#frankly its one am and i need to get this paper done

[alexclaremont-diazbutnot]

as i set into my 11th re-read of rwrb, avoiding my 2200 word research paper on the resiliency of government, while listening to old records and doing my work by lamp-light in a harvard speech and debate hoodie, i have never felt more like an alex kinnie

#rwrb #alex claremont diaz #rwrb alex #rwrb shitpost #frankly its one am and i need to get this paper done #but i dont wanna #i already did one tonight #tbh its on me but like #fuck that yk #red white and royal blue

[pretty-prince-lulu]

I I mister beaned it pretty hard tonight, internet and I feel the need to inflict the experience upon the world at large

be me (honestly I could fucken end it here) walking down the hallway toward the domain of the porcelain throne when out of the corner of my eye I see it

it has been years, actual years now, since I have done true battle yet my nemesis stands before me- rather, scuttles above me, on the ceiling, taunting me with his plumpness a cockroach. my first true enemy in life, really this being the first house I have ever lived in without nests in the foundations or a frame consisting 80% of wood rot meant that I had sadly grown fat on my own complacency and taking peace for granted but I am Ready. I can face this foe

old reliable is at the ready. a 15 year old can of pea-beu! it's an Australian brand of bug spray. 'Hit 'em with the ol' Pea-Beu!' croons the ad! it's pronounced 'pee bow', which is still hilarious to me I psshk him with great noble bearing by which I mean 'from around a corner and at as great a distance as I could physically achieve' and wait for him to drop I wait I wait did I actually get him or I must have? that or he's just ambling down of his own volition either way

KATCHONK the can is placed atop him! he is CONTAINED! now all I must do is wait! so I wait and I wait surely he'sNOPE JESUS MARY MOTHER OF SHIT antennae and legs swing at me from under the can with incredible malice and singular will the can goes back down. and I wait

and at this point I remember! there is one thing that I have never seen pea-beu do that is- fuck, what's the word I'll have it around here somewhere oh yes WORK legs still scrabble in effort to escape I am less and less convinced that he has peed his last bow and more convinced that the next bow to be peed shall be mine

fuck FUCK okay well raising the can is out of the fucking question he's seen me now, he knows my scent and is very clearly out for revenge (probably in the form of running up my leg until I pee my bow) there's a technique I use all the time to rescue crickets from the bathroom though! and this is more of a Special Military Operation (tm) than a rescue but desperate times call for desperate measures and lateral moves so I do it I grab the nearest piece of paper and sliiiide it under the can if I can contain the creature I can have it airlifted to a location that is not my hallway

but I've just made a critical error its on paper now and paper, when confronted with 6 legs of undeniable fury, makes a sound and that sound does something magical that magical thing being compelling our hapless protagonist 30 years backward in time

she's addicted to reading! that's what her parents tell her teachers! we just can't get her to put the books down at night and sleep! ha ha ha! and she does love her books, that little girl but something more sinister is at play when the lights go out is when they awaken by the tens and by the hundreds skinny little barbed legs and long hairlike antennae but they can tell when you're still awake, you know that's when they run around in circles beneath the wallpaper and under the posters that's when they climb over the bedhead and wait sitting in the palm of your hand until you realise that's when you think the breeze is shifting the hair at your temple but the wind is prickly this evening and your eyelashes are only beyond their reach if little blue eyes stay open until dawn but no depth of story can drown out the sound of legs and wings caressing paper

SNAP BACK TO REALITY whoops there goes gravity right bug. can. paper big regretti… mom's spaghetti eminem can't help me now oh god oh no the noise has drawn attention player 3 and player 4 have entered the game

my cats precious fat idiots no hunting instincts between them, frankly the kitten has never hunted anything in his life and the last time the big boy encountered an Animal (tm) it resulted in him screaming, actually s c r e a m i n g and I had to pick him up and rescue him from the VERY scary cricket that had cornered him (the assailant was released outside) but they are interested in THE NOISE and the mystery and if they knock over this fucken can I know it's game over for me I'm still in full on vietnam flashback mode fortunate son is on full blast in my head I cannot handle a prison break

I drive them away the only way I can think of by using the only thing that's as scary to them as a cricket a psshk from a can of compressed keyboard-cleaning air nyoom disaster averted, or at least that specific flavour of disaster of course, the problem remains I cannot pick up the fucking paper. please understand. it's all that stands between me and my nightmares fortunate son is still playing but by now it's on kazoo I deepen my hole of shame a little further and attempt to s l i d e a plastic lid beneath the paper.

now I have it in my hands, a teetering, tenuous tower of can, beast, tupperware lid and a phone bill with a destination to decide what? empty it in a bin? so he can swing over the edge of the paper like lara fucking croft and hoik himself into my open mouth? or run up my sleeve into my hair? as has happened before? no thank you, you little shit, you probably submliminally suggested that yourself didn't you b u g but I can't just. squish it that also risks CONTAINMENT BREACH letting it onto the floor risks my cats eating it (and potentially peeing their bow in 12-19 business years I guess) and so, I compromise

I run outside out the front door. at this point I feel like it is important to note my outfit I am wearing a whole-body lamb costume that I have been using as pyjamas they are very wooly and floor length and have a little silk ribbony bow at the neck, as-yet unpeed

and god knows what the neighbours must think seeing this shrieking lamb kool-aid man out of her house shedding phone bills and pesticide containers and frisbee a tupperware lid across the road like it is made of fire before doing the Universal Dance of Absolute Crawling Horror, complete with arm-flailing and knee-to-chest high-steppy in circles

anyway I lived and I've been told off for sadly humming 'fortunate son' to myself 7 times. some folks are born made to wear the flag :')

#dramatic retelling #I showered immediately #bug tw

[microtonalmatt]

Redesigning Aife

Hey so it's been a while since I did or said anything with/about Beeknighted. After the launch of the demo disc, I updated the game feverishly for a couple weeks, but I got into some dire financial straits and was looking for more work for a long while. I also took a break from Beeknighted to work on Star Crucible, which was only intended to be a one-month quick little project for a game jam that has spiraled out of control. It's still in the back pocket but I need to let it simmer for a while I refine some of its ideas.

I'm now working on a third project, this time something I'm telling myself I'll actually get done in a short time (I know, I know). But I just couldn't stop thinking about things I wanted to do with Beeknighted. I've been writing characters, chunks of the main quest, designing weapons and items, all just on paper because I haven't really had a chance to properly work on it for a while. But I thought I shouldn't set aside both Beeknighted and Star Crucible without at least dropping a crumb or two, so I've been working on the redesign of Aife, the bee.

First off, why the redesign?

The bee was the first full 3D model I had ever created, textured, and animated. Period. It had...a lot of problems and beginner mistakes. And I didn't just wake up one day and bust out a perfect model of what was in my head. Version 1.0 of the bee was...quite frankly horrifying.

Yeah, it...it was bad. It was made in 3 days for a game jam using youtube tutorials for a guide (which was not the fault of the tutorials at all, simply user error). When I decided to develop the game further, I set about retexturing the model, thinking I could save the geometry. I really just cleaned up the face and body.

But this didn't fix the underlying faults with the model. The rig was just plain bad. There were weird issues with weights where if you bent the character too far forward the head would shrink, the hair couldn't animate well, there are no shoulder bones so no shoulder movement, lots of issues all around. Those weren't easily fixed when I already had made around 40 animations using the rig.

There were also issues with the body geometry. The arms/hands/legs/feet/wings were all fine, but the head, thorax, and abdomen, to get technical, were all imperfect. There's weird shading issues you can see on the body that are a result of bad topology. A failure to properly triangulate the abdomen caused it to look weird at some angles. And the head is just poorly modeled overall. It uses a lot more triangles than necessary and doesn't achieve the intended design goal. Heads are hard, faces even more so. She doesn't even have a nose.

Even if you can excuse the mediocre rigging and amateur geometry, you can't excuse the biggest problem of all: my crime against video game collision shapes:

I shouldn't even be allowed to touch a computer after this atrocity.

It was really important to me that the collision represent the shape of the character for the combat to feel precise. But this disaster meant platforming is all over the place. Not to mention if the character gets horizontally wedged between two walls, there's no escape because the character can't turn around. I had thought "Spyro did it [an oddly shaped character], so can I" but I am not a seasoned Insomniac developer. Even so, I don't know how I was allowed to sneak in this egregious sin against video games for so long.

So in short, these changes had been a long time coming.

The goals of the redesign:

First and foremost, the bee had to stand more upright (or else more horizontal, not diagonal) so that I could use a regular upright collision capsule. At the same time, I wanted to maintain as many bee elements as possible.

The abdomen had to be a bit smaller and more out of the way so the player could always see where the feet were landing for platforming purposes. This was a bigger problem than you'd think.

The character had to appear older but still look small. This was simply a mistake in the old design that the face looked too young by the nature of me struggling to draw faces + the bad geometry. The bangs were meant to hang down more but the model didn't allow for it.

Details needed to be crisper, bolder, and chunkier. When I played the demo on my CRT, I noticed the thinner points of limbs threatened to get lost on screen. N64 characters tend to be noticeably more chunky to compensate.

My inspirations for the initial character came from a range of sources. Obviously with the game being inspired by N64 graphics, I picked inspirational references from contemporary characters, as well as characters from media that had been created/released in the run-up to the N64 that might have inspired later works. I wanted the bee to look like a mix between a silent JRPG protagonist (or, y'know, Link wouldn't be a bad pick) and classic fantasy/horror anime female protagonists (the ones that all have that same long hairstyle, black/dark hair, poofy bangs in the front).

My moodboard included Yuuko from Valis, Utena from Revolutionary Girl Utena, Popful Mail, Aika and Fina from Skies of Arcadia, a handful of leading ladies from late 80s/early 90s horror OVAs (like the kind Madhouse was putting out at the time, but usually worse), and some Fire Emblem characters.

The N64 doesn't really have a lot of 3D "anime" characters to use for references. You've got the oft-maligned Quest 64, some of the bosses from the Goemon games (all the npcs are very chibi), and some of the more anime-inspired characters from the Zelda games and a handful from Megaman 64, though Megaman's art style and way of 3D modelling is fairly unique in its own right.

