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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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YYH Recaps: Episode 4 “Requirements for Lovers”

Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while, huh? Ah, the endless cycle of wanting to write and yet, astoundingly, not writing. I know it well.

Good ol' writer's block has skedaddled for a time though, so let's make good use of that and dive into Episode Four: "Requirements for Lovers."

Ohhh, YYH getting spicy with its titles 😏

Actually wait, I shouldn't be making dumb jokes just yet. First I want to acknowledge a slight change to future recaps: YYH, RWBY, and anything else I might try my hand at. Namely, a lack of pictures moving forward. A few weeks ago — months? I honestly can't keep track — tumblr implemented a new limitation where no post can have more than ten images in it. It's a move that, while I'm sure has its justifications, makes sharing analyses of visually-based media all the more difficult. I'll be doing my best moving forward to describe scenes as needed, as well as combining connected images together to stretch out my limit, but I'm not going to pretend that it'll be the same as getting the visual play-by-play we’re used to.

Tumblr certainly is a website, huh?

Anyway, we open on Yusuke once again lamenting the difficulty of hatching a spirit beast that doesn't immediately devour him from the head down. On the one hand this is an admittedly easy way to reset the story over the course of this arc — the storytelling equivalent of waking your character up each morning — yet I cannot deny that if I were undergoing a resurrection test, it would consume my every thought too. Can't really blame Yusuke for endlessly bringing the conflict up when the conflict is this deadly.

Well, deadly for a ghost, anyway.

Specifically, he's worried about how embarrassing it would be to get eaten by something that came out of an egg this tiny. I'm torn between reminding a fictional character that things grow — a pissed off chicken could kick my ass and it started out in an egg too — and just shaking my head over the absurdity of worrying about embarrassment when, you know, you would cease to exist. It's not even a matter of, "What if I die and then I'm embarrassed about it in the afterlife :( " Yusuke is already IN the afterlife. He's got nowhere to go but oblivion!

Luckily, Botan takes a more practical approach to these worries, pointing out that he'll be just fine provided he does some good deeds. Yusuke starts a rant about how do-gooders are only ever out for themselves.

Yusuke, you dumb-dumb, you're a do-gooder now. What was all that help for Kuwabara, hmm? As said, these early episodes exist in a semi-reset loop, where Yusuke needs to stew in his main character flaws for a while before any real growth starts to stick. Those flaws being, primarily, "I'm a pessimist" and "also I hate myself."

Case in point, Botan accuses him of always seeing the glass as half empty. Which, while true enough (outside of his confidence in fighting, anyway), by now we've got a pretty good sense of where Yusuke developed this attitude. He affirms this by talking about how Koenma's got him by the balls, "just another idiot abusing his power!" With an alcoholic mother and those teachers from last episode, it's no wonder Yusuke thinks this way. Mr. Takenaka's interest and Keiko's care aren't enough to combat the rest of Yusuke's experience, not when Takenaka is an outlier and Keiko is Yusuke's peer. Her desire to keep him on the right track reads only as an inevitability at best (the downside of having a perfect childhood friend), or a legitimate annoyance at worst. Or, as we'll continue to see in this episode, a way for them to flirt.

Is it any wonder Yusuke would sneer at Koenma's offer then, expecting the worst? The fact that Yusuke is still undergoing the challenge at all, no matter what he says, speaks volumes to me.

However, Botan is less than comfortable with his criticisms. She panics a bit at Yusuke insulting the (junior) ruler of the underworld so blithely. That, and the fact that he's carelessly tossing his egg around.

(Yes we’re using precious picture space for memes are you SURPRISED?)

Anyway, Botan isn't just concerned for the sake of concern. She cautions Yusuke against speaking too freely because there may be investigators checking in on his progress. No sooner does he ask what those investigators look like than one appears.

Thunder! Lighting! An energy so intense that Yusuke is briefly blinded! It is, as he says, quite the entrance. What kind of being could possibly be at the heart of such an astounding show?

Why, this teeny-tiny cutie, of course.

Remember, few appearances in YYH coincide with the character's true self. Would you ever assume this is the all-powerful investigator who holds Yusuke's future in her hands? Of course not. That's the point.

The investigator introduces herself as Sayaka and immediately demonstrates that she has no more patience for Yusuke's attitude than Botan does. "These damn kids," he mutters and my brain briefly blue screens because Yusuke. You're fourteen.

Plus, Sayaka and Botan clearly have some sort of eternal youth situation going on, so there's that too.

Sayaka is, in a word, fantastic. She pulls no punches with Yusuke, teleporting away from him with what can only be described as a shit-eating smile, all while refusing to tell him what exactly she's investigating. “I’m sorry, but that’s a secret!” However, Keiko is clearly at the forefront of her interest. She refers to her as Yusuke's "girlfriend."

Botan is more than happy to point Keiko out — because of course they're still following her around! — and pulls a Et tu, Brute? on Yususke, leading Sayaka right to her. Like most of the Underworld, Sayaka is rather shocked that the pretty, popular, scholarly girl is supposedly into the delinquent. It's the power of childhood friendship, you fools! Specifically, Sayaka references the "positive markings" that Keiko has accumulated, but the audience already knows by now that such markings are suspect at best. Yusuke himself is proof of that. So if his terrible marks don't preclude him from being a young kid's savior, should we really view Keiko's as proof of superiority?

I mean, Keiko is fantastic, but that's not really the point here.

Starting her own investigation into Yusuke's life, Sayaka begins with one hell of a bombshell: "There's no point in doing [the resurrection] if the people closest to you don't care." WOW. Not only is that a harsh assessment, it's one I don't think I can personally get behind. The offer to restore Yusuke to life is built on the acknowledgment that their system is flawed (even if there's no work to change or dismantle that system): they thought he was worthless, his sacrificial death seems to have proven them wrong, and now they want further evidence, in the form of this trial, that Yusuke is a good person at heart. The whole point of this challenge is to give him a second chance, with testimonies like Mr. Takenaka's emphasizing that Yusuke has always been capable of more, so long as he applies himself. This, as we'll see throughout the series, applies to relationships too. The Yusuke with one friend he play-fights with, a distant mother, and a school worth of kids who are terrified of his very name is not the future Yusuke they expect him to become, so... why base his resurrection on what he's already (not) accomplished? Granted, the show is very unclear about what, if anything, Sayaka will do if she decides that Yusuke doesn't have a life worth going back to (even if I have my own theory discussed at the end), but the fact that this is suddenly a factor at all seems grossly unfair, not entirely unlike Kuwabara's rigged promise. We as the audience know that people love Yusuke. Yusuke himself is beginning to acknowledge that. But if this fourteen year old delinquent truly had no one that wanted him back from the dead... isn't that all the more reason to allow a resurrection and give him the chance to build a life where he would be missed?

