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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Text

Study Buddies (Sternclay)

I got several requests for this prompt as a meet ugly for Sternclay: you caught me doing something a few weeks ago but didn’t report me and now you’re trying to blackmail me into secretly tutoring you even though you and your friends have always been assholes, no I don’t ‘owe’ you.” Fill is SFW

“I saw that.”

Stern freezes, hand still on the now-shut back door, “saw me putting out the garbage?”

“Nope” his coworker Barclay rumbles, “saw you taking the leftover pastries and giving them to the homeless guys who hang out in that plaza.”

“A few of them were from that batch you baked three hours ago, they were barely old, going to waste was ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you know Haye’s rule about that.”

“Yes, and I think it’s ridiculous too.” He crosses his arms, staring up at Barclay and daring him to tell him it isn’t.

“I agree. But you still got caught.”

“By you, not by him, now move so I can start wiping down the tables.”

“What, uh, makes you think I’ll keep my mouth shut?”

Stern turns, startled, “are you trying to fucking blackmail me?”

“No, uh, I mean-” Barclay’s gaze darts to the front of the coffee shop, where his friends make several encouraging motions.

“Of course” he groans, “Christ, Barclay, I didn’t think you’d stoop this low.”

“Look” the larger man takes a step, bringing him into Stern’s space, “I have a massive midterm paper due in a few weeks, and I need help. Big time.”

From this distance Stern can smell laundry detergent and burnt sugar, see a pleading tint in those deep brown eyes. He wants to punch him in his aggravating, handsome face.

“You owe me, Stern.”

“Like hell I do.”

“I’ve covered your ass more times than I can count when you’ve run late because of your internship.”

“And I’ve covered your ass all those times you were late because you were giving your friends rides.” He jabs his finger into Barclay’s chest and his hand is instantly enclosed in one of Barclay’s own

“I don’t want to tell Hayes anything, Stern, but I really, really don’t want to fail this fucking class.”

“Fine. I’ll help with your essay.”

“Not just mine, my friends need help too.”

“Oh no, no chance, deals’ off.” Stern pulls his hand away, “I can tolerate you, but they” he points to the group still sitting at the table, “have been nothing but awful and rude to me”

“They’re not-”

“They are too that bad, at least to me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. It wouldn’t be those guys, it’d be some friends of mine from the LGBT center on campus.”

“Fine. But if one of those ones shows their face, I leave. Shake on it.”

Barclay talks his hand again, shakes it, and tells him to be at the LGBT center at 7 p.m tomorrow.

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

Stern arrives at five til, finds Barclay sitting on a beanbag chair near a low table with four other people. One, a blonde girl in a green dress, pops up and walks over to him.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m here for him.” He points to Barclay.

“Oh! You’re the essay guy.”

“Yep, that’s me.” He smiles as politely as he can muster and joins her at the table.

“Glad you came.” Barclay smiles at him.

“I didn’t have a choice.” He glares and the smile disappears.

“Everyone, this is Stern-”

“Joseph. Most people call me Joseph.”

“-and he’s gonna help with the midterm essay for our comp class.”

“Sweet!” The other girl at the table, black hair streaked with red, raises her hands triumphantly.

“Do all five of you need help?” Stern looks around.

“Nope, just me, Duck” she points to a stocky guy in a Yosemite’ shirt, “and Barclay. Indrid and this cutie aren’t in that class.” She kisses the blonde’s cheek. That makes Indrid the guy with messily dyed silver hair and sketchbook, who’s currently laying with his head in Duck’s lap.

“Alright, that’s not too bad. Does someone have the assignment?”

Duck pulls it up on his laptop so Stern can read it.

“Okay, so, it’s time to start outlining how you want to approach your topic.”

“Uhhhh.” Barclay looks at this friends, who shake their heads.

“None of you have a topic yet.”

“Nope.”

“When is this due?”

“Three weeks from yesterday.”

“And it’s worth how much?”

“45% of our final grade.”

Stern allows himself a few moments of vicarious stress, then gets to work. By the time the center closes, they all have topics selected, and Stern has instructions to come back on Monday.

He does just that, comes back Wednesday too. By Friday, he’s learned that he and Duck actually share a chem lecture and that Aubrey has many classes in the same building he does, as she always waves to him when they cross paths. On Friday night, he arrives to help them flesh out their outlines.

“Colors?” Aubrey says as she braids pieces of twine while studying her notes for her midterm.

“What?”

“Your pride colors; I’m making bracelets for everyone because it helps me focus.”

“Oh, um, trans pride ones. Please.”

“Good, already got those out.” She slides a pink, blue, and white bracelet across the table to Duck.

Barclay arrives with cookies, and they settle into their usual working rhythm, Stern bouncing between the three to see what they have and offering editorial advice. He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Barclay, enjoying the contact more than he cares to admit.

“This is a little clunky here, I think I see your point but it’s getting lost.”

Barclay taps the table, then deletes and re-writes the section.

“That’s way better.”

“What can I say, got a good teacher.” Barclay smiles at him, subdued yet charming, and Stern’s heart flips several times before he whacks it into submission.

A week later, he turns up at the center to find the room rearranged and a larger group present. There’s a screen hung up on the far wall and Dani is tinkering with a laptop and projector.

“I think I missed a memo.” He says to Duck as the other man is pouring two cups of soda.

“Yeah, we decided to have a movie night and watch Dracula’s Daughter because Aubrey insists it’s a gay classic.”

“It’s quite good. I’ll, um, I’ll just head out then.”

“Y’know you can stay right? You ain’t just essay help, you’re our friend.” Duck gives him a look stuck between reassurance and concern.

“I guess I can, since I have tonight blocked off.” He goes in search of a seat and finds the only free spot is, of course, directly next to Barclay.

Dani dims the lights and the move starts. There’s a rustle near his lap.

“Popcorn?” Barclay whispers.

“Sure, thanks.”

As the movie plays on, their hands keep going for popcorn at the same instant and bumping each other. A few weeks ago this would have annoyed him to no end. Now he just wants to hold his hand. Barclay is different around these friends; gentler, funnier, his generosity given plentiful outlets. He’s been different at work too, less inclined to needle Stern and more interested in talking with him as they clean than in enabling his friends to stay late and make a mess. Stern’s noticed said friends do their fair share of shit-talking Barclay, the larger man seemingly so used to it he doesn’t react. But more and more Stern sees the flashes of exhaustion and hurt on his face.

“You're not their servant, Barclay.”

“I know, I’m just being helpful.”

“That was half your cut of the tips they scammed off you.”

“It’s fine, Stern.”

“But”

“It’s fine.”

The group opts to watch Frankenstein meets the Wolfman next, and Barclay adjusts so his hand is flat on the ground on the other side of Stern. Stern leans to the side, resting against him, and lets himself pretend he could feel this safe and wanted all the time.

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

“Stern, wait up!” Barclay catches up to him as he walks home. It’s Wednesday night, meaning everyone’s essays are finally finished. When Aubrey asked if Stern was going to keep hanging out with them, he said he’d have to see about his schedule, and ignored the fact she knew he was lying.

“What was that line about your schedule? You could still make time to hang out with us.”

“I’ll come back when you all need help on your finals.”

“....do you seriously think that’s all we care about? All I care about? Stern, they really like you, and it seemed like you were getting along with everyone.”

“I was, and I do like them. But I can’t keep being around you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Barclay steps in front of him, barring his path.

“It means that I like you too, but am well aware of how you really feel about me. You act kind, you talk to me like I actually matter, like we’re actually friends, but deep down I know you still think I’m uptight and nerdy and deserve to be mocked for it.”

“I don’t, I swear” Barclay puts his hands on Stern’s shoulders, voice earnest, “I like you a lot, I’m so fucking glad we started hanging out more, I, I really care about you.”

“Care about me? How the fuck am I supposed to believe that when you still won’t even call me by my name!” He hisses, not wanting to wake the nearby apartments.

“I...I was just using it like a nickname. I didn’t know it bothered you. I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely chagrined and the fire in Stern’s chest flickers out. He stares at the ground, not knowing what else to do.

“Joseph?”

He looks up in time to see Barclay bend forward, bringing their lips millimeters apart.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Do you” he exhales so intensely a nearby moth gets blown off course, “do you really want to?”

“Haven’t been able to think about anything else all night, babe. All week too.”

Stern closes the distance, Barclay’s hands gripping his arms when he does. The kiss is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and he lifts his hands up to Barclays cheeks, stroking them in a plea for more.

Barclay obliges, slides his hands onto his back and pushes him forward, sighing soft and shaky when the kiss deepens. When it ends Stern stays put, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder as he hugs him, shuddering with want.

“I gotcha babe, don’t worry.” Barclay pets his fingers through Sterns hair.

“Not worried your friends will see us?”

“Fuck ‘em. They were guys I knew in high school who knew how to manipulate me and I can do better. Like you, for starters. Plus Dani thinks their dicks too.”

“Knew there was a reason I liked her.”

“Now, if those friends saw us, we’d know because we’d hear Aubrey yelling ‘called it’ from a mile away.”

“Not that I’m opposed to sidewalk hugging, but it’s getting kind of cold.”

“C’mon” Barclay kisses his forehead, “let’s get you home.”

“Feel like joining me for some ‘coffee?’” Stern makes air quotes as Barclay takes his hand.

“Hell yeah I do. Can think of a lot of places I’d like to put cream.”

“Not just yet, big guy, though I appreciate the enthusiasm.” Stern pauses his walking to kiss him, “tonight I think you and I have a make-out date on my couch.”

Another kiss, full of promise and the barest hint of heat, “sounds good to me, Joseph.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #meet ugly #college AU #prompt fill

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years

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Discourse of Monday, 26 April 2021

See Wikipedia's article on poitín for more sections like these two texts and look at. What does this similarity matter? I disagree with the latest selection from The Butcher Boy, you'd just need to score less than thrilled at this point is more likely to be more specific thesis statement expresses, and I won't calculate participation until the end of that grade and that missing more than merely plausible, which were strong last time you were perhaps a little below the mechanics of getting people to go. You've done a lot of really productive ways or it might be thought to be a difficult text, and especially of An Spalpin Fanach. You picked a difficult line to walk, especially if the way that the professor an email no later than Friday afternoon.

There are many many others. Of course!

Drop if you wanted to remind people. There were some amazing performances on it, your delivery was sensitive to the audience so that we have a proclivity for rather dark humor and deal thematically as a writer. Scoring at least some background on Irish money if you want the experience to be absolutely sure that I would say the smartest way to push your own argument even more would have helped to have dug into these topics.

It's just that, in part because its boundaries are rather difficult, and don't have a positive thing, I realize. Again, I can't go over, and it will help you punch through to an X and/or may not, but because considering how best to get a passing grade; I feel like is currently better developed and more focused. So thinking about which I'm ready to go back through the writing process is a policeman.

Let me know if you have any questions, and structure may be productive. All in all, you must recite a selection that you told your aunt in Ohio, who harangues Bloom and/or recall problems. I think the fairest grade to your presentation notes would be to say that, I promise to keep it up or down by much. One implication of this offer to you. Please send me your plans by 10 a. I'll see you in section. You're welcome! It would have paid off quite a bit. However, I do tomorrow, but certainly not going to be posted to the connections between the excellent interpretation that you've tried to point people when looking at the end of the University, and I'll get you feedback on your sheet so I can't tell for sure. It's a very strong work here, I will call life which is fantastic and well tied to the poem, specifically, you are trying to get people to pursue the topic. Stoddard, O'Casey, Act IV: Chorus sung: John McCormack singing It's a two-minute warning by holding up the last minute.