I suppose I should emphasize that while the main character and some of the side characters are anime-inspired, the point was not to make an anime game per se. I chose the look because of its potential to create expressive and amusing faces because I wanted the bee to have as much character as, say, Link from Wind Waker, who is constantly emoting about anything and everything.

The New Version

Aife's new model sports a totally remade head and body. While using the old limbs, I thickened them up a bit for visibility while still trying to maintain that bug-like spindliness. The abdomen is slightly smaller and the geometry is simplified. I simply didn't need that many triangles. She stands more upright, and the head is in a more natural place above the shoulders, and the human-ish proportions are better. The redone body uses vertex colors, rather than textures, but leaves the option open to texture new costumes. I also redesigned the bangs to drape lower on the face but not get in the way of the expression. The old bangs made the character look too childish, imo. All of the textures have been redrawn, simplified, and cleaned up. She now has a nose.

Despite all of the improvements and added details, the model weighs in at 100 fewer triangles than the old model, for a total of 672 tris.

I'm much more confident that this new Aife will be better suited to the highly animated gameplay required of her, and can't wait to dive into the rigging/animating process. But that's all for now!

#n64 #anime #character design #3d model #retro anime #godot engine

[guidedbynors]

Journal of a Paid GM: Part 6: Bad Fantasy Novels Make Good Inspiration

When I was a kid, say 7th, 8th, 9th grade, I was severely dyslexic. I am still dyslexic. It isn't something that goes away. I learned to adjust. To compensate. To read. The above image is the cover of the first book I ever read. First novel, anyway. I don't count See Spot Run or Hop on Pop.

I was an avid Diablo II fan when it came out in. . . whenever it did. It was only natural that when a friend of mine who also played let me barrow the book he'd just read that was based on the game, I was determined to struggle through it. I think it took me something like 9 months to work through it. But I did.

Why do I bring this up? Well, because Richard A. Knaak, the author of the above book, put me on a path I am still on today. Coinciding with my love of Diablo II and my determination to read the tie-in novel, came my 8th grade English teacher. While I couldn't write papers, I could dictate them to my parents. My English teacher told me I should be a writer. That the work I was turning in was different than my peers. I didn't see how. She, of course, knew I was dyslexic and wasn't writing my own papers and that my parents were helping me, but for whatever reason, she thought that was what I needed to hear. I hope it was the thing she believed to be true, also.

So, how does this have anything to do being a paid GM? Pretty much everything. I'm not going to pretend I think Richard A. Knaak's work is quality fiction. That sounds snobbish. Let me get this right. . . I love Knaak's books. I recently discovered the Legends of the Dragon Realm omnibuses. I'd only ever read books he'd written in OTHER peoples worlds, and so picked up the first omnibus (books 1-3 in the series).

Firedrake, the first novel set in The Dragonrealm is. . . dated. That's a nice way to put it. It has some unsavory tropes and depictions of women in it that are frankly difficult to read without rolling your eyes and shutting the book completely. There's also liberal uses of the construct of race, superior races. It makes me grimace just thinking about it. But its also written at a breakneck speed. It focuses on things happening and happening right now. There's no slow burn here. And this is why I think it's actually the exact type of book that is helpful in running TTRPGs.

*NOTE: I think it bears saying that reading novels such as these must be done with a critical eye. The stereotypes and tropes it relies on are disappointing. This is a book from 1989. The same sensibilities do not apply. This isn't an excuse, but it is a reason. The great thing about D&D and other TTRPGs today, is that they try to eliminate these unfortunate fantasy tropes. (I believe there are other books you could find that function in the same way as this book. . . maybe without the sexist and racial insensitivities).

I read a review of the D&D movie the other day. It was all about how fun and fast and interesting the combat scenes were. I haven't seen the movie--and probably won't. But this review struck a cord with me. It mentioned how the reality of D&D 5e is so far flung from what the movie portrays, why is there not a reimagined combat system that feels cinematic and cool like the movie? I don't know why--I do know there are better combat systems out there, Forbidden Lands is one of them, Warlock! is another. But these are not D&D. As someone who runs 5e as a paid GM, this review, and indeed, Richard A. Knaak's Legends of the Dragonrealm remind me what the best part of D&D can be. Fast paced, frantic, fun. There shouldn't be times in which players are wondering what to do. If there is--DMs should throw something into the session that makes them react and DO something. That's what Knaak's stories are all about. There very akin to Jack Vance's work, though less science fantasy and more hard fantasy fiction.

(I still have 1 seat in my bi-weekly Eberron campaign of 5e. Check out Demon Wastes Rising. There is still time to sign up before out next session on Sunday.)

In planning for my next session, which is on Sunday, I created a list of 10 "Action Triggers" to spring on my players at any given time. If there's a point at which they are all wondering. . . what do we do now? And sorta milling about with indecision, I can introduce these triggers at any time. Something like: The local bandit clan set a building on fire in retribution for one of their numbers being imprisoned.

Does this have anything, really, to do with the plot? Maybe. I don't know yet. But it's something exciting for players to deal with--so it will spur them to action and create improved drama. The point is, and it sounds like the D&D movie captured this, this game is about action. Things need to happen. If they don't, why are we playing? Sly Flourish does a great job of focusing on this aspect of the game in his Return of the Lazy Dungeon Master prep book. I enjoy using the book and would recommend it to anyone GM who wants to make their games just better--in, like, every way.

I hope this has been helpful. It's been less about the being a paid GM and more about where to find inspiration for our games. Hopefully it still holds, as I think it points out another aspect of why we, both GMs and players, love to play these games--adventures in imaginations.

#D&D #d&d 5th edition #dungeons and dragons #honour among thieves #dnd 5e campaign #startplaying #roll20 #tabletop rpg #eberron #Keith Baker #Richard Knaak #Dragons #Dragonrealm #Jack Vance #Sly Flourish #Novels

[atherix0]

im finally reading the update because its lunch time and i have much to scream about and I will in fact be doing the screaming because AH

Starting this off with Scar and Mumbo being CUTE - please understand i am reading this in public and it is taking every fiber of my being now to squee and yell at everything going on oh my god? Mumbo's collection of Fae books? Mumbo and Scar vibing together at Night because Grian is asleep? AH

Also Tubbo being the bee that near [across from?] Mumbo's glyph is so cute just AH and the fact that mumbo, looking at the glyphs, is like "You know that pin ive been carrying around with me I should put it closer to my person somehow yes"

AND THEN CLEO MY BELOVED APPEARS ahhhhh love them. I mean hate the *news* they have oh my god but i love them. Also I am gonna fist fight the council in your story for everyone oh my GOD - this has the vibes of like, in mafia stories when they accidentally leave a paper trail and its like "ASDFGHJKHGFD YOU IDIOTS WHAT ARE YOU DOING"

Oh my god and Mumbo and Grian really chose the WORST time for to discuss Scar yall he's LEAVING I need you to STOP HIM or maybe o with him I havent decided which one's a better idea tbh though given that whole 'grians not a watcher yet' and 'a coven is only as strong as their leader *says the man who is threatening when he's laying on the ground, injured*" I think they'll be fine. Ya know. 👀👀between the Fae and the whole Diety Waiting To Be Awakened thing

GIVE HIM THE ENGAGEMENT GIFT. GIVE IT TO SCAR. G I V E I KNOW YOU GUYS WANNA WAIT FOR A GOOD TIME BUT THERE'S NEVER GONNA BE A GOOD TIME AT THIS RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE GIVE IT TO HIM BEFORE SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENS THAAAAAANKS

Also grian calling Mumbo out about the bite scar? I have been WAITING oh my god Mumbo how the hell did you think no one noticed.

Ahhhh the mirroring happening in the market rn? Incredible. Its the same but its so different. AND SCAR IS SO SMART AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH also Mumbo Time Mumbo Time Mumbo Time Mumbo Ti-

OH MY GOD SCAR IS A FUCKING GENIUS I love this man. He is hot. Grian's right, and I'm a damn lesbian. Reading him taking on an entire coven by himslef is incredible??? Also the fact that Mumbo is just sat there *waiting* sir you are literally protecting your mate 'wait till a better time' my ASS.

OH BOY BOY BOY LETS GO mmm I love when Mumbo gets to fight frankly its great mm mm mm OHOHO grian. That touch of past there? I have a feeling im gonna need to throttle you whenever we get to THAT lmao. But also LOOK AT HIM ACTUALLY FIGHTING HAAAAAAAAAA

YES SOMEONE IS GETTING PULLED INTO THE BOATEM HOLE I HAVE BEEN *WAITING* its just such a good use of the boatem hole frankly FALL INTO THE VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOID. I havent even watched season 8. I do appreciate Grian's Gay Thoughts whenever Mumbo is fighting 10/10

im sorry grian WHAT are you remembering EXCUSE ME listen here if pearl is dead you are going to be getting some WORDS

Oh my god using the glyph is genius but also if i was scar i would ALSO be like "GRIAN WHAT ARE YOU DOOOOOOOOOING" also just like, obsessed with this vampire lesson occurring mid battle as Grian is just like "I'm gonna get the lord to blast this way and hope mumbo can get us out of the way" which i mean it WORKED but JESUS

OH BOY OH BOY OHO BOY GRIAN WHATCHA DOING THERE CHAMP

Scar now is not the time to ask what they're doing i swear. theres a lord DYING

The three of them having this conversation in a barrier bubble thing in an alleyway really is something. ALSO. MUMBO. MUMBO YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT. *MUMBO*. "Wait when did boatem get a coven" BABE YOURE THE ONLY VAMPIRE. PLEASE. WITH YOUR BRAIN.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ITS GETTING SO CLOSE I NEED THEM TO KISS I KNOW WHY THEY HAVENT BUT AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

and now i go back to writing my novel as if I didn't just treat myself for writing i havent even done yet lmao

hjfgsdjkghjfdgjkfd I hope you had a good day <3

JKFHSJKHFSJK I love them <3 When Grian is asleep who else to keep a Vampire company but the Elf who only sleeps like every five days <3 gfdjkgjkfdlf