This stupid shonen got me thinking too much istg.

Yusuke, ever the self-deprecating pessimist, bypasses all of the above thoughts and jumps straight to, "It's clear if [Keiko] had any sense she'd want me gone." I'd find that attitude incredibly sad if I wasn't distracted by how cute Botan and Sayaka are, sitting on the oar together. The spirit girls who fly together, thrive together!

Botan starts teasing Yusuke about having a crush, which just feeds his temper and Sayaka's confusion. Deciding that she needs to gather more info, they follow along for an average day of school because these earlier episodes are, apparently, ghost-stalk Keiko hours.

We see her reading aloud in class from Heart of Darkness (not the easiest book for some middle schoolers), scoring a point during volleyball practice, refusing to let one girl cheat off her homework, but happily helping another who runs up with a question. So she's pretty, athletic, and academically successful, the trifecta for any good love interest. Sayaka is impressed not just with her "nearly perfect" scores, but also the maturity that Keiko demonstrates, such as maintaining her morals about cheating while remaining compassionate.

Actually, I really love the contrast this provides for us, the viewer. Meaning, Keiko is shown to be at her least mature when in Yusuke's presence. Not that her responses aren't justified, but watching her dramatically snatch gum from his mouth, slap him across the face, or pull crazed expressions as she yells at him is a far cry from this calm, poised, soft-spoken Keiko. It's a way to visually show us that she's comfortable in his presence, despite the suspect humor attached. Not that the Keiko we see at school is faking or anything — she is legitimately that kind and articulate — but we see that being with Yusuke allows her to relax in a way she doesn't with others. School!Keiko is, as Sayaka says, pretty much perfect, 24/7. Yusuke's Keiko is a little rougher around the edges, in a way that implies a multifaceted personality shining through.

However, the only conclusion our trio draws is that, given Keiko's accomplishments, any attraction must be one-sided.

Poor Yusuke lol.

In a plot move that is so ridiculously contrived, just as Yusuke is grappling with the accusation that Keiko couldn't possibly like him back, a "handsome boy" arrives to ask Keiko out. He says that he couldn't bear it when she stopped reading Heart of Darkness because he's fallen in love with her voice. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Please excuse me while I lose my shit over how ridiculous this is. I legitimately straight up cackled when I watched this scene.

Luckily for Mr. Absurd, Keiko takes him seriously — and lets him down easy. She says she can't be his girlfriend and when he presses the "Why?", asking if she already likes someone else, Keiko confirms that she does. This is done through a shot of her feet. Not a POV shot given the angle, but close enough that it feels like we're stepping into Keiko's shoes (haha), shyly staring down at the floor in embarrassment and regret.

Rejection complete? The guy screams.

I mean he screams.

I mean this nobody we're never gonna see again unhinges his jaw and lets out an unholy shriek the likes of which makes me shriek in utter GLEE.

It's insane. It's wonderful. I'm going to use one of my coveted image spots to show you his face:

Look at that and tell me this show isn't amazing.

Okay, I'm focusing again. As Keiko runs off Botan and Sayaka start dragging Yusuke, teasing him about how Keiko chose him over that "charming handsome boy."

...Please scroll up and look at that image again. I find YYH's definition of "charming" and "handsome" to be hilariously wrong.

Yusuke, as per usual, throws himself into damage control, claiming that Keiko didn't say who she liked, so really it could be anyone. They're not buying it. “'I like Keiko' is written all over your face!” Botan crows. Meanwhile, Sayaka is scribbling in her little investigator's journal that feelings on both side are severely misunderstood. "Suggest serious counseling."

Fantastic idea, Sayaka. I'd personally suggest counseling for the whole dying/best friend getting resurrected thing... but relationship woes work too!

We cut to later when school is out and Keiko has gone over to Yusuke's. To say that Atsuko has done a poor job of keeping the house clean lately would be a serious understatement.

Keiko points out the old food and broken glass specifically, cluing us in that this isn't just a messy environment, but a dangerous one as well. This is proven when she accidentally knocks a stack of books over and a used bowl falls onto Yusuke's face. What's interesting is that Keiko says that things are "back to normal" now, though I'm not sure if that's in reference to the state of the house, or just the note Atsuko left behind, asking Keiko to take care of Yusuke while she's out. I'm inclined towards thinking it's just the note, partly because of Keiko's shock when she first arrives, because the house wasn't shown to be in this state prior to Yusuke's death (first image above), and because the note is accompanied by a great voiceover that makes Atsuko sound quite sloshed when she left. That's what's normal, the drinking and carefree attitude, not the state of her home. If we buy that reading, it allows for another fantastic look into Atsuko's mental state. If she's already an alcoholic, the trauma of her son's death and the following revelation that he's coming back might make her struggle in other ways. Like finding cleaning to be an impossible task.

She's depressed. It doesn't excuse the state she's left Yusuke in and, as previously acknowledged, YYH is definitely not a show interested in this nuance, but I still find it fun to take what little we've gotten and run with it.

However, Keiko is firmly on team "WTF Atsuko." She hurries to make sure Yusuke wasn't hurt by the falling bowl, bemoans him being "covered in garbage," and says that leaving him in this state should be considered a felony. Knowing it's far beyond her power to fix Atsuko's failings, Keiko swears to come here after school every day until Yusuke regains his body. It's as she's cleaning him of the dust that's gathered that Keiko becomes entranced with Yusuke’s features. Particularly his lips. The soft lighting returns, their theme song swells, and Keiko gets thiiiis close to kissing Yusuke for the first time.

Which is a little weird, right? I mean, we know why Yusuke is freaking out. Beyond the embarrassment of a middle schooler receiving his first kiss while two ghost girls eagerly watch on, he's made a hobby of denouncing his interest in Keiko to anyone who will listen. But for the average viewer — for Keiko herself — don't we care the he's, you know, dead? Or if not technically dead, very unconscious? Don't get me wrong, I fully understand the appeal of this situation in a generalized, cultural sense (with the side disclaimer that I'm reading a Japanese product through an American lens). Sleeping Beauty exists for a reason and there's definitely an element of that here: a gender-reversed setup where Keiko’s kills may break the "curse" of Yusuke's untimely death. Even his in-between state of being mirrors the "death like sleep" of the fairy tale. But when you strip away those Disney-esque thoughts, we're left with a girl about to kiss an unresponsive body, not as a common gesture of care (the parent who kisses their child while they sleep), but as a first time, romantic milestone.

