship between play and cognition, there has been no mention of the virus this term; no communication about the risks; no guidance on how students, staff, and faculty can protect themselves.

Let’s be clear: what we are witnessing here is a failure in public health as vulnerable people are being left to self-organize around a larger systemic problem over which they have diminished control and a reasonable expectation that if they were at risk (they are), the school they are attending would inform them (they are not).

At Laurier, where I research the relationship between play and cognition, there has been no mention of the virus this term; no communication about the risks; no guidance on how students, staff, and faculty can protect themselves. At the same time, it is not uncommon for a quarter of the class to be absent at any given time in our program. This has to change.

When I say that vulnerable people are being left to fend for themselves, I mean all of us. We are all vulnerable to COVID, from our lungs to our hearts to our brains. Since higher education is about developing thinking and reasoning skills, I’ll focus on just the mental or cognitive impacts of a COVID infection. As a disclaimer, a number of these studies rely on measuring changes in IQ, a problematic tool for assessing intelligence, partly due to cultural and social biases. However, these studies do provide insight into baseline changes in cognitive functioning.

COVID research tell us that:

Mild COVID infections are associated with a drop in IQ, warns the New England Journal of Medicine. In adolescents and young adults, mild COVID infections disrupt brain connectivity and reduce memory function, according to research from Translational Psychiatry. A single, mild COVID infection can result in the equivalent of the brain aging 10 years, leading to “larger cognitive decline” compared to those uninfected, Nature reports. Young, healthy adults who experience a mild COVID infection show memory and cognition impairment, according to a study published by Heliyon. More severe infections lead to higher drops in IQ, (New England Journal of Medicine); and in one study, one in nine people hospitalized with COVID saw a 30pt drop in IQ (Lancet). Long COVID is associated with severe cognitive slowing (Lancet) One in six Canadians infected with COVID report long COVID symptoms (Government of Canada) These impacts on cognition can last for years (Lancet) If you or your child is attending an Ontario university and they are not taking the proper precautions, they are at risk of graduating with worse cognitive performance than when they arrived. This is not to dimmish students, a number of whom recognize the need for precautions and are scrambling to protect themselves and others. Rather, the responsibility lies with university leadership who have the resources and responsibility to distribute that information at scale. And yet they remain reluctant to even acknowledge the existence of COVID, let alone promote precautions.

Importantly, we do have a “near perfect” solution to this problem: respirators (i.e. N95 masks) are 98 per cent effective at stopping the spread of the virus. As we saw last week on TVO’s The Agenda, informed, equity-focused experts recognize the role of wearing and promoting masks designed to stop airborne pathogens during an ongoing pandemic. It’s worth questioning why this guidance isn’t also being promoted by our governments, local public health officials, or on our university campuses where faculty are producing peer-reviewed research on the harm COVID causes, research that is then resoundingly ignored by their own institutions.

This all seems tied into a broader trend away from evidence-based decision making — the bedrock of good governance — towards decision-based evidence making.

Though by no means a new phenomenon, increasingly leaders are deciding what a policy will be and then manufacturing the evidence that supports that position. It’s an inversion of the scientific method and a dangerous shift towards a post-truth politics in which peer-reviewed research holds as much sway over decision-makers as any other opinion, perhaps even less so given the deference we are witnessing from leadership towards reactionary right-wing framing of topics like the climate crisis, vaccines, genocide, and other socially pressing but economically and politically inconvenient issues.

This all seems tied into a broader trend away from evidence-based decision making — the bedrock of good governance — towards decision-based evidence making.

Indeed, political expedience — making decisions based on what is most convenient rather than what is most moral — is becoming the new norm. The fact is, COVID is an inconvenient truth and leaders have taken the path of least resistance in responding to it, choosing the more expedient route of appeasing those who reject science and our duty to care for others rather than embracing evidence and minimizing harm. While we have become somewhat inured to this from elected officials, there’s something particularly pernicious about an institution of higher education dismissing science, particularly when this involves exposing learners to a virus that diminishes their ability to think, to reason, to learn, and in some cases to even function.

If labelling this post-truth politics seems like an overreach, consider that while universities ignore a demonstrably harmful virus, they continue to position themselves as bastions of equity and inclusivity and to promote the very research they ignore in their own governance.

What needs to happen now? University administrators need to publicly acknowledge the spread of COVID on our campuses; they need to clearly and repeatedly convey the risks in ways that align with best practices for communicating public health information — a single email buried amongst countless others is not going to be effective.

Most importantly, they need to explain how students can protect themselves and each other, such as cleaning the air via enhanced ventilation. The science on the harms of COVID and how to prevent it is becoming quite clear; it’s time for our university leaders to do what we teach our students to do: follow the evidence. The hearts and minds of our students depend on it.

Dr. Steve Wilcox is an associate professor in the game design and development program at Wilfrid Laurier University where he researches the relationship between cognition, play, and communication.

[annika-thelostlove]

The art of paper folding - Brian Wilcox x fem!reader

Word count/ 4015

Preview/ But You, for whatever reason that led to it, you were assigned the seat on the other side of him. You are always anxious with stress. You think that maybe this guy who has a reputation for being a smartass will bring too much attention to your side of the classroom. You're a little glad Sally would probably take most of his attention, though. Those types of pretty girls probably have it bad sometimes dealing with boys like brian, you think.

Author note/ its finally completed! Its the most high school romantic idiocy I can put in a oneshot. This is lightly based on my own high school experience. The guy who I thought liked me back really did make me an origami heart. Soon after, he said something super mean to me, and my little 15 yr old heart never forgave him.

Warnings/ super fluffy, and not well edited

Brian is the type of guy in school who always talks shit. It's like he can't help it. Things fall out of his mouth unguarded. He is 17, but he still gets worked up over things like he is still in elementary school. In his new math class in the new year of school, he purposely sits next to the popular girl Sally because he thought it would be fun, but she doesn't tolerate his shit one bit.

But You, for whatever reason that led to it, you were assigned the seat on the other side of him. You are always anxious with stress. You think that maybe this guy who has a reputation for being a smartass will bring too much attention to your side of the classroom. You're a little glad Sally would probably take most of his attention, though. Those types of pretty girls probably have it bad sometimes dealing with boys like brian, you think.

Brian is a guy you've only heard about through another friend because he's "someone's annoying brother that dyes his own hair black cos he thinks it's edgy. He also doesn't wash it often to keep the cheap box colour for longer. Hence, the sticky looking locks. He confidently sticks to wearing black and oversized clothes that hide his 30-pound body." Says the people who talk about him.

So the best course of action is to keep your head down, and don't get involved with either of Brian or Sally.

But then, as the year goes by, whenever Brian is bored at being ignored by Sally, he will turn his greasy head to you and give you a little poke. The first few times sent your nerves up, you were so scared of what he would say to you. Will he say something mean? Point out your pimples? Say your teeth look crooked? That you have a mustache you should shave it? Horrible horrible little scenarios in your mind. But Brian, for the last few months, only asks you funny dumb questions just to avoid actually learning in class. It makes your heart laugh a little in relief.

Brian is sarcastic and complains a lot. He has too many theories and tells stories exclusively comprised of sound effects and explosions made with his mouth. He smells like deep fry oil that you grow to like so much because it reminds you of hashbrowns in the morning. It's gotten pathetic how many things you notice about him. You even love that buck tooth of his making its way out of his little mouth.

Some days, he enjoys telling you how corporations pay commercials to trick people into thinking that you're the bad guy. You listen to him so intently, and the more you do, the things about him begin to make more sense to you.

Brian is not a bad person. Not like what people say. Really, really not. He is actually kind of great.

He's just a little distracted at school, that's all.

You share with him your own little jokes under your breath during class now. And by some miracle, he finds you funny. A fierce blush would bloom up you collar at his laughter.

You hope that it makes him feel special. No one else has really thought of you to be very funny. You've told him some weird things, like: "Last night I had a dream about Dwayne Johnson as a centaur," and he would get detention from laughing too hard.

At times he would still try to get Sallys attention, but most days he spends his time leaving silly doodles at the edge of your notebooks.

🩵🩵🩵🩵

Today, Brian has been folding paper in class again. He watched a YouTube video on how to make an origami heart last week. For whatever reason, he's been so invested in getting it perfect.

He was trying to show off his progress, so he made one in your class. Looking over at Sally's desk, he watched her pack her notebook away, getting ready to leave. Brian then redirects his attention to you. You were still finishing writing your notes down, then packing away your pens.

In a second, he decides to slip the heart shaped paper, between the pages of your notebook without much thought of why. The class then packs up and files out to go home.

💘💘💘💘

You can't believe it, it just can't be.

Brian's heart origami was in your notebook. You had just got home and pulled out your notes, currently staring at the red piece of folded paper. Did he slip it inside? Maybe it was just an accident. It might have fallen. Fallen perfectly, between the pages. That must be it. It didn't mean anything.

You rub your face in confusion. Your heart is not neutral about this at all. Even if it was an innocent mistake. Your heart thumps in the possibility. That maybe. Brian Wilcox gave you this heart on purpose.

But, no. He doesn't see you like that. You're just his friend.

The heart origami sits so innocently on your book, and you picture him making it step by step. His eyes looking up at you, after another doodle he's finished on your book. The way he's smiles, holding back his laughter with shining eyes.

You don't know, but maybe, maybe. Brian could like you…more than as a friend.

The thought echoes around in your quiet bedroom.