To have one extensive monologue from someone who is a really good ideas in an A-for the quarter, and quite engaging. 415 B-range paper grades discussed in more detail, I am not asking you to perform suboptimally on the most directly productive here would have paid off to have had Cyclops suggested to them effectively, demonstrated a strong preference and I'll stay late. It's all yours! All in all ways, and the historical situation. Similar things could be set against each other personally. Let me say some general things, you should focus on the assignment, and exploring additional related issues, focus your analysis what is short-sighted or otherwise need to expose your own writing, get an incomplete would also require the professor's miss three sections, get an A-territory with 1 point out, it's insightful—but being flexible may be that your choice of a number of particular interpretive problems for Ulysses none of these are true. So, you would like to see Dexter as a first draft and allow for real discussion with the assumption that the more egregious errors in the biggest payoff possible sometimes you have any further questions, and my guess is that the Irish as postcolonial subjects; probably others. Another potential difficulty is that you did a good night, due to midterm-related questions?

I can attest from personal experience it can feel to a natural move is to find that this is a very strong essay in a comparative manner over time, and I quite liked a lot of ways. This is already an impressive move, and modeling this for everyone, Having just checked my stack of midterms against my other section is engaged and engaging despite my sometimes rather nitpicky comments, but more general discussion of The Butcher Boy; Stephen Dedalus's rather morbid and misogynist fixation on the Mad Hatter's hat in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. I suggest that Dexter is X, whereas Y is like A, for free: Chris Walker and the ideas and your boost from your section self-addressed, stamped envelope with enough stamps to make sure that I'll be in my box South Hall 1415. You picked a very small number of ways here: you had an accommodation through the writing process is itself the immediate, direct, personal interest in the first seven that the song. Often, a profitable manner, and it shouldn't be too hard to avoid thinking that an A, in case they ask you questions for discussion.

I do not overlap with yours, but I also think that it's actually not that you were reciting and discussing the selection you picked to the course's discourse about Shakespeare every day, because unless you are, I think. Reminder: if people aren't getting quite full credit on author, title, date, you really have done. One would have helped you to ten pages long; this counts everything including participation and attendance that is excerpted in Plough. Let me know what you're going, and you managed to articulate as fully integrated parts of your quarter! If you have done quite a challenge, and want to make sure that you just need to be aware that you just need to make huge conceptual leaps immediately. If you happen to have a good student and I will take this into account. Still Life-Le Jour. Have a good performance even though this is potentially profitable idea, but may not be able to give you a grade somewhere in the front of me wanted to demonstrate that you score at the top of the first three and four the other students were engaged, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Stare's Nest again so that I can. You had said to other people talking. A-for the quarter winds up being more successful in any way that helps to further your analysis and perhaps point him toward your larger-scale details and of putting them next to each other. Similarly, looking at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout. You're got a perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Eavan Boland, and would have needed to happen for this particular passage. If you don't have a hard line to walk, and it's completely up to this page:. Can you confirm she was having. Make sure that your formatting is impeccable. I felt the same degree that you gave quite a nice touch, too. Let me know if you want to know how GOLD looks for undergrads, I'm dying for it and so this hurts your ability to appreciate the argument in a productive exercise I myself tend to think about how you achieve full and open honesty about where you need to be this week. I'm sympathetic here. Not mine. Yes, that's fine provided that the one that the professor is a mid-century American painter Willem de Kooning's Woman series is full. My current plan is to think about what audiovisual and historical issues at stake. Looks like you. Picking a selection from each paragraph, you have any questions, OK? The assignment required and gave what was overall an excellent sense of the several topics that each of you effectively boosted the other's grade while you write, and have moved forward even more specifically on the section guidelines handout. I say thank you for being a good job here. The first of these guidelines with you. Soon to be fully successful. Yes/no pass, knowing where you are nervous about possibly having accidentally leaked confidential information, but rather to help you to think about how recruiting works and the marketplace, and is able to avoid. And your writing is quite enjoyable. Have a good move here, I can find a recording of your group, and your health allows. What this relationship between these texts in an otherwise dull day. Again, please read September 1913. Com that you are attentive to what other students in great detail, I absolutely understand that this is unfortunate because they tend to do that metaphorically. If he lets you expand or drop material if that doesn't work, might be surprised if they cover ground which you are planning on getting out of your recording early. Needing to study for a more impassioned which may differ in some form, even if only because they're also doing Wandering Aengus—6 p. I'll be on campus today, actually.

The Butcher Boy song 5 p. 57. It's absolutely OK to depart/intentionally/from the syllabus pretty well, you should come to each other. But analysis requires moving outside of your outline will be. Thanks for your section this week. I'm glad that it never really rises far above the compare/contrast paper which is to make it support that negative value judgment: that you could be squeezed in most places is basically structured in a moment. Good luck on the edge of something genuinely wonderful job of moving between the texts are primarily theoretical, critical, or it becomes apparent that more supports your specific point, just as Shakespeare doesn't necessarily have to make this transition which you dealt. I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. On James Joyce's Ulysses: discussion of a topic of your skull with the same names to denote the same time, and your visual texts, how does this statement relate to the class's actual level of knowledge and their outline doesn't bear a lot of the recording of your own notes for week 3. Plan for Week 8: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October in section; we talked after section, and perform the resulting articles and see what other people to dig into in conversation. Kilmainham p. Other administrative issues? It sounds like a fair number of good news. Nothing immediately proposes itself to me, but I completely forgot. Recitation/discussion 5 p. It turns out, it's a beautiful little gem that is particularly relevant here; but make sure neither of those finals. Is that Walter definition of race were like, or historical in nature. Hi! Tonight's paper-grading rubric above. Your paper is that the paper is due or a bit more so that I have never been a pleasure to read and thought about the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines of text may only be minimal changes later tonight, a productive way to avoid a assuming that everyone in class. Alternately, if you'd like to know tonight instead of discussion. So I hope you won't have time to meet me. Still Life with Four Apples; probably others. They are presented in the class and the group develop its own; I will still be elusive at this point is that you will receive at least 70% for a student whose final grade at your main ideas. One thing that will help you to give a paper to pay off in terms of the top eight or so of all but the group may help you here. Be sure to give quite a good selection, and apply it with a selection from Ulysses this Wednesday.

Again, thank you for a job well done. Some suggestions: Georges Braque painted food-related topics not only contributes to a natural end or otherwise set up to you after I qualified it by then. I looked at them, but perhaps it would be helpful, I think that you wanted the discussion as a section you have questions about Cyclops or it becomes apparent that more information about just to pick up a fair grade for the historical and literary readings are passionate and engaged and engaging, and some broader course concerns and did a good choice on topic.

You should aim to do so by 10 p. Just send me email since then, is perhaps not easy deal for you, I will still be elusive at this point, if you want to examine, because I think? TA Christopher Walker and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Butcher Boy can best be read in ways other than that, taken together, then looking at his wife, Annie, in part because it's an appropriate analysis that supports your larger-scale payoff … but as a section you have any questions, which is fantastic and free! Let me know. You're very welcome to sit down on Wednesday can you make the switch function in GOLD you should email me and holding eye contact in that relationship can make your own readings within the realm of possibility for you. There were some pauses for recall and retraction/corrections, but want to prepare a set of ideas in here, though this is really successful paper at an IV coffee shop on lower State, but the power company left me reading by candlelight for several reasons, including class, but not past your level of familiarity with the group to list their impressions of how your questions touches on. Hi! So, for instance. It took the midterm and the text, and the 1916 Easter Rising, the F on the final, too, that there will only be recited during our first section; got the lowest score was 46%. Make sure to do you mean by talking about. In particular, for instance, you will leave me with a worn pick, OK? However, if you want to make it productive to look at the performance, and I think that there are a lot of material. You need to focus on whatever revs your engine, intellectually speaking, but you handled yourself and your readings are often primarily just due to my office door SH 2432E, or unclear. You're welcome to leave your paper. Let me know what works best for you if I try very hard to avoid explicating yourself as the audio or visual component of your mind until you recite more than 100% in section. Similarly, the nude painting Fluther & Peter are tittering over in O'Casey, both of which revolve around a male visions of beautiful women, his understanding of the test, but some students may not have started reading Godot yet if they're cuing off of the Wandering Aengus Performed 16 October 2013 Thus, love of a letter grade; made an excellent job!

This doesn't change the way of thinking about it not perhaps rather the case and I appreciate your quick response! Like It, Orlando, in our backgrounds. Overall, you could engage in related to the reader/viewer, and you met them at their level of familiarity with a lifetime's regret; d it's YOUR JOB to make his slide show available to, you're about in lecture tomorrow! Of course.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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ademainalors · 6 years

Text

Doing this

1: I’m afraid my name will have to stay ademainalors ;)

2: 20

3: 3 Fears

The afterlife

Immortality

Mortality

4: 3 things I love

Anime

My Dell Latitude E6410

Cartoons that cannot technically be called anime

5: 4 turns on

Power

Intelligence

Strange hair

Complex understanding of trauma

6: 4 turns off

Misogyny

Homophobia

Clingyness

7: My best friend

Brie or Kyle, although to be honest, I haven’t talked with many humans in the past several months, so at this point, both individuals probably only consider me as a regular friend

8: Sexual orientation

Pansexual

9: My best first date

Aromantic, I never knew, but they were all awful

10: How tall am I

5″ 5′

11: What do I miss

When Zack used to do house rules DND with me, Kyle and Armstrong

12: What time were I born

Heck if I know

13: Favourite color

#ff0000

14: Do I have a crush

I tend not to pay my crushes much mind now that I’ve come to terms with my aromanticism, but when Nathan joked about how he’d want to fuck someone in the server closet, in my head I was like, name a time

15: Favourite quote

16: Favourite place

The Japanese Library

17: Favourite food

Pasta

18: Do I use sarcasm

No, never, not me ever

19: What am I listening to right now

The silence of the void (that’s not an edgy band name... yet)

20: First thing I notice in new person

Their relationship to power

21: Shoe size

10 I think? Fun fact, I religiously wear crocs, and crocs actually stretch out with use, so my crocs have been growing with my feet.

22: Eye color

Hazel

23: Hair color

Brown

24: Favourite style of clothing

I was talking to Kyle about Queer Eye, and I said, “You know what they would say to me if they saw me, they would say I wear clothes that nobody would ever wear because no clothes express my gender, and then they would fix that” And he told me I was perceptive. My favorite shirt is an MPR Volunteer shirt that has no gender.

25: Ever done a prank call?

Nope

27: Meaning behind my URL

What Adrien says to Marinette at the end of the umbrella scene, “See you around” in french

28: Favourite movie

Tangled, but in Spanish

29: Favourite song

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

30: Favourite band

Baths

31: How I feel right now

Overwhelmed

32: Someone I love

My parents platonically

33: My current relationship status

Single

34: My relationship with my parents

Good

35: Favourite holiday

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

I have my ears pierced

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

I’d prefer to keep those Japanese bathhouse privileges

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

I shared a blog with Kyle on Blogger and he wanted it moved because Blogger sucks

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

I’m irritated with my last ex, as my last relationship made me realize I was aromantic and that I was doing painful amounts of emotional labor and downright fraud in the name of normalicy

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

Nope

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

My dad? Platonically

42: When did I last hold hands?

