for two weeks every four months i become math’s biggest hater, and for the rest of the time im just an average hater (very sad and frustrated)

When it comes to your writing how do you see the differences between the reboot interpretation of Dante and Vergil versus their classic counterparts? What parts stick out to you as similar or as different?

So, I'm in the minority camp that thinks Ninja Theory did kind of an interesting thing when they opted to switch storylines and birth order (for whatever that's worth with identical twins) between Dante and Vergil in the reboot.

I know a lot of people hate the idea of Vergil being the "little brother" in the equation and thought it made no sense and was a meaningless change, and I get where they're coming from, because it probably was - what I mean is, it likely wasn't intentional on NT's part, for any other reason than an attempt to instead make Dante the "cool older brother" and to differentiate themselves in one more way from OG DMC.

But what's interesting about both the shift in birth order and the storyline swap is that rather than undermining their innate characters, it actually reinforced them, and proved that no matter the formative circumstances, Dante will act like Dante and Vergil will act like Vergil:

Dante, whether he's the one protected by Eva or disenfranchised from society and family, will become secretly wounded, insouciant, irreverent, sardonic, flippant and cynical. He will be in denial about the true danger posed by Mundus, and determined to avoid his father's legacy, but reluctantly protect humanity when called upon - though not for free, of course. The toilets need flushing.

Vergil, whether he comes from rubble or privilege, will always be ambitious, idealistic striving, driven, calculating but rash, with the overconfidence of youth and a reach exceeding his grasp. He will have an Icarusian fall, and ultimately a phoenix-like redemption. (We presume a DmC sequel would/have follow(ed) the same reconciliation trajectory, because what else would make sense/serve the story?)

It also rather neatly answers and dovetails with the retroactive rhetorical question classic Vergil asks himself at the top of the Qliphoth, whether things would have been different if he'd had Dante's life, and Dante had his.

And the answer we already have from reboot is, no, not really. The outcome could only have been different if the individuals involved were totally different people - but their core character traits, I think, stay true and remain intact in both versions.

Still, obviously there are variations in character within those greater macro aspects, things that make the expression of these personality traits different, which we can attribute to formative experience, and the swapped backstory.

For instance, Classic Dante hides his profound psychological damage by being a party guy and a rock n' roll rodeo clown whereas DmC Dante wears his inside out; we can see his sullen punk-rock defensiveness, his bitterness, and we do not doubt his damage for a minute. Being the disenfranchised one has left its mark on him, and he has no ability or willingness to mask his trauma. Both keep others at arms' length, but ironically, ReDante actually is more receptive to intimacy and connection, possibly because he doesn't have a false front, or a whole circus-like façade, just a default defensive stance he holds as a last resort, after being embattled his entire life. He has been given the classic Vergil backstory, and while he becomes similarly defensive and embittered, he reacts like Dante, not classic Vergil.

Neither Dante is ever canonically shown as having any particular interest in humans or humanity as a whole, so much as a keen interest in killing demons (which is why the ending fraternal conflict of reboot rings so false, non sequitur and hollow). Both shrug off human collateral damage, and if classic Dante is ever bothered by the mass casualties incurred in the raising of the Qliphoth, he never mentions it as he trips over their bodies to run to his brother. ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Of the two, I think Vergil is the more different, with more personality contrast between interpretations - though his core traits remain: curiosity, intrepidity, enthusiasm, perfectionism, impulsivity, absolutism. With the strife removed from his life, Vergil is able to be emotionally open, to express his love for his brother, and his ambition comes from a proactive place instead of a reactive one.

However, like Dante, all his youthful flaws remain intact. He will always be the one who falls - and Dante will always be the one who fails to act at the crucial moment. The tragedy is thus complete.

The greatest difference, I think, is that classic Vergil has even less use for humans than Dante, whereas ReVergil is arguably the only one who actually has any appreciation for humanity as a class (even if he regards them as lesser beings) - which actually puts him more in line with classic Sparda, ironically, than anyone else. Reboot Sparda is never shown as having any particular interest in humans or their fate, and he and Eva are essentially depicted as just hiding out in the human world like it's witness protection.

That said, I'm sure I'm missing something, so I'm actually interested in hearing other people's opinions on this.

Why I like you...

Sim Jaeyun (Enhypen) x OC | Oneshot | Drabbles

Are you giving up and letting go for the right reasons?

18 months and counting, that's how long I've been in this relationship, but I've been thinking about ending it today.

Yes, there's no perfect relationship that exists, but the one I'm in right now is not something one would want, not in this lifetime.

Sim Jaeyun, or Jake and I met when we shared a class in Differential Equations in sophomore year. He's not someone whom I see myself dating since I have my eyes set on his friend, Park Jongseong.

When he invited me to go to a café to go through the week's lesson, I instantly agreed, because I needed help, and the guy was smart, like super smart.

Jake was hilarous and I never thought that we'd have so much in common, and he's really sweet! He made me feel comfortable and safe. He always invited me to go somewhere after class with the excuse of reviewing the lessons. We actually did, and then did something fun each time, our so-called dates were never redundant. And just a few weeks after, he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I instantly said yes!

Maybe because we became busy a year after into the relationship, it started to feel dry, noncommittal and stagnant. The thought of breaking up with him became apparent, and yet I couldn't tell him, I didn't have the heart to, plus he didn't do anything wrong.

The 'what if I was single' thought had been haunting me, I feel like the responsibility of being his girlfriend is too much to handle, I admit that I couldn't handle Sim Jaeyun.

As we speak, I'm making my way to their shared apartment. I needed to tell him this in person, I can't be the bigger asshole just by breaking up with him through text.

But truth be told, there's also this lingering feeling that maybe I don't want to break up with him or is it just knowing that I'd be the bad guy to end a perfectly good relationship.

I made it a point to list the reasons why I think this relationship is better to be nonexistent, I wanted to be sure.

One - he annoys the hell out of me. I’m not a morning person per se, and he calls me every damn morning just to be sure that I’m already up and ready to go to school. He even acts like I’m a damned kid that he has to take care of. Please, I have my own life and I know very well that I can take care of myself. Is it even right that the first voice I hear in the morning is always his?!

Two - he’s not serious. Every time I want to talk about something important or something that is really grave, he’d always, ALWAYS make fun of the situation, or me. He says I’m taking things way seriously and I should lighten up a bit. I get that he’s playful and lighthearted, but he should know when to be serious.

Three - he never backs me up! I swear, he just doesn’t. Every time I had to face my biggest fear – which is speaking in front of thousands, or fine, hundreds of people, I freak out… if not, I freeze and end up humiliating myself. But since we started dating, things started to be different, as he acts like it’s not a big deal, I end up getting so annoyed that I forget how I did with the speech.

Four - his friends are weird! I know I shouldn’t involve his friends, but it’s just too much! There’s Sunghoon who’s also one of his roommates, and he’s like Jake’s go to person, but whenever those two are together, you can expect that nothing good will come out of it. There’s also Sunoo who has this unhealthy fixation for all things cute, and Jungwon who always starts arguments because he’s just too tactless for his own good. Niki who’s so clingy and couldn’t do anything without Jake, Jongseong and his unmatched temper, and Heeseung who can’t keep a secret to save his life – HIS FRIENDS ARE TOO MUCH! Yet, I don’t have the heart to tell him to stay away from them, they make him happy...

Five - I hate his smile. Yep, I hate it. Before it was one of the reasons why I fell for him, but now he uses that smile to woo me, I sometimes have this urge to wipe it off his face, maybe because it makes you feel weak and helpless. If he smiles at you, you wouldn’t have the ability to say no, and it’s true – especially when he smirks, God that lovely smirk!

The elevator dinged and it broke my thoughts. I was a nervous wreck as I stepped out to the hallway and made my way to their dorm.

I stopped for a few seconds before ringing their doorbell, I took a deep breath before knocking. This is it.

Jake was the one who opened the door, and he wasn’t smiling either. “Do you want to come in? Is there something wrong Hana?” he asked, for some reason, he too looked tense.

I shook my head, he took it as a sign and stepped out the door, lightly closing it behind him… I have to say it. I called him earlier and told him that we needed to talk, I don’t know if he had an idea though.

But then I looked into his eyes and analyzed his worried expression, all the reasons why I hated him started to flood me.

He annoys the hell out of me because of his morning calls – this makes me smile every morning. This makes me look forward to my day. The exchange of sweet nothings is what fuels me to do things with a smile.

On him not being serious, if he didn’t make me laugh the first time we talked, I wouldn’t even be interested in him. Plus, the way he handled the relationship was fun. Up until now, I wouldn’t even realize that we’ve been together for over year, because time passes by quickly when I’m with him. He makes me enjoy life more, regardless of the fact that he’s not taking things seriously, I know he still listens to me, and he’s never let me handle any of those problems alone.

This is like a wakeup call; how can I even think that he’s not supporting me? He had always been there for me; Jake is the reason why my confidence grew. The way he cheers me on to do things that I never once dreamt of doing, I’ve succeeded because I knew I had him with me, and I felt so powerful and so self-assured, because at the back of my head, I know he’s there and he will always be there.

I’ve always loved his friends, and I know they are an odd bunch, but everyone has their own thing, my friends are not so different. And why do I even question their existence? They love my Jake like family, like a brother, they do take care of each other – I should be thankful for that!

Lastly, his smile – that one thing that made me fall for him…

There’s no way to fool myself, I love him, and it’s been growing ever since, I never have loved him less. The problem was just me; I am scared to be contented. A lot has changed in me because of him.

I looked at him again, anxiety is still obvious on his face. Who am I kidding, I could never break up with him, I could never hurt him – I love this guy to death, even if he’s full of imperfections, he’s still Sim Jaeyun, my Jake. I love him because he’s he.

He pursed his lips together and again, it showed his almost smile, which I couldn’t resist – I flung my arms around him and hugged him, I felt his whole body start to relax.

“Babe… I had this crazy thought that you would break up with me…” he said and returned my hug.

I hid my smile… Jake, you never knew what hell I’ve been going through since last night thinking that I’m going to end things with you today.

“I’m just glad that it’s not that…” he continued and laughed.

“Don’t worry, there’s no way I’m leaving you… I love you!”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

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Meanwhile, on Twitter...

This person makes a thread that starts out like this...