🥤🥤🥤🥤

Later when a group project comes up, Brian without hesitation jumps to join a group of boys in the class and leaves you with Sally.

Sally is popular, and very beautiful, but it was the first time you really tried to talk to her. It turns out she's incredibly insightful and a good listener. Its nice for someone to give you their attention like that. Which is funny in a way, it makes you feel kinda special, because Sally doesn't even give Brian the time of day. So in your curiosity, you ask her about that.

"I just hate getting the attention of a class clown, when what I really need is to focus in class" she rolls her eyes as she says it. She takes a glance at Brian's group. "..but I notice that Brian and you have become quite the pair, I think it's pretty cool, Brian is so behaved when he's with you".

Blood rushes to your face. "Oh haha, no, no, were not that close..."

But at that moment, the group of boys with Brian began to get loud and rowdy. They've been loudly debating about the best kind of place to take a date out. They've begun to joke and laugh at how Brian works at Mickeys, mocking him how hilarious it could be for a first date. You saw that he was laughing along with them, but you could see it was irritating him.

"Ohhh noooo! A girl would NEVER ask for another date. Can you imagine making her order at the counter? How embarrassing"

"And then brian asks for the kids' meal?!" laughter from the boys.

"Noooo! Brian would use his employee discounts on the combos! That's just so sad!" More laughter. And it just irked you until you spoke up.

"We'll I think it could be fun for a date?" You say interrupting the loud conversation. It was a numbing silence for a fraction of a second before Brian spoke.

"Well, it's because your standards are low since you can't even seem to find a boyfriend." Came a quick response from Brian's mouth. The boys gasped and blew up with sudden laughter.

Regrets flash across Brian's face instantly when he sees you speechless, with hurt written on your brow, but you're fighting against it. Sally puts her hand on your arm, worried about you. The boys don't seem to notice anything wrong. But Brian notices.

He didn't realize what he said. He was just so annoyed and wanted someone else to be teased instead of him.

You feel hot, and your skin is prickly. That was really mean. It hurt. You weren't so sure why. Because what he said was true. But it hurt because it came from him.

Your thoughts flashed back to the origami heart that you've been keeping in your bedside table, it actually means nothing to him. And all the other hearts that he must have made this week and before. All just folded paper and nothing more.

But you swallow the feeling down somehow and focus back on your partner and the project for the rest of the class.

But that night, in your bed, under the covers, frustrated tears fall into your pillow.

Am I ugly? No one has ever wanted me. No one has ever seen me. Aren't I good enough for anyone?

Brian wouldn't ever see you in that way. You hate it, hate him. Hate yourself. He made you feel like you mattered to him, but you must have made it all up in your head, a boy has never been nice to you until Brian, so you didn't know any better. He won't ever see you that way.

🎒🎒🎒🎒

The next week at school you try to act like you always have, havung a better understanding now that Brian is simply the way he is. So you become a little distant. He notices of course. He's been thinking about what he said over and over. And hates himself, he's never liked saying sorry in all his life. But now he's scared for the first time that he might be losing you if he dosent act. You won't even look at his eyes anymore. Like you find it too painful to do so.

During lunch break, he finds you, he asks, unsure how to converse naturally.

"Hey, how's your project with Sally going?" He says. Then you realize 'he must have never stopped liking Sally even from the start of the year. It was so obvious, why didn't I see it?'

"It's going well, actually. we're almost done. Did you want to tag along bri? We're gonna be at the library after school to finish up." You think maybe you can help him get Sally to see that he's a really nice guy.

Brain seems nervous but says yes straight away. He must really like her, you think.

After school, once you all meet up and finish off studying at the library, you insist on going home first and leave to catch your bus. Brian tries to ask you to hang out longer. But Sally lets you go and wants to speak to brian alone. Sally seems like she has something serious to tell him.

You smile a little in sadness, its working out well, it seems.

📚📚📚📚

Brian Pov

She left me here with sally. Avoiding me again. I watch as her back disappears out the front doors. Then Sally hits me on the arm.

"Ow! What's your problem?"

"You!"

"What did I do to you?"

"Not what you've done to me! But to her!! all year, you've been making googly eyes at her, and the other day, you treat her like crap! You need to fix this and apologize, and then leave her alone if you're only going to hurt her feelings because of your ignorant attitude."

"I don't know what you mean"

"I see everything brian, like how you doodle on her notebooks, and talk quietly to her, how you giggle under your breath at her jokes. You honestly can't be more obvious how you treat her special, but then you turn on her so quickly like that. It's such a dick move. An asshole move"

He puts his face in his hands in shame. "God, I AM an asshole!!" Brian is on the brink of breaking down."Do you think she hates me now? I messed up so badly."

"Tell her you're sorry face to face. Whatever she does to you after that is up to her. Though since we're talking about her, she will probably forgive you. But if you want to finally tell her you like her, this might be your best chance "

Brian blushes red, "w-what, I don't like her like that-"

"Why do you bother lying, brian?"

"It really isn't- ughh."

Brian quickly rushes after where you left. And found you sitting at the bus shelter, he looks at the digital sign it says your bus arrives in 20 mins

He looks down at you, and you're already looking at him sheepishly. You've been caught.

"Your bus isn't even here till another 20 mins!" Brian almost yells, but he's playfully scolding you like you normally do. You look down and smile. Brian loves that, your little shy grin.

"How did it go with Sally?" You ask hopefully.

"Good. But I don't want to talk about that. I need to tell you some stuff. Uh, the first one is that..I said something the other day. I just-"

"It's okay, I get it, I overreacted-"

"No, you didnt- Wait. It wasn't that. My point is i'm sorry for what i said, I think I hurt you. It's not cool of me. I'm always battling my asshole-ary every day, you know that. But you didn't deserve it. So I'm sorry"

"You are, forgiven." And you give him a small closed lip smile.

"Oh really? Already? Well, and, um, the 2nd thing is. There's something I have to ask you-" Your bus comes and stops loudly in front of them. Brian is flustered. You are conflicted, there's only one bus every hour for this route, you should take this bus. But you want to wait for Brian to finish.

"Um, Brian, think I should take this bus"

"Oh, yeah of course! Tomorrow then!"

"Ok, see ya bri"

As you climb up the door to pay and look back at Brian, the bus then pulls away, and you miss his sad little frown and his green eyes following you as your image fades down the street.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

The next day in class, Brian pulls out another origami heart he worked on last night and slides it over to you. The teacher notices it and warns everyone about passing notes in class. You grab the note and see what it says.

"Good morning beautiful! Plz open me" you frown at being called beautiful. Glancing over at him, he smirks.

Nervous, you open it carefully. Inside it says something that makes her heart race and break at the same time.

"Let's go to Mickeys tonight, it's my treat" then you hear a snickering from a few desks away, it was one of his boys looking over at you.

🍟🍟🍟🍟

You go to Mickeys, you think he's just asked you out as a friend, but he seems to be as nervous as you are, but you dont want to get your hopes up.

After having your meal in awkward silence, he asks you as casually as he can muster.

"So, I was thinking, do you want a second date?"

"Huh? D-date?"

"Y-you know, we went to Mickeys-- like you said! This is like, a date for you"

"…are you..like- just- teasing me? Hahaah…like you're mocking me? You rascal" You laugh nervously, voice trembling all over the place. Trying to hide the sudden emotions that came with realizing what this was all about. He just wanted to humor you.

"Huh? What? No? He laughs. Mickeys is like, your standard right? For like- like a date?"

"Well, no-"

"And-and, I mean I- we hadn't hung out like together yet.. as friends, and like you haven't been on a date before…I thought maybe..i could, be someone you-"

"So you're… helping me?" You laugh comes out jumpy and strange sounding "Oh, wooow,..I um, thanks man. That's just so, thoughtful of you" and you uncharacteristically lean over to punch his arm, you cringe for the fifth time. And he rubs the spot you bumped him.

"But, um, you know I think that maybe we should go on dates with people we actually have feelings for, don't you think? But, thanks for the offer" you shrug and try to laugh it off, but it feels too loud and fake in your ears.

"So no...date?" He looks kind of paler than usual.

You start to gather your trash. "I just realized i need to get home, sorry I can't stay much longer Bri. This was…fun. Bye!" Practically running away.

You don't understand what had just happened. You don't understand Brian at all. Was he that experienced in dating that he could give you a trial of it? That he felt pitty for you?

Your whole body felt hot from embarrassment. And a hard lump has been stuck in your throat ever since you received his little note in class. You practically speed walk all the way home sobbing into your Hoodie.

💛💛💛💛

"Good for you."

"Huh?" Sally is talking to you, Brian is late for your class it seems.

"I got…some tea, from a little bird, or something like that. That you rejected Brian"

"When did I do that?"

"Uh, didn't you go to Mickeys with him the other day?"

"I did." Has he gone and told everyone about it?

"I'm sorry, but I can't pretend that i didn't know. It just happened to be the same day he left a voice message on my phone, and I connected the dots that it was about you. " This made you sad without realizing it. They've been talking?

"Oh, he did?" But you guess it's good that they're getting to know each other.

"Don't look so sad! It wasn't like that, that boy sounded mad over the phone, he was mad at first. Saying stuff on the message like 'you were wrong about everything!' And that 'he was dumb.' But then he just..started crying. Well it sounded like crying. You didn't do that to him?" You stare a Sally perplexed at what it all meant.

"Explain please"

Sally looked at you for a moment and seemed ro realize something then began waving her hands 'no' at you "Ooooooh, wait no, I think you should talk to him about it, i've said too much"

"No, say it please! I'm tired of him playing with me."