Yess it's on the other side of Scar's wrist from Mumbo's rose <3 hjgkfk HAHA YEAH I'M SURE THAT'S NOT GONNA BE CONVENIENT SOON <3

CLEO <3 Cleo is beloved and I will fight for them, as soon as they found out just how much the Purists know they ran immediately to inform Scar <3 They care about that half-Elf <3 The Council is largely made of self-important dumbtrucks </3 There is a reason Mumbo has very little respect for them jfgdslfdsjh and they may or may not get told off BIG TIME for this <3

LMAO YEAH IKR Grian over here like "oh wow okay so this sounds like Scar's saying goodbye and tomorrow will be the last time I see him??" and then finally talking to Mumbo jhfsdjkghjds JHKFHSJKFHSKJLJDK ahahaha <3 Oh indeed :))

He thought he got off scotch free BUT NO MUMBO GRIAN SAW THAT HE KNOWS lmao <3 Scar might be oblivious but Grian can read you like an open book <3

YASSSSSS I fucking LOVE mirroring in fics <3 callbacks and bookends and just HJHJFHJS I'm feral for it fr Scar was like "yeah I know they know who I am I know how this is probably ending and this time I take no prisoners" and HJFSJKHGFVJKS all the traps <3 A little unhinge for the Elf man, a little reminder that this man is not fully Human pls <3 jkgfdklhjfkdlk ikr like-

I LOVE mumbo getting to fight <3 hehehehe crumbs of Grian history? Crumbs of Grian history <3 YAASSSSSSS them all showing off their fighting skills <3

YASSSSS from the moment I introduced the Boatem Hole to the fic I've been waiting to toss someone in <3 I loved season 8 so much Boatem my beloved <3 Grian has gay thoughts all the time but the moment Mumbo's claws come out and he gets to fighting they triple <3

:)))

Scar be like BIRDIE WHAT THE FU- Ahaha it was such a risky plan but he trusted Mumbo and Scar both so much <3 They were quick but stupid but see them dodge THIS when they have no helpful magic <3

HEHEHEE :)))

LMAO they're all full of bad timing <3

Grian agrees, how strange <3 they make quite a sight lmao LMAO YEAH THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT GRIAN AND SCAR WERE THINKING Mumbo never even considered for one second that he has a Coven now and you can bet he's not gonna stop thinking about it now because it answers so many question lmao <3

I PROMISE YOU WILL BE SATISFIED SOON <3 NOT SOON ENOUGH BUT <3

hahaha well now there's another fic to treat yourself with so <3

#Ask #Midnight Series #hermitshipping #mumscarian

[rockinnrollin]

Chapter One: That Blonde Prick.

Kenzie's POV - September 1977

There's something hellish about living in a house with 2 younger brothers and a little sister. My sister Emily isn't actually all that bad, it's Jack and Josh that make it worse. They're the most annoying, loud, disgusting boys ever and quite frankly, they've put me off men for life along with my stepdad Mark. Their his kids and its obvious. 

School mornings are the worst of all, especially "First day of school mornings". The boys can't stop shouting about football or some shit, Mark takes about a hour in the morning gluing his hair with gel like a fucking hardhat in the bathroom and my mum just sits with a cup of tea reading the paper, glancing up every so often to make sure we're not all dead. I need to do my hair and makeup before Hannah comes around and Mark won't move his hole. 

"Mark, can you please hurry, I've got 20 minutes at a stretch!" I yelled up the stairs. 

"Oh my god Mackenzie,  I'll be ready when I'm ready!" 

Such a prick. 

Another 5 minutes later, he finally got out the bathroom. 

"There you go Your Majesty." He said while walking behind me. 

"Prick." I muttered under my breath. 

After teasing my hair and firing on some makeup the door went. I grabbed my bag and blazer from my room and ran down the stairs already knowing Hannah was on the other side of the door. But alas, how would I have a prick step-dad if he wasn't a prick. 

"Mackenzie Adams, where are you going?" he said, looking at me with pure disgust. 

"To school?" He's so stupid.

"Not dressed like a tart your not! Pull down that skirt right now." 

Excuse me? Did he just call me a fucking tart? 

"Don't call her that Mark! But, yes, please pull your skirt down a little more love." My mum said, clearly over Mark and I's bullshit. 

"Okay mum. Oh by the way, I'm heading to Hannah's after school, we're gonna do more band stuff." I told her, knowing already what was coming from Mark. 

"Waste of time if you ask me." There it was. "Focus on something important, like your school work, you want to leave school this year, get your head down." He said.

"Good thing I didn't ask you then Mark. Bye mum! Love you!" With that I left knowing I'd get in shit later. 

"Eventful morning?" Hannah said standing with a smirk. 

I gave her a dramatized sigh, "Don't you start." 

"Move it drama queen."

Our walk to school was only about fifteen minutes usually, but Monday was different.

"Right you've got your grans note this week, yeah?" I asked Hannah.

"Oh no." Her face dropped.

"Hannah you better be joking." 

"Of course I am you silly bitch."

We lived in a smaller area, so everyone knew everyone. Including the people working in the shops, they knew our grans smoked and would happily give us the cigarettes if we had a note on us signed by our grans. Me and Hannah took turns weekly, we would get two packets off of one note each, this week Hannah was getting ours, and I'd actually be getting our grans. The girl in the shop can't be much older than me and Hannah and probably knows something dodgy is going on, but we have the note so what can she argue?

Once we were out of sight from the shop, Hannah gave me my pack and I gave her her grans pack. We'd go after school and give our grans their cigarettes, they had no idea what we were doing and just thought we were playing the dutiful grandaughter role, which I suppose we were. We always sat for a while and talked to our grans, made them tea, done shop runs for them and made sure they didn't need anything else done before we left. 

"Slow walk?" I asked Hannah, code for 'Lets go the back paths and have a smoke.'

Due to our "slow walking" we were 10 minutes late to our first class Art. 

"Adams and Green, you need to sort yourselves out. This is a new school year. Don't keep this up." Our teacher Mrs Smith said, she wasn't fond of our timing but seemed to like us anyway. 

"Sorry Mrs Smith." 

About five seconds later, a boy walked into the class. But not just any boy, a new boy. He was tall and lanky. Had a mop of thick blonde hair stuck to his head. Looked like it had been teased just as me and Hannah did. Didn't have a blazer or tie on. But the strangest thing of all, he had eyeliner on. I say strange but personally, I love it. But no boy dared wear eyeliner in our bit, especially at school. The people here weren't as understanding of rock culture as other areas might be. 

"Is this Miss Smith's class?" He spoke, in the exact same accent as my own?

I nudged Hannah with my foot, knowing she would be just as freaked as I was. She turned to me with the look of confusion on her face, mirroring mine. 

"Yes I'm Mrs Smith, take a seat at the back behind Andrew please." She sighed. "I'll just go over the register again."

As she started droning out everyone's name, mystery boy walked through the slim aisle of desks to the one in front of my own, not without giving me a look that read "I'm the shit, who the fuck are you?" 

"Steven White?" 

"Present, and it's just Steve, Miss." He replied.

"Alright Steve. Ryan Young?"

Me and Hannah turned to each other again, with a look on our faces to say "Who does he think he is?" 

After art, we headed outside behind the Janitor's office to have a cig. 

"I cannot get over that Steven guy in art." Hannah said thinking out loud. 

"I know, wonder where he came from." I said back to her. 

"He just seems a bit of a knob."

After a gruelling maths period and a biology one following, we were back at our little smoking spot. We were talking away when we heard footsteps heading up the path. One of the first things we learnt was how to hide a cig when a teacher was coming near due to my older brother Luis. 

"Stuff it in your pocket, they shouldn't smell anything since your outside and can't accuse you if they can't see it." 

We did excatly this and turned our backs, so if they asked us what we were doing, we could bolt around the corner and not have our faces shown. 

"Alright girls?" It wasn't a teacher. "You got a light?" 

We turned around and there he was, 'Steve'. He had a cig hanging out his mouth and both his hands in his trouser pockets, clearly too 'cool' for a blazer. 

"Yeah give us a minute." I started feeling my pockets in my blazer looking for my lighter. I could see him in the corner of my eye trying to look closer at the pins I dotted around my blazer. All of which were bands I held the dearest to my heart. 

"Led Zeppelin?" He asked me.

"What about them?" I said handing him the lighter. 

He lit his cig and took a draw before saying "Girls don't like Zep."

I took my lighter back from him, pissed that a boy thinks he's the shit for liking a band and thinking that a girl can't. 

"Well we do." Hannah snapped back. 

He let a little laugh out.

"You two are something else you know that?" He started laughing to himself.

"Mate fuck off if you're gonna be a pretentious dick." I said to him. 

He walked back a couple of steps with his hands in the air. 

"Alright, see you about." He took the cig back from his mouth and rounded the corner. 

"What a prick!"

We went around to see our grans before heading to practice. We were currently sat on my gran's couch with a cup of tea, telling her all about Steven. 

"What a dick." She simply said, cig in one hand, mug of coffee in the other. 

"Exactly what we said." Hannah replied. 

"Of course girls can like Zep. Fuck they can like anyone they want to." My gran said between a draw of her cig. 

Always the wisest woman I knew. In fact, it was because of her me and Hannah actually got listening to Led Zeppelin. We were 10 years old, sat in her living room as she was playing us her record collection. She put on Led Zeppelin and our lives seemed to of changed forever. Hannah already had a love for music due to her sisters constant blabbling about how she was going to marry Paul McCartney, but my mum was never a music lover, which I found strange after seeing my gran's collection and listening to her speak passiontly about her favourite artists. 

Not long after, me and Hannah were walking to our friend Katie's to get her for our band practice. We only had a bassist, a guitarist and a singer but we knew we had time to find a drummer and another guitarist. We knocked on the door and we were met with Katie giving us a weird look. 

"What do youse want?" She sighed.

"Monday, band day?" Hannah said.

"Oh right, I'm over that stuff now. Who even wants to listen to girls playing rock, we sound stupid." 

I stood looking at Katie gobsmacked, Katie used to love playing with us and she was a great player. 