There is a half-reasonable point to be made in the idea that not everything has to be worked out in meticulous detail and it can sometimes be cool to have mythic mystery. I would say it's fine if people also want to enjoy working out the details too, and annoying if they use details to tell me I'm wrong to enjoy mysterious myth - if that were all they were saying, we could part in peace, but no. This guy specifically hates fandom and equates all fandom with that kind of fact collecting fandom.

A gem from further down the thread:

And the weird thing is that there are a bunch of people who are *ragingly* on his side. Replies to the QT I saw on my TL:

They... they really hate fans... wtf wtf.

And no, I'm not linking to it, because these guys seem to be courting the drama, but I am *mystified* at this amount of rage for people enjoying culture. What do they think culture is *for*?

Part of it is they seem to think fandom is turning art into a product, and there is a hate on for 'content creators' that I have seem elsewhere. I, as a fucking Content Designer, really need people to understand that content creators are just *creatives* who are trying to earn money in order to LIVE. Most of the anger seems to be directed at YouTubers making videos that pick over details, but honestly... so?

If that's not for you, don't watch it!

One person blamed fandom lore for the downfall of horror as a genre. Oh my goodness. Like, first off, as someone who rewatched The Terror with a friend recently, I want to tell you that horror is alive and well and doing interesting things. But also... you cannot blame *fans* for what *producers* demand. I promise you that a YouTuber trying to make Tom Bombadil make sense (another complaint) is not driving the kind of films and TV series that are being made. There are issues with the limitations writers have to work within in order to get commissioned (and recommissioned) right now, but they are all coming from executives trying to squeeze every last dollar out of content without, for instance, paying residuals to writers and actors.

It's not because fans love the stories so much they want to know everything about them and even expand upon them.

It just strikes me as so fundamentally opposed to that Henry Jenkins quote that's been doing the rounds on Tumblr again:

Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of the folk.

And it's so bitterly ironic, because their argument stems from a desire for stories to be *more* myth-like.

Like... you think the Iliad be out there listing all Agamemnon's ships and no one in Ancient Greece was geeking out over it? Calculating how many sailors that meant etc etc? The Iliad is a text that reached us because people fuckin' MEMORISED the lore.

Is it my kind of lore? No. I can't be bothered to learn Dragon Age dates and I didn't even realise the revolution in Detroit: Become Human was all meant to happen within a week because Oh My God, why would I care? But it's OK that other people do.

Our brains all work differently, and that makes us useful and fun to be around in different ways.

I'm also just thoroughly confused that these people don't see themselves as fans, or differentiate their kind of fandom from "fans". Like... grow up. You're engaging in fandom right now. You're being nasty about it, but you only care because you like stories too.

There isn't a single right way to like stories. No story is even the *same* story twice, because in each reading the reader brings different things to it and takes different things away.

Fandom is glorious in its multitudes. Let people who geek out in a different way to you have their own corner and get on with it.

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k 

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

it’s freedom if you could make me forget forever;

“Make me,” says Chanon. 

Pom blinks at him from where he’s getting another blanket out of the cupboard. “Make you what?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

Chanon swallows, crosses the room in a swift sweep, and reaches down to press Pom’s hand to his forehead. He stares into his eyes, holding his gaze all those years ago when he’d done the same thing as an experiment. “Make me forget,” he says. 

They’d been in the high-rise office of the ministry when Chanon had said the same thing. For a moment, the world was shortened down to just the two of them, heavy silence hanging between them as Chanon had let all of the anger and bitterness of the last decade wash over him. He hadn’t registered the seventeen year old across from them pressing the heels of his hands into his tired eyes to quell his tears, the weight of the world on his shoulders as he tried to fix yet another relationship. He hadn’t registered the man who had made his life a living hell, who he knew in his right mind was the one to blame for all of this, for the years spent roaming around Bangkok aimlessly. Instead, he’d had eyes for Pom, and a hand full of needle. 

Chanon had never been one to let emotions get in the way of things. For a second, he slipped, he jammed the needle into the side of Pom’s neck - even though he knew it was a fake, knew he had to go ahead with his plan, knew the equations were there for a reason - and blown up at him. He’d regained his mind, a little too late, and made it out of there.

He hadn’t meant to end up here.

Pom wrenches his hand away from Chanon’s forehead like it burns. “Don’t be an idiot, Non,” he snaps, pulling a blanket out with much more force than needed.

Chanon scoffs, leaning against the cupboard. “You don’t have anything nicer to say to me?” he asks. “You haven’t seen me in ten years.”

“You punched me,” says Pom, rolling his eyes. 

“You deserved it,” says Chanon, sighing as he slumps against the floor. “Does it hurt?”

Pom brushes at his lip, wincing. “Of course it hurts,” he says, and then presses a hand to his neck. “It was the fake, right?”

“No matter how angry I am at you,” says Chanon, swallowing, “I wouldn’t stab you with the virus.”

Pom shakes his head. “You’ve changed.”

“I wonder whose fault that is,” says Chanon, accepting the blanket from Pom. It’s too late now to leave, and he’s still a wanted man. Hide where it’s most obvious, they say. 

 “If you hate me so much, why’d you come here then?” asks Pom, raising an eyebrow, and he has a point. Chanon turns away from him, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, a gesture much like Pang’s. “Don’t be a child, Non.”

Chanon knows Pom’s address. Knows it from when he regained his memories, the first one he looked up. He’s been here many times, just sneaking a glance of Pom when he brings in the groceries, comes home from work late, goes out for a jog. “I needed you to make me forget,” he says in the end, a hand wrapping around Pom’s wrist. “You can again, couldn’t you?”

Pom shakes his wrist out of his grip. “Why do you want to forget so badly?” he says, like he actually wants to know. Chanon thinks he misplaces him for a second - like they’re back in high school, and Pom is just asking him about one of his projects again.

He shakes himself out of the choking memory. Perhaps it was a dream. He finds it difficult to differentiate the two these days.

“Just make me, will you?” he says, his tone taking on a pleading edge. “You... I’m not free. Of you.”

Pom scoffs, shaking his head. “You think you’re the only one who has to deal with those memories?” he says, sounding so bitter it cuts clear through Chanon. “You think you’re the only one... I don’t sleep because of them.”

Chanon inhales sharply. “Then make yourself forget again. Make me forget. I can’t take it. I can’t - take knowing that I was once fine. I once had you. Pom, you seriously call this freedom? If you cared - one bit about me... you’d make me forget forever. So I’d never have to think about you calling me Non like everything’s fine. So I’d never have to think about a time where I gave everything up for you.”

“No,” says Pom, clear-cut. He’s not looking at him. He’s not begging, either. “I’m not doing that - not again.” He holds a pillow out to him. “When I regained my memories, I didn’t just regain the pain. I didn’t just regain the part where I - betrayed you. I regained the parts where we just... were. On the floor of the physics classroom trying to figure out our potentials, on the rooftop eating together, the summers spent at each other’s houses. Don’t tell me you don’t remember that.”

Chanon remembers. The first time Pom called him Non, the first time they’d held hands quietly, shortly before everything fell sideways and Chanon got the painful blip in his memory, the first time they’d watched the stars together. Every single minute, the ones he was always scared of forgetting, the ones that made them them - stuck in his memory. On a mocking loop. 

Do you see it, Chanon? How after all this time, you still love him? How after all this time, you still can’t say it?

“That’s why I’m asking you to make me forget forever,” he says.

When he looks up, Pom’s eyes are shining. He presses the pillow into his arms. “Go to sleep,” he says, nodding at the bed they’re going to share. Pom still needs a glass of milk before bed. Chanon knows this. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

“And then?” asks Chanon, and a hint of a tired smile builds up at the corner of Pom’s lips.

“And then we’ll see,” he says, his hand moving to lightly rest on his arm. “Tomorrow’s a new day. Just - trust me.”

Chanon nods, the words failing him, and clutches the pillow tight to his chest. Even with the four walls of Pom’s apartment closing in on around him, after all these years - it still begins to feel like freedom.

Sebastian Stan is not 20. He’s almost 40. Mid life crisis usually occurs between 35 and 55. To say he’s going through one is not a far stretch. I think you are misunderstanding, or at least confusing the two groups of people who are saying he’s going through a mid life crisis. There’s the one half you’re probably talking about which are the ones who say he’s going through one because of him being in a relationship etc. Then there’s the other ones like me who thinks he’s going through one because I do think he is losing his mind, or at least has been for the last year or two. He acts like a twelve year old in a 38 year old’s body. He is immature and sour and does strange things like make childish videos singing hungry eyes and then posts another video drinking wine while looking at his ex- Leighton. I do think he is having a mid life crisis and to say he’s too young to have one is fucking bullshit. Don’t forget this is the same guy who also has two therapists. Learn to differentiate the two groups of people- the ones that say he is having a mid life crisis because they hate Alejandra and thinks it’s fake and the other ones who thinks it’s real and is happy he’s in love but thinks that he’s still acting like a fucking ass weirdo who needs help. NOT because of Ale, but because it’s fucking Sebastian fucking Stan.

Lady Danger - We’re almost all in the age range of someone who could have a mid life crisis. I think we can tell the fucking difference.

Equating someone in their late 30s who has a therapist and doesn’t give AF what fans have to say with someone in crisis is a huge leap.

Ruby Woo -

I like how they think they know enough about this dude to notice a change for the last two years.

Vamp - I'd say it's more like a pandemic introspection....we're all going through that

Ruby Woo - They know what he wanted them to know, point blank. If you haven't figured that out anon, your point is moot.

Vamp - Honestly I just think he's decided to live his life out loud and not give a fuck.

Le Chef - why are you thinking about this so hard?

No really. Why are they thinking about this so hard? Do you analyze people you bump into at wawas like this?

That man is as known to you as the work mate at your job in the cubicle across from you. You know as much abt work mate as what they give you at the water cooler. They may be a whole other person outside of work.

Cosmic - They do not know. All they have are opinions. Period. It is time they admit it.

Vamp - Why is everyone concerned all of a sudden by his dorkiness in that video? Where was all of that concern during the OMM era?

Le Chef - Bc it was cute when he wasn't directing it at someone specific and they could live vicariously through it.

Vamp - All I've heard this past year is how "we want our dorky Seb back". Bitch where did he go....he's been like this for forever.