"Ughhh, well he..he thought that you liked him, so…and I thought you did too! But then when you clearly don't, which is okay…he's just. It's just sad. He's going through it right now."

"But I don't know why he would be so upset, it's not like he likes me? He likes..someone else."

"You…think so? Huh. Well, I think it's best if you talk to him about this"

"But-"

"It's best if two of you talk"

"No-"

Then, at that moment, Brian walks in late to class and rushes over to his seat between you and Sally.

"You're tardy, Mr Wilcox, which is actually a first. Take your seat."

He acting stiff and can barely look at you.

Normally, you could get his attention and whisper things to him comfortably, but right now, he's so distant that you just decided to message him on your phone.

R U working tonight?

No Thurs

Ok, do u wna study w me n Sally tonight?

No that's ok u guys can just work on ur project together

Oh ok

And that went on for the rest of the lesson. His cold shoulder. Bothered by this you messing him again.

Ur being weird, is this about the other day? I appreciated ur idea, but I just didn't want ppl to confuse our friendship.

Idea?

Yeah like you giving me dating 'experience' without having an actual bf

What?????

She didn't reply after that message out of frustration. Why is he acting like he has no idea what he's been doing to you?

Nevermind Brian

Hey

You know what? I can get a boyfriend anytime if I want.

You hear a sharp gasp quickly after sending your last text. "Hey." He tries to tap your shoulder, but the teacher tells him off right away.

You give him the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. He looks over at you desperately for the rest of that week.

🍔🍔🍔🍔

Thursday comes by. You come to visit Mickeys with Warren, a guy you sometimes talk to in your IT class. You told Warren that there's a guy you like and want to see if he would feel anything if he saw you with someone else. It was stupid, you know it. You promised to buy him a Mickeys meal if he helped you.

You and Warren order at the counter, a sullen Brian takes your order, and you still haven't talked to one another since. And it's eating him inside, and now you're here with someone else? He disappeared to the back once your order was placed.

You receive your burgers and sit down at your table to eat. It was a normal, peaceful few moments until Brian came sprinting out of the kitchen to stop you from eating

"NO, no stop!"

"What! Brian, what's wrong??"

"No, just- don't eat that- I-" You stare at him lost for words, shame written on his face.

"I'm sorr- I just thought -" his face was crumbling, and the shame was turning into sadness. His eyes are glassy with emotion. He buried his face in his hands, defeated. "Never mind, it all makes sense."

"What does?"

"Why you won't like me."

Long silence came after what he said, only broken by Warren slowly getting up to walk away and saying that hes gonna use the bathroom. But either of you actually notice.

"…why I 'won't like you?' Why would that matter, Brian? Why? You like someone, that's who that matters."

"YES, I do. And it DOES."

"Huh??"

"I-im an asshole sometimes. But I know that you know that already, so that can't be the reason. And I'm not much to look at, but. But I've never cared if anyone liked how I looked. It never mattered to me so much before. But I wish I was more, like conventionally appealing. But i mean, that can't be why, you're not that kind of person- but is that why? Or, or- no. Or it's simply because I'm me. Because I'm Brian, the type of asshole that defiles a fucking burger???"

"Brian, please, it's hard for me to understand…"

"I put a LOOGIE in your patty"

"Excuse me????" Not the words you were expecting.

"It was meant for him!!"

"Warren?"

"Yes!"

"Are you somehow, jealous??"

"Yes!"

"And why??"

"Because I like you, and you hate me!"

A painful silence fills the restaurant. Looking around, Brian catches his manager, looking at him disapprovingly. But Brian mouths to him, "just resolving an issue"

"Ok, but lower your voice"

Brian sighs, putting his attention back to you. Sitting there still stunned at his confession. "Let me take that burger back. I'll make you a new one"

"No." You make a mad grab at the box, but Brian had the same thought as you. He now had the other side of the box in his hand.

"Give it!"

"Let go, brian"

"What's the problem!?"

You rip it out of his clasp, open the box, and proceed to scuff the burger down your throat.

"What are you doing?? No!! Why did you do that? I had my saliva in that???"

"Do you think I would do that if I didn't like you?"

A hundred emotions pass through Brian's face in the silence that came after that bizarre display.

"You… like me?"

"Was me eating your foul burger not clear enough?"

"Well no. But. You…like me?"

"I have, like always"

"...me?" His eyes are glassy looking at you in something that looks like hope.

But instead of saying anymore to reassure his low self-esteem just how much you think a he's great guy, you start to cry. And you don't have a clue why. Just that you're so happy he finally knows.

"I really like you too. Like always" and just like in a movie, he reaches out with a finger and gently wipes a tear off your cheek.

[quixoticall]

To Hell I Go

MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE

Suggested Listening: Anything Zach Bryan but particularly, “Open the Gate”, "Nine Ball" and “Oak Island”

WC: 6.9k Chapter Warnings: Gun violence, injury, a bit of Billy redemption I'm sorry idk how that happened, major character death (not really tho) p in v smut, oral (f and m receiving), barn sex, Steve and Sunshine being sassy with each other, parental death

Author’s Note: Hi!!! First, I want to say how grateful I am for the positive feedback. I love writing this story and I am so glad you enjoy reading it so far!! I wanna give a quick disclaimer, I did minimal historical research and am mostly going off vibes and the fact that I’ve spent most of my life in the American Southwest/South and come from a long line of cowboys and ranchers.

Reblogs and comments are always cherished and they are incredibly motivating!

“Excuse me, Miss, I’m hoping you could help me.”

The seat next to you shifts, bringing your attention away from the blurs of jagged mountain edges and gnarled Joshua trees you were watching from the train’s window.

You turn towards an unfamiliar face: angular and delicate, framed by tawny hair that’s cut much too short to be decent on a young woman.

You know better than to call attention to yourself so you just nod politely and hope this interaction is brief.

If your demeanor comes off cold, the girl does not seem to register because she launches into a flurry of words.

“I’m with the Sheriff’s office and few towns over, see, and there’s been a slew of train robberies recently. Have you heard about them?”

You shake your head minutely, your eyes stay trained on the cabin door, hoping Max comes back to pull you away from this interaction.

“Really? You haven’t? It’s all anyone can talk about! There’s been a series of train robberies around Fairbanks and Wilcox. Passengers have been robbed of their valuables and once they even robbed the safe onboard. We reckon it could be the Creel gang but we don’t have too much evidence—“

“Pardon me, but what Sheriff are you working for exactly, Miss…?” You cut her off.

“Buckley. Name’s Robin Buckley and I work for Sheriff Hopper, of course, have you heard of him at least?”

“Can’t say I have. What exactly do you do for Sheriff Hopper, Miss Buckley? It’s unusual for a young lady to be working for a sheriff is if not?” You query. But then again, the girl, herself was unusual, dressed in a man’s shirt tucked into a patchwork skirt with a pair of trousers peaking out underneath and talking fair more than appropriate.

“Well… I’m his secretary of sorts and his deputy’s too.”

This catches your attention and once again your eyes glaze over the peculiar girl. If she was here it was likely Steve or Hopper would be too and if that was the case, you had to lay the lowest of lows. Your eyes scan the cabin of the train, looking for any sign of the sheriff or his deputy.

“What is it that you do, Miss?” She stutters out, blushing under your gaze.

“I’m a governess,” you explain, smoothly, rehearsed. “My ward and I are traveling to California currently.”

It’s the role Creel had assigned as part of his plan. You the governess and Max your ward.

It was a deceptively simple plan: you and Max would board the train, disguised as harmless members of society. Then, once on board, Max would sneak off and make sure the luggage carriage was unlocked from the inside giving Tommy and Carol the opportunity to sneak on during the train’s first stop.

The two would have the opportunity to loot through passengers’ luggage and then Billy would be waiting for them a few stops later, to help them escape.

Against your own doubts, the plan had worked three times thus far but with you’re not sure how much luck you have left with what the Buckley girl has just divulged.

Almost as if by summons, Max appears at the carriage door, face calm but eyes panicked. Behind her you spot the source of her distress: Deputy Harrington.

He’s taller than you remember, you can see that now that he’s standing. Broader too, but undeniably, impossibly him.

“I’m sorry Miss Buckley, it was real nice talking to you, but I’ve got to be going now,” you say hastily picking up your skirts to step around the girl.

Stumbling into the aisle, you hurry to the opposite vestibule door, hiding your face as best as you can.

You’re almost out the other end of the carriages when something posses you to look back, perhaps habit or something worse.

Eyes lock, recognition flashes and yells erupt.

“Stop!”

You are out of the train car in a flash and onto the open vestibule. Knowing you have no place to run but the engine room at the front of the train, you decide to climb upwards onto the flat top of the traincar. You’re not too far from where Billy is meant to be, if you could stay hidden until then you had a chance.

You launch yourself at the thin, metal ladder, weighed down by your pretty, impractical traveling clothes.

You struggle onto the roof and crouch low to brace yourself against the destabilizing wind and rattling movements. Heavy bootfalls trail behind and you rush towards the next car, bracing yourself to either fall or jump.

“Sunshine? Is that really you?” You turn around once more—Orpheus cursed yet again—and for a moment time has gone backwards.

Steve looks equal measure heartbroken and confused.

“What are you doing here?” He bellows over the clash of scrapping metals and whipping winds.

“What are you doing here?” You shrill back.

“I’m… I’m the deputy,” he says as if that’s explanation enough.

“Well la-di-dah.”