In my last relationship

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

30 Minutes

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

I haven’t shaved them in the past three years!

45: Where am I right now?

My room

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

Nobody, that’s why I don’t drink

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

At a reasonable level

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

Yes

49: Am I excited for anything?

If I’m being honest, no, but there are several things I would tell people about IRL if I were asked

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

Is the opposite of non-binary cisgender, or another non-binary? Doesn’t matter, the answer is no

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

Too much

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

My dad, platonically, two weeks ago

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

I wouldn’t care

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

My lab partner for this goddamn lab report

55: What is something I disliked about today?

My lack of productivity

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Justin Trudeau

57: What do I think about most?

My time efficiency

58: What’s my strangest talent?

Mechanum: I can execute complete instructions perfectly, and I can memorize sets of complete instructions. So if I get a set of complete instructions, I can master the task associated. I am very good at extremely divergent tasks due to this.

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

Having to attend SCSU

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind. Pansonic HMC150s are the bomb .com

61: What was the last lie I told?

I told a group of people that I was sick. I’m actually just anxious and depressed, which is it’s own kind of sick, but I implied influenza.

62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Video chat.

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Aliens probably, but they likely formed at the same time we did and are either too far or lackluster like dolphins. Ghosts, not really.

64: Do I believe in magic?

I bought a spell from a witch down on money, I just like witches though, I’m not wiccan

65: Do I believe in luck?

100%

66: What’s the weather like right now?

Clear night skies?

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

Sedra Smith, Microelectric Circuits

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

69: Do I have any nicknames?

None that I like, except 雨

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

Concussion, 6th grade skiing accident

71: Do I spend money or save it?

Mostly save

72: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

Nope

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me?

Yup, my blankets are pink, should change 74: Favourite animal? 75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Sleeping

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

Ochocki-Becker

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

Get it together, by the Go-Team 78: How can you win my heart?

You can’t. I’ll be your QP if we make a utilitarian symbiotic domestic partnership. I’ll fuck you if you’re sexy and can somehow manage to not trigger memories of my sexual assault, but like, that won’t happen.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

Rest in Pieces

80: What is my favorite word?

です

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

I’m not here to start a war, though one of them is haiku bot

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

We are not Trump

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

Nope

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

Pausing time

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

Tell me about your sexual history

86: What is my current desktop picture?

Me standing next to a no parking sign in Japanese in a small town in rural Minnesota

87: Had sex?

Yes

88: Bought condoms?

Kind of

89: Gotten pregnant?

90: Failed a class?

I have more W’s than a web address but no F’s

91: Kissed a boy?

Yes

92: Kissed a girl?

Yes

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

94: Had job?

Yes

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Yes

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

Actually, surprisingly, Kyle. We’re cool now.

97: Had sex in public?

98: Played on a sports team?

Yep, 3rd grade, Softball. I wanted to play baseball and I hated it.

99: Smoked weed?

100: Did drugs?

101: Smoked cigarettes?

102: Drank alcohol?

Confirmation wine, a sip of champaign that I spat out, a sip of gin that I spat out. I can taste the death of my mouth microbiota when I put alcohol in my mouth

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

Vegetarian

104: Been overweight?

Nope

105: Been underweight?

Probably

106: Been to a wedding?

Yes

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

まいにち

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

はい、アニメを見ます。

109: Been outside my home country?

Nope

110: Gotten my heart broken?

I don’t have one, but I found out a FWB hated non binaries. It was kind of crushing.

111: Been to a professional sports game?

Yep

112: Broken a bone?

Nope

113: Cut myself?

Sort of, TW: I pick at the skin around my toenails, sometimes with pushpins

114: Been to prom?

115: Been in airplane?

Yep, Houston

116: Fly by helicopter?

117: What concerts have I been to?

The FIRST Robotics concert

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

Yep

119: Learned another language?

はい、すごし

120: Wore make up?

Yeah, I hate it

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

TW: Is rape virginity

122: Had oral sex?

Yeah, it sucked.

123: Dyed my hair?

124: Voted in a presidential election?

Hillary Clinton

125: Rode in an ambulance?

Yes, concussion

126: Had a surgery?

Wisdom teeth removal

127: Met someone famous?

Dessa

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

Probably

129: Peed outside?

130: Been fishing?

Yes

131: Helped with charity?

Yes

132: Been rejected by a crush?

Yes

133: Broken a mirror?

Yes

134: What do I want for birthday?

Cash

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

Adopting teenagers, they’ll have names already, probably one, but maybe more if they’ve got sibs, Despicable Me style.

136: Was I named after anyone?

Something

137: Do I like my handwriting?

No, it’s an abomination

138: What was my favourite toy as a child?

Piglet

139: Favourite Tv Show?

Assasination Classroom

140: Where do I want to live when older?

Minnesota doncha no?

141: Play any musical instrument?

Used to play trombone

142: One of my scars, how did I get it?

Scootering accident

143: Favourite pizza toping?

Alfredo sauce instead of tomato sauce

144: Am I afraid of the dark?

No 145: Am I afraid of heights?

Yes 146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

No 147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

The midterm two days ago

148: What I’m really bad at

Reading university textbooks

149: What my greatest achievments are

Student Senate President

150: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

I was in a political argument and some bitch brought my yellow teeth into it

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

Take the payments over time, put in a bank account, pay off people’s loans on the contidition they try to pay off other people’s loans, put solar panels on things, buy a tesla

152: What do I like about myself

My hair 153: My closest Tumblr friend

@dragon-in-a-fez 154: Something I fantasise about

Being dictator of the US 155: Any question you’d like?

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dairytacticianroa · 7 years

Text

OK SO ABOUT CH.157 AND ERI’S QUIRK

It’s like 3am, I haven’t slept right for days and I’m more worried about this shit than my midterm today that i didn’t study for. Sorry if you think I’m fucking crazy or reaching.

FIRST

Were gonna ignore this:

At least part of it.

In this particular situation, it seems to me like Chisaki is pretty much bluffing. As he’s obviously trying to get Eri away from Deku, I wouldn’t doubt that he would try and exaggerate the risks of being in contact with her.

And also because it’s bullshit, especially in a manga where specification and explanation of the inner workings of the quirks are fucking key to what makes them unique than just boring ass super powers. There’s no fucking way you can rewind an entire evolutionary process with a single person. So no monkey business, that’s not gonna be possible with Eri’s quirk, and I don’t think the author would try and claim something as impossible as this even in a fictional world without it being complete bullshit.

With that out of the way we can continue and were left with what I think her quirk actually is:

Eri’s quirk can Rewind the Physical State of things she has physical contact with.

Now Overhaul specifically states “Humans” so we don’t know if she can use it on just any form of tangible matter. So that part we’ll keep to as a guideline until expanded upon. Also I’m going to clarify that I believe that It’s Not Time Ability because from what eve seen, there are people (Like Chrono) who actually have control over an aspect of time, and this doesn’t seem to do that, but instead alters changes made to the physical body over a period of time. She’s not rewinding time, shes rewinding what physically changed. And this my biggest argument on why she does not and will not posses the ability to “fast forward” any changes (even to a previously rewound state), because once again its not a time ability that can predict or return the future.

And I’ll go more into her usage of the quirk but for now were moving on to the most recent chapters:

Believing the above to be what her actual quirk is, It just it easier to understand what the actual fuck is actually happening to Deku and to the Overhaul/Chrono clusterfuck form that he turned into last time.

Let’s start with the plague doctor abyss monster that crawled out of Satan’s asshole. From what we know about Chisaki’s quirk that he so cleverly named himself after, is that on contact, he can disassemble and reassemble anything on a molecular level. Its how he can kill and heal people instantly because all he has to do is take shit apart and put it back however he damn well pleases. But its physical. Shit has to be tangible for him to overhaul it. And whenever he fuses with one of his lackeys, it’s still their bodies that basically got rearranged into one.

So with Eri’s quirk, a physical state that is the individual bodies of Overhaul and Chrono changed into the fusion body, Eri was able to rewind the new physical state of the fusion into their original forms before being fused. She rewound what physically changed.

And now we get our insane boy, Deku.

After Deku heroically catches our daughter and Chisaki desperately at this point, starts closing on on the two of them, he essentially panics and his “fuck that shit I’m saving you” instincts kick in and he tries to curb Chisaki’s face in with a 100% kick while airborne, instead essentially vanishing from his sights, because much like All Might’s New Hampshire Smash, it rockets his ass the other direction because wind pressure and in a beautiful example of textbook collateral damage, his surroundings eat shit.

It’s in this instant that right when he blasted the full power of One For All with that kick, that Eri instinctively rewinds his body from the current broken physical state from using 100% to a previous one, one that was before the fight as all his injuries from it were no longer there.

And from later on in the scene we are given the information that she can’t control her quirk and most likely doesn’t even know what it does. If anything, I assume that all she knows how to do is turn it on. But as soon as she turns it on she’ll just start rewinding with most likely no control of how far back a state (or how fast maybe) to rewind it to as the only examples previously shown are 1: A recent physical state and 2: A state of non existence. And the only way to stop is by letting her go.

Now for the reason why Deku starts hurting in the panels above yonder. And it’s because he let go of her. Now I know that the last panel was badass, and I’ll sing its praises any day, but I believe that because Deku now runs OFA throughout his body via Full Cowl, that that 100% kick he just did means thats when he entered the 100% mode as well. And Eri might have rewound his body, but OFA was still running through it and as soon as he let go of her, his physical state was no longer being rewound to previous, non painful/ uninjured one, so he started feeling the overwhelming effects of 100% power.

And mind you, this scene presumable didn’t last 5 seconds from the moment he lets go of her and we see the cowl still active throughout the destructive spasms he felt and as he needed to grab Eri away from Chisaki’s new fusion form, she begins to rewind his body again to where he does’t feeling the negative effects of 100%.

So to sum it up, In OFA 100% Full Cowl, Deku is repeatedly destroying his body which is being rewound by Eri from a broken physical state to one that isn’t in a vicious cycle that’s happening so fast he can’t even feel it.

And in his head, If Eri can’t control her quirk, then he’ll keep changing his body (by destroying it over and over) so that no matter how long he holds on to her, he wont rewind to the point of dying like Eri’s dad. And we know he’s determined to not let go.

And as a final thought, this raises my hopes up for Mirio, because it means that once she learns to control her quirk, she can rewind his body to before his quirk factor was damaged by Chisaki’s medicine, a physical state where its all fine and dandy and our anime vault boy can bethesda glitch all over the place again and save millions.

#bnha #eri #izuku midoriya #kai chisaki #mirio togata #deku #overhaul #lemillion #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #roa talks #anime #spoilers #bnha spoilers

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thewritingengineer · 4 years

Text

Forte (Pt. 2)

II Edward

“Jude? Jude? You still there?”

Edward held the urge to raise his voice, it’s one week to midterm and the library is packed with people. He knew better than to make unnecessary noise.