Le Chef - Sebastian acted no diff in that video than anything else he's done. The only difference is he's openly claiming this girlfriend.

Heroine - He’s immature? He’s a man. A white man. (ETA: They get to be kids until they’re 57.) On top of that, he’s always been fucking weird. Where tf have you been to not notice this?

Le Chef - I think this fandom forgot how they treated Tito's up until they broke up.

Vamp - He has a weird, dark sense of humour. It's nothing new. If he had posted that video with a donut on that cellphone, fans would be submitting it for Oscar consideration.

Heroine - He’d been a genius and sooooooo funny. FOH with this fake bs.

Gemini - Now they want to focus on his weirdness??

Heroine - Don’t come on our blog telling us wtf we know or should think. We know what tf we said. The only people who think 35 is middle aged are people under 25 & I’m tired.

HiDrama - Seb to his therapist

Actually the more they call him immature the more I think THEY are the immatures ones in this scenario.

Heroine - They think adults enjoying “youthful” things is immature. They think we turn 27 and suddenly only like foreign documentaries and discussing mortgage loans. A lot of Zoomers think millennials and younger Gen Xers are immature. Everything is for the young & nothing for the old heads.

Le Chef - Its gonna be a weird feeling when a lot of these ppl get past the age of 32 and realize life really doesn't feel that different.

HiDrama - We all don't KNOW-know this man. We all here to have fun and there's someone always killing the buzz with nonsense. Debbie Downers - Sebbie Saddies!

Life’s a Beach

Prompt: I Got out early Pairing: Spooky x Reader Requested: NO Warning/ notes: My first writing post. This has been in my head since season one. Had to let it out. Much more fluff than smut. You’ve been warned. Word Count: 1286 Summary: A simple explanation to what happened when Oscar got out and how he ended up at the beach.

It was 10:30 on a Monday morning; You were sitting around the kitchen table trying to study as your grandmother cackle annoyingly in the living room- just six feet away and far to close to allow you to concentrate- at the television from something stupid someone did on family feud. “ah ha ha ha” she continued. You poked your head into the other room and yelled over the show “HEYY GRAN CAN YOU”- DING DONG- The doorbell rang. You walked in and picked up the remote from where it lied next to her on the couch turning the volume down “-Keep it down please, please, please gran I’m trying to study”. You begged as you turned to go answer the door. You began to open the door at the same time your grandmother began to  yell causing you to turn around without even looking at who interrupted your morning “what you need to do is get you a nice young thing to help release all that stress you got backed up in you.” Your grandmother finished. “The only thing that is going to release my stress is understanding differential equations” you answered exhaustedly. You turned back to the doorway to see a body you hadn’t seen in a long time as your eyes slowly moved up the torso to the face you jumped back in shock slamming the door from the surprise. You’d know that face anywhere; Oscar Diaz; but he was known around freeridge to his gang and basically everyone else as one simple word ‘spooky’. Instantaneously you began to calculate the dates in your head. As far as you know he was doing an eight-year bid. So how is he standing in your doorway four years early. And why the hell is he here after refusing to answer any of your letters for an entire year. It’s not like you had dedicated your precious time to becoming the fulltime mother to ceaser while being in college and working fulltime after Oscar got snatched up by the cops for doing some dumb shit cuchillos had ordered. As the minutes passed your anxiety and curiosity got the best of you and you opened the door to find him still standing at the threshold. However, he now wore a look of annoyance in his face. His eyes lustfully raked you from bottom to top and back down in a way that made the biker shorts and sports bra you were wearing feel like thin lace. You crossed your hands over your chest instinctively. “how are you here? You asked. “I got out early” he responded. With a look of confusion to match. “Ok. Why are you here? probably would have been the better question.” You inquired raising one eyebrow quizzically. You noticed him being shifty and getting nervous before he realized his emotions was showing which he hated, he straightened up looking you dead in the eyes, face straight and replied, “I was looking for ceaser I heard he stays here sometimes”. “well you’re about an hour and a half too late. Its Monday morning and now 10:45 am.” You said looking as you looked down at your watch. “What do you think I don’t make him go to school? He’ll be back a little later and when I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking from him” you said icily. As you tried to shut the door you felt a resistance knowing he stopped you. “yo, (Y/N) why you gotta talk to me like that. Aren’t you happy I’m out” He said? You could tell you bruised his ego. You and Oscar had been friends for your entire lives, literally, your moms where best friends who got pregnant around the same and that put you two together for everything. He was there for you when your moms and dad split and through her being in and out of rehab. Which is when you ended up with your grandmother to have a more stable household. Your dad who had decided leave freeridge thought he could raise your brothers but not you and agreed to let his mother raise you with no push back. You didn’t care, you loved freeridge being in freeridge and more than that you loved being with Oscar. You too were inseparable. As best friends and as your got older your love for one another evolved into something more, specifically around the middle of freshman year of high school. You were there for him when his dad got locked up, when his mom decided to stop being a mom. For as long as you can remember you would walk with him to drop cesar off to school and pick him up, help him with homework, cook. You remembered how you guys would go to the beach to just get away from all the troubles associated with freeridge. You were Oscars first stop when he got jumped into the gang….. as all of these memories came flooding back to you all at once like water from a damn that was being held together by duct tape broke loose. You glared accusingly at him and yelled. “four years- OK” he interrupted. “LET ME FINISH ASSHOLE- you yelled. “FOUR years you were gone, FOUR years I looked after YOUR brother like he was my own son, FOUR years I write your stupid as letters every week and for a whole year you basically ignored me. Do you think I have time to waste? You asked and you can tell your eyes had a wild look to them that was when you were unpredictable, and he knew it. He held his head down shyly, ashamed and embarrassed knowing you were right. “well can you at least have the human decency to explain yourself.  Or is cuchillos the only bitch you talk to?” That snapped him right out of whatever, he was feeling he squinted his eyes in that way that made you uneasy in your core and said, “don’t talk about her that way.” You really hated that blind sense of loyalty he felt to her. “fuck you and that bitch. Like I said I will let Cesar know where to find you when he gets home.” You were so angry Your entire body was on fire. You went to slam the door and felt the same resistance. “ what the Hell – your words thrusted back into your mouth with his tongue as he slipped one hand onto the nap of your neck gripping at your curly hair and the other went to the small of your back holding you firmly in place as he kissed you hard. Switching between sucking Nibbling on your bottom lip. And moving in sync with these motions down to your neck. You head swam with a heavy mixture of lust and gluttony and you just wanted more. Your phone rang forcefully knocking you out of this haze. And you pushed Oscar away. You both breathing heavily. “are you gonna pick up that damn phone” your grandmother yelled from the living room. You turned your head to the left to answer her and saw your car keys. Taking them off the hook you hand them to Oscar and tell him to get in the passenger side. “Where we going, mami?” he asked, hoping it would lead to finish what he started. “The Beach” was your simple replied. He thought about it and there is was that dimple. That smile you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

literal chaos fire (ch.1)

amazing banner by @downn-in-flames​ / down-in-flames@FFT

find it elsewhere: fft | ao3 | ff.net | hpff learn more: chaos universe link to other chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 link to missing moments: 5.5, 7.5, 8.5, 15.5

pairing: Lily Luna Potter / OC genre: AU, Humor, Romance rating: mature audiences

summary: 

Victoire Weasley is a masters student in infectious diseases handling a devastating break up with her girlfriend of two years. Lily Potter is a first year law student navigating a figurative minefield that is the star quarterback’s unrequited affection. Molly Weasley is pursuing her bachelors in engineering while pining over her best friend - who doesn’t seem to realize it.

Three women, three vastly different lives, all coming together with group chats, family dinners, and a whole lot of chaos.

chapter summary: 

Mollz: Attachment: 1 Image Mollz: plz see that on april 18th at 7:29pm i did indeed say that law school was going to be hard

lawyerlilz: Attachment: 1 Image lawyerlilz: you're forgetting that 2mins later you said "work hard, play harder"

SEPTEMBER 15TH, 2021

'the dopest house' (foxyroxy, freddieboy, jamesatron, moollywoobbles, rose) 5:27pm

moollywoobbles: @jamesatron, how did you get into my room? moollywoobbles: i s2g, i have a lab tomorrow moollywoobbles: i'm not doing this moollywoobbles: FINE I'LL DO IT moollywoobbles: but i will get my REVENGE!

freddieboy: why don't you ever ice me? freddieboy: i'm starting to feel left out

jamesatron: PAYBACK FOR LAST PARTY jamesatron: YOU LEFT ME IN THE BATHROOM ALONE jamesatron: I WOKE UP IN THE DARK AND THOUGHT I DIED

moollywoobbles: that was @rose, and im offended you mixed us up

rose: he was fully naked and covered in vomit, i thought he'd be better off lying on the linoleum than causing irreparable damage to our carpets

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'literal chaos fire' (lawyerlilz, Mollz, VickyBaby) 8:49pm

lawyerlilz: two weeks in and i'm already drowning in work lawyerlilz: why did you guys let me go to law school?

Mollz: i told you it was gonna be hard Mollz: but did you listen? Mollz: no

VickyBaby: you actively supported her in this

Mollz: Attachment: 1 Image Mollz: plz see that on april 18th at 7:29pm i did indeed say that law school was going to be hard

lawyerlilz: Attachment: 1 Image lawyerlilz: you're forgetting that 2mins later you said "work hard, play harder"

Mollz: and i stand by both statements

VickyBaby: why do i feel like you're currently drinking

Mollz: james managed to hide another ice in my room when i was in class today Mollz: and after that i decided that having one drink was weak Mollz: i'm a few in

lawyerlilz: it's 9pm lawyerlilz: on a wednesday

VickyBaby: weren't you just complaining about your lab tomorrow? VickyBaby: and don't you have like a bajillion classes always?

Mollz: work hard, play harder baby

VickyBaby: never call me baby again

lawyerlilz: IT'S LITERALLY YOUR NICKNAME

Mollz: DON'T WANT ME TO CALL YOU THAT, DON'T NAME YOURSELF THAT

VickyBaby: alright, alright! damn, calm down... VickyBaby: seriously though, don't you have an early morning lab

Mollz: yeah but it's just circuits Mollz: and malfoy said the basics of it all is done Mollz: i just have to do the write up

lawyerlilz: i wish we had partners for contracts lawyerlilz: thinking is hard

VickyBaby: like disease ecology is easy? VickyBaby: we're looking at ebola right now VickyBaby: did you know the r0 is too low in humans for it to spread effectively? VickyBaby: but gorilla populations are absolutely decimated by it

lawyerlilz: how does Teddy stand you?