He is unaffected by your sarcasm and inches closer, a little awed, a little stunned.

“What are you doing here?” He repeats.

What are you doing here? In this unrecognizable life with the weight of the world on your shoulders?

You could tell him. It’s Steve after all: your life-long confidante, the keeper of your sins. (What’s a few more sins and secrets between the two of you?)

There is no “two of you” anymore though and this is not your Steve either, standing in front of you, brandishing a badge. This is a stranger, an enemy even. This is the bastard who killed your horse and who is working with your most loathsome foe.

You edge away from him, towards the end of the roof.

“I’m robbing a goddamn train,” you finally respond before gathering your skirts and leaping.

You land, just barely, in a piled heap of frills, then right yourself in a rush before taking off running.

He doesn’t follow.

_______________

You trailed behind Steve into the stable.

“Steve I’m not going to hold you to a promise that we made when we were sixteen, if you don’t want to marry me, just tell me, I won’t be mad,” you yelled after him. And you loved him enough to make that true.

Your words stopped him dead in his tracks in the middle of the straw-strewn floor.

“Of course I want to marry you,” he said, eyes sparkling but mouth downturned in a frown. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I was thirteen.”

Your heart softened at this.

“Then what was all that about?”

You had agreed that you would finally reveal your courtship to your family when you got back from finishing school. The two of you had been loving each other in secret for three years now— seeing each other in the cracks of time between your schooling when others wouldn’t suspect. It hadn’t been something you had outwardly discussed, the secret. It was just something both of you were too shy to bring up. It had seemed so good, so pure. Something you didn’t want to be questioned over or given grief about or held against you. But once you were done with school, it felt like adulthood began and you could start loving each other in plain view. Get married even. It was time to tell your family, the two of you had decided together.

Except before you could’ve broached the subject at dinner that night, Steve excused himself from the table, suddenly. There was a mare with a broken leg he desperately needed to check on. Bullshit.

“Your father started talking about setting you up with that Carter fella and I lost my nerve,” Steve sighed. He looked at you with an apology etched in his warm eyes.

“He was only saying that because he didn’t know about us,” you soothed. You drew closer, reaching a hand up to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows.

“No, he was saying that because he wants you to marry you off to someone with money, someone in ‘society’. They didn’t send you to that fancy school just to end up with some ranch hand orphan,” Steve argued back but there was no heat left to him. He just sounded despondent and defeated.

You knew there was some truth to what he was saying. The expectation for you to marry well had always existed, unspoken but present still. And while you would hate to disappoint your parents, it wouldn’t be for nothing and there wouldn’t be anything lost. Your family had money of its own, your sisters’ future did not rely on you securing a rich husband and you let Steve know as much.

“Plus, Daddy’s a good man, he’ll want me to be happy and you make me happy, Steve.“

He smiled at you for the first time that night and it felt something like sunshine.

“You’re right,” he admitted, finally and he took your gentle hand in his work-worn one. One, two, three kisses dotted your cheeks before he pulled you close lips slotting hotly together. His hand gripped the stiff fabric of your bodice hungrily, the pressure drawing soft moans from your mouth.

Your back was against the wall the next instant and Steve’s lips were burning a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hand traveled from your waist to your thigh, hitching it high around his hips and his lips found yours again. You tightened your leg around him to pull him closer, chasing the sweet friction of his body against yours. He whined into your mouth lowly in response. The next moment, he had pulled away from you and you whimpered at the loss. He was in his knees, his hands wading against your voluminous skirt.

He found your stocking-clad thighs underneath the fabrics and wasted no time in finding the edges of your undergarments.

“Can I?” He asked, earnest and hungry.

You nod feverishly.

“Words, darlin’. Give me your words.”

“Yes, please, Steve, yes.”

Steve disappeared underneath your skirt and you gasped when you feel his hot lips against the soft skin of your stomach. Your underthings were gone in an instant and his mouth traveled lower. Your legs parted and one thigh ended up on his shoulder.

This was new. Something you and Steve had never done, not for lack of wanting and now that you were here, it was sloppy and fervent and perfect.

His mouth locked onto where you need him the most. His lips, soft and malleable, latched onto your hot cunt and his tongue moved to circle your clit.

Your head rolled back against the weathered wooden wall.

“So sweet, so pretty,” you felt him mutter against your skin.

“More,” you pleaded and suddenly you felt his hand circling your slit, so close to where you needed the pressure.

“Inside, Stevie, please.”

“You want me to fill you up, darlin’? You want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Yes, please,” you moaned.

“Tell me who you belong to first,” he ordered. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, I’m yours, Steve,” tears welled in your eyes from the desperation.

“Damn right, you’re mine, sweet thing. No one else’s.” As he said that, a finger breached into your tight heat and began to slowly pump in and out.

The stretch became even more delicious when Steve added a second finger. You vaguely thought to yourself that you wanted to feel like this forever and you felt a sense of release approaching.

You cupped a hand against your mouth, stifling the moan that rips through when the rush finally hit you. Your legs wobbled, nearly giving out. Steve peppered a final set of kisses around your body before reappearing from underneath your skirt, eyes heady with lust. You trailed down the wall to sit across from him, eyes fixed on the bulge in his pants. You crawled closer, while Steve watched you with eyes transfixed. You placed a hand on either thigh parting them slightly so you could sit between them.

“I want to make you feel good, too,” you told him, thumbing his waistline.

“Yeah?” He said wantonly while his head lolled against his shoulder.

“Will show me how you like it?”

He nodded eagerly as you unclasped his belt buckle. He helped you undo his pants and free his cock from the confines of his pants.

You had heard things about sex, at school, from your more adventurous classmates and knew the basics well enough to put some into practice.

You reached out to palm the length of his cock, a gentle, experimental tug caused Steve to hiss in response.

“Put your mouth on it, for me darlin’,” his drawled.

You obeyed readily and took his tip into your mouth.

Groaning, he leaned back on one palm while the other threaded itself through your hair. You bobbed your head a bit and with his encouragement your movements grew and became more fluid. You tried your best to navigate the sheer length of him. He was larger than you had ever imagined and you could feel his tip pushing at the back of your throat while you used your hand to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

He watched you with lust-filled eyes, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Wanna keep you there forever,” he muttered as he pushed your head lightly, making you gag which elicited another moan from him.

“That’s it, honey, gag on it.”

You could feel him throbbing inside your mouth as you sped up.

“C’mere, I need your sweet little pussy around my cock, right now,” he urged suddenly, pulling your mouth away. You obeyed, eagerly, and he guided you onto his lap legs straddled on either side and skirt bunched up around your middle.

He rubbed circles on your thighs as he eased you down onto his cock. The stretch was foreign but not painful, however, with every inch burned a little more. It was delicious. With some coaxing on Steve’s end you had managed to take him fully and your thighs were flush against his. You felt so full, tears were beginning to dot the corners of your eyes.

“Doin’ so good for me, honey,” he praised, cupping your face to wipe the tears away. “Now, I just need you to ride me.”

His hand moved lower, digging into hips as you began to rock against him. The burn had given away to a delicious friction and you wanted more. Your hips moved quicker against his drawing out a deep groan from Steve. He then pulled you close, capturing your mouth in a searing, wet kiss.

You rocked against him, finding a steady rhythm, whining keenly as a heat grew in your lower stomach.

“Hush baby, someone’s gonna hear,” Steve muttered, strained, before placing his hand over your mouth while only made you burn even hotter.

You felt your release coming up on you again. “Steve,” you panted against his palm, “I’m gonna… “I’m gonna.” You were so wrecked you couldn’t even complete a sentence.

“I know sweet thing, I know, you’re doing so good for me,” Steve soothed in response, “me too.” And with that he began moving his hips up to meet your thrusts with his own.

It had turned into something rough and fast, each thrust reaching deeper than the one before.

You finished, grasping for purchase at his shirt as you rode out the feeling. A few moments later you felt a spasming inside of you as his body went suddenly rigid and then relaxed.

The two of you untangle yourselves, panting as you came down from the bliss.

“Steve?” You probed, a little later when the two of you were propped in an exhausted heap against the wall.

Steve hummed in response.

“Is yours bigger than normal or are all of them like this?”

He was speechless for a moment before breaking out into full guffaws. Your own giggles erupted into full peals of laughter that could not be contained.

Eventually after the laughter had subsided and silence had overtaken the two of you while you became lost in thought, Steve murmured your name.

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna talk to your father tomorrow, man to man and ask for your hand, I promise.”

That was the last time you saw Steve Harrington.

_______________

“Max is missing,” you announce, to no reaction.

You continue, “we need to go find her.”

Deputy Harrington and his lackey had foiled the train robbery.

You had managed to get away along with Tommy and half the loot, thanks to Billy’s good timing. Carol and Max had not been so lucky.

In the days after the scuffle, the crew had hung low and part of you hoped that Max had managed to get away somehow. She was willful and resourceful. But, it had been nearly five days and there had been no sight of the young teen.

“We don’t go back for anyone,” Billy drawls through the cigarette in his mouth, “thems the rules”

“She’s your sister, Billy,” you insist.

“Her mama married my pops and then

they both died, that don’t make us blood,” he grunts.

“Fine,” you huff, disgusted, “I will go back for her then.”

“No you will not,” Creel murmurs from behind you as he enters the small rundown kitchen and both you and Billy shrink back a bit involuntarily.

Creel—Henry Creel, although you don’t dare call him by his first name—is the head of your entire operation. He is a terrifying type of man in that there was something otherworldly about him, as if one day he’d peel his vest away to expose winding gears in his ribcage or angel wings along his back.