It's a little weird lol.

But embrace the romance! As well as its inevitable interruption. Just as Keiko is about to land a peck, the neighborhood watch committee announces a heat and fire warning, startling Keiko out of her thoughts about Yusuke's "beautiful face." (There's another gender reversal for ya.) She gasps at her almost-action, conveniently remembers that her mom wanted her to do some shopping, and hightails it out of there before embarrassment can really kill them both.

So she runs off for food... in a sweater? The outfit is cute and all, but I wonder what the animators were thinking, putting Keiko in a puffy pullover during an episode all about a heat wave.

It's about at this point that the plot goes from cute romance to absolutely buck wild. The fires the neighborhood watch committee mentioned are not, in fact, due to the overwhelming heat, but an arsonist that's going around tossing molotov cocktails through open windows. Why is he doing such a thing? I don't know. Arsonists be doing arson, I guess. The important bit is that Yusuke's place is his next target, considering that Atsuko forgot to lock the windows when she went out. Within seconds all that garbage is set ablaze, quite obviously putting Yusuke's resurrection chances at an all time low.

"Wake up, stupid!" he shouts at his unconscious body. Mood, Yusuke. That's me every morning.

So this is a full scale emergency now and everyone is scrambling trying to think of something to do. Yusuke comes up with the idea to possess himself like he did Kuwabara — nice attempt at a loophole there — but since it would technically count as his resurrection, no dice. Botan decides to go get Kuwabara himself, even though he's too far away to do anything. It's still worth a shot. Sayaka, meanwhile, watches all this unfold with a somewhat clinical detachment. She's not quite indifferent and she's definitely not cruel... she’s just not as emotionally invested in this as the other two. Which not only re-emphasizes her purpose here, as an observer judging Yusuke, but also highlights the bond Botan is forming with him. As mentioned before in regards to her hanging out with Yusuke rather than ferrying souls, Botan is well past someone assisting Yusuke simply because it's a part of her job. He's her friend.

We get some shots of the growing fire which includes a hazy texture to the animation I quite like and then we cut to Keiko several blocks away, shopping bag in hand. Word of the new fire spreads, with one bystander mentioning that it's the twelfth today.

"This is eerie.”

“Yeah, I can’t help feeling we’re under attack.”

That's because you are! Someone stop that man!

Sadly, I don't think the arsonist is mentioned again, let alone captured. We'll just have to relegate that to my incredibly niche fic wishlist.

Keiko also overhears that the latest fire is on fourth avenue, which of course is where Yusuke lives. Recognizing that he might be in trouble, she takes off at a run.

Meanwhile, Botan finds Kuwabara practicing his kicks against a Yusuke dummy. Amazing resemblance, right?

Watching for the purpose of recapping, I'm picking up on a lot of details in the animation I quite enjoy. I don't think anyone would claim that YYH, at this point in time, has the most impressive or flashy animation (the fight scenes later are another matter entirely), but there's a clear love for the product that shines through. The scared expression on Kuwabara's dummy. His unexpectedly dainty kick, complete with pointed toes. Botan's more translucent coloring to emphasize her supernatural status compared to Kuwabara. There are a lot of nice touches despite the overall simplicity.

Plus, you can't forget the lovely irony of Kuwabara fighting a defenseless "Yusuke" while the real guy actually lies defenseless amidst a fire. We already know that despite his tough talk, Kuwabara would be horrified to learn that his friend rival had died (again) in such a manner.

Capitalizing on that transparency, Botan runs a hand through Kuwabara's back to catch his attention. He gets his "tickle feeling" and instinctively looks around towards Yusuke's house, seeing the smoke. "Something tells me I should go that way." Gotta love a guy who drops everything to chase a vague, supernaturally induced hunch.

As Kuwabara leaves we cut back to Keiko arriving at the house, staring in horror at the blaze. We get an audio flashback to her talk with Yusuke where she promised to take care of his body until he got back. So she tries to run in, only for a couple of the onlookers to snag her, quite correctly keeping her from undergoing a suicide mission. We learn later that Keiko absolutely would have died without Yusuke's sacrifice, so her "You cowards!" is born more of emotion than justified accusations. It's not cowardly to look at the raging inferno in a small apartment and realize that recklessly running in will only result in two dead teens, not one.

I mean, the flames are already right there, licking the door. Even if Keiko somehow managed to avoid burns, the smoke alone would do her in. Still, Keiko tries to mitigate the damage by dumping a bucket of water over her head. As a kid I remember thinking this was the smartest thing ever. Utterly inspired. Keep that in the back of your mind, kid Clyde, for future reference. As an adult... I have no idea whether this would actually help or not lol. Any firefighters doubling as YYH fans?

Recklessness and iffy precautions aside, I can't express how much I appreciate the story giving Keiko things to do. Yusuke recognizes that she's the only one with the maturity and open-mindedness to believe in his resurrection. She's the one picking up Atsuko's slack regarding his day-to-day needs. She never hesitates for a moment, heroically throwing herself into this blaze for Yusuke's benefit. Yeah, a lot of that still falls into the emotional/domestic sphere — what we expect of the love interest in a 90s anime — but too often action stories don't have a clue what to do with their non-action characters, not even when it comes to just supporting the fighters. They're simply... there. Keiko, however, isn't window dressing. Whether it's helping Botan survive an upcoming, supernatural plague, or cheering the team on at the Dark Tournament, Keiko is an important part of the story, despite lacking the fighting prowess of the rest of the cast.

Just as important, this episode establishes a core equality between her and Yusuke. We just watched Keiko reject a (presumably) accomplished guy for him, telling the audience that these surface differences — academics, power levels, popularity, looks — don't matter to them. Yusuke is not Keiko's lesser just because he doesn't have the same scores in Sayaka's book and Keiko won't become Yusuke's lesser just because she doesn't have spiritual power like he does. The only important thing here is that they love each other and they're both willing to sacrifice everything for the other. In the span of about ten minutes, Keiko nearly gives up her life for Yusuke and, in turn, Yusuke gives up his resurrection for her. The level of care they show towards one another is balanced, despite those differences.

They’re a good ship, y'all. Even if this recapping's got me noticing Yusuke/Kuwabara potential lol.