Mollz: she puts out

VickyBaby: actually... VickyBaby: i think Teddy and i are on a break...

Mollz: WHAT?! Mollz: what does 'i think' mean? Mollz: you've been together for like 2 years Mollz: and why didn't you tell us immediately?!

lawyerlilz: molly, shut up lawyerlilz: a 2y relationship just ended, she's entitled to her alone time

VickyBaby: actually...

Mollz: WHAT NOW?! Mollz: STOP STRESSING ME OUT I HAVE CIRCUITS LAB IN THE MORNING

lawyerlilz: i thought you just had to do the write up lawyerlilz: don't make me text scorpius and tell him that you're drinking the night before class lawyerlilz: again lawyerlilz: his roommate's gonna ask to talk to me lawyerlilz: again lawyerlilz: and i'm going to have to turn him down

lawyerlilz: AGAIN Mollz: AGAIN VickyBaby: AGAIN

VickyBaby: yeah, we know VickyBaby: i don't understand how you don't find that man attractive VickyBaby: starting quarterback AND captain?

lawyerlilz: i think that mollz drinking in the middle of the week is a bigger issue than my love life lawyerlilz: especially considering it's only her first week

Mollz: i'm taking ordinary differential equations Mollz: why wouldn't i start drinking Mollz: and the big issue here is Vic's love life, not how much fun i have

VickyBaby: ... Teddy and I are taking a break VickyBaby: because she's going to America on exchange VickyBaby: she's leaving in a week

Mollz: i'll key her car Mollz: i'll get xander to hack into the school's system and fail her Mollz: i'll ruin HER ENTIRE LIFE

VickyBaby: plz don't do that

lawyerlilz: who's keeping snuggles?

VickyBaby: the cats staying with me VickyBaby: if she'd fought me on that i would've let molly's wrath free

Mollz: i'll still do it

lawyerlilz: as your cousin, i'd help lawyerlilz: as your soon-to-be-lawyer, plz don't

Mollz: james says he's in Mollz: also james is already on his way to her place Mollz: and i might be with him

VickyBaby: MOLLY, DON'T YOU DARE

lawyerlilz: i'll tell Scorp lawyerlilz: don't think i won't

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(Lily Potter, Scorpius Malfoy) 9:26pm

Lily: molly's drunk Lily: and probably doing illegal things Lily: just thought you should know

Scorpius: lilz! it's me! Scorpius: james and i were a little too tipsy so malfoy's driving the car Scorpius: :)))

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'literal chaos fire' (lawyerlilz, Mollz, VickyBaby) 9:32pm

lawyerlilz: VickyBaby she's recruited Scorp lawyerlilz: this isn't gonna end well

VickyBaby: don't worry, Teddy moved home like 2 weeks ago

lawyerlilz: so they're going to be doing illegal things lawyerlilz: AT A STRANGER'S HOUSE?!

VickyBaby: oh shit

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'old fogies' (Fred [the smart dumb one], James [the older twin], Lily [ur 15mins older], Molly [the dumb smart one], Rose [the granger], Vic [the science beb]) 9:35pm

Vic [the science beb]: @Rose [the granger] @Fred [the smart dumb one] Vic [the science beb]: WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP THEM?

Rose [the granger]: they promised to do all the house chores until Christmas

Lily [ur 15mins older]: SO YOU GAVE THEM THE KEYS?! Lily [ur 15mins older]: THEY'RE DRUNK!

Rose [the granger]: Scorpius was 100% sober and i specifically asked them not to tell me what they needed the car for

Lily [ur 15mins older]: THEY'RE GOING TO TEDDY'S HOUSE

Rose [the granger]: i don't see the issue here

Vic [the science beb]: Teddy broke up with me to go on exchange Vic [the science beb]: also she doesn't live there anymore Vic [the science beb]: and they don't know that

Rose [the granger]: OH NO

Lily [ur 15mins older]: OH NO IS RIGHT Lily [ur 15mins older]: also, where's @Fred [the smart dumb one]

Rose [the granger]: HE'S WITH THEM

Rose [the granger]: FUCK Lily [ur 15mins older]: FUCK Vic [the blonde beb]: FUCK

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'the dopest house' (foxyroxy, freddieboy, jamesatron, moollywoobbles, rose) 9:54pm

rose: GUYS STOP rose: THAT'S THE WRONG HOUSE rose: TEDDY DOESN'T LIVE THERE ANYMORE

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(RosieBear, ScorpiStud) 9:55pm

RosieBear: i will kill you RosieBear: you cannot be serious RosieBear: babe, i will actually murder you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Lily Potter, Scorpius Weasley) 9:55pm

Lily: SCORP STOP Lily: IT'S NOT TEDDY'S HOUSE

10:02pm

Lily: SCORPIUS MALFOY I WILL END YOU

10:08pm

Lily: I'M NOT AN ACTUAL LAWYER YET I CAN'T DEFEND YOU

10:17pm

Lily: SCORPIUS!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'the dopest house' (foxyroxy, freddieboy, jamesatron, moollywoobbles, rose) 10:23pm

freddieboy: hey @rose freddieboy: so bad news is freddieboy: we may have gotten caught freddieboy: the good news is freddieboy: campus cops' golf carts are terribly slow

rose: WHAT?!

freddieboy: we'll be home in 5 freddieboy: plz open the garage freddieboy: we don't know if they saw the license plate

rose: i am not going to be an accomplice

moollywoobbles: scorp wants to remind you that it looks bad on politicians if they're married to a criminal

freddieboy: and he said that he'll finally start watching Grey's with you

rose: it's open rose: and i hate you all

freddieboy: love you toooooooo

jamesatron: <3

foxyroxy: hey guys, remember when you promised you would pick me up after my night class? foxyroxy: think you could still swing by? foxyroxy: you won't even have to stop, just open the door and i'll jump in

jamesatron: FAST AND FURIOUS BABEYYY

The Cold, Chapter 2 - The Messages Series

This chapter on AO3

By @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​​

New chapters in the series post every Thursday.

All links are to AO3. You don’t need to be a creator to have an AO3 account. You can have one solely as a reader. But to read anything at all in this series, you can just be an anonymous reader and/or commenter.

The best way to keep up with The Cold is to subscribe to the story on AO3. And the best way to keep up with the Messages Series is also to subscribe. Click on the ‘subscribe’ button on each of the above links.

Tags: Tony Stark Feels, Peter Parker Feels, College Student Peter Parker, Established Relationship, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Arc Reactor Kink, Peter Parker is a Mess, Spider-Man powers, Communication, They Finally Communicate!, And Fuck Of Course Look at Who It’s Written By Of Course They Fuck, Avengers Compound

The entire Messages Series.  All links are to AO3.

Messages Unsent  (complete & posted)

Nothing More Than A Machine  (complete & posted)

Tomorrow  (complete & posted)

My Virgin (Revisited)  (completely & posted)

The Cold  (completely written) posts every Thursday  

Untitled Book 6  ( in progress )

Untitled Book 7  ( in progress )

Chapter 2:   Fencing Left Handed

As they neared the compound Peter asked him for the time, then resumed his position leaning against Tony’s arm and tracing patterns on his sleeve. He took a deep breath.

“Okay, so, things have been changing with me. Like, a lot. I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for months, but there was never a good time. That’s not your fault, there were times I could have brought it up but I… like I told you, when I had to chose between sex and talking, I always chose sex. And it’s hard to talk about. I guess it’s... I could have tried to talk about it over the phone or emailed you... anyway.

“I guess I’m… scared. That you’re going to say ‘Oh Well, Yeah, That’s Just Growing Up’ and I don’t… and that’s stupid…”

“Please don’t do that,” Tony reached over and brushed his fingers over Peter’s hair, interrupting him. “Nothing you feel is stupid, Pete. Nothing you say is stupid. Nothing you’re going through is stupid, okay? A self-deprecating exterior can turn quickly into an interior one. I’m kind of an expert at tearing myself up with that.”

“Ok, but it is stupid. Like asking to be treated like a virgin in your bed and then still being too proud in the middle of it. Now I really wanted your advice and I’m also afraid of getting it… fuck.” He pressed his face into Tony’s arm.

“I won’t say it’s ‘just growing up’, whatever it is,” Tony said. “At fifteen you were more of a grown up than a whole lot of people I know.”

“Okay… okay.” Peter’s shoulders sagged for a moment in relief. Then he took a deep breath and tried. Again.

“Did you ever… “ He sat up in the seat. “I mean I know you didn’t because you went to MIT way early… so maybe you don’t. Because in the old days they let you skip grades. They wouldn’t do that with me, they had a whole long talk to May and Ben about it and I understood, at least I tried to. I pretended I did. But high school was like…

“In high school I stayed as busy as I could, with band and academic decathlon and all my totally illegal chemistry studies, and I guess it was okay. Not nearly as okay as it was when I got the spiderbite and I really had something to do, had a million brand new things to learn and a real reason for all those illegal chemistry studies, that was a good thing. That made it so much better. But every time I walked into class…

“Okay I know you hate it when I do this but I don’t know how else to describe it. You know that old movie where the man becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts and now he’s the best fencer in the world and he meets the OTHER best fencer in the world and they are both fencing left handed and they’re both going at it hot and heavy and they both tell each other, one at a time, that they’re not really left handed? Because both of them were trying to take it easy on the other guy, because they both know they’re the best and that’s just the kind of Good Guys that they are? I saw that on TV and that really stuck with me. That you don’t have to be the best in the business, the smartest guy in the room, the whatever. The big shot. You can play it dumb and maybe write your notes backward to slow yourself down or read your textbooks upside down or maybe never study for a test so when the test comes you aren’t the first one finished and faking writing down answers so your neighbors won’t feel so bad. You can fence left-handed. So you won’t be an asshole. Be like Westley and Inigo Montoya and give everyone else a break.

“So I did that. I fenced left-handed and invested most of my time in massive Lego sets and told myself it was the right thing to do. And then the spiderbite happened and I got a whole new life and that was amazing and then you came into my life and that was the best thing that ever happened to me. And all my schoolwork came in a distant third but at least it was slightly interesting the way an old video game can be interesting. If you haven’t played it in years. You know, for about half an hour.