Lifetimes ago, Creel had been a society man, his family’s name well respected in West Texas, but there had been some unknown incident that had resulted in the deaths of his parents and sister leaving him as the sole keeper of the Creel name and fortune.

Soon he had started setting up betting houses, prying on gamblers, cheating them out of money and then running them into the ground when they inevitably couldn’t settle their debts.

He was a grifter among men and a king among grifters. Add to that some bootlegging, a bit of robbery, and a touch of murder and Henry Creel ruled over an empire of crime. Of course, he needed folks to do his bidding which is why he came to collect the members that made up his gang.

Creel collected members for his gang carefully, only picking the most talented and they had to be ruthless but not as ruthless as him because he needed his crew to fear him, to obey him.

He turns to you and speaks, slow and measured, “You are my best shot by far and I cannot risk losing you, especially for such an insignificant cause. So, I don’t want to hear another word about this, understand?”

“Yes,” you agree tightly, fists balled tightly at your side.

“Wonderful,” he smiles, long, unfurling and mirthless.

_______________

Creel seemed to want to make sure you didn’t go after Max because the next day he sent you to pick up some packages for him at the boarder. He had emphasized the value of the items and the expectation for everything to be returned to him speedily and in tact. You didn’t bother asking what the parcels possibly contained, it was better that you didn’t know anyway.

The trip had been uneventful enough, the handoff occurring under the cover of pitch black night somewhere in the Rio Grande Valley. There were three packages, long and cylindrical, wrapped in soft leather that clanged when they moved. You strapped them to the sides of your saddle and set off, whispering a quiet thank you to the young woman that had dispatched the goods and riding through the night.

There’s only 50 miles left between yourself and the Creel House when you hear it. A steady gallop coming from behind you, accompanied by the jingle of spurs. You know who it is without having to turn around.

“Excuse me, Miss, but you look familiar,” Steve calls out as he appears at your side.

You ignore him but he continues, “You look like a girl I knew back when I was a youngin’ back home—look just like her, actually. A rancher’s daughter—pretty thing. Last I heard she married some rich fella, left her town and never came back.”

Your jaw clenches.

“You’ve got the wrong girl. I ain’t married,” you hold up a ringless hand for emphasis.

“I can see that,” the deputy next to you muses.

“And I ain’t no rancher’s daughter either,” you add.

Steve chuckles dryly at this, “My mistake then, Miss, must be my mind playing tricks. But y’know who else you look like? One of the Creel gang members that robbed a train out in Wilcox last month.”

“Yeah? Well, you look like the bastard who killed my horse,” you snap back and he falters.

“Apologies for that,” he responds sounding truly ashamed.

You scoff at what little good his apology does you and pull at your reins. He is matching your stride for stride with all the ease in the world, which is making it near impossible to lose him.

You are familiar with this path though, having ridden it dozens of times while working for Creel. You know that while the path may be clear now, there is a patch of brambles coming up that is a difficult maneuver for anyone unfamiliar with it. Anyone who has traversed it before however, would know that there a steep and unseen descent that, if going too quickly, would result in a very painful tumble into a patch of cacti. That was your only chance of escape, you just needed to make sure Steve kept his pace and was distracted enough to not see the trap you were setting.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to surrender, Miss,” he declares, claiming your attention again.

“And I’m gonna have to say no, Deputy Harrington.”

“You can’t do that!” He huffs.

“Says who?”

“Me! The deputy!”

“I’ll make you a deal then,” you call out spotting the briar patch in the short distance, “if you can catch me I’ll go with you willingly. Promise.”

You yank hard at the reigns and dig your heels speeding up before suddenly veering off to the right sharply. Steve had picked up considerable speed and by the time he sees the bramble and cacti it’s far too late. His horse is left struggling for footing and he tumbles downwards into a nest of needles and spines.

“Apologies for that!” You yell over your shoulder before riding off in the opposite direction. You spend the rest of the way back convincing yourself you’re not even a little bit sorry.

_______________

“Steve didn’t show up for his morning chores,” Lottie informed you over breakfast. “You wouldn’t happen to know where’s he’s at, would ya?”

“No! Me? Why would I know?” Your answer spilled out a bit too quickly, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind and conscious.

Hattie wrinkled her nose, “Because y’all are attached at the hip.”

“Right. Well, I haven’t seen him. Maybe check with Eddie?” You suggested to the excitement and delight of your sisters who were enamored with the slightly older ranch hand who had come to employment a few months back.

The two were practically tripping over themselves to go find him. They returned with Eddie in tow and still no inkling of where the other ranch hand might’ve been.

“Sorry, Miss,” Eddie drawled, “haven’t seen ‘im since last night. Seemed like he had a good night though,” he smirked, “was sighing up a storm. But his boots are gone and a few of his other things too.”

You thanked the three and sent them off to continue the search.

Steve had never missed a day of chores in his life, that itself was vexingly peculiar but, your father was also gone all morning and based off the previous night’s promise, you were inclined to believe they’re together, so you didn’t panic, but you were still worried.

When your father returned later that afternoon alone, you rushed to meet him at the door.

“Daddy, Steve didn’t talk to you about anything today did he?” You asked casually as he laid his boots by the door.

“Naw, haven’t seen him all day,” he looked perplexed, “although the girls tell me he’s missing.”

This was when your worry transformed into panic.

Supper time came and went and Steve was still unaccounted for. The same was true the following morning.

By midday, you had plead with Eddie to let you into their shared room to search for any sign for where he might be. Your mind was overflowing with worry and confusion.

Eddie escorted you and you watched, with pity in his eyes as you riffle through Steve’s things desperation mounting with each overturned blanket or skimmed-through book that led nowhere.

“Wait, what is that?” Eddie pointed at the headboard where it seemed like a thick glossy piece of paper was tucked between the bedpost and the wall.

You wiggled it out and extend the edges open for the two of you to see. It was a poster, the type that hung in saloons and public squares.

Cheyenne Rodeo, was printed along the top in thick lettering along with, Winner Rewarded in Cash Prize.

Underneath that, in smaller print and circled in pencil were a series of dates a week away.

“Shit,” Eddie muttered over you shoulder.

_______________

“Shit,” Billy mutters behind you. “It’s that mutton-punching deputy again.”

You groan and turn to look. Sure enough, coming up around the bend was Deputy Harrington and his trusted Secretary Miss Robin Buckley.

You and Billy are tucked behind a barn and while you’re clearly visible he is unseen.

“I’ll handle this,” you say firmly and Billy is quick to protest but you cut him off, “Billy, I swear to God, if you don’t let me handle this I will shoot your weasel off while you sleep.”

He recoils immediately, “I’ll wait here then.”

“Be ready to make a run for it,” you advise nodding to his horse, Pistol.

You take a moment to breathe deeply and straighten your posture in your saddle before ambling into the dirt road.

“Howdy,” you call out to the pair who are fifty paces away, their figures outlined bright with sunshine.

“Hello!” Robin Buckley greets near cheerful with a boisterous wave, “It’s good to see you again!”

“Don’t you have anything else to do besides following me around?” You question, squinting at Steve.

“Got wind of some stage coat robberies along this road and as the deputy, it is my duty to come and investigate,” he responds haughtily.

You scoff, “Duty?” You gesture at the angry red scratches that litter his body, clear remainders from your previous run in. “Was it your duty to get into a fist fight with a barn cat, Deputy Harrington.”

He reddens, tugging at his collar higher pulling your attention to his appearance. It’s the first time you’ve gotten the chance to take him in fully, head on, without having to flee in the opposite direction.

He’s dressed neatly in a blue buttoned shirt with maroon trousers and a fine set of suede chaps. A tan vest showcases his glinting silver, official badge. His hat and boots look worn but clean. He looks good, neat, well-kept.

A clear contrast to your mismatch, threadbare clothes and your wind beaten face and unkempt hair. No wonder he barely recognized the first time you crossed paths.

His eyes rake over your body, as if he’s read your mind and suddenly you drowning in self-consciousness and struggling to keep yourself from running a hand through your hair.

Twinkling laughter cuts through your tense regard for one another. Miss Buckley seems amused by the exchange.

Steve glares at his partner, “Robin, c’mon.”

She puts her hands up in guiltless surrender. “Sorry but you never mentioned she was funny.”

They divulged into a low argument that you only catch pieces of.

“—said charming not funny, she’s definitely both—“

“—find my suffering amusing—“

“—never tell you anything—“

“—thats fine, Red will tell me—“

Your ears perk at the last statement from Robin.

“Max? You have Max?”

The two exchange an uneasy gaze.

“Miss Mayfield is currently being detained at the county jail for suspected involvement in the Wilcox Train robbery.” Steve declares, inciting your outrage.

“She’s a child, Harrington!”

“She’s a suspect and besides, you can see her soon enough because you are under arrest.”

This elicits an eye roll from you.

“Not this game again,” you grumble.

“This isn’t a game,” he argues and to prove his point, unsheathes his pistol.

You stiffen at the sight but keep firm.

“Deputy Harrington,” you start, tone measured, “you and I both know that Henry Creel will not take kindly to his best markswoman being detained and he is not someone you want to make an enemy of, trust me, you won’t survive it,” you emphasize for his benefit, not your own, “so why don’t we part ways here and maybe you two find something more your speed. Maybe there’s a child nearby cheating at a game of jacks you can arrest and—“

A shot rings out, loud and disorienting, making your ears ring. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Billy, who had since appeared from behind the barn, that unloaded his gun, not Steve. He hadn’t hit either the deputy or his secretary, however he had managed to spook their horses enough to cause enough commotion and confusion for the two of you to slip away.