To get back to the plot, a drenched Keiko charges into the fire, yelling Yusuke's name for the drama of it because we all know he can't respond. Despite the audience (hopefully) recognizing Keiko and Yusuke's equality, that memo hasn't reached Yusuke yet. "You're a lot more important to this world than I am!" he yells, hammering home that despite everything — knowing he instinctively saved a child, watching his loved ones grieve for him, helping Kuwabara just because he can — Yusuke still, deep down, believes that he doesn't deserve to come back; that he doesn't measure up to those around him. The self-sacrificial nature this insecurity produces shocks Sayaka. She points out that if Keiko doesn't save his body, he's not coming back. "What's the point of being alive if Keiko has to get killed for it?"

Keiko means more to Yusuke than the rest of his living existence. Jot that down in your notebook, Sayaka!

Kuwabara arrives and runs into one of his friends who informs him that Keiko just went inside. “Yusuke’s girl? The one we saved from those thugs?”

BOY does that tell us a lot about their rivalry! I mean yeah, we've already established several times over that Kuwabara — just like Yusuke himself — is not the cruel street thug he'd like to present himself as. If these characters actually wanted to hurt each other outside of a martial arts challenge, don't you think Kuwabara would capitalize on the "Yusuke's girl" bit? Everyone seems to know that they have feelings for each other, but Kuwabara never once wields that as ammunition against Yusuke. There are no taunts about him not being good enough. Or rather, I should clarify there are no serious taunts — Kuwabara is well known for his teasing. There's also no attempt to steal Keiko out from under him, the common treatment of the love interest as a "prize" that many stories fall into. Indeed, later this episode YYH will deconstruct this a bit. Yusuke sees Kuwabara grab Keiko's hand and yells that he better not be getting "fresh" with her. But it's purely Yusuke's worries shining through. The audience gets a crystal clear picture of the situation and knows, categorically, that Kuwabara has only the most innocent of intentions in holding Keiko's hand.

(Well, running from the police isn't innocent, but...)

I keep getting sidetracked. Plot! Keiko makes it to Yusuke's room and finds that he is already on fire. She then proceeds to try and put it out by patting it with her hands. I take back what I said about Keiko's smarts in this scene. Now we know where that supposed recklessness comes from though. Apparently they're both immune to fire! Nothing to worry about here, folks.

JK she's actually in danger, despite the animation choices. By this point everyone, including Keiko, realizes that there's no way out: the fire has blocked the door. Sayaka then reveals that there is one way to save her. If Yusuke throws his egg into the fire, the energy of the spirit beast will release and guide her to safety. The catch? Hatch the egg early and it won't complete its intended function of guiding him back to his body. This beast is gonna guide one person and that is it.

Cue Yusuke's near immediate decision to sacrifice his life for Keiko's. Granted, it's not precisely one life for another. Yusuke's resurrection was always contingent upon the beast not devouring him whole — something Koenma claims would have happened at the end of the episode — meaning that it's not technically a fair trade. Yusuke might have sacrificed Keiko's life for his own... only to fail to get that life back anyway. (There's a tragedy for ya.) To say nothing of how Yusuke is currently dead and has been for at least a couple of days, whereas Keiko very much is not. There's some sort of philosophical discussion there about potential being pit against current reality.

BUT that's not the point! The emotional point is that he sacrificed his life for hers — the potential of his resurrection, the potential of that life he might have led — all technicalities aside. And I, for one, think that's very neat of him.

A blue light shines as the egg's energy is released, providing a lovely contrast to the fire surrounding them. A path forms to the door and Keiko, recognizing Yusuke's presence, follows it. "We'll make it, Yusuke," Keiko says, which is one hell of a sucker-punch now that we know she's just carrying a corpse. Unbeknownst to Keiko, Yusuke is very much not making it. That's the only reason why she is.

Kuwabara appears to help them the rest of the way which is also a pretty awesome thing considering that, from everyone else's perspective, the fire is still raging and blocking the door. Despite his spiritual awareness, Kuwabara gives no indication that he noticed this strange light, or Yusuke's hand in the rescue. Which basically means he lunged into a bunch of deadly fire for Keiko and doesn't question how in the world he isn't burned.

Keiko's hands are fine, Kuwabara's whole body is fine... fire immunity must run in the friend group!

Yusuke has another rare moment of vulnerability — "They're both okay" — and I cackle happily at the "both" because see. You love Kuwabara too, Yusuke! All this bluster about hating him and finding him annoying. The second he rushed into that fire you were crawling up the walls.

Except then that happiness gives way to something that sounds a little more shocked. Devastated. "Well, I sure am... relieved..." Kudos to Cook's voice acting. You can hear the exact moment Yusuke realizes what he's done. Not that he regrets it, but the consequences are finally sinking in. He's relieved that they're safe, yes, but now he's never going to be able to rejoin them.

As Yusuke has an(other) existential crisis, Kuwabara peels back the blanket Keiko had wrapped Yusuke in, revealing his face. “What are you doing with Yusuke’s body?! Are you some type of sick grave robber?” he shouts. God I love when a story actually keeps track of who knows what. Kuwabara, for all his recent involvement in the plot, doesn't actually know what's going on. From his perspective Yusuke died, he made a scene at the wake, he saved "his girl" from a bunch of thugs, lost a huge chunk of time only to wake up with her randomly hugging him (then slapping him), participated in a bet with his awful teacher and had a couple weird, Yusuke related dreams while studying, and has felt the presence of ghosts perhaps a little more frequently than usual. Now he's trying to help save Keiko from a fire only for her to reveal she risked her own life for Yusuke's body. Of course he's freaking out! What's she doing with that?

What's utterly fantastic though is that Kuwabara takes all of five seconds to process this and then enters immediate Ride or Die mode for Keiko. She's been hoarding Yusuke's body for undetermined reasons? Well, who is he to judge? The important thing here is that people are arrested for keeping bodies, so they've gotta skedaddle before the firefighters show up.

Hence, hand-holding and avoiding arrest.

As Yusuke starts threatening Kuwabara not to get "fresh" with her, Botan sadly reminds him that he no longer has a say in who Keiko does or does not fall in love with. The switch in tone is jarring. Whereas before Botan would have teased him mercilessly for the crush, now she knows that nothing can come of that — and it would be cruel not to remind Yusuke of that too.

"Oh no. I didn't think..." Yusuke whispers, further establishing that he knew the risks of using his egg, but hadn't allowed them to sink in yet. Now they have.

He gives a fake little laugh with, "Just when it was getting good" and I cry at the development in the span of just four episodes. Despite what I said at the beginning about the show resetting each week, there has been a lot of change thus far. Yusuke wants to live now! He wants to be there for Keiko! He looks down on his tiny family and screams at the unfairness of it all! They're talking about how they can't wait for him to come back and now that's never gonna happen!!