"Katie come on!" We heard a girl yell from the top of the stairs. 

"Coming Rachel! Bye." And with that she slammed the door in our faces. 

"Fucking Rachel?" Hannah exclaimed. 

Rachel was the biggest bitch ever. She always though she was better than everyone else and called herself the 'Popular' girl since the start of highschool. Quite frankly, she was embarrasing and I couldn't believe that Katie had her at her house. 

Me and Hannah continued our walk back to her house and were talking about what to do now. We took a de-tour to sit at the park and have another cig before we went back to her house. 

"I can't believe she's fucked us off for Katie of all people." I said taking a long draw of my cig.

"What the fuck do we do now Kenz?" Hannah asked.

"What are you needing?" Oh god why is he here too?

We turned around to be met with the wonderful Steven again. 

"Guitarists and a drummer, for our band, that plays rock and has two girls in it." Hannah said back plainly. 

"Well I can't help with your drummer problem, but I play lead guitar." He said. 

"Really?" Hannah seemed interested now. 

"Yeah, been playing for a while."

"Hannah wait a minute, your seriously considering letting that blonde prick join our band?" I said to her. 

"Well Kenzie, we don't have alot of fucking choice do we?"

"Look I'm sorry about earlier," Steve started speaking "I didn't mean to be a dick, was just a wind up."

His face told me he was telling the truth, I turned to Hannah who's face told me 'C'mon, Please?'

"Okay fine, we'll give you a go." I spoke in defeat.

"Right lets go!" Hannah said, stomping out her cig. 

'This blonde straggely haired, annoying prick better be good.' I thought to myself as we headed to Hannah's.

#oc fanfiction #we made it #we made it series #rock #70s #fanficiton #def leppard #rick savage #joe elliott #steve clark #nikki sixx #phil collen #duff mckagan #rick allen #axl rose #motley crue

[nuggsmum]

I posted 8,928 times in 2022

574 posts created (6%)

8,354 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ladyoftheteaandblood

@inkededucatednnerdy

@angryschnauzer

@notabronte

@captainsy-cookiemonster

I tagged 1,096 of my posts in 2022

#henry cavill - 64 posts

#spotify - 23 posts

#walter marshall - 17 posts

#geralt of rivia - 11 posts

#the light - 11 posts

#august walker - 10 posts

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Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i was just saying my friend in spain though my succulent was going to sprout a death flower but look how well it’s doing and my husband just

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

When someone steals your writing, it’s not just words. It’s not just an idea, nor is it just a story or a plot. Its so fucking cliche but unbelievably true when I say that it’s an actual piece of your soul. As a writer, whether you’re considered popular or not, published or indie, if you get a thousand notes or three, that combination of vowels, consonants (and if you’re like me, far too many commas) has been a part of you, embedded into your psyche, begging to be released into the world. By extracting it and putting it onto the proverbial paper that is the internet, we writers are sharing our love, our light. Our hopes and fears. Our dreams and nightmares. And for someone to just take this gift that we share with all of you (for free… the time and effort spent is a whole different discussion right now) and claim it as their own…Well, frankly it’s fucked up. It hurts. It’s maddening. It’s insulting. Disappointing. Disgusting.

People that plagiarize are sad. They want attention and they don’t have the balls to get it on their own. They are jealous of writers and their ability to craft a world with words and they want that for themselves. They’re lazy. They just take the easy way. Nothing about writing is easy. If only.

A few days ago, a blog that has since deactivated lifted two of my fics and posted them as their own. To say I was upset is an understatement. I had to step away from tumblr for a moment because I was tempted to just delete my whole account. I felt sick over it, I’ve thought of little else since. Maybe I’m being dramatic, we all know I have a flair for it. But the thought kept crossing my mind that this is going to happen again, I mean how many times have we seen it happen to our friends? And why should I just leave my stuff out there for someone to steal? I’ve been here and posting writing for almost seven years, and as far as I know, this is the first time this has happened to me.. Maybe my writing is shit and no one wanted it. Maybe my stuff is too unique and it could be spotted to easily. More likely that I’m just lucky.

Since I’ve been talked off the edge of just disappearing into the void and deleting everything, I’ve been wrestling with whether I’m going to take down my writing. I don’t want to stop sharing it with you guys, but I also don’t know if I feel comfortable with it anymore. So, I’ve decided that I’m going to finish The Light, and then I’m done writing for fandom. Once that happens, I’ll decide whether or not I’ll be removing my master list.

To all my friends and loyal readers, I love you. So very much. I owe you all my life, and that is far from an exaggeration. You have graced me with the confidence to do something that I never dreamed I could be capable of doing. You’ve given me the gift of a craft that I love and has become a huge part of me, and I can’t even begin to put into words how much I’ve needed something like that in my life and how very grateful I am for every single word of encouragement I’ve received from all of you.

Thank you 🖤 (unless you steal peoples creative works, then fuck off and step on a broken Lego.)

XOXO,

Nuggsmum

251 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

#4

The Light (6)

If you’ve found yourself here, there used to be a story here. It’s no longer available unfortunately. I’ve deleted all my writing because people don’t know how to play nice with other’s toys. Yes, I’m pissed about it. This remains so I can see the notes people have left me on this story. Sorry there isn’t anything to read here other than me bitching. Take care 🖤

Header by @luna-aestas. It stays.

257 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

#3

The Light (7)

If you’ve found yourself here, there used to be a story here. It’s no longer available unfortunately. I’ve deleted all my writing because people don’t know how to play nice with other’s toys. Yes, I’m pissed about it. This remains so I can see the notes people have left me on this story. Sorry there isn’t anything to read here other than me bitching. Take care 🖤

Header by @luna-aestas. It stays.

285 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#2

Imagine. 🤣🤣

409 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

1,894 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #how sad that half of them are stories that arent here anymore

[magnoliamyrrh]

How do you deal with self-harm urges?

(tw talk of different things ive used to self harm)

i still struggle with it a lot of times still, with the urges that is, and every once in awhile i do relapse (sometimes less sometimes really bad), but thankfully ive been able to go months on end without doing it, or i think sometimes like a year and a half or maybe more? i started cutting when i was 12, so frankly im a bit impressed w myself for the times ive been able to stop after so many years. ive found thankfully that the longer you go without, the more the urges to keep doing it go down

and uhhh idk. several things i guess?

sometimes (often if its rly bad) ill scratch myself w my nails (not drawing blood just irritating the skin and it kinda hurts) and sometimes that makes it go away, its enough pain to calm me down without permanent damage. i know ppl say to use icecubes and ive tried a couple of times but it really doesn't work for me - glad it does for others. uhm ill try to go take really hot showers until i calm down, that tends to work. sometimes ill try to just,,,,, this may sound stupid but if something in particular triggers me and i feel the urge, i try to remain either physically paralized or try to distract myself w anything until it passes; harder said than done. listening to loud music in headphones also kinda helps w that sometimes. every once in awhile ill try to do something like tear apart paper or some other thing and sometimes that does something?

and tbh this isnt good but smoking cigarettes makes me do it a bit less. but like Do Not Do This, i actually consider cigarettes to be a MUCH Much worse form of self harm than a lot of cutting. because end of the day if youre careful, cutting leaves you with scars only. cigs can absolutely wreck your health long term and its a horrible addiction. just because its more socially acceptable than cutting doesnt mean its not more dangerous; ive actually had plenty of psychs and therapists agree w me on this one

hmm. ill try to go for a walk, if i can, until the worse of the urge passes. or alternatively i will go and drive around aimlessly listening to music until they pass. sometimes if the urge isnt super super strong, i also find that it helps to draw - ive been using vent art as a way to cope for years, and sometimes drawing cuts or scars on a representation of myself gets that urge a little bit out of me

....... i feel like doing psychadelics really helped me do this less and quit many times - they make you not really wanna hurt yourself and love yourself and take care of yourself better, while also dealing w the underlining issues and mechanisms which lead to the urge in the first place

....i try to keep in mind that it doesnt truly help. its not worth it. maybe it gives some temporary satisfaction or release, but it doesnt Really help. its a vicious cycle you enter in many times, when you start disliking yourself even more for cutting and feel even worse, and then you cut yourself again over that...... i try my best to keep in mind that punishing myself like that doesnt help anything and that i dont deserve it, and i try to keep in mind that taking out my emotional pain or frustration like that on myself doesnt really help either.... long term, it will just make it worse - and is that really what i want?

its good to learn too, how to not put yourself down for cutting once you do it or relapse, bc that just leads to spiraling. it happened, its okay, it is what it is, no need to feel bad over it or start throwing insults at yourself over it...... its hard, but it helps to try to be gentle with yourself

...something else that helps me do it less too at times is that lol, i have chronic pain. i am already in pain all the time - do i really want to add more on top of that? havent i had enough of the pain?........sometimes when ive relapsed its been a way to cope with the pain actually, to have control over when and how i feel pain and to feel a different kind of pain but.... tbh, after doing that enough times i just got fed up with it. pain is pain, and most days of my life i have plenty of it to deal with anyway..... also figured out that if i cut too much, it sets my nervous system on fire and it makes my chronic pain worse, so that's also a reason to not do it

.... i also try to not keep things i can cut with in the house - meaning that if i Really want to, ill have to drive to the store to buy blades, which i think is a good way to give yourself some time to maybe calm down or snap out of it or change your mind. Theres times when the urge is so strong and i just say fuck it and go buy them, but it takes more time and commitment to do that. This helped me bc theres been many times when i would have very likely cut if i had access to them, but bc i didnt and i didnt wanna do it bad enough to warrant a drive, i ended up not doing it....... this also works bc i dont personally cut with knives (even with the sharpest knives ive never been able to do it consistently and properly enough to feel satisfying, and i think my weak muscles and joints make it harder for me in particular, so i cant rly use them), meaning i have to rely on either pencil sharpener blades, or actual razor blades...... sometimes i think its better to buy pencil sharpeners bc, again, they make it harder (you have to take the time to take the pencil sharpener apart and take the blade out, and these blades go dull a lot quicker than razor blades - so the first one gives you more time to think it through and maybe stop and not do it, while the other one means you wont be able to do as much damage for as long of a time bc it will become harder and harder to cut)......... i also used to, when i was younger, cut with shaving razors (like the ones for legs) but this is something i grew out of because i really dont like the stinging and way it cuts the skin,,, so; yea, i think not keeping a supply of cutting things in the house helps a lot of times