“C’mon!” You hear Billy shout, snapping you out of your stupor and with only final glance back, you urge your horse forward leaving Steve in the dust, once again

_______________

The news came, as all terrible news does, on a raining Sunday afternoon.

Up until that day, you had maintained your hope that Steve would come back, protecting it like a tepid flame in a storm.

But all hope was extinguished when your father handed you a torn news article. It only had four words printed on it: Cheyenne Rodeo Claims Casualty. Above was a photograph of a young man rough riding a bull. It was grainy and small but the photo was undeniably him. Steve. That four word title and photograph were all that you were afforded, the only thing that had been ripped out of the Wisconsin Tribune.

“No, no,” you shook your heard frantically, “it can’t have been him. Where’s the rest of the article? I need to see the rest of the article,” you demanded.

Your daddy sighed, grievously, “that’s the only thing Uncle Tony sent me.”

“Steve’s not dead, Daddy! He can’t be!” You shrill, “He’s the best bill rider to ever be.” Steve wasn’t supposed to meet the same end as his father, he was better than that.

“I’ll go to Wisconsin,” your father soothed, “I will find out myself.”

“Can I come with you?” You asked.

“I’m afraid you’ll slow me down, darling and besides it’s far too dangerous. But don’t worry, I’ll do what needs to get done.”

“Will you bring him back?” You pleaded, sounding like a petulant child.

“As long as he wants to come back,” your father warned back, watering the seed of doubt that had been growing in your chest since the morning Steve had disappeared.

Your daddy was back two weeks later. Alone. One look at his apologetic and grievous face and you collapsed onto the soft mud.

Steve was dead. Your father had confirmed it. He hadn’t been able to track down the newspaper but he had seen the certificate and he provided a singular printed death announcement to show you.

Steve was dead.

He had left and died with no explanation or reason. You would never know why he had done what he had, perhaps it was pride or recklessness, no one could say.

He had the privilege of living and dying by his own whims and follies and you were left behind with the messy work of grieving him and putting all the pieces back together.

_______________

“I appreciate what you did back there.” The words come out stilted and uncertain when you say them aloud. You can’t even look at Billy when you speak, instead your eyes face forward, focused on the terrain in front of you instead of the man riding at your side.

You’re not used to thanking Billy and it doesn’t seem like he’s used to being thanked based either.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, as he shielded his eyes away. He looks like he wanted to say something else but the words were stuck.

“Out with it,” you urge, “whatever it is you wanna say.”

That was all the permission he needed to ask his totally unabashed question.

“Did you and the deputy fuck?”

“Billy!” You chastise, heat rushing your cheeks.

He shrugged, “You said ‘out with it’. And it just seems like you two know each other… well, is all.”

“We don’t know each other,” you answer hoping he drops this as quickly has Max had months before.

“C’mon darlin’, don’t bullshit me.”

You sigh.

“We may have crossed paths once or twice before.”

“Is that it? If you ask me, there’s some history there. Does he owe you money or something?” He presses, laughing.

“You sure are goddamn stubborn, y’know that?”

He smirks at you, a perfect picture of roguish handsomeness, “I’ve been told, yeah.”

Shaking your head disparagingly, you choose your next words with care,

“We knew each other when we were kids. And kids say things they don’t mean, they make promises they can’t keep and eventually those promises get broken but that doesn’t mean the world ends.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit dramatic?”

You laugh, “Max used to say that all the time.”

He joined into your laughter, “Yeah, kid was a pain in the ass but she had a way of keeping you humble.”

It was true. In your deepest moments of self-pity and despair, Max always managed to bring you back to reality in her unique, biting way.

You sober at the thought of her, imprisoned, “You really don’t care that she’s locked up?”

Billy exhales heavily, “it’s all the same to me. I told you we ain’t kin.”

“Bullshit,” it’s your turn to call. “If y’all ain’t kin, why didn’t you just leave her behind when your parents died?”

Billy stiffened. “I was fourteen scared shitless and she wouldn’t leave me alone. If I woulda known how things shook out, I woulda dropped her at some orphanage to keep us from this mess. Maybe she’s better off where she’s at.”

“You don’t truly believe that, do you?”

“I dunno,” his tone darkens, a previously unseen vulnerability on display, “is this the life you would want for your kin? Or yourself for the matter?”

The conversation dies after that.

_______________

You had spent three years trying to mend your grief following Steve’s death.

Nothing quelled your spirit and everywhere you looked, you couldn’t help but be reminded of him.

You stopped riding and shooting. You gave up reading. You would ruin your chances with every suitor that your daddy sent your way by refusing to talk altogether, no matter how much your parents tried to convince you that it was time to declare yourself engaged. You weren’t ready, you kept insisting to your parents despite their attempts to find you a match, perhaps you would never be ready.

It had taken three years for the Steve-shaped wound to finally beginning to scar over, you couldn’t stand another heartbreak. Regardless, one came anyway.

Your father was dying. An illness had set in that was eating him away. In the span of a few months he had become bed-bound and weak. It was just a matter of time, was what the town doctor had told you.

You did your best to be a solid pillar for the rest of your family, braving your father’s bedside care when the others couldn’t stomach it, taking over the ranch’s books and ledgers when your father fell to delirium. Grief was familiar enough that you knew how to manage around it.

The day your father died, it was sunny and bright which seemed like a cruel joke. Your sisters cried while you organized the funeral. Your mother refused to leave her room for three days, finally coming out in time for the service, hair impecable and wearing her best dress.

The funeral was well attended, of course it was. Your father was well known and respected in your community and you recognized everyone that came through the church doors that day in one form or another. Except for one man.

He was tall, imposing. Well dressed, but not showy. He stood in the back, the entire service, and then after that too. He waited until it was just your family left before he approached.

“Hello,” he purred, reaching out to kiss your mother’s hand, “my name is Henry Creel, and I’m here to talk about a debt that needs settling.”

Men were rotten. It was a fact truer than the blue sky. Most rotten men had the shame to be upfront about it, but not your daddy, it turned out.

No, he turned out to be the worst kind of rotten—the kind who hid all his ugly behind a gleaming veneer of false honor and integrity until all the rotten caught up to him. And then, he had the audacity to die and leave the consequences to you to deal with.

Turned out, your seemingly pious father had a penchants for gambling and, according to Creel, he was quite bad at it because he had left an outstanding debt the size of the moon. What made it worse was that he kept pushing payment off in a strange dance the two had: Creel would demand payment, your father would barter for a bit more time, claiming he was waiting for some money he had in the works, the money would inevitably never appear and then they would go back to the start. Henry Creel was angry, he had made clear. And he would be receiving his rightful payment, regardless of your father being six feet under.

“Hand the ranch over to me,” he offered your mama, “and all the debts will be settled.”

“Not a chance,” you challenged, “the ranch is worth more than what my father owes you.”

Creel regarded you for the first time, and you could see the machinations of his brain whirring.

“There has to be another way,” you proposed, trying to sound sure and steady when you felt neither of those things.

“Perhaps,” Creel began, “Perhaps, we could come to a different arrangement. Tell me girl, do you have any skills of note?”

You swallow thickly at the question, unsure what answer to give.

“She can shoot,” Lottie volunteered, “real good, too.”

“And she a fast rider,” Hattie added.

“She went to this fancy finishing school in El Paso, too. They taught her how to be a proper lady and a wife,” Lottie supplied.

“And she’s pretty—“

“Hattie,” you interrupt, “that ain’t a skill.”

“ I know but I couldn’t let Lottie say more than me!”

Creel chuckled, unamused, “ The little one is right, if yielded correctly, beauty could be a skill.”

You blanched. The way he said that paired with his lecherous smile didn’t sit right with you.

In the end, you were given a choice: you could sell the ranch and let your family fall into a sure poverty, or you could work for Creel, doing the rotten work that men like him needed done.

The choice was made and you were once left paying for the sins of another man.

You rode off behind Henry Creel into the unknown night a few hours after your father’s funeral, reminding yourself the entire way that you had made the right choice and hoping you’d be better than your father at being rotten.

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday Scottish actor Richard Madden born June 18th 1986 in Elderslie.

Richard was raised by his mother, Pat, a classroom assistant and his father, Richard, who worked for the fire service. He also has two sisters, Cara and Lauren.

His parents were “hippies”, he says, and their house was pretty open, with friends always piling in for big vegetarian meals. Madden spent a lot of time outside, in the woods behind their house. He has several injuries: he shows me where he shot his dad’s old air pistol and blew off part of his finger, then managed to wreck the same finger when he nailed a wooden plank to his skateboard, then crashed it, so apart from the Hippie parents it was much like most of our own days as bairns.

Despite growing up wanting to be an actor, Richard was very shy during his childhood. To overcome this, at age 11, he joined Paisley Arts Centre’s youth theatre program. In 1999 he was given the lead role as Sebastian Simpkins in BBC1’s children’s TV comedy series Barmy Aunt Boomerang, that’s him aged 12 in the first pic with co-star Toyah Wilcox.. By 2000, he’d made his feature film debut in the Iain Banks adaptation, Complicity.

After high school he was accepted to the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow, Scotland and in 2007, he graduated.