“But I didn’t worry about that because I was going to Columbia. And when I got to Columbia it would all be different. And I could go to real classes that were really hard and I could finally just start fencing regular.

“And Tony?”

He took a deep breath before he looked at his lover.

“It’s not getting harder. I spent my whole first semester going… wait… what? The fuck? And then I thought no, no, this is okay, this is all freshman crap. This is supposed to be like this. Not everybody gets through all four years, right? Except instead of like boot camp where they are trying to get rid of you maybe… I don’t know… maybe they water it down to make you feel good about yourself and ramp up the info later… I don’t know what I thought. And now I’m well into my third year and I don’t get it Tony… when does it get hard? The best part is doing my assignments online — I do them in my dorm room with the keyboard upside down just for fun. Swear to god I’ve been doing my Differential Equations work hanging from my dorm room ceiling because that’s how I test the dissolve-time of my new web formula. And there is so much group work, I mean it’s just fucking constant. I should be glad because it does slow me down but really all it does is give me more time constraints which interferes with my patrols. Homework, at least, I can do from New York rooftops. I can’t do group work that way.”

He laughed ruefully, gazing out the helicopter window. “At least none of this is pissing my professors off. I stopped righteously fighting to NOT be the first person in class done with the work. Fuck that. Now I just turn it in when I’m done and get on with my real job.”

“Don’t ever be ashamed of being the smartest person in the room, Pete. What’s happening with your education, that is a whole ’nother conversation we need to have at a later date. Because it’s wrong, avoidable, and most of all, solvable. I can fix it with a phone call, but I doubt you want me to do that,” Tony said, smiling. “What I’ll do instead is teach you how to fix Columbia. Because, as brilliant as you are? Your professors should be pissed off at you.”

“Okay… okay,” Peter groaned. He pulled Tony’s arm around him and snuggled into his shoulder. “Don’t swoop in and save me just yet because there’s more. I know that sounds like the main thing but it isn’t.. and I’m not ready to… there’s more. This is what this weekend is about… you can swoop in and save me later, absolutely, and then we’ll have awesome sex to celebrate. But please…”

He looked through the window, glaring at the view instead of glaring at himself. For weeks, for a month really, he had planned this conversation, and now that it was here he was doing everything he feared the most — sounding pitiful.

“Please just let me… this is hard.

“There’s… something else.”

Peter took a deep breath and tried again. The fields around the compound were coming into sight, maybe this would be easier to explain if they were walking down there? Peter craned his neck to see the landing pad from the window, judging the distance before he started speaking.

“People at Columbia, they aren’t… bad. The average person walking around Columbia isn’t bad. They’re just slow. I don’t know… maybe I’m just pissed off that Columbia isn’t everything I dreamed it would be.

“But the criminals of New York City? They’re just the same as they’ve always been. Only I’m beginning to… they’re starting to look different to me now.”

He sighed, almost growled, in frustration. Tony dealt with international terrorists, and here Peter was about to complain about street-level thugs. At least the landing pad was getting nearer, but now he feared this wouldn’t solve his problem. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to use the term ‘The Cold’ out loud, not with Tony. It made sense in his head, but it sounded ridiculous now.

“Remember when you called that press conference to announce to the world that I was the newest Avenger? And I asked you not to at the last second? Because I told you ‘someone has to look out for the little guy’? That was stupid. That was…” he choked on the hated word, but he forced himself to say it. “That was naive.

“On the streets when I’m patrolling, god, I used to get so… pissed. It seems so distant now. I was filled with all this righteous indignation, this anger that someone would pick on the ‘the little guy’. Now, I’m beginning to think that ‘the little guy’ is probably a piece of shit too.”

He didn’t have to say anything else after that. They had arrived.

The helicopter landed itself. New-Cap came to meet them. Tony and Peter stepped off the landing pad, as the helicopter was powering down, to where they could hear Sam. He asked why they were there. Tony didn’t know, so he didn’t answer, leaving his question hanging. He figured Peter would say, but when he didn’t either, Tony didn’t fill the void. It wasn’t unexpected of him to simply ignore whichever Avenger tried to engage him. To not speak or do something until he was damn good and ready to, rather than explain and justify himself to one of them.

Peter, usually ever-cheerful and friendly, looked decidedly uncomfortable. His eyes kept scanning the distant, grassy fields beyond the central cluster of buildings. When Sam asked again what they were doing there, with a little more annoyance in his voice due to Tony’s disregard, Tony simply said, ‘we’ll be in later’, and guided Peter in the direction of his gaze, letting him take over their destination as soon as they’d left New-Cap behind.

As they walked, it seemed like it wasn’t a serious conversation that was going to happen, but that Peter needed to talk about something difficult. The location might’ve been less than desirable, but being there to listen to whatever was bothering Peter? That was exactly what he wanted, what they had talked about a couple of days ago. Tony’s defensiveness fell away. He slipped his hands casually in his pockets as they walked companionably side by side across the lawn, heading out to the farther fields of the compound grounds.

“The else?” Tony asked, trying to bring their conversation back to where it ended when the helicopter landed.

Peter nodded, but didn’t answer that question. He seemed to be looking for something in what was nothing but open fields. Tony remembered, before the fall of SHIELD and the Avengers’ split, he and Cap and Fury discussed expansion plans into the empty land. But things happened. Then the world was gone. His world was dust. Tony walked away from all things Avengers.

“Where are we headed?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll know it when I see it. Thanks for this, by the way. Sam’s an asshole now. I don’t remember him being an asshole.”

“It’s not Sam, I don’t think. It’s the position. But I don’t know Sam. The only thing I know about him is that when he rolled in flight, Vision’s beam went straight through where Sam should’ve been and knocked out the War Machine armor’s arc reactor and Rhodey fell to the ground.” Tony stopped talking for a bit while they walked together. It was irrational to blame Sam. Of course he’d try to avoid the hit. But irrational or not, he blamed him as much as Vision.

“Sam and his inherited shield and his inherited HYDRA assassin can go…” Tony shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck,” he finally said, shaking it off, literally, with a shrug. “They’re not why we’re here. So they’re a distraction. Irrelevant. We’re here because here is where you wanted to be. I’m here because you have something you need to say and I want to hear it. Pete, I’m interested, okay? In you. In everything about you. Even if I have to hear it here.”

“Ok. I’m not… god I’m not trying to be all mysterious, really. I just need some… distance. There it is,” he said with a sigh of relief. “It’s still there.”

They had rounded the south wall of the main building Peter seemed to find what he was looking for — although it looked mostly like an empty field to Tony — and they set out.

They walked for some time in silence.

What Peter had told him in the helicopter was important. But it was clearly not the ‘why’ for why they were there.

“Peter, if all that was wrong was what’s happening at Columbia… or your feeling frustrated by the lack of challenge in your life… or even the inevitable disillusionment of realizing that the world is massively full of blurred shades of grey… we’d be talking about this in bed.”

Peter only nodded.

Tony paused and they walked a little farther. “There’s something else. And… if you think you’re ‘stupid’ for feeling a certain way… you’re not.” He paused again briefly. “I would love to know what’s going on with you. Baby, you are the most important thing in my life. There’s nothing going on with you that I don’t want to hear about.”

“What if it was bad?” Peter’s voice was small, breathless. Looking at his feet.

“Still want to hear it. Just as much.”

“I’m getting cold, Tony,” Peter’s voice broke on the word. “Really cold.”

That puzzled Tony. It was a bright, sunny day, and for early autumn, quite warm. “We can head indoors, if you’re cold.” His brow furrowed. There was something about the way he said the word ‘cold’. “That’s not what you mean, is it?”

“It’s me, Tony. It’s not Columbia or the Gangs of New York, it’s me. It’s in me. That’s why we’re here. I’m changing. I know it’s not just in my head. I need the training ground equipment to quantify some things… and I guess that will make it Avengers business. I don’t know, maybe it is Avengers business, at least it will be. But I needed to tell you first. I’m not… the same. And it’s affecting everything.”

Peter veered them right and Tony saw what they were headed to, a white berm that stood alone in the field of green.

“With MJ and Ned, we can still relax and goof off… they’re not studying the same things I am so it’s easy not to… let them notice but… they’ve noticed. I guess I don’t make the same kinds of jokes I used to. And word on the street is New York has noticed too.

“I used to talk to criminals, I guess I was famous for it. I mean you’re the king of Snark and Banter but I guess I did pretty good. And I couldn’t help NOT lecture them. But I never hit them, because I’d hurt them, that’s why the webbing. But god I can’t talk to them anymore — I don’t feel like making jokes. I feel like punching them — so I just stay away from them. Tony, I can’t trust myself to get close to any of them now. If I need to take someone out I have to do it from a distance, sometimes from a block away, if I’m any closer I have to, I have to web them up and keep moving. I can’t stop to talk. I’m not… safe anymore. Everything’s changed.”

Hey! You mentioned in your bio that you're an engineer student. I myself plan to go into engineering once I get into college. May you describe your experience so far? Love your blog! :)

Hey there anon! thank you so much for this! i was surprised when i got this message :’) my experience so far as an engineering student is fun, exciting yet full of pain and suffering, it’s tough tbh :’). just do what you love and take the course you love!!and it’s okay to change your study path if you feel that your current course isn't right for you and when you feel hopeless always remember why you started! college is completely different from high school.

When i feel like giving up, I always say this to myself: this too, shall pass

during my freshman year I was really excited and nervous :’( i joined a lot of organizations and clubs, was selective in choosing friends and compete most of the time with my classmates (in a good way!) during the first few months of my college life. I did my best so I can pass all of my subjects and was really busy and exhausted doing club activities and org stuffs. I was really harsh to myself, i spent most of my time studying and doing extracurricular activities. I forgot to take care of myself. I felt overwhelmed and stressed. When I failed and ALMOST pass one of my major subjects (i needed 1.3% to pass and that shit hurt, damn you differential calculus) and i was crying so hard because i was scared of losing my scholarship. I did my best but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t used to failure so reacted like it’s the end of the world. I couldn’t sleep and was really hopeless, i thought i already failed. Thankfully my GPA was good and i still have my scholarship. I told my parents about it and i’m really thankful to have them, they are engineers and they started talking about their experiences during their college years.They told me it’s okay; it’s normal for engineering students to fail, failure in college is normal. and you shouldn’t pressure yourself to perfect things all the time. College life isn’t a race, it’s a journey so keep learning and you’ll succeed.

i learned a lot; i made a lot of friends help them when they need help (please share your knowledge with your friends) we always help each other, AND PLEASE DON’T BE LIKE ME I JOINED 4 CLUBS AND ORGS AND DAMN I CAN T EVEN, i quit glee and music club. So for now i’m still part of our frisbee team and engineering org. I stopped stressing over things i cant control. Taking engineering course is no joke but please don’t stop, it’s hard but remind yourself it’ll be worth it in the end.  