It hurts, friends. It hurts a whole lot.

During this conversation between Keiko, Atsuko, and Kuwabara, we see that a couple of hours have passed (it's nighttime now, the fire is out) and Atsuko is apologizing for putting them all in danger like that. And by that I mean yes, she does technically apologize with an "I'm sorry" and everything, but it's also a one sentence apology pit against... well, near death for the three people standing (and sitting) before her. Atsuko seems just as concerned by Keiko losing her hair as she does Keiko nearly burning to death and she kneels by Yusuke's wheelchair, baby-talking to him about how he forgives her, right? I love Atsuko, she's great, but objectively speaking she is not a good mother. Not right now, anyway.

Oh yeah, and just to reiterate that: Keiko's hands are fine after patting down Yusuke's on-fire body, but her hair, which I'm pretty sure never catches, has to be cut short. Ah, anime logic. Funny thing is, YYH isn't the only story to take the love interest and give her a cool, short cut thanks to a traumatic event. Anyone read Ranma 1/2?

During this conversation we also learn that, sometime between the fire and now, Keiko filled Kuwabara in on everything that's happening with Yusuke. Makes sense. He kneels beside the wheelchair, joining the others in telling Yusuke that they'll wait patiently for his return. Yusuke, above them, continues yelling about how they're waiting on a dead man.

“It can’t be helped. He made this decision on his own."

Except it can, in fact, be helped!

Just as all hope is truly lost, Koenma appears and announces that Yusuke will be returned to life. Why? Because sacrificing his egg for Keiko is a better indicator of his worth than the egg itself could have been. Despite feeding on his negative outlook and heading towards biting Yusuke's head off — something the animation backs up by showing us teeth during the fire

— Yusuke's act demonstrates a tendency towards being a "decent human being" that is "so rare." Wow. That's depressing. Still, yay that Yusuke has those qualities! And this, to my mind, helps explain Sayaka's presence. Koenma recognized that judging Yusuke couldn't be left to the egg alone and indeed, Sayaka took note of his worth before he ever threw the egg into the fire. First it was questioning why someone as amazing as Keiko would go for him, then it was solidified through the shock of Yusuke announcing that coming back to life was meaningless if she wasn't in it. Even if Keiko had somehow, miraculously escaped the fire before Yusuke's sacrifice, I bet Sayaka's report would have tipped him in resurrection's favor anyway.

Everyone is, of course, overjoyed and my heart swells at the intense gratitude Yusuke displays. My favorite part though is when Koenma cryptically says that “Your added experience with death could make you very useful" (a nod towards future events that goes right over Yusuke's head) and his response to this is a yelled, "YOU THINK I'M USEFUL?" This poor kid. The God of everything ever is chucking out revelations left and right, about resurrections and spirit beasts, but the only thing that really penetrates is the realization that someone thinks he's useful. Talk about relatable.

You know, I've been thinking about why this moment works so well. I mean, there are a lot of other stories where undermining the consequences our hero faces — either with humor, or by erasing them completely — can feel like the audience was cheated. I think YYH dodged that with a couple of crucial factors. First, Yusuke's consequence isn't something new that he's now avoided, it's just a permanent extension of something he was already dealing with. We did get to watch him inhabit the space between life and death, grappling with whether he'd ever be able to return. The story didn't deny us that growth, it just confirmed something we all instinctively knew: this tale won't end here with Yusuke permanently going to some afterlife. Second, the Deus ex Machina fix doesn't happen too soon. Yeah, it's only a couple of minutes in a single episode, but we (and Yusuke) still get to sit with that outcome for a while, soaking it in before its removal. Finally, there's no doubt that Yusuke earned this reprieve. Koenma's timing might be sudden and (if you're not genre savvy) unexpected, but looking back at the series as a whole thus far, we're able to agree absolutely that Yusuke deserves this. Far from feeling like we were cheated, this solution invites just as much celebration as we're seeing on screen, for the simple reason that we can buy into Koenma's reasoning. We know now that Yusuke is a good person. We saw him selflessly sacrifice his future for Keiko. We agree that he deserves a second chance.

Thus, the episode ends with Yusuke flying up to fill the screen in his joy, a far better, final shot than Harry Potter and The Prison of Azkaban managed 😰

And that's it for Episode 4, folks! See you later for Episode 5 💕

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH Recaps #mymetas

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harrypotterwholock · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: Actio Reactio

Summary:

When Angie comes back to Hogwarts this year, she is faced with her darkest demons. Only one teacher notices her pain: her defense against the dark arts professor Remus Lupin. While he helps her to come to terms with her mental health, the two grow closer together and their relationship becomes more intimate. Will she be able to fight her demons with the help of Professor Lupin or lose herself in the darkness?

Trigger warning for self harm.

Angie felt instant relief when she finally pulled the cold, sharp blade over her pale wrist. Hypnotized by the pain that made her feel for the first time in days, she cut deeper and deeper without noticing the stream of blood running down her white blouse. She was sitting in the back cabin of the girls' toilet, hoping that the moaning myrtle wouldn't notice her.

Minutes earlier, she had rushed out of the transfiguration classroom, struggling to keep herself from bursting into tears in front of her classmates. Not that they would care about it, most of her friends had turned away from Angie a long time ago.

Angie didn't want to be seen alone, so she usually spent the time between breaks in a girls' toilet or under a tree in the meadows around Hogwarts, where no one could find her. The other girls from her house mostly scoffed at her when she passed them, and did not make an effort to hide their dislike for her.

Angie had always been a bit of an outsider, but at least she had two friends. A few months ago, however, the two had conspired against her and now she felt more lonely than ever.

Professor McGonagall had passed out the exam last week and Angie had done unusually poorly. When Professor McGonagall put the test on her table, she said to Angie: "I really can't understand what has been going on with you lately, you no longer work in class and the other teachers also tell me that your performance has dropped significantly. If you don't start trying again, Mrs. Woods, you won't be able to keep your average. I strongly advise you to put more emphasis on your grades from now on, rather than spending your free time reading in the school yard "

The words had brought tears to Angie's eyes. If only Professor McGonagall had known that Angie would never allow herself to read a book for entertainment because she was far too afraid that her grades could drop. If she was reading a book, it was most definitely a textbook, but she just couldn't focus on the words. The letters blurred before her eyes and her thoughts got caught in her worries. The pressure to perform had turned her into a wreck. Angie was rarely able to concentrate on a certain thing, too often she lost herself in an apathetic state from which she could only be freed by repetitive addressing.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. Time had gone excruciatingly slowly, and Angie had had difficulty holding back the tears that welled up inside her. "My parents will think I'm a failure. How can I tell them, I'll never be able to look them in the eye again!" In her head she already heard the howler that she would soon receive at the breakfast table: "Young lady, what are you thinking, telling your parents about such bad grades! What should become of you if you do not score outstanding, our daughter is made for better. Ensure that your grades improve quickly, otherwise we will have to have a serious talk with you! " Angie had tried desperately not to let her eyes wander out of the window. Professor McGonagall had apparently decided to bring Angies attention back to class and called on her every other question.