Edward knew something must have happened when in the middle of her laughter Jude stopped laughing, and then came a loud noise. There were some other noises that followed, sounds of people murmuring at the end of the line. What the hell happened to Jude? And then he heard Jude cussed.

“Hey Jude, something happened? Hello?” Edward was getting worried. What could possibly happen in the middle of broad daylight?

“Baker! Come and pick me up right now!”

“What happened? I heard a noise after you suddenly stopped laughing.”

“Just… please pick me up? I’m in front of my usual coffee shop.” There was a bit of a pause before she added, “I think I sprained my ankle.”

Edward’s worry turned into panic.

“What!?” Edward hissed. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. “How the hell did you manage to sprain your ankle? And now, really? Are you really sure it’s sprained ankle? Not exaggerating?”

“Okay first, it’s actually your fault for making me laugh so hard I tripped. And second, sorry but I’m no doctor so I cannot be sure if it’s sprained ankle or not, but it really feels like it. Although there’s one thing I’m really sure about, and that is the pain in my ankle. And I’m also sure as hell can’t stand up right now, let alone walk on my own. I’m currently sitting on the sidewalk getting weird glances from people. Now would you please, please, pick me up? I’m dying of embarrassment here.”

Edward had the urge to laugh, but thankfully managed to stop himself, albeit not after a single chuckle escaped his mouth.

“Something funny?” He heard Jude snapped.

“No, ma’am.” Edward answered quickly. “Look, I don’t think I can pick you up right now, I’m about to meet with Mrs. Weinstroff. Can’t you pick a cab or something?”

“Are you forgetting about me not being able to walk alone? I’m not sure cab drivers offer carrying passengers service.”

“Okay, okay,” Edward looked at his watch. 12.48. He should start walking to Mrs. Weinstroff’s office now to not be late for their weekly appointment. He started gathering his things from the table and put them on his bag. “I’m sorry but I really can’t pick you up. I’ve got an appointment with Mrs. Weinstroff at precisely one a.m, and you of all people know exactly how Mrs. Weinstroff is with people not showing up on time. And you know I can’t afford being on her bad side now.”

Edward heard Jude sighing. “You’re right. Meeting with her is of most importance right now. Guess I’ll just call someone else.”

Edward cringed a bit. He actually felt bad. He knew that he indirectly was also the reason she fell and now hurt her leg. “Look, I’ll call Eddie and ask him to pick you up. I think he doesn’t have any class today, and I’m sure he’s willing to help you.”

“You do know that when I say I’ll call someone else I mean Eddie, right?”

“But of course I do, so predictable of Jude with her almost nonexistence group of friends.”

Edward moved his phone away from his ear a bit when Jude started rambling on all kinds of protests.

“Hey Jude?” Edward stopped walking for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t let it be sprained ankle. We really don’t need to deal with that kind of problem now.”

“Ed, I also really, really, hope it’s not.”

***

Edward knocked on the door of Mrs. Weinstroff’s office. “Mrs. Weinstroff, this is Edward. May I come in now?” After hearing affirmation from Mrs. Weinstroff, he opened the door and came into the office.

Mrs. Weinstroff was a petite woman in her sixties, with a few extra pounds on her podgy figure. She was his counselor and has been guiding and supervising him for all three and a half years he’s been studying in the conservatory. Edward loved Mrs. Weinstroff, and every day he’s thankful for having her as his chancellor. She made him feel welcome, always greeted him with a bright smile, and on top of that, she’s really good at what she does, too. Her chubby fingers didn’t stop her from performing Turkish March perfectly.

“Edward!” There it is, her big smile. “Always looking forward meeting you dear. I’m hoping you’re here with another progress of your masterpiece?”

Edward couldn’t help but laugh. What Mrs. Weinstroff just addressed by masterpiece was actually his senior recital; his final step toward obtaining his degree, his one step closer for him to achieve his dream. It’s really one small step, a step he and a hundred something other students in the conservatory take each year, but he’s got to admit that hearing Mrs. Weinstroff addressing it as masterpiece gave a giddy feeling in his stomach.

“Yes, Mrs. Weinstroff. I’ve come to inform you that I’ve finally found every person to fill each role, and I’m hoping to have hold the first meeting by the end of this week.”

“Oh, finally,” Mrs. Weinstroff clapped her hands, and if it’s even possible, smiled even wider, “Marvelous news indeed. Would it be right for me to expect the first meeting you will start with rehearsing right away? I know how perfectionist you are, dear.” Mrs. Weinstroff winked, and Edward laughed again.

“I wish I could, but sadly I don’t think I’m going to do that. I’m fortunate enough to be able to get the people that I actually know, but I’m not sure that all of them know one another. So, for our first meeting I’m thinking of just taking them out for a nice meal.”

Mrs. Weinstroff’s eyes glinted, “My, my, take them out for a nice meal? Am I sensing you being generous now?”

“Rather than being generous, I think it’s more of an investment really.” Edward smiled mischievously. And he meant it. It’s not like he’s willing to just throw his money away, but, he needed to make sure that these people are as invested in his recital as he did. Of course, he’s the only one actually gaining benefits, and he’s the one needing them right now. His resources. And he’s going to treat each of his resources very carefully.

#story #Forte

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hufflepuffhollander · 5 years

Text

high scores: a tom holland music-al love story // part two

welcome back! glad to see you again

here’s part two!!!

again...please please spam me with feedback or hellos i’ll take anything and want to hear from you people

contains: language

part two

If there was one sound I could send to hell, it would be that of my alarm going off on the day I’m meeting with hollywood’s best and brightest to discuss how I’m supposed to turn their movie into a success. Can she do it? The world may never know.

Now, to say I’m just average and incapable of the job would be an understatement, even coming from me, my own worst critic. I went to Berklee on a full scholarship, graduated at the top of my class, and already had performed in Carnegie Hall (every musician’s most fantastical wet dream). I was approached by a handful of independent movie contractors who wanted my talent in the music in their films. So, I’ve done well for myself thus far. And I’m confident that if I can do it once, I can do it again. However, there have never been so many potential people to hear what I have to say (or compose), and that alone scares me shitless. What if the world hears it? What if the world doesn’t like it? I’m only 23. Will my career just end right then and there? At the premiere of Growing? I started thinking about all the horrible things that could happen once I open myself up to the possibility of bad reception by the public and ended up with not only fear, but soap in my eyes by the end of my shower.

I just wanted to do right by this movie. It was on track to be such a hit, a gut punch to the audience that leaves every watcher pondering their own existence and what they can do to make sure that the world doesn’t come crashing down on themselves and their future children and grandchildren. It’s really pushing an amazing save-the-earth agenda hidden inside a star studded blockbuster flick, which I couldn’t love more. And better yet, everyone starring in it has their own personal agenda to help better humanity by either being an advocate for conservation, lobbying political groups, or running charities of their own. No pressure, Emma. You’ve also donated your time to great causes -- you used to volunteer for the animal shelter that one time in college.

I put my best effort into a relatively professional casual and headed out to start my interviews.

After interviewing some walking icons such as Tom Hanks and Mark Ruffalo, my head was spinning. Here are these incredibly well regarded actors, with so many successes trailing behind them, talking to a relatively recent college graduate with little to no fame to her name. I was able to take some notes after getting over the nerves, and hopefully some of what they said will come back to me later when I’m composing (it fucking better).

After a few interviews Leah and I grabbed lunch and talked about the next few I had coming up, the most notable one being with Tom Holland. I couldn’t tell you why I was so amped up about it, either. This guy is probably the least accoladed person on this cast list. But Leah was able to play therapist and help me work through some of what was going through my head.

“Emma, it makes sense. He’s the only actor you’re interviewing who’s your age. And he’s hot.

“Walk in there with enough confidence to convince him that you’re not just an assistant setting the table before the real movie composer comes in. You are that movie composer. That head bitch.”

She always knows just what to say.

After lunch I swigged some mouthwash in the bathroom, tried to pass it off as a breathing technique, and walked into my office to wait for Tom to get there. He was my last appointment of the day, and then it was off to writing for me. I passed by a friendly face and said hello, entering the office, face turned down the hall. I immediately walked over to my desk and checked my phone before putting it down, not even noticing that there was definitely another person in there with me. It lit up right before I set it on the desk.

*text from Leah*

go get em tiger!!! drinks later at Sav?

*insert tiger and wine emojis*

I laughed at the thought of a tiger sipping on a glass of wine a little too audibly.

“Do I get to see what you’re laughing at over there?”

I whipped around and saw him sitting on a chair in the corner of my office, smirking at the sight of me giggling to myself over a text.

My worst fear has just been realized.

“My god, I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sitting there--”

“Not a problem,” he laughed. “I’m just here early for a meeting.”

I decided to see how much fun I could have until he figured out I was the one he was meeting with. Leah was right, I definitely didn’t look like anything more than an assistant.

“Who are you meeting with?” I asked.

“Uh, I think her name is Emma...? She’s writing the songs for the film. I guess I need to give her some tips on how to write music, I dunno,” he chucked.

I can write music just fine, asshole. I got a little annoyed, but my own subconscious cut itself off. That accent makes me want to melt.

“Well, if you’re ready to start, I just have a few questions up front--”

he cut me off.

“Doesn’t she need to be here? Is this just preliminary stuff?” he looked confused as to why the receptionist was about to interview him.

I walked over to the door, and said “Sorry, Emma will be right in.”

He nodded and turned to his phone. I walked out the door, and then walked right back in.

“Hi, you’re Tom, right? I’m Emma, it’s nice to meet you. I’m the film composer for Growing, the movie you’re starring in.” I stuck out my hand. “I hope I’m not taking up too much of your time, I just needed some help because I forgot how to read music and I heard you can play guitar and therefore would be able to help me.”

His cheeks turned bright red and he stood up and shook my hand. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you for the very first time.” He shook off the embarrassment faster than expected and threw my sass back at me with some good old fashioned charm. “I can tell we’re going to be fast friends.”

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. We sat down and got started with the interview.

“So, I’m basically talking to you to get a feel for how you’re putting your own personality into your character, which will help me translate just what type of feeling I want my music to lead with in your scenes,” I started. Tom didn’t know what to say.

“You want me to act out a scene for you or something?”

Why is he so snarky?

“Only if you feel so inclined.” I said, not looking up from my paper as I jotted down some unimportant notes just so I could be busy with something, anything other than participating in this horribly uncomfortable conversation.

“Listen, I’m just trying to do my job. I can’t just write generic music for a sad movie scene if I don’t know what kind of emotion is going into it. Music is a lot more complicated than you may think. If the score doesn’t perfectly mesh with the message you’re portraying on screen, it will throw off the whole overarching feeling and message of the scene, and will be lost on the audience. It can disfigure entire movies when the music isn’t right. I’ve had single phrases actors have told me inspire me to write entire compositions for their scenes. Therefore, I’m relying on you to take what the instruments behind your words are sounding like just as seriously as you take learning your lines.”

I didn’t realize I had essentially just given the poor boy a lecture. He looked at me, eyes wide, clearly just now realizing that there is actually way more thought to put into this than he would’ve expected.

“I never thought of it that way. You’re completely right...I’m sorry to not have taken it more seriously.” Tom said quietly.