What i learned from my experiences so far is keep going, rest when you need it but don’t quit!, it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to feel lost and confused. Don’t stress too much about your grades, grades don’t define you but they do matter. Always remember there are successful people out there who experienced failure and rejection. These people are my role models; my parents, my seniors and people who didn’t give up, they’re warriors.

Please ask for help when you need it, there are amazing people out there ready to help you. Always manage your time and study, try solving math problems, you can use your book or search math problems on the net and use youtube there are a lot of math tutorial vids. Organic chem channel really helped me a lot. When you cant understand the lesson, push yourself and take initiative. Always get involved join orgs/clubs but please dont be like me. Surround yourself with amazing people (always avoid friends that are a bad influence to you and identify toxic people they’ll make your college life a huge mess). Always learn from your mistakes, after solving a problem always understand the context, review it, question things. Learn the theorems, concepts, rules, steps and most importantly understand the basics. Know your weaknesses and fix them.

Know your professors and always ask; our professors want us to ask questions; they want us to learn. Ask when you don’t understand that certain difficult equation and concepts. Always take good notes and after class try solving the problems solved earlier on your own, always solve a problem until you finally get the solution, don’t ever give up, don’t stop reading and solving!!!!!!!!Learn to operate without your calculator please. Always work in teams but learn when to lead and back down! Always take advantage of your free time! review your class materials and prepare for the upcoming exams. Don’t skip classes and love your electives! You are there to learn so please keep going until you finally understand the concepts! damn i wish i knew these things before i started college.

Dont be too hard on yourself especially when things go wrong dont hate yourself AND PLEASE DON’T FORGET TO FIND TIME TO RELAX! THIS IS IMPORTANT TAKE TIME TO REST AND HAVE FUN! PLEASE DON’T FORGET TO MAKE YOURSELF HAPPY! REWARD YOURSELF AND WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE GIVING UP ALWAYS REMEMBER YOUR GOALS, WHY YOU STARTED AND IN THE END IT WILL ALL BE WORTH IT!! DON’T GIVE UP GREAT THINGS TAKE TIME. THE JOURNEY WON’T BE EASY BUT IT WILL ALL BE WORTH IT!

Engineering course is tough but amazing and i wish you good luck and keep doing what you love anon! Take care, future engineer!!!

Hey, I was seeing some people discussing the scene where Kylo interrogates Rey and invades his thoughts. Some saying how abusive it had been and that we couldn't ship reylo. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this particular scene and how you think it affects the characters and the ship. If you don't mind of course.(I'm not an anti-reylo).

They are enemies on the opposite side of a war, not in relationship. It is wrong to invade Rey’s mind. She then does the exact same thing to him, though, so... the point is it’s a space opera where the stakes aren’t just life and death but the life and death of the entire galaxy. The context of the story is such that it cannot be equated to, like, a couple in a university in the real world without changing too much of the motives. (Is it abuse when Rapunzel in Tangled hits and then continues to threaten Flynn Rider w a pan? No, because the context is of a fairy tale w magical stakes. Same here.)

Yes, there are sexual connotations to this scene because Rey And Kylo are the A plot of the story, so of course this was introduced (A plot is like Luke and Vader in the OT, B plot is Leia and Han and the Rebellion; Finn, Rose, and the resistance are B plot here which does NOT mean they are less important; it’s just a way of differentiation). It is fine for ppl to be triggered by it, but a trigger is not equivalent to the trauma. Meaning, I do understand why some might be triggered. However, it’s not meant to be a one-one depiction of the trauma triggered: you are not Rey and Kylo is not your abuser. Competing needs are a thing; this may not meet your needs but tht doesn’t mean it’s glorifying abuse because it triggered you. People who enjoy the scene are not making light of your trigger; rather, they just have a different need and experience brought to the story since we all approach w baggage (for the record many reylos are abuse survivors, myself included, so it isn’t a question of privilege and who has survived abuse and who has not).

Also, I don’t know if you are young, but my honest response to ppl saying someone can’t ship something is... how bout I do... anyways? The relationships between fiction and reality is extremely complex and nuanced, but you are not doing something morally wrong by shipping two fictional characters. What someone enjoys in fiction isn’t a moral litmus test. Again, the idea of competing needs must be considered: enemies to lovers can upset others, but for me it’s my favorite trope because it means a lot to me to have reconciliation and redemption in a love story that seems impossible at times, that embodies all the ugliness and hate and the beauty of life and love, that captures the fullness of the human experience—it is hope itself.

- A masterclass in worlds between worlds - (Hey, what do you get if you put every Henry into a designated bar? A very bad time and not only because of the theoretical possibility that Hans Dsaftale might be there with the others. Now, what do you get if you LOCK one of the Henry’s into the bar as punishment for almost getting his own universe destroyed? A very exhausted Henry who’s just trying to make sense of the things he is seeing. If he hates it, at least he wants to understand it.)

- - - “Okay.” Henry started. Everyone was listening up as soon as that simple word was leaving his lips. This would be entertaining. It always was. Sure, there was some groaning in the back, but even they knew that would be hilarious. Lengthy, but hilarious. Well, maybe they would be the only ones laughing, but they don’t count their losses. Free entertainment is free entertainment. Henry stared into the people around him, before scoffing and pulling out an incredibly large board, with multiple pins on it, as well as notes and photos. “Hear me out. I have cracked the code.” Ah, one of these. “This will be one of the more lengthy of these, so you will need to bear with me.” One final cough from the audience and he was good to go. “Fantastic. Now, I want to introduce a concept to you. And I think it is something groundbreaking, as it is connecting to the very concept of souls. Alright, let us start off with the core concept of a soul. If it is an imprint of our very self, of our deepest emotions, desires and motivation, what truly moves us… then it is not only logical conclusion, that it also what dictates what draws us in or repels us? Of course it is. Thus, we can easily conclude that our soul ITSELF has needs and desires. “We like what we like” and “you should not fight over taste” are very wise statements indeed, absolutely true. But where do these tastes even come from? From our soul? Our liking for colors, aesthetics, for food and for music? Yes, surely there is a very psychological connection to it, due to experience, but… I think it runs deeper. What does this imply? That our souls comes inherently with NEEDS, with desires coming from our deepest core that we cannot possibly satisfy ourselves. This is further proven by our DEPENDANCE on other people. “The human is a social animal”- but what does that mean? How can a creature perish merely because of lack of contact? Perhaps it is hardwired into our spirits to need the interaction of ideas, the essence of others, because we cannot provide this for ourselves.“ The place broke out in quiet mumbling, while Henry adjusted the board behind him, to connect the dots visually. “Now, that we have established that every soul has needs, I think we can directly move onto the concept that every soul has DIFFERENT needs. It would make sense to try to find similarities in the needs from soul to soul, as you would assume it has the same baseline… but due to our experiences with souls, we have to accept that in terms of needs, souls differentiate severely from each other. Much like plants are awfully different based on species, I am willing to admit that souls CAN be similar in their nature and have similar needs, but souls exist in borderline endless versions, meaning most souls widely differentiate from another.” He paused, dramatically. The room was silent. “What does it mean, you ask?” Nobody actually asked anything. “I am glad you asked. Why is this important? Simple. Self-control and optimization. During my studies of multiple different multiverses, I realized an abhorrent flaw in the mental system that is me. Mainly, and believe me dear audience, I hate to say it, my draw to what I tend to consider “weakness”. Yes, I know, I know. Implausible. Impossible! But it is true. Except, it is not WEAKNESS." He smashed both of his hands on the bar in front of him. "It certainly seems like it and technically speaking IS weakness, but it is not outright weakness. It is not cowardice, it is not indecisiveness, it is not ignorance, which I all would call true symptoms of weakness. Fragility might also be a part of it, but not necessarily. That is what makes it so intriguing. And by fragility I do not quite mean instantaneous shattering. It is more a mixture of dependence and- okay, I think there is a lot of it to do with dependence. But what is there to dependence? Whatever would make that alluring? I will tell you. It took me a while, but my working theory is this: There is some sort of... resonance, dare I say. An echo of our own fear and worry, we see in them something we fear to be in us! And thus, caring for that person, defeating the weakness within them, satisfying the dependence, it proves to us we can defeat it within ourselves as well!" One of the attendance rose his hand. "Okay, but what about simple narcissist function? Occam's razor. The easiest answer is that we are simply searching for supply for our ego." The presenting Henry wildly waved his hand around in disgust. "No! That is not what it is. Obviously. Otherwise, the codependency that at least somewhat evolves even from our side would not grow WORSE. We would grow tired of it. But that is not happening. No, the longer it goes on, the worse it gets! The only reasonable solution is to assume that our traits are calling out for those that will COVER them. Our loyalty and capability calls for NEED in the other soul, for insecurity and reliability. Trustworthiness, for our loyalty. Our detachment from any given reality calls out for something that we directly can control and influence, a real, breathing example of our effect that we can have. There is an incredibly fragile balance to be struck, of need and trustworthy purity, as well as absolute willingness to give up everything that makes them themselves in the first place, as we have some sort of all-consuming ego, with our individuality being our most important part, so important in fact that we need to be able to impose it onto others to feel secure-" He was interrupted. "So you are saying we are some sort of former eldritch abomination given human flesh for some reason still trying to live out or former desires?" Henry paused a bit irritated. "I mean... maybe? Unlikely, but-" Another voice. "Hey, does this "calling out" thing not imply that people who get attracted to people who torment them deserve it? Because if so, that is pretty fucked up of you." "No! I mean- well, we are talking about underlying NEEDS, that does not necessary equate to it being lived out in-" A pink Naga leaned back. "No, no, I agree. Prey isss prey. It cannot bear being anything different. It needsss to feel like it." "Shut up, nobody asked you." A bit annoyed Henry tried to dismiss him. Desperately he tried to get back to the point he was trying to make for what felt like an hour by now. "I propose the following: There is not actually such a thing as soulmate, but it is more akin to a spiritual form of chemical bonding. Some bond easier than others, like hydrogen. For souls that mean they have less specific requirements to keep up a truly fulfilling bond, or have an easier time filling the other's lacking traits without needing much back. What is needed from their bond is what we call out via our souls, creating a type, but said type is intended to cover the things our souls cannot satisfy or eradicate within itself. Thus, my conclusion is that a soul bond forms for a soul much more on what people lack than their strength. If the lacks fit well with the lacking of the other person, they manage to fall into place-" This time he wasn't even allowed to rant. The bartender Henry next to him gave him a flick with his demonic tail and poured himself a drink. "I love it when people who never had a relationship try to explain them. Very cute." "I- TECHNICALLY speaking you can become an expert on everything via the theory, I did a lot of studies-" "Oh god, wait, so you cucked yourself?" The succubus watched with delight as the most annoying Henry's face went from pale to red. "Cut it out you filthy whore." "You are merely jealous that unlike you, I not only get to fuck my boyfriend all day, but also get magical abilities for it." That was enough, the poor Henry, who was just trying to find answers, held his ears closed like some sort of child and had a silent breakdown. It wasn't easy hanging out with such an awful version of yourself. Especially if that version couldn't stand you and loved to tease you about shortcomings that he would of course know by heart. The other Henrys lost interest at that point. Show's over. And nobody learned anything. No, it wasn't quite the void, but Henry surely wished to get back there instead of being stuck here, serving drinks to his much more pathetic, yet somehow much more successful versions. Oh, hell had many faces. For now he had to deal.