Less than two years later, Richard had a recurring role as Dean McKenzie on the 2009 BBC series Hope Springs. Soon after, he landed the role of Ripley in the 2010 movie Chatroom, a film about a group of teenagers who encourage each other’s bad behaviours after meeting online. In the same year, Richard played punk band Theatre of Hate singer Kirk Brandon in Worried About the Boy, a TV film about the life of British singer-songwriter Boy George.

In 2011 Richard landed his breakthrough role as Robb Stark in the HBO fantasy-drama series Game of Thrones. Also in 2011, he played gay paramedic Ashley Greenwick on the short-lived British comedy-drama Sirens. During hiatus from filming Game of Thrones in 2013, Richard was cast to star as Prince Charming in the 2015 Disney film Cinderella.

Richard won his first Screen Actors Guild award in 2014 for the Discovery Channel mini-series, Klondike. He played Bill Haskell, one of two adventurers who travel to Yukon, Canada during the Klondike Gold Rush in the 1890s. He further enhanced his reputation as a good actor when he appeared in the BBC drama Bodyguard in 2018, the following year he played Lieutenant Joseph Blake in the film 2017 and was Elton John’s manager/lover in the biop of the star Rocketman.

In January 2019 Madden won a prestigious Golden Globe for his role as war veteran David Budd in the BBC show Bodyguard. He also appeared in the 2019 war movie 1917.

We last saw Richard in the movie, Eternals, which was okay, but nothing great, he is one of several actors being touted as the next James Bond,

Last year Richard starred in the Amazon Prime series Citadel, I've watcheit and was not really impressed with it,I think he does pull of the American accent well, but I noticed there have been people saying he doesnt, Madden revealed he spoke in the accent for two years straight to prepare for the series. The show has been earmarked for a second series. Richard is set to appear in the feature film Killer Heat next, it is in post production.

In July 2019, Madden received an honorary doctorate from his alma mater, the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. When asked about his personal life during a New York Times interview following speculation about his relationships and sexuality, Madden stated: “I just keep my personal life personal.”

Madden was recently named one of ‘Scotland’s Sexiest Men' following a new study that identifies the most attractive features for men, he has competition though, also in the running are Bathgate’s David Tennant and Glasgow’s James McAvoy,

Richard, quizzed on what he would like to do next he sad “I’d like to do something in comedy. It’s nice to not… I mean we go to work every day and we’re like, ‘You’re gonna die today,’” he said, adding that he wanted to “do something fun for a minute.”

[the-nosy-neighbor]

Tic-Tac-Toe (Part 4)

I have been working on this for a couple weeks, so we are at part 4 of 3.

Alternate Theory

Idea:  I wonder if there are two Eddies?  I am only saying this because of the E vs E in the score.  Also, there is such a discrepancy in the number of wins for each.  In Bug-A-Bye, we have two gravestones.  Muppets often have multiple puppets. 

Not only are there scenes like this, where we see multiples of the same muppet, my understanding is that there are back ups, or muppets styled somewhat differently than their usual configuration.  For example, the Welcome Home Halloween puppets might be created differently, as the outfits were too complex to put on the puppet. 

From reddit user @josephphilip22:

I toured the workshop in 1998 or so when they were filming the first season of Muppets Tonight! There were multiple puppets of specific puppets, including Kermit and Fozzie and Piggy. However, some puppets are made of foam and fur, such as Gonzo. And have to be changed often considering how much use that character gets. The foam breaks apart faster over time with movement.

But during the production of The Muppet Show, Carolie Wilcox worked specifically on costumes. She would changed puppets out of their costumes depending on the scene. It does save money, but it mostly saves time to just change characters from one outfit to another.

It could make sense that there are multiples of the puppets from Welcome Home.  Maybe they decommission puppets that become too self-aware?  That image of Frank amongst all his body parts seems to lend credence to the idea of having multiple of the same puppet.  What if we are looking at a world of multiples of characters.  One thing I found interesting about this image is that there are parts of Frank all over, but most of them appear to be small parts or mutated in some way.  For instance:

There is at least that one, with the bad hair.  Actually, on closer inspection, that looks to be a trunk with a black collar from the back, with a random floating eyeball on the top.  Interestingly, this seems like it could either be Frank lying down in a box or standing as those things fall/float down around him.  One thing it did take me a minute to realize is that those hands holding the envelope are not Frank’s.  The hands all around him are his, but this red envelope is being held by human hands. 

It would be interesting if we learn about Sunny and the concept is, the “You’re Free” image is a kind of decommission of the puppet.  I would think as a puppet, a decommissioning would feel like a death or a move to a different realm of existence.  According to posters on Muppet Central, puppets are either stored, given to museums/exhibits, stripped for parts and/or scrapped.  In an earlier post, I shared an image of marionettes being stored, and those were hung by their strings.

Is this Frank in storage?  What gives with the letter?  Is it from Eddie?  Is it for us? In that vein, if I were going to make a story from the image, knowing what we know, I would guess that Frank is sneaking out with a box full of his parts in order to get this letter out.  Still stumped on the human hands. 

I do wonder, though, in terms of framework, if we don’t already have strong indicators that the elements from that world that make it to this world appear like real life to us.  Case in point, the black stuff, which looks sticky and stringy in the art of the neighborhood, is black and stringy in the staff room (with sticky looking black found on the walls). 

We are already dealing with multiple levels of reality, since we have the puppets as drawn, animation, and glimpses of Wally’s puppet (in the Playfellow exhibition and in photos—just the hand.)  I just had a really bad thought, what if Wally was alive at Playfellow in the style of The Christmas Toy or Toy Story? Given that The Christmas Toy is a Henson film, it’s not too far a reach. 

So, presuming there are multiple puppets for Welcome Home, from what we know of the Muppets and the spare parts image of Frank, it isn’t too wild to think that maybe there are multiple Eddies.  If there are multiple Eddies active, it would make for a really good person (persons) to carry the information to our world.  Also, he’s the most human looking of the group, and has access to places as a postal worker.

These are probably more a character reference sheet, but there are a lot of Eddies there. 

Also:  “Reliable, kind, and ever determined, Eddie Dear is the best mailman Welcome Home has ever had, albeit the only one.”  What if he is the only one, because they just put another one together?

In looking into possible clone TV Tropes, I ran across “Clone Degeneration.”  https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CloneDegeneration.  Essentially, the more copies you make of a clone, the less correct and like the original they are.  I think that one goes hand in hand with the  copies of the self trying to destroy the original.  In the article “Clone Angst” (https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CloneAngst) TV Tropes describes clones differentiating themselves from prior version or feeling less than real, since they aren’t the original.  “Other unlucky clones will just have birth defects, Resurrection Sickness, or be increasingly inexact duplicates.” OMG, his eye:

That could definitely be an example of an imperfect copy.

Extrapolating from that, what if Eddie’s freakout is a version of birth defects or resurrection sickness?  He’s sitting in the post office isolated because he is being weird or unrecognizable in some way.  The anger and frustration he feels could be related to the breakdown of genetic material or a version of Resurrection Sickness, where he becomes paranoid as a defect, and Frank is trying to minimize the damage?  It is possible that Frank is not the creator of the multiple Eddies, but given the Bug-A-Bye theory, the Frank/Dr. Frankenstein connection is difficult to ignore.  It would be crazy if Wally or Home are tormented or killing Eddie clones and Frank just keeps making more.  The murderers would be very confused.  In this article, there is a note that these characters are highly expendable, since we don’t get attached to multiple copies of a thing.

Looking back on the Bug-A-Bye discussion, this could be the explanation for the 2 gravestones seen in the teardrop, and the reference to possibly more than one goodbye. What if Frank is in the unenviable position of seeing multiple Eddies die, a la Supernatural’s "Mystery Spot?"

Also, we’ve already seen Eddie as Frankenstein and discussed the potential meanings behind that.  In the Halloween video from Wally’s perspective, we see the weird lights flashing/apple biting moment, and the video focuses specifically on Eddie’s apple.  Is that a you’re next? Is it a reference to what happened to Eddie?

And on that subject, what if Eddie’s Frankenstein costume is making a reference to another puppet?  He has some of his regular face, and the same face shape, but a portion of his skin is blue.  Barnaby is blue, (and we have already seen a Barnaby colored patch in the images) but this fabric isn’t furry.  Sunny is blue…but Eddie’s face doesn’t have feathers.  It would be wild if Frank repurposed Sunny’s fabric to make part of his new boyfriend’s Halloween costume/Halloween body.  He also has some purple in his face, which isn’t represented in the neighborhood, other than Eddie’s color.

Just some way overexplained ideas to account for potential meanings of the tic tac toe boards, something that I think about far too often.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Oh my lord, I just saw a thing on Pinterest that said: Of course I cum fast- I'm a busy man. I have places to be.

And first of all- hysterical. 10 out of 10. This man will not be shamed.

Second of all, of course- Here are the Horror Men I think would abandon you after cumming themselves VS The ones that would never leave you high and dry like that (Indented):

Warnings: Orgasm denial, selfish fucking/loving

(Most of) These men in this post:

Animal The Cannibal: If Manny calls on him I bet he would go 😅 Sorryyyyy.

Billy Loomis: He likes the feeling of you cumming around him too much for that. Don't get me wrong- he is a pretty selfish lover. It's just that, part of his pleasure happens to come from yours.

Bo Sinclair: Nahhhhh. It's not that he's wanting to be kind to you- he just thinks it's a mark of a sissy if he can't get his lover to cum for him. It's for bragging rights.

Bubba Sawyer: Yeahh... sorry Y/N. If one of his brothers call on him he will ALWAYS go.