..... sometimes its the dissociation that helps me, but thats not really something everyones brain does. but you can try to think of yourself as, lets say, your friend - if your friend felt like how you feel in that moment and wanted to cut, would you want them to? what would you tell them, how would you comfort them, and what would you suggest they do instead?

idk if any of this was helpful at all, sorry, but yea;; i think a combination of all of those things have helped me to quit many times, and... it really does get easier to not do it and to not think abt it as often the longer you go without doing it. also, sometimes it does help to call a hotline! not always, but ive done it a handful of times (mainly for combination of suicide + sh urges), and there were indeed times when i came across v caring and understanding ppl which helped talk me down - so this may be an option to think abt. id also say if you can, calling a friend can be helpful, its something ive done too

and pls, if youre gonna keep cutting dont put yourself down over it, but be careful 🌸 always clean whatever youre using to do it before and afterwards with either soap or alcohol, always check if theres rust on it and never use something that has rust or metal of a weird colour, and after you wash them, make sure they are dry and store them in a place which is dry. or better - throw them out. always clean your wounds afterwards with warm water, and when youre able to handle it later with soap and water so they dont get infected. and its best to cover up deeper cuts so they can heal better with bandaids or medical gauze. and please please dont cut in areas where there are a lot of important and sensitive veins and tendos (like the inner wrist) - even if youre being careful, you dont want to take the risk of damaging something important like that. and please, if it ever gets rly out of hand and its not closing up, its too deep, or it gets infected, go to a doctor or a medical facility near you

.... and.. try to be gentle with yourself 💗 its really hard but its important. and if youre trying to quit, ask why it is you cut in the first place (bc pain calms you down, control, masochism, a way to get out overwhelming emotions, comfort, a cry for help or attention, self punishment etc etc), and try to find a way to work on whats driving the cutting in the first place, or to find a less harmful way to achieve a similar goal - i think thats something that helped me long term

take care of yourself and be careful 🌺 and if its something u struggle w youself, know that it is possible to stop and that it does get easier

[john-langley-bristol-blogger]

Tattoo, or not tattoo? That is the question.

I had every intention of keeping this daily blog going, well, daily. However, you avid reader - and you know who you are because I certainly don't, will have noticed my absence and no doubt ignored it anyway.

Well, to cut a long and possibly boring story short, yes, I know, so what else is new, it involved replacing a washing machine that didn't need replacing at all as there was nothing wrong with it, and the ever so slightly more important, to some perhaps, point that the GP phoned to say that my white blood cell count was above what it should normally be and was an indication that I may have an infection while forgetting to inform her that I felt like shit, may possibly have an infection and the constant mildly annoying pain in my left side could be an indication of the very same.

I know the cause isn't liver related, as by now I'd have turned the shade of yellow one would never find on a Dulux paint colour chart. With only the kidney left to pinpoint as being the source of the pain I can, with reasonable confidence, rule out this possibility as to my best recollection this was the one that if not all was removed by surgery due to overindulgence in amphetamine enjoyment more years back than I now care to remember, then a fair proportion was.

So, in all, I've had neither the time, inclination, or compos mentis to string anything together that would make any sense at all to me, never mind you. To be fair, nothing still does, and it's either the side effects of my painkillers or some early sign of dementia that's so efficiently wiping out my ability to think straight while remaining hopeful it's the former rather than the latter. Anyway, feeling now almost duty-bound to continue scribing here I am, back for another bash on the keyboard.

When asked the other day as to whether I had any tattoos, and why not if I didn't, the best and snappiest answer I could give at the moment was for the same reason I wouldn't put stickers all over a Rolls Royce. I absolutely loathe the bloody things, or do I? I don't know, to be honest. I'm somewhere between complete ambivalence to them and putrifying abhorrence. While totally accepting that people have the absolute right to do with their bodies whatever they choose I fail miserably in understanding why anyone would choose to have themselves inked in a major way as some do.

I can understand more fully something small and discreet, but anything that covers a larger area of the body, to me, is incomprehensible, I simply don't get it! Why, why, why?

When I was younger and led a lifestyle that, how can I best put it, maybe awry of normal society, perhaps? Yep, that'll do it, anyway, the point being that tattoos were a bang-to-rights giveaway in making you instantly recognisable to the police that there was no getting away from, no matter how much you tried to alter your appearance, and so tattoos weren't a smart thing to get done. That's part of the reason my skin to this day is tatt free because, in an ironic kind of way, it was tattooed into my subconscious where nothing can be visibly seen to make me identifiable.

In a way, I'm actually glad I was put off the idea as I look back all these years later for aesthetic reasons more than anything else now. While I'm the first to admit that some of the designs I've seen have been absolutely as colourful as they are beautiful, the impression I get, no pun intended, is that people seem to think in the moment when having them done rather than many years further on when the skin loses its tautness and the once pretty colours and design fade into one big blob that looks more like an ink spill on blotting paper, and from what I've seen on older people who had their tattoos done in their twenties, quite frankly a hideous mess of inky nothing on crepe paper-like skin, and as unattractive as anything could possibly be.

I recall once ruining a potential date I was getting on blazing well with until I mentioned that the idea of having ink on my body I would regard as not being an intelligent thing to do and finding myself completely ghosted from that moment forward. I'm still of the same viewpoint even though some people have vociferously pointed out that to them certain tattoos are about memories of certain people, or events, while any realisation at all that both memories and tattoos fade away eventually. While to others there appears to be some kind of subconsciously symbolic, tribal bandwagoning going on whereby in order to be accepted by the tribe they feel compelled to get inked, and the more ink the better because suddenly it becomes addictive.

It wasn't that far back in years when as a photographer, like many others in the profession we wouldn't engage any model with tattoos because the sodding things were an absolute bloody nightmare to photoshop out - especially when there were say, 400 images to edit. For me in particular there was an 'only natural' models standing order I had to comply with at the behest of a particular client, and this meant no tattoos, no boob jobs, other enhancements, or cosmetology treatments of any description, not even a blemish. Yes, natural meant 'natural' and so the job of engaging those who were just right for the role became harder and harder as to see an absolutely beautiful female completely ruin her natural look so that she more resembles someone off a building site is just awful!

Even though I've long since retired from photography the fact remains I still see no long-term benefits of logic in having tattoos at all, regardless of reason, other than for some they simply see a good idea at the time rather than looking years ahead. Whatever, I'm still glad it was a trap I never fell into.

#the s #jexual philanthropist #google #john langley #john langley bristol writer #john langley author #john langley blog #john langley bristol #tattoos #kindle books #amazon books #bookstagram #goodreads

[eliaswasoncehere]

My beloved Elias,

I find myself unable to sleep, solitude and isolation curse me... I only toss and turn in the emptiness of the barren cold from where your warm arms would embrace me once before. I find the only cure from this late night trouble, is that I shall my spill my waking thoughts like ink upon this paper. You never seemed to mind when I rambled, anyway.

My eyes ache from the weight of unshed tears, your absence damns me, but I try to strive with strength. And yet, the torment I've locked within myself has only continued to be cruel. I must remind myself, bear patiently, for I have suffered heavier things. And I should be assured by your promise of return. But still, you are much too far away...

When solitude confines one, they often retreat back to recalling those of fonder times. Shall I tell you, amour, the fondest memory I hold within my heart be only of you? I remember, so clearly, as if I still live within this memory to this day. The day your eyes set upon mine, like a sunset, as the Soleil treads deeper into the sea. The same sea that separates us now. Your eyes so gorgeous, that moment I wondered what they would look like if you fell in love. For truthfully, I dreamed of being the victim to such an enchanting gaze. Then you slipped between the cracks and into my life, like moonlight in a locked church. I can't thank you enough for that. Softly, with hands as gentle as the rain, you intertwined with my heart. You thief... Had I looked after my heart more protectively, would you have still stolen it so gracefully? I do not care, for I am the happiest when with you, and cannot imagine what rotting slum of a emotional place I'd be if not for your sweetness blessing my life.

As they say “A drop of ink, makes a million think” and frankly, I am trapped within my thoughts and considered to share them with you. Adieu, my Apollo, until the sun may rise again and remind me of your shining beauty once more. For I find you must be spiritually related to the sun, tis just like you, a good reminder of you too.

—Forever Yrs, Philip Hamilton-Laurens

My darling,

It seems you have done it again. You have so skillfully left me a breathless and useless lover with your words upon the page. I do not understand why you hate the world so much as to keep your talents between yourself and those you love only. Tis a beautiful and darling gift you have indeed.

On the matter of you calling me a thief, need I remind you that it be you who had so sneakily stole my heart first? I had carefully been glued to my studies of random portraits, attempting to get a few done for my father to inspect when you graced my vision. The way my heart fluttered dangerously in my chest. I had no sense to remain where I were and instead found my heart pulling and yanking me in your direction. I had never been so bold in my life. But I knew, had I ignored this, I would live with the regret of it for the remainder of my existence. The closer I had gotten, the more ill I felt. Your beauty were incomparable to anything I’ve ever seen or painted. I felt as though I were a fool introducing myself to a prince.

Et votre beauté n'a pas de limites. Il n'est ni masculin ni féminin. C'est uniquement vous et moi adorons chaque centimètre gracieux.

You are my moon that brightens the dark. That is so bold in its endeavors and so unafraid to just be. The moon does not have to know everything, because it is everything. You are everything. Never fear that, ma belle âme soeur… Never fear that.