(Prompt) Birds

Somewhat weird text with weird concept. The last part appeared already in the process as the comic page with library came up.

Cold gusts of autumn wind tore leaves from the trees, with sad cries of flying away birds accompanied its sobs. Sitting on a bench Ben looked up at a dark V of birds passing slowly across the sky.

"What is it?" he asked Verity.

She glanced briefly, "Wild geese. They fly southward."

"What for?"

"Escaping from Christmas," she chuckled.

Ben wrinkled his nose as he usually did when Vee said funny things. "But seriously?"

"There're warm countries in the South. They'll winter there and come back. Most birds do this." She looked up to the sky. "Would you like to fly, Benji? Like them, to Africa and back?"

He shrugged, "I think so... but how? Grandad Victor didn't want to finish his flying ship?"

"Nope," Vee kicked a little stone with the toe of his shoe. "Says, an outdated construction. He wants something faster. Works on sudden jumps, to make them longer, safe and more precise. Wouldn't it be great, wherever you want to be, you just go there?"

"Would be nice," agreed Ben. "Not so interesting. What use will be there in expeditions? If you can just appear at that place." Ben paused for thought. "Though... it won't work with the Third Anchor still? Too much of magic disturbances around it."

"Would you like to sail to the Third Anchor?" Vee asked, teasing him slightly.

"I'd like to read about it in books, every bit of everything. But for that, someone must sail to it and write about that." Ben looked up. "I wonder if any birds fly over the Anchor. Could they tell about it..."

Ben hated medicals. He can tell it was the thing he hated the most in his life as a student. It's why he went at it in the morning of its first day. In addition, he hoped for the fewer people would be there at that time, and it was so.

The procedure took no more than half an hour and went as expected. At the final stage, as usual, a wizard medic told Ben to roll up his sleeve and put a magic-circled disk to Ben's arm. His skin got tingled, there was a flink, then the disk beeped. The medic removed it and looked at the readings.

"Category C," he snorted. "Now what do these people even do there?"

Ben could stop his facial muscles from betraying his feelings. He knew that his face expressed nothing. It had always been his way of self-defence, an sure one, the only one — till Verity taught him some different ones. But they couldn't be used all the time, not in cases like this.

"Thackerey is one of the most studious students," the lecturer in the magic history said drily, from behind the medic's back. The rules demanded someone of the college staff present at the medicals.

"No doubt," the medic smiled sneeringly. "What else could this kind do?"

"We are quite satisfied with our student contingent," the lecturer remarked stiffly.

"Every man thinks his own geese swans," the medic wrote down Ben's readings into his card. "Of course, it isn't the Widdershins university, you must be content with what there is."

Ben saw that the lecturer's face became expressionless, too, and he couldn't be silent anymore.

"Geese can be useful, too," he stated. "It is said they saved Rome from the barbarian invaders... sir."

Unperturbed, the medic just looked through Ben and dismissed him. But Ben could see the lecturer smiling a bit and a student, who waited her turn, giving him the thumbs-up.

The part of Ben's job in the library he loved the least was the service to readers. It wasn't about freshmen who looked at catalogue boxes like they were differential equations (is it even possible to finish school without visiting some library?). Not about professors who had fathomed mysteries of magic and wasn't able to understand elementary things: that it is impossible to get a rare volume from "deeps" funds in a minute or even five minutes, and this fact can't be changed by the most extreme urgency or all of the academic distinctions or the magic spell "I just need to look at it". Not about readers of any age and ranks who filled in halves of order forms stubbornly in different ways, never mind instructions on forms, written up examples and his verbal warnings.

No, it was small routine things. The problem was...

Ben looked at a student girl who stood hesitant nearby the serving stand. It was a bad sign because ones who didn't know what to do but knew what they wanted would rush to librarians directly. Those who knew nothing at all usually hung around the doorway.

“Can I help you?” Ben asked politely, still hoping for the better.

“I just want to ask... are you Benjamin Thackerey?”

“I am,” Ben admitted, with a resigned inner sigh, because it was more concise and proper answer than, “My badge says so.”

“The very one? Who saved the University on All Sins’ Day?”

“I wasn’t alone,” Ben replied a bit stiffly.

“I know! Sidney Malik was here, too, we used to be in the same year!.. But it is you, yes?”

Ben simply nodded and started to turn the list of possible scenarios and his responses over in his mind.

Some people began to thank or praise him, making Ben wish to hide under the stand. Fortunately, he realised soon that “It was nothing” would be tactless. So he said just “I had good teachers.” and “I was in a good team.” Before students, he went into talking about the importance of good education and teamwork. No one was able to stand it longer than a minute.

Some people, with an interest Ben surely could understand, asked about other Deadlies. What worked there was “It’s a long story, and I’m paid not for talkings.”

And some people asked how Ben was able to win over Pride, and he said simply, “I don’t wish to discuss that.”

At that time the girl worked up the nerve and blurted out, “ Can I have your autograph?”

The fourth option, then. Ben took a sheet of paper from a pile and picked up a writing feather.

The senior librarian James Greene returned from his lunch at last to take Ben’s place.

“Too many fans?” he asked with sympathy. Ben made a vague gesture. “It’s not so bad,” he tried to cheer up Ben. “I think a few people would like to be in your place.”

“No,” Ben said earnestly. “No one wishes to be in someone else’s place, really. People just think that they want this. I did that, too,” he added in a low tone.

The librarian smiled, “Are you going to your lunch?”

“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d rather work in the section of manuscripts and engravings. Miss Stevens says, they made no dedusting this year and the last inventory-revision was five years ago. Permission to deal with it in my free time?”

“No permission,” frowned Greene. “You’re supposed to work in your work time. To have lunch in your lunch break, and get rest in your free time. So you must eat at first, and then you may go to Ms Stevens, but don’t let her keep you till the end of your working day.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ben went vigorously on his usual way, now and then returned greetings from passing people. He felt nothing beyond a weak hunger and wishing to resume his work as soon as he has his lunch. The University stopped being the place that only fortunate ones, like Blake and Bryony, could belong to. There was no more envy or feeling of inferiority inside him, just eager anticipation of working with manuscripts. And the Main Hall was recalled without shame or pride, as an unpleasant, but a well-done job.

Ben didn’t feel like a goose between swans anymore.

Okay, about this “g*ncest” thing that just cropped up which makes me feel like I splintered back to the year 2006 and aren’t we over this by now...what that is is a bona fide example of toxic masculinity attitudes at work and being valorized by a small number of fans, mostly female.

First off, as far as I’m concerned, you are free to enjoy or write any type of fic you want, I don’t care. I’m not judging your fic tastes. I won’t insult you as a human being, attack you, send anon hate, or put this post on your tags or even any shared tags. Which is more than antis have done to respect my shipping but whatever. 

However I disagree with the idea that there can be no discussion when fandom reinforces certain biases or ideas and tries to normalize them, without realizing how they’re reinforcing some real world level stuff that needs to be questioned. The discussion itself is valuable if you aren’t being a dick about it. 

So you know how D*stiel fans get accused all the freakin’ time, endlessly, ad nauseam “you don’t respect male friendships! male friendships are rare and precious commodities in the media! why do you have to ruin it by making it gay!” (Sorry I need a moment to stop laughing). When the fact is D*stiel fans openly own their slash and own the gay and fling glitter, they don’t tend to apologize for it, instead of trying to mask the fact that it’s slash. Nobody is denying that close platonic male friendships can exist, either. But guess what, it is outright not toxic masculinity to see past heteronormative defaults to see how shipping two male friends together and seeing the potential for romance instead of by default ruling it out just because people are the same gender. It’s just not. It gets concerned trolled into the freakin’ ground as reinforcing toxic masculinity. It isn’t.

Which brings us to this g*ncest thing which, I stfg I thought we’d left behind in 2006. It’s an old fandom term that has outlived its need and outlived the context of the mores in fandom and society at the time that created it, like its related fic label concept, “smarm.”

“Smarm” isn’t the same definition as “smarmy.” The fandom definition of smarm is fic that depicts two people of the same gender being emotionally and physically close who are not in love and the intent is not romantic and not slash.

In other words, gen fic.

It depicts a platonic friendship or sibling bond.