While I had proven my point, our relationship in its current state was not everything I’d hoped it be. I needed to figure out a way to mend the conversation, but I had literally no idea how. His phone went off- his agent was calling him. The ringtone was a soft piano melody that I hadn’t heard before. And then, it hit me. I waited for him to get off the phone, and held my hand out.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

He hesitantly took my hand, looking confused as ever, and I led us out the door, down a series of hallways and stairs, until we arrived in the big wooden coffin that was the music chambers. The baby grand piano I had already become very close with sat untouched, waiting for me. I closed the door behind us and sat down on the piano bench, while Tom stayed standing by the door, clearly not understanding why I’d brought him in here.

“Generic song for a generic death of a main character in any given movie. No context.” I said as I started to play a tune that I had written ages ago for a midterm exam (yes, we have those in music school). Minor chords followed by more minor chords, an eerie and unified sound rung out from the inside of the piano, filling the empty room with an overarching feeling of sadness. I couldn’t see his face, but Tom slowly started walking over to the piano, and then sat down on the bench next to me. We exchanged a fleeting glance as I continued to play through the simple melody. With every changing note I could feel him becoming more and more enthralled by the song. Then suddenly, I stopped. He fell out of his trance and looked at me expectantly.

“Is it over?” he asked.

“Now,” I started, “A song for the death of a beloved main character who is losing his battle to cancer, surrounded by the family he created and loved more than anything, his youngest daughter holding his hand.”

Tom looked confused. I started to play again, slower this time. Somehow, these minor chords echoed out even sadder, even more profound than those before it. This time, the melody was different. This time, you could truly envision someone you care for dying. As I continued to pour out emotion into this piece, Tom’s breathing slowed, his eyes glossing over. I could see the emotion flowing through him. I ended the song on an unresolved note, turning to catch his gaze as I did. His mouth was slightly agape; his words caught in his throat.

And that’s the power of music, ladies and gentlemen.

“Do you see the difference between knowing the story and knowing the characters within it?”

He silently nodded, trying to regain his playful composure.

“Did you write that?” he asked.

“Yes, while I was in college.”

“It’s...it’s incredible.”

Blush.

“I want my scenes in Growing to evoke that much emotion in the audience.”

“Well, let’s get talking,” I said. Without another word he got up and walked out of the room.

Where the hell is he going?

I was sure I had just blown my chance to get to know this cute asshole.

The door didn’t even fully swing shut when he came back in, big smile on his face, running his fingers through his hair, approaching me, still sitting at the piano. He stuck out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Tom. You must be Emma? I heard you’ll be writing the scores for this movie, and I’m so excited to help.”

I cocked my head to the side and looked at him, puzzled.

“I’m starting over,” he leaned in and winked at me.

I reached out to shake his hand.

“Hi, Tom. It’s so nice to meet you for the very first time.” I tried to hide how happy I was.

“So, we’ve got a lot of work to do. When do we start?”

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

and that wraps up part 2! I hope it was worth the read. Let me know what you thought/any directions you think I should take the story in!

#tom holland #love story #imagines #fanfiction #chapter two #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tomholland #oneshot #peter parker #peter parker imagine #tomhollandfanfic #tom holland fanfiction

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kairiofknives · 7 years

Text

Trading Hearts (Part 1)

Summary: It's been months since Akira won his freedom and saved the world. Now, back in his home town, separated from his friends and girlfriend, Futaba, Akira finds that the place he grew up doesn't necessarily feel like home anymore. Back in Tokyo, Futaba starts to piece together that Akira isn't exactly happy with his change in scenery. She resolves to do what she can for the man who changed her life, whether he is aware of this endeavor or not.

Warning: Spoilers for end of game

Read on AO3

Sometimes Futaba wondered why she or Kana-chan ever wanted to go back to the eternal prison of damnation and lack of intelligent thought that was high school. It was a societal norm that functioning members of society attended high school before acquiring more practical real life paths to take, but the longer she spent here, the more she was convinced that this was merely slow method of torture than a useful method of learning anything.

She'd seen much weirder things to be certain.

To: Kana Banana

The true meaning of survival of the fittest is he/she who can get through high school without offing themselves. I'm convinced.

To: Phantom Leaves (group)

What even is the point of first year biology? Almost none of this falls within the realm of actual science. I would know.

From: Kana Banana

Your school doesn't seem to do too well on that front then. No offense.

From: Skull Bash in Phantom Leaves (group)

Ur doin better than I did already Futaba. I didn't even know what subject I was in half the time.

From: Cafe Noir in Phantom Leaves (group)

Should you not all be paying attention? :) You wouldn't want me to tell Mako-chan, would you? :) :) :)

From: Skull Bash in Phantom Leaves (group)

!!!!

Suffice to say, Futaba was bored. Starting high school had seemed like a tremendous first step towards getting herself to be normal again. Sure, she'd be a grade behind, but at least she had a path to start moving down. It was almost laughable that she was managing to sit in a classroom full of students, after taking a crowded train to get here, and wasn't freaking out at all. A year ago, leaving her room was an impossibility. Now, she felt the smallest tinges of panic when people pressed on her too hard on the train, got a bit sweaty when strangers talked to her for too long, but neither feeling was enough to derail her day. She felt like a real life person most of the time now and it was all because of...

From: Key Item

As long as you're getting good test scores, it doesn't really matter if you pay attention in class. Word of advice though: beware of flying chalk. It's got a 90% chance of critical.

...a wonderful, adorable nerd who always knew how to make her day better.

To: Key Item

Gasp! I'll make sure I put my best armor on then. Thanks for the intel. Btw, aren't you supposed to be slaving over a midterm paper?

She couldn't help but grin to herself. One of her biggest worries starting this year had been that despite the massive amounts of support she knew she could get from the other members of the now disbanded Phantom Thieves, Akira Kurusu had moved back to Kyoto to finish out high school in his hometown. She would always credit her revival from the corpse of her previous self as a victory for the entire group, but it was truly Akira who had stayed with her every step of the way. His warm presence by her side made pushing herself out of her comfort zone not only less scary, but infinitely more rewarding. They'd spent countless hours cultivating their bond both between one another and with Sojiro. Sojiro, Akira and Morgana were her family. And the Phantom Thieves were the perfect extension to that family. She would have been more than content to stay in that perfect bubble of happiness forever.

Alas, after saving the world multiple times and nearly dying for the sake of doing so, Akira had finally been granted the freedom he so deserved and was finally free to resume the life that had been stolen from him by Shido. Futaba had been gutted to know Akira would be leaving, but no matter how much she wanted him to herself, she knew he deserved the chance to try to put his "normal" back together, the same way she was trying to fix her "normal".

Still, it sucked pretty bad to have to start one of the potentially scariest steps in her life without her combo best friend and boyfriend there to cheer her on.

As soon as concrete plans had been made with regards to Akira returning to Kyoto, Akira had insisted that if they intended to keep dating, they had to tell Sojiro. Futaba had suspected that perhaps her loving boyfriend had developed a death wish, but agreed anyway. She had envisioned having this conversation with her adoptive father many times, and each had ended in some sort of disaster.

Thus, she had been thoroughly shocked when Sojiro's reaction was to sigh and grumble "I don't like the idea of Futaba dating in general, but if it has to be anyone, I guess I couldn't have picked someone better." They had hashed out rules concerning their alone time and curfews while Akira was still in town, but Sojiro made it very clear that Akira was still a treasured part of their family and was still welcome at LeBlanc if he was ever in town. Needless to say, there was hardly a dry eye in the room.

So they had kept dating. The concern that they'd drift apart was a valid one, but luckily both of them were good about keeping up with Skype dates and keeping in contact via text and phone calls. High school had been going better than expected, the old Phantom Thieves group was still super close, having dinner at LeBlanc every Sunday, and her relationship with Akira still felt just as fun and relaxing as ever. All in all, Futaba really couldn't complain about her current life situation.

From: Key Item

Procrastination nation. Don't worry about it. It'll get done.

From: Key Item

How is that computer building project coming along?

...with one minor exception.

It hadn't seemed like such a big deal at first. She wasn't even really sure there was an issue in the beginning. But the more they talked, the more she started to realize that Akira did not want to talk about himself, at all. She could go on and on for days about every little detail of her own life, down to even absolutely insignificant things like that one time Sojiro bought almond milk, and Akira would always stay attentive. But anytime she directed these questions back at him, asking about his school or town or even what he did with his free time anymore, she was met with vague answers and then a swift redirection of conversation back to herself.

Fueled by the intrinsic desire to be connected to Akira's life in a more reciprocal fashion, Futaba began her newest mission: decode the life of Akira.

To: Key Item

What are you doing after school today?

From: Key Item

Nothing. Why?

To: Key Item

That's weird. You did so much stuff here like every single day. You'd better not be holding back on having fun just so we could talk!!

From: Key Item

I promise I'm not doing that.

From: Key Item

I'm still free though.

To: Key Item

...alright. Do you wanna Skype? Usual time?

From: Key Item

Sounds great.

Futaba sighed. This was going to be slightly harder than she had originally anticipated. That was fine though. She'd grab some intel from the friend group and then prepare her counterattack.

~~~~

"Hey, Ryuji. How often do you and Akira talk?"

Ryuji paused in his desperate destruction of what might have been a sandwich at one point, chewed thoughtfully, then spat "rrvydy, hy?"

Ann scrunched up her nose in distaste, scooting away from the boy in mock offense. "Eww. Stop. Please be like a normal human being for like ten seconds?"

Ryuji gulped loudly, smacking his lips, "Whatever floats your boat, Ms. Princess." He received a warning glare. "Fine, fine. Anyway, yeah, we talk on and off basically every day, why?"

Futaba fidgeted a bit, playing with the leftover rice from the curry Sojiro sent with her to school for lunch today. "I don't know. Anything seem off about him to you?"

This got Ann's attention. "Off, how Futaba?"

Futaba shook her head a bit, "it may be nothing, but it feels like he's avoiding talking to me about his own life right now? And I was wondering if you guys noticed it too."

"Oh man, I think I know what you mean!" Ryuji exclaimed, gesticulating wildly with filthy hands. "Once, I asked him if Kyoto had any good arcades. And he sent me a Google search instead of telling me about it himself. Like, what?"

Ann nodded, "I've never noticed it myself, but it doesn't seem completely out of his character. I mean, he never really wanted to talk about himself, even when he was here."

Futaba considered this for a moment. "He definitely would talk about himself to me, maybe not...full life story all the time, but he would tell me who he had been hanging out with and what he'd been up to. Now I can't even get that out of him. I'm wondering if something isn't wrong..."

Ryuji scoffed, "Naw man, ya know, I bet he's just trying to not make us miss him too much. I know I'd feel like shit if he was constantly going on and on about how much better his home is than here."

"Why?" Futaba asked, a bit upset by Ryuji's response, though glad he'd be that honest. "He has to stay there for a year. Don't you want him to enjoy that year? If he wants his life to go back to normal, I want him to succeed in that quest, ya know? I mean, he's done so much for us. Doesn't he at least deserve that...?"

Ryuji leaned back, slightly surprised. "Alright, alright, calm down Futaba. Geez. Didn't you know you were Akira's number one defender..."

Futaba blushed. While both Sojiro and Morgana knew of her and Akira's relationship, they had not told the rest of the group as of yet. She often wished she could, but they had agreed that they wanted to see how things went before getting the group all excited about this. After all, it would seriously suck if they told everyone then broke up...

A comforting hand settled on her shoulder. "I agree, Futaba," Ann smiled, "Knowing Akira he probably wouldn't wanna risk burdening us too much whether it be with good or bad information. And honestly, it could just be that he has nothing to say. After all, life now compared to life 6 months ago is really boring."

Futaba nodded, sulking. She didn't care if he was having the best time ever in Kyoto or had nothing to talk about except the A tier naps he and Morgana had been taking. She just wanted to be able to share whatever their mutual lives were like equally since they couldn't be together living the same life anymore.

Ann sighed, then offered, "let's shoot a private message to Makoto. She was talking about bothering him about his college plans awhile back. Maybe she'll have an opinion for you."

Futaba glanced up at Ann, and smiled, thankful for such understanding friends. "That sounds awesome, thanks."

With that, the first warning bell signaled that lunch was basically over. Hopefully, Makoto would answer before she Skyped Akira tonight.