Unconditionally yrs,

Elias

#asks #letters

[kookiecrumb]

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

~

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

#angst #bts #crack fic #for fun #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook x reader smut #kpop #bts au #royalty!au #prince!au #prince!jungkook #forbidden love #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook crack #pining #oneshot #i am actually terrified of posting the oneshot #jungkook has a sweetooth #x reader #bts x reader #body worship kink

[voiceless-terror]

I am so completely enamored with Danny as jons ex and I would be forever in your debt if you finished that

i wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much, its definitely one of my weirder ones xD since im not sure when i'll get around to actually finishing it (if ever) you can have a very rough chunk of it instead. you'll have to forgive any mistakes, im not up to editing it.

In a surprising show of athleticism, Jon ducks under Sasha’s chair before the specter of his past manages to see him.

Sasha swears at the action, backing up in her chair and peering down at Jon in bafflement. “What on Earth are you doing, Jon?”

Instead of answering her question, he backs up even further, tucking his feet out of sight. He thinks Sasha’s umbrella must be under here, and judging from the sharp point currently jabbing at his thigh, he probably broke it. “Is he still there?” he hisses, tilting his head to avoid bashing it into the desk.

“Who?”

“That- that man!”

A pause. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

Jon’s turn to pause. “I suppose you might call him that,” he replies stiffly. And it’s true. The man, from Jon’s brief, panicked glimpses, is at least six foot, with thick, dark hair and a bright grin.

And he looks exactly like Jon’s ex, Danny Stoker.

He’d done an almost comical double-take after a cursory glance; at first he’d thought Danny was the new hire, but this man was more angular, like a sharper, leaner version of his ex. So no, it couldn’t be him.

That didn’t stop him from diving under the nearest object, ergo Sasha’s desk. Not the wisest of decisions, considering his throbbing side, but he’s never been known for grace under pressure.

He’s not exactly sure why this fight or flight mode’s been activated- he and Danny had parted on fairly good terms, each recognizing that although they cared about the other, they simply weren’t compatible in the long term. They’d dated for a little over six months when Jon was a freshman, and he’d fallen hard.

Danny had been his first real relationship, and Jon was shocked that someone like him even looked his way. Impossibly handsome, incredibly fit, desired and envied in equal measure, and he dated scrawny, shy, insecure Jonathan Sims; the rumor mill went wild. They’d met at a party, and not even a good one. In a brief moment of liquid courage, Jon managed to insert himself into a group and fit in one snarky joke that sent Danny into stitches, the rest of the partygoers following his lead. For one second, Jon felt like he truly fit in, like he was someone worth knowing.

Danny had a way of making someone feel special. Big, romantic gestures, surprising him after class, taking him on little expeditions beyond campus. Jon didn’t drive, still doesn’t, and Danny wanted to show him the world outside of their privileged little campus.

But, like all of Jon’s relationships, it came to an end. Jon wasn’t ready for such overwhelming affection (didn’t think he deserved it, quite frankly), and Danny needed someone who could handle his fast-paced lifestyle. Jon was not that man. They broke up amicably, even if Jon shed a few tears in private, saw each other on campus a few times. Danny tried to reach out more than once, just as friends, but Jon’s never been able to handle more than one relationship at a time, and by then he’d met Georgie.

But now it seems the past is unavoidable, and standing near the circulation desk. Well, now walking in his direction, if the steady footsteps were any indication. Jon’s heart begins to hammer in his chest as it hits him that he is, in fact, hiding under a desk because a man who sort of looks like his ex is in his general vicinity. Coward.

“‘Lo!” God, even the voice is similar, if not as deep. “Tim Stoker. Reporting for duty.”

Stoker. Tim Stoker. Jon startles, slamming his head against the desk with a yelp.

Somewhere in his spiraling thoughts and throbbing head he remembers- Danny had a brother. An older brother that he adored. This must be the famous Tim- Danny made him out to be a saint, and though Jon never met him, he felt some fondness via Danny’s descriptions. But Tim’s going to have no fondness for him, especially considering Jon’s current position, hiding in pain under his coworkers desk.

“Pleased to meet you!” Sasha chirps, very clearly amused by the situation. “I’m Sasha James. And this-” she tugs at one of Jon’s legs, dragging him a few inches into sight. Jon buries his head in his hands and wishes he were invisible. “-is Jonathan Sims. We’ll be training you.”

“Excellent.” Tim’s voice holds the same good humor Danny’s always did, and sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest. “Er, you alright down there?”

“Yes,” Jon responds robotically, scrambling to his feet and standing behind Sasha’s chair, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes, lest he be drawn in. “I- uh, lost a pen. P-Probably left it in the copy room, I’ll just be going...there.” With that incredible performance, he fled.

And only tripped once on the way out.

________

So Jon’s kind of cute.

Tim doesn’t normally go for tiny disgruntled academics, but Jonathan Sims is an interesting fellow. He’s got a reputation for being the ‘problem child’ of the Research Department, awkward and prickly and always available with a snide word. He wields his books and files like a little suit of armor, and the only person he’s seen him open up to is Sasha. Besides their little conversations, Jon is all work and no play.

Except with Tim.

Sasha says she’s never seen anything like it, with one of her secret little smiles. Jon’s always staring. Usually, the man can’t hold eye contact to save his life, but he’ll spend full minutes looking at Tim when he thinks he can’t see. The first few times, Tim would turn around and smile, but that practically sent the man into convulsions, dropping his papers and jumping out of sight like a spooked cat. It was funny the first few times, but Tim pitied him enough to ignore it now. He hopes Jon enjoys the view.

God forbid he ask the guy a question. Jon will look around the room, as if waiting for someone else to answer, when it’s clearly directed at him. He’ll blush and stammer his way through every explanation, keeping a wide berth of at least two feet between them. Even when Tim wants him to look at his screen, he’ll squint from far away. Tim starting to think he smells bad, or has some sort of communicable disease unbeknownst to him.

“It’s not that,” Sasha assures him, again with that unreadable smile. “Trust me.”

Time to try something else.

He prints out his latest follow up, a rather elaborate statement regarding mistaken identities and absolutely nothing supernatural. He knows Jon prefers to look at things on paper, as screens ‘trigger his migraines’ if Tim understood his mumbles. Maybe if he can engage with him on familiar territory for the both of them, he’ll be able to hold a conversation. Tim specifically requested his help on this one.

“If you could just look it over, make sure everything’s up to snuff, that’d be great,” Tim says to the top of Jon’s head, as the man refuses to lift his own to meet his gaze. “You know how Dr. Walker is. Always-”

“Finding mistakes where there are none? I’m familiar with her methods,” Jon snorts, and Tim feels like he’s getting somewhere. A whole sentence! With classic Jonathan Sims snark! “I-I can give it a look. I’m rather busy, but -”

“Take your time,” Tim says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I finished a bit early, so I don’t need it for a few days yet. Don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not.” Jon meets his eyes for about ten seconds before ducking his head back down.

Progress!

#tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #jondanny #what a tag i need to use it more often #if people do actually like this i might be tempted to give it another go #i think the outline for it ended up being too long for a week event #so i got lazy and gave up #asks #my writing #danny stoker #jondanny au

[cat-induced-fever-dream]

Acquaintances

Pairing: Wanda x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Description: Wanda meets someone who doesn’t treat her like a villain, but she doesn’t know who you really are.

Notes: I promise it’s fluff and not a trap. Also sorry about my hiatus, I’m just super unmotivated to do anything. So here’s my feeble offering to try and get back into writing.

- - -

Wanda groaned at the sight of a man with a camera. All she wanted was to pop down to the shops, buy some paprika, but alas, even a shopping trip was gold for the paparazzi. Maybe if she hid behind an aisle he would leave. But she heard the door open behind her. Ducking quickly behind a stack of tuna cans, she scanned the rows for the precious package.

She knew she wasn’t the favourite of the public, and the guilt of what she’d done ate her alive every night, but she was sick of being blamed. All she did was try her best, but this was the kind of thanks she got.

She frowned a little when she saw the man round the corner. She steeled herself, not wanting the tears to spring to her eyes. Turning around to face him, she- There was a person talking to him. You had a shopping bag in your hand, so you must have been another customer. Dressed smartly with a blazer, but paired with jeans and sneakers, you looked friendly, but the cold look you gave the man said otherwise. You exchanged words quietly with the reporter, and he seemed to refuse you, turning back to look at her. Realising that this was the perfect stall to get out of the store, she resumed her search. Cumin, Ginger, Paprika! Quickly glancing back to see how long she had, she saw you hand the man a business card as he hurriedly shuffled away.

“Sorry about that,” you turned to her, looking genuinely apologetic.

“Why?” she asked, it coming out harsher than she meant for it to. “It wasn’t even your fault.”

You shrugged. “You don’t deserve it.”

Wanda frowned again at this. She didn’t even know you, but you helped her out, so the least she could do was be polite. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you smiled. The two of you started to walk towards to counter. More like she did and you kind of happened to as well. “What are you cooking with the paprika?”

Sliding the bag to the cashier, she turned to face you properly. “I was making a traditional Sokovian dish.”

“I’m a big fan of trying different cuisines,” you replied, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That sounds delicious.”

Wanda’s not really sure why you’re trying to make conversation, but you didn’t seem to have an agenda, so she indulged you with a response as the two of you walked out of the store. “It is, my mum always had the best recipe.”

“Ah well, my parents weren’t around much, so I can’t say the same,” you laughed, throwing your shopping in the back of what must have been your car.

Wanda hadn’t even realised she had walked with you to your car. That was embarrassing. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I should be going now,” backing away as quickly as she could without making a fool of herself.

“Wait,” you called, “do you need a lift back?”

“You’re a stranger.”

“Well I know your name is Wanda,” you grinned cheekily, opening the passenger door. “And my name is Y/N. Guess we’re not strangers anymore. So, what do you say? It’s the least I could do, with that man bothering you.”

She’s not sure what compelled her to agree, but she found herself sitting in a plush leather seat as you adjusted the rear view mirror. Tapping the dashboard screen, you pulled up a map to Avengers Tower and backed out of the parking lot.

You didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t make conversation, bopping your head gently to whatever pop song was on the radio. Instead she spent the time trying to figure out who you were and why you were being so nice. “It’s rude to stare, you know?” you winked at her.