It’s..gen fic. But for some reason, some felt they had to call it “smarm” because either it’s difficult to grasp that two men can be physically or emotionally close without it being slashy, or, fans who wanted to slash but self-shamed for it. They wouldn’t just call it a slash fic. Just like, it’s not w*ncest it’s g*ncest!!! Which somehow seems to assume itself a fest safe for anyone who isn’t into incest and just wants to celebrate the platonic sibling bond and...no, really, no. Probably be smarter to just host a Sam and Dean Gen Fic fest, which I’m sure exists, and hey, something for everyone, I’m not saying the g*ncest fest shouldn’t be allowed to continue, just pointing out why some people are bothered by it for reasons other than “you are ship shaming meanies!!”

There’s a big aspect of shame in smarm, and I’m arguing, to g*ncest. 

The recent uptick of intensity in SPN fandom where w*incest fandom stans determinedly turn every single canon Sam and Dean moment into incest, and insist every story, every fic, every image, every concept about Sam & Dean’s bond is emotional w*incest is part of this toxic masculinity thing, the g*ncest issue, the smarm issue. A Sam and Dean image, boom, incest! The brothers are so in love! D*stiel fans are considered horrible for, y’know, reading romance into a shit-ton of usage of romantic tropes, canon pining, plot and dialogue and long arcs that map to romantic tropes, even overt shout-outs from other characters to the idea that Dean and Cas are a thing, but if Sam and Dean so much as stand next to each other it’s incest ftw.

There is such a thing as pre-slash and I find it a whole lot less squicky than smarm or g*ncest. I kind of like pre-slash because it owns the fact that romantic relationships don’t always have to manifest as sexy times, but why did we even call it pre-slash, why not just slash at a G or PG rating? I think this is becoming more of the norm, with slash shippers unapologetically posting slash fic at a G or PG rating. Readers are free to read into whatever they want into a gen fic, but if the author ships it and intends to put romance into it, but it isn’t about how the characters have sex or even kiss, they’re still romantically in love and they’re going to label it slash or pre-slash. I don’t see the need for the “pre” in that any more. No they aren’t kissing yet, no they aren’t having sex yet, but they are in love nonetheless. 

Let go of the idea that a kiss or having sex is the only way to verify characters being in love. 

Toxic masculinity isn’t the removal of heteronormative goggles that were probably fused to our faces from birth because that’s how our society is and being capable of imagining that two male friends in a story can fall in love the same way we imagine a man and woman can. 

Toxic masculinity is when you are so determined that men--be it friends or siblings--cannot be close and it be, in fact, friendship or sibling love. It’s the equating of all male intimacy with a sexual and/or romantic bond. And I feel that a false narrative’s been allowed to prevail in SPN fandom that D*stiel fandom is deeply guilty of this when it’s not, while other groups that are doing this chronically, get a free pass.

I’d say it’s a pretty major example of toxic masculinity to insist that platonic w*incest is a thing, instead of just, y’know, Sam & Dean loving each other as siblings without hints of a romantic or sexual element. It’s toxic masculinity to slap the -cest slapping on every-freakin’-thing and then claim you’re being ship-shamed because you actually gate-keeped against fans who really just appreciate the sibling bond and don’t need any -cest to appreciate how close Sam and Dean are and appreciate that bond, and it’s pretty toxic to keep flinging a trigger in people’s faces every five minutes, openly, as if you own the entire fandom, and insist canon backs you up when in fact it’s gently shut you down on multiple occasions, and then expect absolutely nobody to be upset at you ever, and if anyone gets upset they’re ship-shaming you. That’s quite a big amount of entitlement, to assume that people aren’t allowed to be uncomfortable with something like incest.

Especially when you try to force LGBT ships that are non-trigger into the same mode, force a false equivalency, thus fetishizing the LGBT ships, and get offended if someone points out why a differentiation is sensible and necessary.

If you’re into Dean and Cas’s friendship and don’t see any romantic element, that’s gen. No really. It’s friendship fic. That’s not pre-slash. That’s not platonic D*stiel. You see a friendship. There is no such thing as platonic Destiel. Now, this gets tricky, because while that is 100% valid to feel that way, D*stiel is reaching a stage where not-shipping it is cool and all that, but if you vehemently deny there is any reason for other people to see more to it, you’re kind of having to ignore a hella lot of canon to keep those heteronormative goggles fused to your face, and no I am not accusing people who don’t ship it of being homophobic. Or of unconscious biases of being homophobic. We all have them. Talk about it, don’t insult people or shame them, sometimes it just takes a little bit to get people to understand. Others will never get there no matter what. Depends on the person. 

There’s any number of het ships where I have eyes, I can see canon intent, I see they’re into each other, but I don’t care and I don’t ship it and I might enjoy genfic about that relationship or have them wind up as friends, I don’t ship it. There’s non-canon popular slash fics I don’t feel it or see it. I don’t yell down its shippers though. Its that simple. My advice is just don’t go screaming down D*stiel shippers with why must you ruin their friendship or claiming it’s toxic masculinity and going on about the sanctity of platonic male friendship which is just such a rare and precious flower in the media (sorry. pausing to lmfao again). 

I also literally do not care how you see Sam and Dean’s relationship or if you ship that. I honestly do not care and I don’t make assumptions about you as a person (your fandom behavior over your ship might make me decide things about you). But...it’s still incest. I’m not ship-shaming. It’s incest. Why does this have to be explained over and over. You can ship whatever you want and should be allowed to have safe spaces for it but this assumption that everyone has to be 100% cool with such an obvious trigger and societal taboo or they’re hypocrites who don’t really believe in the “ship and let ship” they believe in...come on. “Ship and let ship” doesn’t mean be inconsiderate and it doesn’t mean you have to be comfortable with every ship in the fleet.

But SPN fandom has this lingering thing it can’t seem to let go of where systemically, it thinks incest and an LGBT ship should be treated exactly alike, and it has this thing where incest is being intrusively slapped onto every-freakin’-thing about Sam & Dean in spaces where fans can’t avoid it and it’s not behind a cut tag it’s not labeled, and if you aren’t into it you get mocked, and if you don’t watch only for the brother bond you get mocked, and this is coming from many of the same people who think an LGBT ship is identical to incest and from many of the same people who get offended if you point out why an LGBT ship isn’t like incest, and who get offended people ship that LGBT ship as well as from generalized anti-shippers who treat being a non-shipper like a superior badge of honor and who reinforce the gatekeeping that virulent incest shippers aim at D*stiel shippers while valorizing an incest ship, but this breed of anti-shippers are in total denial about doing it. (Note the distinction between anti-shipper and non-shipper).

But taking what is actually just gen fic about Sam & Dean being emotionally intimate or showing physical affection and insisting it needs a -cest on the end instead of just, y’know, being about a sibling bond...that’s where toxic masculinity comes in. Isn’t one of the whole major points of SPN’s narrative to deconstruct these perceptions of masculinity? To debunk the idea that men can’t be emotionally intimate? And please miss me with the idea that shipping D*stiel is somehow contrary to this. D*stiel is a part of that debunking because neither Dean nor Cas act like the media stereotypes of what bi (or ace or pan or whatever Dean and Cas might be) looks like. They started as friends, and became emotionally close before SPN canon got into the zone where it seems a lot more serious about possibly openly vocalizing or consummating the subtextual pining. Friends-to-lovers isn’t insisting all friends must be lovers. It’s fans identifying something in this particular pair of friends and in the narrative, in the canon, and don’t discard it just because of a heteronormative default that buys a slow burn will-they-won’t-they for m/f but sneers that same-gender potential romance is delusional.

Likewise if it’s Dean and Cas and someone slaps some form of slash label on it while refusing to own that they ship it and refusing to own there could be sexual attraction, instead of simply saying “it’s a gen fic I love their friendship” would also an example of toxic masculinity ideas and probably a lot of self-shaming about seeing and enjoying the slash in the first place. Dean and Cas friendship enthusiasts and Dean and Cas shippers actually get along pretty well (assuming no one is acting like a dick) and that, I think, is because there is such a powerful emotional component to the ship, and Dean and Cas friendship enthusiasts tend to be non-virulent and tend to be open-minded about why the shippers see more in it even if they don’t.

This should be also true of w*ncest fans and enthusiasts of the sibling bond because again, massive emotional component as common ground, but I feel like what’s happening is the more intense and virulent w*ncest fans are trying to draw such a hard line that if you aren’t into incest, there’s no space for you. This goes hand in hand with the virulently pro-codependency fans, who romanticize mental illness and then can’t seem to figure out why anyone is upset with them, and who think that anyone who isn’t into romanticizing mental illness hates the bro bond so they’ve swept out plenty fans who adore the sibling bond with their virulence.

Personally I find uncomfortable when fans insist that gen fic about two dudes being close needs to be some kind of pick-your-fighter-label form of slash instead of just owning it’s a celebration of close male friendship. Bromance is a stupid term and IMO part of toxic masculinity too. 

There’s also the erasure of the fact that D*estiel is one of the least smut-driven ships. A recent study of ships with the highest smut content found w*ncest at the top and D*stiel barely even rated, and here’s the ironic part: virulently anti-destiel w*ncest fans and ship shamey non-shippers slapped D*stiel with a default assumption that it’s all about fapping material and two dudes getting it on and you just want to make spn into a porno and accuses D*stiel fandom of fetishizing m/m relationships when w*ncest is at the top of the smut pile. No I am not shaming you for enjoying smut. No I am not saying that a ship is superior for being less smutty. I’m very clearly objecting to the shaming and misconceptions of D*stiel fandom, which are often willfully perpetuated. 

This misconception has stubbornly stuck in spn fandom and it’s incredibly annoying. Please join us in the year 2018. When so much of D*stiel is Dean and Cas not having sex but just being ridiculous and making heart-eyes and in denial and trying to figure this out and maybe they brush hands and blush, it’s almost Victorian. (Y’know, like the canon ha ha. Oh wait that’s not funny I’m serious). A lot of D*stiel fans write slash fic so they can get them to talk honestly with each other. 

So sure, have your ficfests how you like, but I think it’s worth at least pointing out that this fixation with slapping the -cest label on everything is an example of toxic masculinity concepts at work, is normalizing incest to a ridiculous degree, is de-normalizing fans who really just appreciate a sibling bond, what with the stans insisting that w*ncest is just another term for their close emotional bond, *splutter* I don’t watch SPN for ships how dare you instead of, y’know, having the balls to own the fact that they’re intrigued by the incest ship. They shove it everywhere and disown it all in the same breath.