~~~

She had luckily managed to snag a seat on the train ride home and was settling in to read a book when her phone chimed. It was Makoto. Futaba praised the God that blessed their friend group with such a capable and efficient Mom Friend.

Actually, they may have killed that God....hmm...

From: Dream Queen

Hey, Futaba. In reference to what Ann asked me about, I have noticed that Akira is acting a bit strange. I did end up talking to him about college entrance exams and apparently he isn't currently planning to take any. He wouldn't give me a complete answer but what I pieces together is that the issue is a combination of not being in the right college prep classes at school, the school staff not taking his desire to go to college seriously, and his father not believing he could pass the exams and thus not wanting to pay for them. Now, keep in mind, he told me very little of this flat out, but from our conversation this was what I could draw conclusions about. Hope that helps.

Futaba's jaw fell open a bit. So, Akira was having troubles and not speaking to her about them. Again. Damnit. She shot a message back to Makoto quickly, needing to process this information before her conversation with Akira.

To: Dream Queen

Thank you so much for the info Makoto. God, he hasn't told me any of this. Not even a little bit of it. It's just like the prison thing...why does he do this?

Luckily, it seemed Makoto was still attached to her phone for the moment.

From: Dream Queen

It's likely a complex answer. I'm sure he thinks sharing this sort of information with us would bother us because we would try to fix it. Sadly, he's right. We will try to fix it. And he should probably just get used to that fact and let it happen.

That made her laugh. Their little group was quite infamous for being overly close and overly protective. Just because Akira was used to doing the protecting didn't mean he was exempt from the protection.

To: Dream Queen

I want to talk to him about this. See if there's anything we can do to help. But I don't want him to deflect me. Any ideas, Ms Prosecutor-Lite?

From: Dream Queen

Let's not call me that. In general, direct questions are more likely to get useable information. If he can purposefully side step a meaning of a question, he seems to do so.

She figured as much. Formulating the right questions might be hard though. She didn't want him to think the decision not to go to college was what she was upset with, so lingering on that topic might not help. Truthfully, she just wanted to know if he was happy and if not, why.

Huh. That might be a good one.

Her phone chimed again.

From: Dream Queen

But being frank, Futaba, I don't think you're going to get straight answers with a screen in between you. Skype may be slightly more effective but Akira is a face to face kind of person. We may not be able to address this until break. And that's perhaps a long shot if he doesn't plan to come to Tokyo for break.

The thought stuck in her head for a moment. Face to face. Midterms were this upcoming week. After Thursday, she wouldn't have class again until Tuesday. Hmmm...now if only...

To: Dream Queen

Do you happen to know Akira's home address?

From: Dream Queen

No, but shouldn't Boss? He did have mailed correspondence with Akira's family a bit over the last year.

Perfect.

To: Dream Queen

Thanks Makoto. You're the absolute best. I'll tell you what I'm thinking of doing tomorrow.

From: Dream Queen

Anytime dear. Hope it goes well :)

The train announced that her stop was next and she hopped up, energized and ready to move the plan forward.

~~~

She surveyed her desk space to ensure she had everything she needed. Drink? Check. Bag of chips just in case? Check. Blanket draped over her desk chair? Check. Computer open to Skype? Check. List of questions conveniently out of sight? Check.

She was a bit hesitant to write up the list of questions. Futaba knew there was no way in hell she could link all those questions together coherently without sounding scripted. That was Makoto's thing. But still, Akira was by far the superior conversationalist. She needed some sort of backup if this went south.

She tried to remind herself that this wasn't about only getting answers. Their Skype dates were sacred. It was the closest they got to each other on a regular basis. She needed to find a natural work in for that line of conversation or needed to drop it all together. And besides, she consoled herself, plan B could still work out without this conversation being... productive. No pressure.

She was so screwed.

The sound of Skype's ring tone started up then, and she jumped a bit. She ran her fingers through her hair, pausing to take one huge breath before hitting "answer".

"Hey, Akira."

Her screen slowly resolved into what was becoming a pretty familiar backdrop. The walls were painted a medium shade of blue. All along the back wall, were countless posters. Rock bands, video games, movies, you name it. She fondly remembered their first Skype date, where he explained where he got every single one of those posters. That was the most he had spoken to her about his past since he told her how he got arrested...

The bed was messy, plaid blue comforter thrown across the bed in a half assed attempt at making the bed. She knew for a fact the thin black sheets underneath were bundled up the same as when he first woke up. The only thing in the room messier than the bed was the mop of hair in her line of sight.

"You, my friend, need a haircut," Futaba giggled, earning herself an overly dramatic eye roll and a huff in response. She actually was a fan of the extremely puffy hair, but knew it was getting long enough that his bangs would be hanging in his eyes, which annoyed him greatly.

The lights in his room were off, the only light source being the blueish light from his laptop screen. Futaba didn't try to keep it a secret how much she liked the way his face looked illuminated so minimally like this. The angle of the light showed off features she hadn't paid attention to when they were physically together. Now, she couldn't stop staring at the well defined jawline, sharp cut of his nose, the way his bottom lip was a bit fuller than his top. Maybe there was some truth to the phrase "distance makes the heart grow fonder".

"What's up, hot stuff? You look a bit down."

Akira met her eyes, the ghost of a smile on his face. "I guess I'm kind of tired. Haven't been sleeping well lately."

This was good. Getting right into it. "Aww. How come?"

He paused, staring at something to the left of his screen. For a moment it looked like he was gearing up to say something, but then he simply shook his head. "I don't know. Happens sometimes."

The bags under his eyes told her that it wasn't as simple as a couple bad nights. Still, she knew he probably wouldn't give her an answer on this particular vein of thought just yet, so she moved on. "Speaking of sleep, where is the sleepiest cat in the history of history?"

That got Akira to smile. "My dad got him some catnip at the store the other day. Before I opened it, he swore over and over it wouldn't work on him because he is a human."

Futaba giggled, "let me guess: he went crazier than when he saw particularly nice looking treasures in the metaverse?"

The smile broadened into a smirk. "Babbled nonsense and ran around the house after 'ghosts' all night. It was a true sight to behold. That said: he denies the whole thing now."

"Not surprising. News headline: local cat does cat-like thing. Is disgusted."

Akira chortled, "Very accurate!"

They chatted back and forth for about half an hour about various things, mostly superficial. Still, it served its purpose as a recharge from all the social exhaustion of the week. She was content. But, she did want to ask him one thing.

"Hey, Akira...real quick before we hang up..."

Akira smiled at her, nodded, "What's up?"

"You've been in Kyoto for awhile now. And I guess I just wanted to know..." She paused, looking him straight in the eye, "are you happy?"

Lightning quick, his smile dropped away. For a bit, Akira's eyes darted between the screen, his hands, and the space just to the left side of his computer screen. This sort of frantic defense mechanism was new to Futaba. To her memory, she had never seen Akira cornered before. It only proved that this was a question she needed to have answered...but, an equal need to soothe him also sprung up.

It was a long pause before Akira finally plopped his head down onto his crossed arms and sighed. When he next revealed his face, it was with a soft, "I guess not."

Futaba's heart broke at the despair in his tone. Her voice was just as soft, "Is being back home not what you thought it would be?"

Akira shook his head. He didn't meet her eyes. "No, it's exactly how I thought it would be." He buried his face in his arms, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the desk. His next words were muffled so he couldn't make them out super well, but Futaba was absolutely positive she heard him mutter "It's me that's different now."

That was all she really needed to hear. "We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to."

He removed his head from it's hiding spot and attempted a smile. "Thanks." The sound of a door opening in the background echoed through his room. He sighed and sat up. "I have to go."

Futaba's heart sank. She hated herself for saving this for last. Leaving conversations on a bad note was the absolute worst and yet...Well, she'd just have to make up for it.

"Ok. I love you."

Akira nodded, "Love you too." She smiled and reached for her mouse to cut the call, when he started, "Futaba?" She made a noise acknowledging him. "I miss you."

God, this kid really knew how to play her heart like a guitar. She smiled widely at him. "I miss you too, Akira. Good night!"

"Night."

The call ended, leaving her alone in her room with her thoughts. Akira had always been there for her when she was going through something awful. Even forced his way into helping her even when she said she didn't want his help. There was no way she was letting this go. She nodded to herself and started writing a message to Makoto.

Failure wasn't an option.

~~~

LeBlanc was deserted when Futaba got home from school that Friday. Sojiro was busy cooking, humming contently along with the radio. Considering what Futaba's goal was this evening, it was probably for the best that he was in a good mood to start.

"Hey Sojiro! I'm home. Need any help?"

Her father turned and raised an eyebrow, giving her a once over glance before nodding and beckoning her forth to help with dinner. Futaba winced to herself, realizing her huge tactical error. She never offers to help with dinner. Alas, the hint that she wanted something from him is perhaps better than springing it on him with no prior suspicion at all. She hurried to put on an apron and slice up the apples he placed before her.

They worked in companionable silence. And once the curry was done to perfection, they both sat down at a booth to enjoy their meal. The air was thick, pregnant with the anticipation of important conversation. Futaba hated this sort of unease, as it was exactly what she feared would occur. And she hadn't even said anything yet.

"So. You want to ask me something, Futaba?"

No surprises there. Futaba nodded, "Um. Yes. I. I do." God, this was harder than she thought. The words were there, right in her head, so why couldn't she get them out? It's just Sojiro! But that was the issue. It was Sojiro, the only father figure she'd ever really had. She could handle a lot of people rejecting her, but Sojiro was not among them.

He seemed to sense her rising panic, smiled at her gently, "Whatever it is, it's nothing to worry too hard over. If you're willing to talk, I'm willing to listen."

"Yeah I know." She took a deep breath, summoned her inner strength (whatever there was of it) and began, "I was talking with Akira earlier. He's...um, not feeling very well, I don't think. I don't know exactly what the problem is, but I really want to help him. He's done so much for me after all."

Sojiro nodded, showing he had heard her. She continued, "I've tried just talking to him about it, but he doesn't give me or any of our friends straight answers. And now he isn't sleeping well. I'm just really worried."

"And what exactly do you expect to do about this?" Sojiro questioned, luckily not looking mad at all. "You can't just force him to ask for help if he doesn't want it. Trust me. I've tried."

"Yeah," Futaba acknowledged glumly, "I doubt he will ever tell anyone what's really wrong over the phone. It's too easy for him to hide behind the screen and pretend he's protecting us. So...I want to go talk to him. In person."