After another endless 50 minutes, the bell had finally released Angie from her tension. As quickly as she could, she had gathered up all of her books and hurried out of the classroom. When she looked back at the door, Professor McGonagall had watched her with a disappointed look.

She felt her eyes go black. Panicking, she tried to press her black sweater against her bleeding wounds to stop the bleeding. Several curses crept over her lips when she noticed how much blood had got on her clothes. Most of her uniform was black, but her white blouse was dripping with blood. "How could I lose control so far? I have to burn my blouse, otherwise a girl from the dorm might discover that I'm cutting myself."

Angie tried to wipe as much blood as possible from her clothes and the floor and washed down the red colored toilet paper. Then she unlocked the cabin and went to the sink. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face looked strangely puffy. As terrible as she looked, she felt alive for the first time that day. Most days of the week passed uneventfully. With horror she had noticed that events or statements by other students that would devastate other people did not stir her any more. Even when her best friends Sophie and Lauren turned away from her, she couldn't manage to shed a tear. She felt like an empty wreck, unable to be happy. It was like being accompanied by a dementor day and night. But at that moment she felt like herself again, felt her body and could think clearly again. The water from the taps at Hogwarts was freezing cold, but in this situation it was just right for Angie. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, tried to straighten her hair, which she had previously desperately ruffled, and pulled on her black sweater to cover up her bloody blouse.

She peeked carefully out into the hallway. To her great relief, it was completely abandoned. It was better if nobody saw her in this state, as it was already getting late and the teachers didn't like to see students sneaking around in the corridors late at night. Just as she turned the corner, the door to Professor Lupin's classroom opened. "Just greet him as usual, he probably won't notice your condition at all if you keep calm!" She thought. When she approached him, she tried to keep the distance between her and Lupin as big as possible and put on a fake smile.

"Good evening Professor Lupin!" "Good evening Mrs. Woods! ... are you okay? You look pretty ... exhausted." "Damn, do I really have to run into him, couldn't it be Professor Snape who is only interested in his Slytherins?" She thought. "Don't worry Professor, Ι worked on an essay for Professor Snape until late at night, he once again gave us an exaggerated number of parchment scrolls. I'm just a little tired, but if I catch up on sleep tonight, it will have subsided until the morning" "But it rather looks like you cried. Are you sure you are just tired? If you have a problem or just need to speak to someone, you can come to me at any time. You know where you can find me. " "Thanks for the offer Professor, but it really is not necessary. I am very well." "Well, if you think that everything is fine ... I would still be more comfortable if I accompany you to your common room." "Really, everything is fine Professor Lupin! But if it is so important to you, you can come with me." Fortunately for Angie, the way to the Ravenclaw Tower was short and Professor Lupin made no further attempt to ask her why she was feeling unwell. When they got to the top of the tower, Angie said: "Thank you for your company, even if it really wasn't necessary. Good night professor!" "Good night Angie, have a good rest!" Professor Lupin gave her one last concerned look, turned away, and headed back to his classroom. Angie started up the stairs and felt tears gathering in her eyes again. "I have been hiding my problems for so long and it is precisely because of this one exam that I am discovered! And then of all things by Professor Lupin, the over-caring teacher. He will not let me out of sight any time soon ... I have to be more careful than before, to prevent him from also discovering my cuts!"

When she got to the magical knocker, it took her a long time to decipher the riddle, she was too distraught from the encounter with the emphatic professor. It was a long time ago that someone really saw her and worried about her. Now late at night, the fire in the fireplace in the common room was faint. The girls in her dormitory were already asleep, and in the darkness she hid her bloody blouse in the far corner of her chest. Angie lay exhausted in her bed and closed her curtains. For a long time she thought about the events of the evening and considered how she should behave in front of Professor Lupin the next day so as not to further catch his attention. When she finally started sliding into sleep, she saw the room light up from the rising sun.

#fanfic #fanfiction #remus #remus lupin #remus x student #professor lupin #angst #hogwarts #harry potter #remus angst #remus imagine #original character #harrypotterfanfic #harrypotterfanfiction #remuslupinfanfiction #hogwarts student #harry potter fanfiction #imagine

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doodlydoki · 5 years

Note

I love your work! Can you do a scenario where Aziawa's wife and child come to visit him at UA. His wife is like the opposite of him? Thank you!

#9 A Classroom Visit

Fun fact! This was actually the first request I ever got!! Thank you so much~

Words: 1000+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Class was in session for at least five minutes, but it seemed like the students had no interest in lending him an ear, giving him a more difficult task at teaching. He understands why they are sitting on the edge of their seat. Spring break is just around the corner so it is only logical they rather make summer plans than listen to his lectures.

That does not mean he appreciates his students lack of attention though.

Every word he utters drives another conversation to start behind his back. He warned several students already, but it seems his ‘logical ruses’ at expulsion and detention are not taken quite as seriously as they were before. Normally he is not the kind of man to give up, but it appears the students are in need of a break, and you know what? He is too.

So in response he lays his lesson plans on the flat surface of the teacher’s desk and fishes his obnoxious sleeping bag out from under it, “It appears no one has any concentration to spare for my lessons at the moment. As result, I shall give you all an assignment you need to hand in first thing on monday morning, after the holidays. For now just do whatever.” This conclusion was met with several groans from the students, but in addition also fueled the conversations to become louder and more group inclined.

The tired man doesn’t care anymore at this point, happy enough that he’s able to get some extra sleep in. It’s been a long night to begin with. Now that his daughter found out she can climb out of her crib, she hasn’t skipped a night, crawling into the bigger bed he shares with his wife, and now, his daughter. Bad luck she hoggs lots of space by spreading her limbs over the soft mattress in her sleep, leaving him dangerously close to falling out of bed every night. Not only that. She also kicks in her sleep too….hard.

Aizawa signs blissfully as he gets a second to close his dry, stinging eyes, giving them, and himself, some rest. But due to this blissful break, he didn’t notice the classroom door opening, revealing none other than his beloved wife and toddler daughter.