Wanda felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Wha- No, sorry,” she mumbled. She’d done it again, made herself look dumb. You giggle, returning your eyes to the road. Trying not to stare at you this time, she observed the fancy watch adorning your wrist, and the sleek interior of the car. You must be a businesswoman of some sort, since this clearly wasn’t your average suburban car. But you were wearing jeans. Maybe a lower level employee than?

She sat there musing, until the door suddenly opened. “We’re here,” you smiled, gesturing at the grand tower that was now her home.

Why couldn’t she stop being so awkward? This was the third time. Unbuckling the seatbelt, she stumbled out, clutching the paprika to her chest. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Wanda.” And with a small wave, you hopped back into your car and drove off.

- - -

Heading straight to her room, Wanda abandoned her plans for paprikash. The whole interaction was quite frankly, baffling. No one was ever nice to her, except for the Avengers. But you clearly knew who she was, driving her back to the tower without an address. Tossing her jacket on her bed, she sighed. It’s not like she’d ever see you again. That’s when she noticed the card peeking out from the pocket. There was a phone number printed neatly on it, and a cursive scrawl underneath. “I am actually interested in the dish though. Could I have the name of it?”

She hadn’t exactly interacted with anyone else, so it must’ve been you. Running her thumb over the ink, she was hit with a renewed sense of energy. Grabbing the paprika, she dashed back down the stairs.

- - -

You’re spinning around in your office chair when your phone goes off. Clicking on the message, a small smile makes its way into your face.

Unknown Number: this is the dish i was talking about

Unknown Number: *image*

Unknown Number: it’s paprikash

- - -

“Hey Wanda,” Tony called, a carefully wrapped package in his arms, “this came for you.”

One look at the scarlet wrapping paper, and she knew who it was from. “Thanks Tony,” she said, grabbing it and running to her room.

Setting the package gently on her bed, she untied the ribbon and unfolded the wrapping paper. Nestled in the middle, a box of cookies.

She grinned to herself. Wanda’s been texting you for a couple of months now, and now she could really say that you’re not strangers. She knows that you can’t cook, but you can bake. You’re a businesswoman “of sorts” you say, and that you’re a pretty busy person. But regardless, you hang out with her, chilling in the local coffee shop, going shopping, even just a stroll around the park. She also knows that this happiness she gets when she sees you is definitely not platonic.

Opening the lid, the chocolate aroma wafts into her room. Her favourite of your baked goods. There’s a note tucked into the side of the box, and she delicately pulls it out. “Be my girlfriend?” she read, the handwriting obviously yours. Wait. Be my girlfriend? She sat there dumbly for a couple of seconds before it hit her. You’re asking her to be your girlfriend. Wanda scrambled for her phone, snapping a picture to send to you.

Y/N: those cookies look delicious, who sent them?

The witch rolled eyes at your antics, but played along.

Wanda: idk, but i just got asked out

Y/N: whoaaaa, did you say yes?

Wanda: yes you dumbass

Y/N: okay, under other circumstances that would’ve hurt, but i’m too excited to care right now <3

Wanda: ...

Wanda: did you try to bribe me with cookies?

Y/N: it worked, didn’t it?

Wanda: i can’t believe i actually like you

Y/N: honestly, me too

Y/N: sorry it’s a busy day, but you wanna come over for dinner?

Wanda: sounds good <3

Y/N: i’ll come pick you up, see you then girlfriend

She didn’t want bugs in her room, so Wanda grabbed the box to put in her kitchen cupboard. Balancing a cookie in her mouth, she was about to close the lid, when a hand pinched one. Eyes immediately glowing red, she locked onto Sam as he backed away, half eaten cookie and hands up in surrender.

“Do that again and I will give you nightmares.”

The Falcon whistled lowly. “Okay. Protective over cookies. Got it.”

“There’s cookies?” Bucky asked, strolling in.

“No.”

“Oh okay.”

- - -

The heroes were sprawled on the couches playing a game of UNO when Wanda came down the stairs.

“What are you doing with that hoodie?” Tony asked sharply.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows. “This.. hoodie?” she replied, tugging on the drawstrings of the soft item of company clothing she was wearing.

“Yes! That’s my enemy’s!”

She didn’t really want to get into whatever nonsense the genius was spouting again. “My friend lent it to me.”

“You have friends?” joked Sam.

Steve gave the man a warning look. “It’s good that you’re adjusting to life here.”

“I think the important question here,” Natasha said from her spot, “is where are you going?”

“Dinner,” she replied, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She tried to fight the silly smile that crept into her face whenever she thought about you, but she mustn’t have hid it well enough, since the red headed spy gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

I hate you, she projected.

Nat winked back.

“Based on the way Miss Maximoff keeps anxiously glancing at the door, there is likely to be someone waiting for her,” Vision piped up. “I have searched the Internet databases, and from what I have gathered, your casual outfit means that you are going with someone you are familiar with. The sharing of clothes is usually reserved for close friends or romantic partners only.”

Of course the android had to get involved.

“Your heart rate seems to be speeding up Miss Maximoff. Are you okay?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” Tony asked slowly, “do you have a boyfriend?”

That’s when all hell broke loose.

“Who is he?”

“Is he hot?”

“Where did you meet?”

“How did you even get a boyfriend?”

“Can we meet him?”

“What-“

“Okay,” she groaned. Well it was bound to happen eventually. She just wished she could’ve gotten even a few months without the teasing. “I have a girlfriend, yes she’s hot, yes I’m going to have dinner with her, and I’ll ask about meeting. I’m going to go now.” With that, she stepped into the elevator.

“Don’t think this conversation is over witchy,” called Tony, as the doors slid shut.

- - -

“Hey,” you smiled as she slid into the car. “What took you so long?”

“The Avengers found out.”

You chuckled at that. “What, did they interrogate you or something?”

“Something like that.” She paused. “They want to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“They’re my family, and they’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Cute,” you grinned, “but I don’t know about Tony.”

“Trust me, they’re a mess a lot of the time, but they’re good people.”

You checked through your phone. “I haven’t got anything on around lunch tomorrow. I can come by then, how does that sound?”

“So you’ll come?”

“Anything for my girlfriend.”

- - -

Her green eyes locked onto you amongst the bustle of suits in the lobby.

“Hey.”

You adjusted the grey fabric of your pantsuit. “Hey yourself.”

“Did you wear the suit to impress me?” Wanda asked, delicately tugging on your tie.

“Actually, I’ve got a meeting with the investors later. Gotta make an impression, you know?”

“Well consider me impressed,” she whispered against your ear.

Blushing, you allowed Wanda to lead you to the elevator.

- - -

Clint wasn’t sure what to expect with you. But if Wanda liked you, you were sure to be one of the good sorts. So maybe like a cute girl she met at the cafe or something. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting the confident girl dressed in a suit to step out of the elevator.

All of them were lined up in the common room and he’s pretty sure any normal person would have been intimidated by the sheer amount of Avengers in front of them, but you stepped up to them absolutely unfazed.

“Mr Rogers,” you offered your hand to shake, “a pleasure to meet you.”

Steve was expecting to have to take the lead with introductions, but here you seemed to be handling yourself fine. “Likewise.”

“Is Mr Stark here today?” you asked him.

“He’s a bit busy at the mo-“

Clattering and a string of curses interrupted him. And of course, the man himself stepped into the room, Iron Man debris in his wake.

“Tony,” Steve scolded.

“What? Did you think I’d miss meeting the girl who stole the heart of our cold antisocial emo?”

Wanda tossed a couch pillow at him, but he brushed it off.

“Tony Stark,” he declared.

You shook his hand politely. “I know who you are Mr Stark.”

“And you are...?”

“Y/N L/N.”

The genius might have been singed from his armour, but the moment that name fell from your lips, he yanked his hand away, as if he was burned.

“L/N. As in L/N Corporations?”

“That’s me.”

Abruptly he turned to Wanda. “Do you know who this is?” he hissed. “The greatest rival to Stark Industries. I thought you were introducing your girlfriend.”

You gave him a winning smile. “I am her girlfriend Mr Stark. And you may have made me your rival, but I can assure you that you are not mine.”

Sam snorted.

“What are you doing here then? Are you here to try and steal data? You can’t...”

You paid him no mind as you winked at Sam. Spotting the metal arm, your eyes widened. “You must be Bucky, right? Princess Shuri told me she’d been working on some vibranium projects. I’d love to take a closer look some other day if you don’t mind?”

“How do you know Shuri?” Stark spluttered.

“You think that she only talks to rich boys who need her help? Sorry to burst your bubble.”

Nat couldn’t help but smirk at this.

“Oh and I’ve actually been working on some prototype Widow Bites as a bit of a free time project,” you added. “If you’re interested, your opinion on usage would really help me to refine them.”

“Of course.”

“Traitor,” Tony glared.

It’s at this point your phone began to ring. Glancing down, you offered a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve really got to take this.” You turned to face the wall as your friendly tone turned professional.

The Avengers huddled together as your call went on.

“Is she using you for information?” Tony scowled.

Wanda scowled back. “She’s my girlfriend Stark. Not everything is about you.”

He looked as if he was going to say more, but Steve interrupted.

“Look Tony, she seemed like a perfectly lovely girl.”

“Yeah I like her,” added Sam. “She can keep your ego in check.”

“If Wanda likes her, I’m fine with it too.” Clint said.

Wanda gave him a thankful look.

A cough came awkwardly behind them.

“I really hate to cut this short everyone, but something’s come up back at the office. Investors are a pain.”

“Yeah go on back to your investors then,” spat Tony.

“Wow” you drawled, heading back to the elevator, “is the rich card the only thing you can play Stark?”

The light on the wall indicated that the cab had arrived, and you stepped inside the carriage which would take you back down, as Peter stepped out.

“Oh hey Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I was just leaving Pete, but swing by later, alright?”

“You know it.”

“Oh and I heard you liked the hoodie I gave Wanda, Mr Stark,” you called. “I can grab you one as well, since it’s my company. But I really do gotta run now. Nice to meet you all!” The metal doors slid shut on your grinning face.

There was a silence, before Tony turned on his protégée. “How the hell are you on a first name business with her?”

“We’re friends?” Peter offered.

“Friends?”