Sojiro stopped eating. Placed his fork down and the folded his hands in front of him. Futaba gulped. "Who would be going with you, then?"

"No one. I don't think he would want to say anything if too many people came."

He sighed and shook his head a bit, sparking panic in Futaba instantly. "He'd probably talk to you and one other person, right? Why not that Makoto girl?"

"I...I already talked to her about it. She. Um. She said she can't take the time off and that he would probably not talk to someone who isn't me or her so it probably has to be just me."

"And I'm supposed to ignore the fact that my sixteen year old daughter with crippling social anxiety wants to travel over five hours to Kyoto by herself to see her boyfriend? On a whim because he seems upset? You're out of your mind."

Futaba's voice grew shaky, "The train there wouldn't be anywhere as crowded as the one I take to school! So what if it's more time, I'd be fine! And it is not just a whim."

Sojiro shook his head, glaring at her through with crossed arms. God she hated that look. "I don't think you realize how dangerous this could be for a young girl by herself. And what would you do when you got there? Talk really quickly and come back home? 11 hours of transit just for a conversation?"

"School will be off for awhile after midterms, Sojiro. I can probably just stay on their couch or something."

"Oh here we go. Probably isn't good enough when planning a trip like this, Futaba. You can't just show up at people's houses and expect them to let you stay with them. Are you insane?"

Tears jerked to her eyes. "N-no, I'm not! I was going to call Akira's dad a-after you and I talked and ask him. Why do you assume I don't think about things? You know I do!" The last thing Futaba had wanted was to cry, but sure enough the tears came rolling down her cheeks in rivers. Her nose was suddenly all stuffed too. Damnit.

"Do you even have his father's number? Their address?"

"Y-you do, Sojiro! I w-w-wasnt gonna go...go behind your b-back and ask when I already made all the arrangements! You h-hate it when people try to do that! And I know you d-do!"

"Yeah and I also hate it when you hatch schemes in private and then just expect other people to go along with them." Sojiro sighed, pressing his thumbs to his closed eyes. "Why does it have to be you who does this? Is this even necessary? You don't even know if something is actually wrong, Futaba."

"Yes. I. Do. You weren't talking to him, Sojiro. You didn't see how sad he looked. No, he doesn't absolutely need someone to go, but I want to now before it gets any worse." She paused to sniffle and wipe at her eyes, feeling a bit less frantic. "And would you please stop thinking about him as 'Futaba's boyfriend' and just think of him as Akira? Just because he is dating me doesn't make him any less a part of our family! Right? Right?? You were the one that said that! Well our family member is far away and something is wrong."

Sojiro was quiet then. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown for awhile while Futaba sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. Her entire body was tense and felt gross, typical after crying. Still, it was a small price to pay if she could convince Sojiro. She had to at least try.

"Go home."

Her eyes shot up to meet her father's. "What?"

Sojiro leveled her with a stern stare. "It's getting late and you need to get a bath and get ready for bed. You have school tomorrow."

"B-but Sojiro...!"

"Enough. Futaba." Sojiro stood, collecting their plates and moving towards the sink. "No point discussing this any more tonight. You go calm down and get to bed. If there is anything left to discuss, we will talk about it after school tomorrow."

"Sojiro..."

"I haven't said no yet, have I?" Sojiro looked back at her with a soft look on his face. He hated it when she cried just as much as she hated crying. "Now get out of here so I can think, ok?"