You knocked gently on the door, opening it shortly after hearing the commotion, but no particular answer, “Hello everyone, i’m very sorry for interrupting! Is Aiza-” Your eyes wandered to the yellow package that was displayed at the front of the classroom. “Nevermind, found him.”

Iida came to the front of the classroom, standing in front of you as he asked who you were and what you came to look for in their classroom. But before you could answer though, your daughter happily giggled at the sight of her dad, tugging at your shirt to grab your attention.

“Look mommy, daddy is a caterpillar!”

“DADDY???” The students yelled in shock.

Questions and comments like: How did he find such a pretty wife? His daughter is so cute! Where did you two meet? quickly surfaced, but before you could answer, a sleepy groan interrupted.

“What’s going on?”

Your daughter skipped little steps to her father, jumping, while happily screeching, onto his tired form, “HI DADDY!! WAKE UP!!! WAKE UUUUP!!!!”

“I’m awake! I’m awake!” He still groaned tiredly as he sat up straight, unzipping part of the sleeping bag so he could use his arms to settle his daughter in his lap, “Keeping me awake during the night apparently ain't enough so you came to wake me up during my naps as well?”

The little girl giggled as she clumsily climbed into the sleeping bag and nuzzled into his arms, “You promised me that we would take naps together.” She closed the zipper up to her chin with difficulty and sighed contently as she closed her eyes.

“what are you ding?”

She smiled and looked up at him, “I’m taking a nap with you!”

In the meantime the students, especially the girls, squealed at the small form of affection as aizawa wrapped his arms around his daughter and let her take a nap. You came to sit besides the two, “You know, the plan was to drop of the lunch you forgot and then quietly leave so you could continue teaching your students.”

Aizawa chuckles, “I don’t think she’ll let me now that she’s using me as a good nap spot.” He heard you quietly laugh as he carefully brushed black strands of hair out of his sleeping daughters face.

“Mr. Aizawa?”

He was so caught up in the moment that it surprised him when his students approached, all beginning to ask previously un-answered questions and many more. While you did most of the talking, he just quietly listened. Enjoying the extra time he gets to spend with the small family he built up.

He hadn’t noticed the fatigue that washed over him, as he listened to your story about how you two met. But before notice, his head dropped on your shoulder. And at the closing of his eyes he was back asleep again. Happy to have his wife by his side and daughter in his arms.