“She went to college with me. She was super smart and we hung out and stuff. You know, what friends usually do.”

Squirming under his mentor’s gaze, he continued. “She was too smart for college though, so she dropped out and started her company. It didn’t mean we stopped being friends though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Underoos?”

“She figured you might overreact, especially with the web sho-“ The boy’s eyes widened, and he made a mad dash for the stairs.

But Tony grabbed his wrist. “What were you saying?”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “She helped me out with my web shooters in college, and since then, she’s been developing them with me.”

“What?”

“She knows I’m Spider-Man and I work with her on my tech,” he said slowly.

The man surveyed his teammates, making deliberate eye contact with each and every one of them. “Traitors, the lot of you,” he huffed.

“I mean you gotta admit it,” laughed Sam. “She’s college age, and built an empire to rival you. Not to mention that she’s pretty, smart, has better PR and actual time management skills-“

“Okay I get it,” the genius cut him off.

“Don’t be upset,” Clint smirked, “you can’t lose if you’re not her competition.”

Tony stomped off.

“Don’t worry about him, he’ll come around,” Steve said gently, nodding at Wanda who was fiddling anxiously with her rings.

“She was cool,” added Nat. “Tony can be a pain in the ass, but he knows she’s a good person.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

<3: i’d say that went pretty well

Wanda: cannot believe you didn’t tell me

<3: i’m really sorry babe, please don’t hate me

Wanda: i could never

<3: just didn’t want him to stop you from fraternising with the enemy or whatever

Wanda: i’d break the rules for you any day

<3: how romantic

<3: so miss rebel, you coming over tonight?

Wanda: depends if you’re still wearing the suit

<3: anything for you ;)

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #marvel #mcu

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #cult girl #tw abortion #tw pregnancy #accidental pregnancy

[carriagelamp]

Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

#aardman animation #shaun the sheep #lumberjanes #kid paddle #asterix #the last firehawk #hunger pangs: true love bites #marian engel #bear #canadian literature #canlit #queer lit #book review #book reviews #chatter

[jamestrmtx]

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Act Two | Down to Earth

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"What are you standing there alone for, (Y/N)? Come sit with me!"

While you expect Juno would rather have lunch with people she already knows well, you see her stand up from her seat and approach your side when she spots you nearby. She holds the tray firm in one hand and waves with the other. In response, you smile and grab your own tray tight before following her, all while ignoring the ever-growing feeling of everyone's eyes on you, regardless of almost all the students around being too busy eating, talking, and walking to notice your presence. So far, and -- close to what you expected -- you've only talked with the wolf and the dog; the latter you hadn't even come across with since yesterday afternoon. Truth be told, you want to take up his offer and knock at the door of his dorm, but more than one reason restrains you from doing it.

First, you'd only known him for a day, and even if you really did only need to ask him more about the school, you couldn't gather sufficient courage to do it. Second, you didn't want to risk making your parents worry by telling them the very first thing you'd done was run off to the boys' dorm without a care in the world. Third and most important of all right now, you didn't know how to keep up a normal conversation with Juno without worrying about your word choice every few seconds, so merely thinking of doing the same with Jack made you retreat on the idea without thinking it twice. Having to share a room with someone else and the impending need to form small talk and prevent yourself from seeming rude or awkward was already draining enough -- mentally, most of all. You're aware you're far from prepared to tackle any other, larger issues without having an internal meltdown over them, so it's best to set some limits for the moment being; perhaps eventually, you could handle a bigger crowd, but today's not that day.

Being homeschooled weights more as a con the more hours you spend at this school. Not only do you have a hard time being social and getting adjusted to such a large campus, but you barely have any knowledge of the relationship between carnivores, herbivores, and those in-between. If you didn't wish to be classified as ignorant or naïve, you would soon need to ask either Juno or Jack to tell you where the library is. Starting off with some basic research is about the least you can do to break out of that shell -- once and for all.

"...Earth to lamb?"

You flinch and almost topple the juice box on your tray. 

It takes you a second to process that you've already made it to a table, and a few more to acknowledge Juno's now sitting down --  and with an empty chair waiting across from her, too.

"Sorry," you say, mouth and ears drooping just as much as your courage. Your head spins as you rush to sit down and shrink away in your seat, avoiding eye contact with her by all means possible. Then, you take your drink, open it, and sip some of it, hoping to ease the tension out of you. "I keep... spacing out lately."

Juno smiles and tilts her head to the side, while her ears perk and her gaze lights up. Her eyes are intent on you, and these carry the same brightness as when she talked with you about love. "Someone on your mind?" She looks behind her -- as if expecting to see your source of interest from close by; her smile remains intact as she goes back to looking at you. "Is it Jack?" she asks, winking. "You looked like you were getting along pretty well with him yesterday."

You smile back, though you still end up shaking your head to let her know otherwise. Having a crush on someone so quick and suddenly was unlikely for you, but the reminder of how passionate she seemed about this particular subject yesterday makes you believe she's the type to fall fast and love lavishly. You fork some of the salad on your tray and toy with it for a moment, mind yet to return from its journey as you consider her words and just how different your view on love is when compared to hers. "I was thinking of him, but not like that." You take in some air and brace yourself for any incoming questions. "I was actually wondering if… if you knew where the library is? I know he offered to help, but-"

"So there is something going on with you!" The wolf interrupts you with her excitement and stands up from her seat. Her gaze is now as wide as the smile on her face, and her energy almost rubs off on you. She places her hands on the table, leans in, and suspends herself over it. "Was it love at first sight? Don't skim on the details, (Y/N)!"

You scratch your throat and prepare yourself with a deep breath, at a dire need to tell her the truth. 

"Ah, n- no." You set the fork down and look up to meet with her eyes. The desire to clear things up grows stronger, and you can't ignore it for much longer. "I just want to make friends, but I'm not sure I'll be too successful in that, considering how… who I am."

Juno's excitement falls. Her gaze knits as she sits back down, and a frown replaces her smile, overpowering her previous attitude entirely. "What do you mean?"

You gather wit to be blunt, not wanting to sugarcoat how you feel about yourself and this recent change. "Frankly, I'm…" Your words trail off and you hesitate with a deep breath in, along with one out. "I feel I'm too... ignorant to understand how to get along better with others at this school." Hunger stays absent -- even when you stare down at your plate and breathe in its scent. Your confidence from yesterday proves to be little and outright superficial with how different you feel today, reaching towards a level of self-consciousness you haven't experienced since your early teens. "I only ever went to kindergarten, and the rest of my years were taught at home." You grab the juice box and drink from it in an attempt at finding your appetite again. When you gulp, it feels worse than before. Nausea arrives with how much you dwell over a single topic. "To be honest, It… It surprised me when I noticed I'd be staying in the same dorm as you. Jack heard me say something… rude about it, though I'm not sure if you heard me, too."

"Oh, I heard you," Juno replies, a laugh leaving her mouth. She takes a bite from her food before continuing with, "But I pretended not to." 

"Why would you do that?" you ask, now your turn to frown. "You were so close by when I yelled that…" Your face turns hot the longer you think about that memory. "It was rude of me. A terrible first impression, that's for sure!"

A grin forms on her face, though she doesn't say anything yet. Rather, she takes another bite off her meal, almost emptying the plate in the process. How fast she eats prompts you to start eating from your tray, against wasting any food and risking the chances of feeling hungry by your next class. "Maybe it was, but I wanted to see if you would bring it up someday." She sets the cutlery down and glances behind you, grin growing. "And you did," she adds, words as confident as you wish you could be. "Much earlier than I thought you would." Juno gazes behind you again; her tail wags and her eyes spark with what looks to be mischief. "Look behind you!"

You do as suggested and almost end up falling from your seat when you come face-to-face with Jack, his knees currently bent to match with your sitting height. His snout is nearly close enough to brush with yours, and that same excitement and joy from yesterday remains in his stance. "How's your first day going?" he asks, tail wagging at a similar pace to Juno's, although his smile proves to be more genuine rather than teasing. "It's nice to see you making friends already!" His eyes shift towards the wolf and turn back to you once more. Then, a slip of paper is offered out to you, this one folded neat and compact for you to carry. "Here's my number, in case you ever want to hang out."

"Being bold again, aren't you, Jack?"

His hold on the paper stays even as you take it; a hint of embarrassment shows up on his cheeks when he looks at Juno. Her comment -- slowly, but surely -- dawns on him and leads to him staying frozen in that same spot for a while. "It's not like that!" Jack exclaims, snapping out of it. He finally lets go of it to stand up straight and meet the wolf with a flustered gaze.

Juno, on the other hand, laughs it out with just as much glee as the first time "Sure, it's not," she replies, giggling. Her teasing nature returns in an instant, hardly giving him a chance to recover from the previous blow. "First, you invite her to your place, and then you give her your number, too? I'm the person you can least hide these things from."

That's enough for her to shut his mouth.

Jack's forced to find a distraction by facing you again, with a less confident look now present in his eyes. "Think we could talk later? I'm meeting up with some friends today." He stops for a second; fluster falls from his face as a cheery expression makes its return. "And maybe I can introduce you to some of them, too. I'm sure they'd like to meet someone new!" He takes a final glance at the paper before leaving the table, an act done while avoiding Juno's gaze from all angles. 

"Y- You can still keep that, by the way."

With that last, stuttered sentence, he runs off -- but not before waving goodbye. 

You wave back and watch as he disappears from your sight, leaving you alone with Juno once more, who smiles in response.

"So... Friends, huh?" she jokes, letting out a laugh.

Your tray almost ends up on the floor when she says that, hands shaking to the point where you can't bring much control over them anymore. 

While you're aware she's not being serious and that it's all done in good fun, you can't help dwelling too much on whether you're supposed to be here, and if someone like you would only cause more trouble to the school and all its people.  

"I'll take your word for it, (Y/N)."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Updates will be weekly on Mondays from here on out!

#various x reader #legoshi x reader #legosi x reader #haru x reader #jack x reader #juno x reader #rouis x reader #louis x reader #beastars x reader #female reader #sheep reader #slow burn #romance #mystery #thriller #lgbt #lgbt themes #long fic