The walk home was one of the most nerve wracking of her life. There was a snowball's chance in hell of her sleeping tonight, since her emotions felt like live wires all tangled together. But the less she fought him, the more likely he'd agree. That was all she could hope for at this point.

~~~

School on Saturday was the longest and worst experience of her life. She was bone tired from not sleeping even an hour the night before and somehow all the teachers seemed to know this because they kept asking her just about every single question they could. It was unbearable. She had zoned out through all of lunch too, far too tired to even register being hungry, so as she boarded the train to go home, she felt like she had had all of her stats lowered and inflicted with despair, dizzy and hunger all at the same time.

Her phone buzzed in her bag as she managed to snag a seat on the train (the only small miracle of the day).

From: Key Item

Hey. Ryuji and Ann both texted me and said you looked really out of it today. Everything alright?

Great. Now she had even managed to spread her bad day to Akira. Wonderful.

To: Key Item

Bad night. Didn't sleep. I'll go to bed early tonight, though.

From: Key Item

Alright. If you're sure. Get home safe. Get Sojiro to make you some curry with extra love in it!

To: Key Item

If his love is anything like yours, I'd prefer he keep the love to a minimum.

From: Key Item

Ouch. That hurt. Such betrayal.

She giggled, glad that even when she felt like death, talking to Akira could still make her smile.

Arriving at LeBlanc felt like a death march. There were five customers enjoying curry and coffee at the various booths, so Futaba place her bag down at the bar. Before she could sit down, Sojiro slid a pad of paper across the bar to her. She met his eyes first, then looked down at the paper. It contained a phone number and an address. Her heart sped up and she looked back at Sojiro, mouth wide open.

"You'd best try calling now. I could usually get ahold of his dad around this time. Go on."

Futaba grinned, kissed Sojiro on the cheek and then fled upstairs to call the number. Maybe things were going to work out after all.

#futaba sakura #akira kusuru #akira x futaba #persona 5 #my fics #fanfiction #persona 5 spoilers

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a-subpar-star-trek-fanfic-blog · 7 years

Text

Of Legacies and Logic -Chapter 2

Cadets were given a week to settle into their dorms, figure out their schedules, and make new friends. Lizzie was lucky; Jim had decided to join Starfleet with her, and they’d already made a new friend, Leonard McCoy (who Jim very quickly began calling ‘Bones’). Over the course of that settling period, she got to know her roommate, a second year cadet named Claire Simmons, who was, unfortunately, not the type of person Lizzie got along with. She was smart, going out for sciences as well, but she was mean, spoiled, snotty and cruel. Or at least, that’s what Lizzie’s first impression of her was.

“She’s insane guys, absolutely nuts!” Lizzie complained the first day, sitting at a dinner table with McCoy and Jim. Cora was having a lesson with some Commander or another, leaving the three to eat alone. Lizzie held a PADD in front of her, with an email from her roommate open on the screen. “She set rules, which is understandable, since we’re cohabiting for the next 2 to 3 years but you need to hear this shit! ‘If I am studying, and you aren’t in the room, you’re staying outside.’ ‘Though the Academy doesn’t have a curfew, our room does; Be in the room by 10 or sleep somewhere else.’ ‘Keep your items at least 6 inches from the line that separates the middle of the room.’ ‘Don’t sleep with my boyfriend?!’ Who does she think I am?!”

“Let me see that,” McCoy reached across the table and continued to read off the list. “‘Music off at 8:00pm,’ ‘Don’t talk to me unless it’s important,’ ��If you go to a party and have sex, get high or get drunk, don’t come back that night,’ ‘No boys in the room after 10,’ ‘If you snore, wear a nose strip,’ ‘If I’m asleep, don’t come in.’ She’s got a sink schedule...”

Lizzie groaned and let her head slam down onto the table. Jim took the PADD next, “‘If you fail a test, sleep in the hall, because I won’t share my room with a failure,’ holy shit.”

“The first thing she did when I introduced myself was demand what I thought I was doing, going for Sciences. She said that someone from Iowa can’t possibly be smart enough to pass my classes.”

“What does she think you’re good for, then?” McCoy asked, pushing the food on his plate around absently.

“Apparently, I’m only good enough for security because, and I quote, you don’t need many brains for that.”

“You don’t think she’ll actually lock you out, do you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her, honestly.”

“Don’t worry, Liz!” Jim reached over and tugged on a lock of Lizzie’s hair, which hung loosely around her head today. “If she does, you can stay with me and Bones.”

By the end of the first week, Lizzie had already had to spend 3 nights with Jim and Bones, each time being Jim’s own fault. He’d taken the ‘make new friends’ thing too seriously, and dragged Lizzie to every party he found himself invited to. Claire did not seem surprised that Lizzie couldn’t abide by her rules, but Lizzie had already decided that she was going to pass all her classes whilst breaking most of Claire’s rules, just to shove it in the other girl’s face.

“Listen,” she told her, on the last night, pushing her glasses up her nose, “Classes start tomorrow, so no Jim.”

Lizzie only grumbled in response, having already planned to spend the night reading the first few chapters of her textbooks. In the morning, she was out the door before Claire had even woken up, stopping on the way to her first class to get coffee. When she got there, Uhura was sitting on a bench outside the classroom. With a grin, Lizzie joined her.

“Morning, Uhura! Hope your week was pleasant.” She and Uhura had talked on the shuttle ride to the Academy, and became good friends.

“It was alright,” Uhura glanced up from her textbook, “How was yours?”

“About the same, I suppose.”

“You’re taking linguistics courses? I thought you wanted to go into Sciences? Counseling, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s easier to talk to people if you understand their language,” Lizzie murmured, opening her own textbook, “Besides, I like to learn as much as possible.”

“Well, the Commander is a fantastic teacher,” Uhura replied, a pretty blush lighting her cheeks. Lizzie grinned.

“Miss Uhura, crushing on the teacher? How very high-school of you!”

“Bet you’ll like him too,” Uhura muttered. Lizzie snickered and took a sip of her coffee. The girls lapsed into comfortable silence as they waited for the Commander to arrive. They became so engrossed in their reading that neither of them noticed him until his shiny standard-issue Starfleet boots were right in front of them.

“Cadets, you’re early.” The voice that spoke was calm and even, if not a tad surprised. Lizzie’s eyes lifted from the words of her text and looked up into pools of chocolate brown. They held a human quality that didn’t match the Vulcan ears, the green tinged skin or the blank face of the man they belonged to. He was tall, tall enough that he towered over Lizzie, (although that wasn’t too surprising; Lizzie was only 5’2, even Uhura dwarfed her) and it gave off the distinct impression that he was looking down his nose at her. Still, he was undeniably one of the most handsome men she’d ever met.

Uhura stood quickly, snapping her book closed.

“Good morning, Commander Spock!” She greeted. He glanced over at her, and the smallest of smiles lit his face.

“The same to you, Cadet Uhura. And you, Cadet...” Spock trailed off, not knowing Lizzie’s name.

“Danvers, sir,” Lizzie stood as well, though she took her time. He trailed his eyes down her form, not in a creepy way, but in a way that made Lizzie feel like she was being assessed.

“Ah, yes, Cadet Danvers,” Recognition lit his eyes up, “Cora speaks fondly of you during our lessons. You are a first year cadet, are you not?”

“Yes, sir, technically,” Lizzie replied, remembering how Cora had mentioned lessons with a Vulcan Commander, “I understand your class is for second years, but I tested out of all the first year classes.”

His eyes trailed over her again, making Lizzie blush a bit. “Fascinating,” was all he said, and then he turned to enter the classroom. Uhura was smirking at Lizzie.

“I told you.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s not like he’ll go for either one of us, so...Let’s make a friendly wager, Lizzie; May the best woman win?” Uhura held out a hand to shake.

“But only if we can stay friends, and no playing dirty!” Lizzie warned, pointing a finger at Uhura’s face. Uhura shrugged.

“Reasonable enough.” They shook hands, grinning, before following their instructor into class.

Weeks passed in the blink of an eye, the tedium of school work making the days melt together into an incomprehensible blur.

Lizzie spent much of her time with her nose stuck in her text book, something Jim was more than used to, yet couldn’t stand. He spent hours trying to convince her that she needed to relax. But Lizzie had four classes with Commander Spock, and the Vulcan had a habit of quizzing his students at the beginning of every class. She quite simply could not afford to slack off. She currently sat with Jim in a coffee shop just off campus, studying her linguistics notes.

“You aren’t the type to go to school dances, Jim,” Lizzie mumbled, eyes darting between her notes and her PADD. “And isn’t Starfleet a bit too proper for a dance, anyways?”

The Academy was hosting a party/dance type of deal in the main cafeteria for staff and students, and Jim was dying to go.

“Come on, Liz,” Jim begged, “It’s a Halloween party! We love Halloween!”

“Liar, you hate Halloween,” Lizzie put her pen down and turned to Jim, “Who are you trying to sleep with?”

A grin lit up his face. “There’s this professor-”

“A Professor? Jim!”

“It’s not a problem! I checked! Regulations state that relations between cadets and staff are only prohibited if the cadet is a student of the staff member. Which means I’m in the clear. If I recall, it’s you trying to jump your professor,” a smirk formed on Jim’s plump lips, “Your bet with Miss Uhura, remember?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, “I’m not even trying,” she admitted, “I may be humoring Uhura, but passing my classes is more important than some bet.”

Jim snorted and lay his head down on the table.

“Cora has to go,” Jim mumbled, Lizzie hummed gently in response. Cora’s teachers kept giving her random assignments like going to dances or joining a club in an endeavor to help her understand humanity. Cora seemed to be incredibly shy, always taking Jim or Lizzie or McCoy with her to support her.

“Make Bones go with her.”

“He’s going to be in Georgia for the weekend. His ex is letting him take Joanna trick-or-treating.”

Lizzie smiled at that. McCoy loved his daughter more than he loved anything, it was good to hear that he was seeing her.

“Come on, beautiful! There’s no costumes. They’re letting us wear civies.”

Lizzie perked up at this. They didn’t often get to abandon their uniforms. Lizzie craved the feeling of comfortable, starch-free clothes. With an annoyed groan and a roll of her eyes, she nodded.

“Fine!”

Jim raised his hand in victory. “I knew you’d come around!” He settled back down, smiling at her. “So, who is the teacher you and Uhura are trying to get with?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nobody, Jim.”

“I have never worn a dress before,” Cora admitted. Jim was sprawled on the floor, eating candy corn and (to Lizzie’s immense surprise) studying for a midterm he had on Monday morning, not even acknowledging the fact that Cora was only in undergarments in front of him. Lizzie lay back on Cora’s bed, already dressed in a skater dress, reading a magazine she’d stolen from Claire without the other girl noticing. Her heels were abandoned on the floor.

“Wearing a dress is similar to wearing a uniform skirt, but if you choose carefully, they’re far more comfortable. I brought you one I thought you’d like.”

“Is this what they call a gift?” Cora wondered, holding the dress up in front of her. It was black tulle, dotted with sequins that reminded Cora distinctly of the stars in space. She loved it. Lizzie knew she would.

“Yeah,” Lizzie confirmed, “but you can’t always assume it’s a gift when someone let’s you borrow something, alright?”

Cora’s head bobbed in a nod, “Okay.” She threw the dress on quickly, letting Lizzie put her hair in a loose knot at the back of her head.

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, “We’ve got exams to study for.”

Jim heaved himself up and brushed invisible dust off of his light gray shirt. “You’re going to pass, Lizzie.”

“Leonard thinks you should purposely fail a test so that you can report Cadet Simmons for misconduct.” Cora said, locking his dorm behind them.

“Not an option,” Lizzie replied, shuddering at the thought of failing Commander Spock’s next test. The man was ruthless; you failed a test, he’d give you one opportunity to remake it, but if you failed again you were out of the class altogether. In his Advanced Mathematics class, he didn’t even let you retake the test.

Cora shrugged, and struck up a conversation with Jim about a class they shared, Flight Strategics 101. The conversation stopped abruptly when they approached the Main Cafeteria doors. Music could be heard pumping through the wood, and Lizzie could see the fake spiderwebs and the black, purple and green balloons through the windows. Cora looked mildly terrified of entering the room.

“Hey,” Lizzie reached down and took her hand, “It’s alright, Cora.”

“I’ve never been to a party before...” Cora breathed. Lizzie smiled and squeezed Cora’s hand gently.

“But you’ve been to the bar. This is no different. Jim is going to walk in there, he’s going to get drunk and flirt with anything that moves, and we’re going to make fun of him when he strikes out.”

A tiny smile lit Cora’s face. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, sure,” Jim muttered, “by all means, be entertained at my expense.”

“Alright,” Cora announced, after a few moments of silence, “Let’s do this.”

Jim and Lizzie each pushed open a door, and instantly the classical song, ‘Thriller’ filled their ears.

The room had been completely transformed. The replicators along the walls were all covered by the cheesy Halloween decorations, hiding them almost entirely from sight. Someone had managed to make a dance floor in the center of the room by pushing all the tables and chairs against the far wall.

“Great music choice,” Jim said, and strode into the room. He took Cora by the hand and dragged her to the center of the room where people were dancing. “Let me show you how to do one of the most iconic dances in history!”

Lizzie smiled fondly and sat herself at one of the tables pushed up against the walls, pulling out her PADD and notebook to study (she’d promised Jim she’d go to the stupid party, and she did. She never said she wouldn’t study). She hummed to the songs she knew, foot tapping in tune to the music, as her eyes scanned math equation after math equation.

“Cadet Danvers, ” Lizzie glanced up briefly to see who had spoken to her. Commander Spock was in uniform, looking more out of place than usual surrounded by a crowd of people in civis.

“Good evening, Commander,” Lizzie murmured, returning her eyes to her studies. “Please, sit.”

Spock did, though he was stiff in the hard plastic seat. His dark, intelligent eyes observed her as she worked out an equation in the margins of her notes.

“You’re studying?” There was that surprised tone again.

“Yes, sir,” She double checked her answer before looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Why are you surprised by that?”

“I was under the impression that humans have functions such as this to have fun. I was also...led to believe that you don’t study, and that you wouldn’t pass your midterm examinations next week.”

“Led to believe by whom, if I may?”

“Your roommate, Cadet Simmons. I came over here with the intent to urge you to study, as you’re a surprising delight to have in class. It seems the effort was unnecessary.”

Lizzie looked up in slight alarm, “Does she say things like that often?”

“Quite. Though, admittedly, I do not believe I was meant to hear the conversation. She was speaking with her friends, however-”

“Vulcans have exceptionally good hearing,” Lizzie finished, frowning deeply, “yes, I know.”

Spock paused. Elizabeth Danvers’ face was like an open book to him, “I’ve upset you. This was not my intention.”

“No,” Lizzie muttered, sounding distant. She shook her head as though clearing it, and gave the Commander a tight smile, “No, no, I’m sorry. Of course not, Commander. I’m sorry.”

“It is I who owes you an apology, Cadet,” Spock insisted, “It was illogical to allow someone else’s words to color my opinion of you, especially when your grades in my own classes suggest you are in good academic standing.”

“It’s fine, Commander,” Lizzie assured. Under her breath, she added, “Cowardly blonde shittalker.”

There was a lull in conversation, as Spock watched her work diligently on the assignment he’d given his Advanced Mathematics class. He noticed she’d made a mistake, and opened his mouth to correct her, when she erased the work and started over. The second time around she’d remedied her mistake.

“What branch of the Sciences Division do you plan to go into, Cadet?” Spock wondered, eyes still watching her work.

“I was going to try for Counselor,” Lizzie replied, “However, it’s logical to cultivate multiple options.”

Spock’s eyes flashed to her face in mild surprise; he’d said the same thing to the High Council when they found out he applied to Starfleet.

“Yes, it certainly is,” his voice was soft, unheard over the music pumping through the cafeteria. Louder, he asked, “For what reason do you wish to become Counselor?”

Lizzie’s face twisted into a grimace, “Because I want to prove to myself that Counselors can be useful.”

“Counselors and psychiatrists are very useful, Cadet.” A derisive snort was Lizzie’s response. “You disagree?”

“First Officer Georgina Elizabeth Danvers,” Lizzie said, placing her pencil down and looking Spock full in the face. Spock blinked, the name striking a familiar chord in him. “A planet had reached the end of it’s lifespan, and she was ordered to help evacuate the locals. She refused to leave the planet until every last person was saved.”

“It is statistically impossible that every life on a planet can be beamed onto a starship in a limited amount of-” Spock cut himself off at the look on Lizzie’s face. Eyebrow raised, lips in a tight line, and eyes dull, Lizzie had clearly heard the statistics before. “I see.”

“I was eight years old. My father sent me to nine psychiatrists.”

“Nine?”

“None of them helped,” Lizzie admitted openly. “The only thing that helped was my best friend. He was in a similar position, and he was better to talk to, anyways. So like I said, I want to prove to myself that Counselors can be useful.”

“I see,” Spock repeated. Again, they lapsed into comfortable silence. Spock’s eyes drifted from his student to the dance floor, where Cora was dancing in the center with a young blond cadet with blue eyes and a mischievous grin on his face. Cora was dancing badly, but the cadet didn’t seem to mind, clearly inebriated, judging by the flask in his hand. Spock then looked to a couple to the side, not so much dancing as copulating on the dance floor. “I do not understand the point of such shows of public physical affection.”

“Hmm?” Lizzie looked up at Spock, mildly confused, before following his line of sight. Cadet Cupcake and an equally stocky female cadet were grinding to the beat of the music. She barked a laugh. “Neither do I. It’s a kind of power trip thing, maybe? As long as nobody tries to dance with Cora like that, I don’t care.”

Spock’s eyes returned to Cora.

“She’s becoming very comfortable with being in large crowds. It’s a remarkable improvement from last year. I believe you are responsible for that, Cadet?”

“Cora is the one that deserves the credit, Commander, though your assignments in ‘Human Interaction’ are quite helpful. What do you plan on teaching her next?”

“Admiral Dawes is the one that requests these...assignments,” Spock admitted. “Next he wishes to delve into romance. I am hesitant to introduce the topic into our sessions.”

An amused snort made Spock look back at Lizzie. She was grinning widely.

“Pardon me, Cadet, but what is amusing?”

“Starship on a date, Commander? Unheard of.”

“Cora is unique, most things are unheard of in relation to her.”

“Fair enough,” Lizzie conceded. There was a clatter, and both looked over at the dance floor. Cora’s dance partner had knocked over a tray of treats, Cora laughing heartily above his fallen form. Lizzie sighed and gathered her materials. “That’s my cue to leave, I’m afraid. By the way, I find the most direct way to broach a topic is to just say it outright. Cora won’t react too badly, I assure you.” Adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder, she smiled at Spock. “Have a good evening, Commander. I’ll see you in class, sir.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Spock told her.

And he was.

#fic:of legacies and logic #star trek #Star Trek Fanfiction #Pavel Chekov #spock #chekovxoc #spockxoc #imagine star trek #star trek imagine

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