Candyman: Look, its not always!, so don't get me wrong- Daniel is a good lover. I'm sure he is. But at times he just... doesn't have the time 😅

Captain Spaulding: Sorry doll, he's got like 3 insane middle aged children running about not cleaning up their messes and he's gotta get on that shit XD

Chop Top Sawyer: If you've got his attention, which you certainly do if you're engaging in sex with him, then he's all yours. He's all for you.

Chucky Lee Ray: He's full of bullshit but he is also quite busy so... take this as you will.

Dr Suave: Ain't nothin' gonna keep him from the face you're gonna make sweet thing... (*Cough* Sweet talker)

Drayton Sawyer: GENUINLEY REAL BUSY!! He'd stay if he could!! Don't sulk though, he'll get pissy at you.

Freddy Krueger: Damn, you're waking up! Well- Goodluck!~ (This asshole)

Harper Alexander: This man is Buckman's bitch- he literally pimps himself out for him 😅 So... yeah... Maybe you could talk to Buckman? Ask him not to call on Harper during the hours of 5-8pm On Friday Nights please??? 😆

Inkubus: Not his style.

Jack Dante: It depends on where his head is. It's hard to keep him in one place for long- if he's got his head in the clouds, his show is on, or he's got 'work to do', he'll literally just take care of himself and then fuck off. (If you manage to hold his attention though he WILL go until you fall asleep and then be there waiting when you wake up again. Stamina for days, I swear).

Jason Voorhees: The chances are, if you've gotten Jason to engage in... the act!!... then its gonna be all about you, anyway. He might not want to cum. It's in his nature to take care of the people he loves, anyway. So it's kinda the other way around, here... but voluntarily.

Jedidiah Sawyer: Too sweet. Plus, without a family shooing him this way and that anymore, he's suddenly got so much more time on his hands! Haha.

Jerry Dandridge: If he's sleeping with you his full attention is on you, and very little will have to power to stop it.

Kieran Wilcox: I love the idea that this too-cool-for-school, bastard guy- has really bad stamina (: So (: Yeah (:

Leslie Vernon: This asshole 😅 He's like sorry sweetie, I have preparations to do, *Forehead kiss*, love you so much, see ya! (He's being genuine, too. This is not a line because he's being lazy or selfish- He gets tunnel vision something fierce).

Lester Sinclair: I swear he hates leaving you unfulfilled, he really really hates it, but sometimes he just needs a little something to keep him happy before going to see his brothers and he doesn't have time to take care of you. He will when he gets back!! He promises.

Max Grief: He just wouldn't wanna leave you displeased. He wants to make you happy (:

Mayor Buckman: This one genuinly makes me laugh XD This man, oh my lord. Someone will knock on the door and he'll be OFF- forgetting in his eagerness to be do Town Duties that he first has duties to you goddamnit!-

Mental Manny: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh what a dick. I'm sorry, but a dick appointment with Manny is just that- an appointment. And like any asshole with an appointment book he will decide once he's got what he wanted out of the transaction that oh, sorry, time is up! He has to go preach to some devotees for an hour. Bye sweetheart!~

Michael Myers: You just know he would. He does not care.

Mickey Altieri: Just not a selfish lover. It's equal with him.

Midnight Man: He might think its a game... 😅

Monty Hewitt: Well fuck, who knows what Hoyt might saw off him if he ignores him this time?? Please believe him when he says he wants to stay though, he really fucking does.

Otis B Driftwood: 'I'll go around back and take control, like I always fucken do'- Otis has clearly got a complex for being the Big Man in Charge, yes. And this is part of the reason he will leave you high and dry... the other part though is him being a DICK.

Patrick Bateman: Like Michael, he doesn't care. You can finish up yourself while he gets his keto dinner started.

Pennywise: I feel like with Penny its marathon sex or it's nothin', so yeah you're gonna cum. Do not fear.

Rocco The Clown: No way in hell will anyone ever tear him away from you. Oh, no. He (And I) would like to see them try.

SHERIFF HOYT: BECAUSE HE'S SHERIFF HOYT. HE IS EXACTLY THAT PINTEREST QUOTE.

Stu Macher: Would also genuinely say that 😅 Will answer every beck and call of Billy's and so thinks he's a very busy man. Call him back though and he probably will listen to you. Sorry Billy.

Stuart Lloyd: Okay- this man has probably not had sex for a LONG time- if ever. So yeah- even the muse gets ignored during that time XDD 😅 He~ is~ desperate (:

DBD The Clown: Sometimes he's too tired, which is understandable I suppose, but the asshole part?? He giggles about it. I mean, after that he coughs because he has not taken care of his body, but first he definetly giggles =_=

DBD The Deathslinger: He ain't as young as he once was- you just gotta give him a moment to breath XD Usually. Sometimes he will just smirk at you and leave, though. Cuz he's an EVIL COWBOY.

The Djinn: Not his style- Part 2.

The Man: He just would =_=

The Taxidermist: Like Stuart he is has been very dry for a very long time and he is NOT about to mess up this chance.

Thomas Hewitt: I would say he's the same as Bubba... but Thomas is a little tougher. Unless Luda Mae tried to call him away... you're good. He'll always finish you off before answering anyone else. (And Luda Mae wants grandbabies too much to pull him away XDD )

Vincent Sinclair: Sex is a whole night with him. He will have planned to have the whole evening and through the night without an interruption, so you don't run into any problems like this ^^

Winslow Foxworth Coltrane: Nahhhhhhh. He's likin' what's going on here too much. Not even Otis on cocaine with a gun will separate him from you.

[fairymischief]

Random Observations about Howard's End.

The book's theme, "Only Connect," is so perfect because throughout the novel we see how characters believe there is some wide gulf between themselves and others, when in fact there is not, and all the trouble arises from this disconnect.

Look at the way Helen, Margaret, and Henry all look down on poor Jackie. Yet despite Henry believing he's VASTLY above women like her, it was she that he chose to use as a prostitute 10 years earlier. He believes himself too superior to consort with such a woman...except in 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. And despite Margaret finding her repellent and Helen thinking she's an "extravagant imbecile," Margaret marries a man who chose her (Henry), and Helen chooses a man (Leonard) who married her!

Helen and Henry believe themselves to be polar opposites, and to the casual reader, this might seem to be the case. But if you pay close attention, you see that the author brilliantly created subtle similarities between them in phrases they use, attitudes toward relationships, and actions. Both, for example, cut people off entirely when they have a falling out, and both used the phrase "I have very little use for them." And each of them considers themselves very principled and are harshly judgmental toward one another's sexual indiscretions. Henry, as a married man, had an affair, and Helen was appalled by this; and a half hour later, she herself was having an affair with a married man. (Though as Margaret pointed out, Henry betrayed Mrs. Wilcox, while Helen betrayed only herself.)

There's not only a disconnect between people, but between people and their pretenses of being virtuous or altruistic. The most glaringly obvious of these is Henry, but the one that makes me most sad is how Jackie is treated at the end. Margaret and Helen took it upon themselves to encourage Leonard to find another job, which he was promptly dismissed from. Then, because Helen dragged he and Jackie nearly 200 miles away on the train and ran away with their return tickets AND didn't pay their hotel bill, Jackie had to pawn her jewelry to get them home. Then a few months later, Leonard died.

The sisters (primarily Helen) played a HUGE role in Jackie becoming (presumably) destitute after Leonard's death, and yet at the end of the book, they simply forget about her. She's an extremely vulnerable woman whose life is in shambles partly because of them, and they couldn't care less because she's not "their sort." They care deeply about social justice, rectification of wrongs (which was Helen's WHOLE purpose in dragging the Basts to Shropshire) and the plight of the poor...as long as its about poor people they enjoy the company of. Jackie doesn't count.

@pineapplecake555 Just in case you want to read these ramblings or have anything to say about them 😸

[septembriseur]

Sorry if this is a dumb question. Do you think it’s fair to assume any/all calls about “terrorism” to be red flag imperialist framings? Like, anyone called a terrorist by the us/uk etc can be assumed to be a desperate and angry person protesting the horrors imposed on them? Maybe “any/all” is too generalizing? I’m struggling to make sense of this place and its politics! I first started paying attention as a teenager when Mike brown was killed and I feel like each few years another layer of lies gets pulled back lmao. My instinct is to go find another book to read but there’s literally endless books to read about endless atrocities and I have no money

Well, for starters, on the internet almost all books are free. Definitely jot that down.

There are specific excellent articles and books that have been written about the idea of "the terrorist." Depending on your ability to plow through academic jargon, they may or may not be interesting. Jasbir Puar's Terrorist Assemblages is definitely one of the best-known. Sunaina Maira's article "'Good' and 'Bad' Muslim Citizens: Feminists, Terrorists, and U.S. Orientalisms" is good. You might be interested in Lauren Wilcox's Bodies of Violence or Purnima Bose's Intervention Narratives. I would also recommend Azadeh Moaveni's Guest House for Young Widows, which is about so-called "jihadi brides."

I think that the way the term "terrorist" is mobilized by officials (in other words, who gets identified as a terrorist and who doesn't) is inconsistent and often reflects elite capitalist hegemonies. Actually, another important book to read in order to gain insight into this inconsistency is probably Rob Nixon's Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor.

However, I would say that what this inconsistency means is that the term "terrorist" actually just doesn't provide you with any useful information about the person who is being identified in that way. You have to do the research to understand who they are and what the moral judgement of their actions ought to be.