Maybe the two of you should come over more often, he's sure his class won´t mind

~~~~~EXTRA~~~~~~

“So how did you and Mr.Aizawa meet?”

“Well, that's quite a funny story actually. We were all in present mic’s friend group in high school! Shouta and I had only talked on a few occasions when one day we all decided to just chill outside with each other, the weather was hot so we just sat in the sun and talked, but Shouta had a better plan and just decided to use my legs as a pillow and took a nap on me.”

“HE WHAT??!!”

“He has used me as a pillow ever since,” You pointed at your husbands sleepy face, comfortably resting on your shoulder. “See?”

Some of the students giggled as they saw father and daughter propped up against you, sleeping soundly.

“Your daughter clearly got the napping part from Mr. Aizawa.”

You laughed, “Yeah, she does.”

“And the black messy hair too! Although it looks much cuter on your daughter then on Mr. Aizawa though.”

The class laughed and some of them pointed out more resemblances like such between your daughter and what she inherited from Aizawa and you. It was quite a heartwarming gesture. And after many more questions from the students, you took the time to get to know them too, asking them things in return, happy to get to know this part of your husband's life too.

Because you know for a fact that he will protect these kids like they are his own when he has to and to be fair…

You would too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ps:

(What you didnt realise was that some of the boys used Aizawa’s pillow method as a new flirting move and were beaten in their search of love)

THE END

#aizawa shouta #aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #mha aizawa #doodlydoki #bnha aizawa #boku no hero academia #bnha #aizawa x reader #eraserhead #shouta aizawa #my hero academia #shouta aizawa x reader #9

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snicketstrange · 4 years

Text

I finally understood TBL

The oldest letter from Beatrice Jr to Lemony is then BB to LS # 2. It is interesting that Beatrice Jr claims to have heard rumors about Lemony's research. Lemony was not at his apartment, but that was when Beatrice Jr saw what the apartment looked like inside. She saw that it was a small, dusty apartment. Something very important in this letter is the fact that Beatrice Jr found a box full of letters. There is strong evidence that she read these letters, as she states that she does not know what these letters could mean if they were placed in a certain order. This scenario is very similar to a certain film released in 2004 called Birth. (There will be spoilers for the film) In this film, a boy in pre-adolescence has access to old letters from a couple. After the man's death, this boy used the information in the letters to pretend to be the reincarnation of the man who died and then approach the woman. I think there is reason to believe that Beatrice Jr used a similar mechanism to communicate with Lemony in later letters. She had access to old letters from Lemony to Beatrice. Lemony should have recovered such letters by then, considering that Beatrice Sr had carefully kept such letters in a safe place, similar to how Lemony kept important documents for him in the hands of the cheesemakers. The letter that comes chronologically after that is BB to LS # 3. We realized that Beatrice Jr is not part of VFD at that time, as she does not know the sebald code that one of the shepherds tried to use with her. We have other evidence that Beatrice Jr had indeed read the letters at Lemony's apartment, as she claims that she believes that R knew Lemony. She could have obtained this information through the Baudelaires, it is true. But, I think it's more likely that she read about R in Lemony's letters. Beatrice also claimed that she included the letters she found in Lemony's office as part of her collection. Perhaps Beatrice Jr even "borrowed" these letters. Another important piece of information is that the phraseology used by Beatrice Jr regarding the time that has passed since she found Lemony's office seems to indicate that many months have passed since she wrote the previous letter. In this letter, Beatrice does not appear to have a bedtime, since she didn't talk about it. Now we come to a most intriguing letter of all. BB to LS # 1. This letter made me believe that Beatrice Sr had written it. But as much as I try to force this interpretation, the simple truth is that Beatrice wrote that she had never seen Lemony. There is no reason to think that Beatrice Sr would write something like that. But then we see the importance of understanding that this letter was written chronologically after BB to LS # 3. More than that: this letter was probably written after a few years had passed since BB to LS # 3 and a major change in Beatrice's life. Jr have occurred: she went on to receive training in VFD and became a baticeer who literally trains bats. Furthermore, Beatrice Jr inserts in her letters from here the knowledge that she acquired when reading the letters that Lemony had collected in his office. Note some questions that are answered by thinking like this: 1 - How does Beatrice Jr know that Lemony's office is small and dusty? - Answer: Beatrice Jr had already been there, and she had used exactly that phraseology to describe the location as indicated in BB to LS # 2. 2 - How did Beatrice Jr manage to use a complex delivery network using even black cars and long distance swimmers? - Answer: Beatrice Jr was already receiving training in VFD at that time, and for that reason she could already use the communication mechanisms that the organization uses. 3 - Why does Beatrice Jr cite the difficulty of making a bat obey her orders, as if Lemony knew that it is really difficult to make a bat be obedient? - Answer: Beatrice had already entered VFD, had already started training to be a Baticeer. In addition, Beatrice had read the letter that became known as LS to BB # 4. In this letter, Lemony states that she will send the letter through a bat. However, the letter was sent to R, and R wrote a note about it and attached the letter, showing that Lemony struggled to get a bat to obey his orders. 4 - How did Beatrice Jr know that there was at least one other person with the same initials as hers? - Answer: Beatrice Jr read about Beatrice Sr in the letters that Lemony left in the office. The fact that Beatrice Jr states that there is still someone with the same initials as hers may indicate that Beatrice Jr believes that Beatrice Sr did not die (or that Bertrand Baudelaire did not die). It is important to remember that Beatrice Jr thinks Lemony is an unreliable narrator, and she can believe that Lemony knows that Beatrice Sr is alive. 5 - Why does Beatrice Jr use the expression "My Silence Knot" from this letter? - Beatrice learned in VFD classes about anagrams. We noticed that throughout the letters that Lemony sent to Beatrice that the expression "My Silence Knot" is underlined. It is possible that Beatrice Jr herself underlined these words, as she came to believe that this was some kind of code used by Lemony and Beatrice over the years. She decided to insert what she believed to be the same code in some of her letters to Lemony, to increase the chances of being answered, of course. 6 - Why Beatrice Jr needs to sleep early - Now she is training in VFD. This is certainly a recommendation for volunteers. Chronologically, the letter that follows this is BB to LS # 4. We are then introduced to a new situation by Beatrice Jr. She has already seen Lemony, as she indicates in the letter. She's already come back to town, and she's watching Lemony. This time she was transferred to the VFD training school in the City, at the same VFD school that Lemony had studied. Understanding what has already been explained, some things are answered: 1 - Why did Beatrice Jr use a phraseology similar to what Lemony had used to describe the professor? - Answer: Beatrice Jr read the letter that Lemony sent to Beatrice Sr describing his teacher. It is not necessarily the same teacher, of course. She just decided to use the same phraseology. 2 - Why did Beatrice Jr write about Baticeer, and claim that she saw Lemony reading a poem? - Beatrice Jr already knew about anagrams and by that time she was already watching Lemony. She also realized the importance given the word Baticeer in Lemony's letters to Beatrice Sr, and decided to use that word in a similar way as she had used the expression My Silence Knot. 3 - How did Beatrice Jr manage to open the lock on the front proto of the building where Lemony lived? - She used VFD training. The letter that follows chronologically is BB to LS # 5. Note the responses below: 1 - How does Beatrice Jr know that Lemony has a terrible sense of direction? - She may have watched him. But I prefer to believe that she deduced this through the letter LS to BB # 1. The map drawn by Lemony may imply that he confused the cardinal points, depending on how you interpret the map. I want to point out that the simplest way to understand this letter, in view of what I explained earlier, is that Beatrice Jr found Violet, Klaus and Sunny at some point between writing BB to LS # 3 and BB to LS # 1. (I need to write this down: there was a great hiatus between these two letters.) During this hiatus, Beatrice Jr apparently found the Baudelaires. And during this great hiatus, she separated from them again. I know that Daniel Handler decided to end the story at TE openly. But we are talking about another book here. I don't know if he changed his mind, or if he simply preferred to attribute the possible contradiction to the fact that the narrators are characters and may not have all the information or they may be mistaken. And besides, even in Lemony's open ending, he claims that some people have claimed that they saw the Baudelaires. There is nothing to prevent Beatrice Jr from being one of those people. So, in addition to her talking about vivid memories she had of the Baudelaires when writing this letter (quite different from the very little things she remembers when she wrote BB to LS # 2), Beatrice says the following: "I must my life to them, and NOW we have been separeted, I will not rest until I FIND them AGAIN. " Well then ... When re-analyzing TBL I can say that there is no canonical evidence in TBL that Beatrice Sr survived for many years after the fire in her house. I believe that the scenario I described is the simplest, it corresponds to the premises presented in the book itself (sequence of letters must be changed so that an anagram can be decoded). With respect to the deduction on the Baudelaires' survival for many years after leaving the island, I can only encourage everyone to follow my example, and again consider your own beliefs as the basis of the arguments presented. But this is not that important compared to the deeper understanding of the very mechanism used in TBL as I have presented.

#asoue #asoue theory #The Beatrice Letters #TBL

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plaidstiel-wormstache · 4 years

Text

Our Vices - pt1

A/N: Spoilers for s15. This is a two parter, and I’m pretty proud of it as a whole! Warnings: SPOILERS for s15, mentions of supernatural violence, death, angst, relationship difficulties, domestic troubles, fluff Characters: Dean, Sam x Reader, Donna, Doug, mentions of Jessica Moore Word Count: 1902 Summary: Set after s15 e3 - Dean and YN worry about Sam and convince him a hunt is what he needs, but words are said, feelings are hurt and things aren’t right between the couple. Another hunt might just fix that. Might. Beta: @wi-deangirl77 answers for my sanity, me FINALLY posting this. Thank you for going through this too many times and encouraging me to do my best.

YN was already in the kitchen, bacon sizzling in the pan. “Morning,” Dean said as he entered, headed straight for the freshly brewed coffee. “Hey,” YN answered wearily. Dean paused as he reached for two mugs, looking over at her, the dark circles under her eyes. “How is he this morning?” He asked. “Same, tossed and turned, I had to get out.” Dean hummed, thinking, handing a mug of coffee to her as she offered the spatula to him. As they traded places, YN stayed close, resting against the sink. “He’s barely been outta that room. I don’t know what to do.” She confessed. “Yeah, it’s taking a toll.” Dean agreed. “It’s taking a toll on us all,” YN turned to face Dean, “And I get it, we all handle it differently, but-“ “He killed Rowena, YN, she was in his arms, looking into his eyes-” “I’m not arguing that-” “Different to what we’re used to’s all I’m saying.” “I get it. I do.” YN sighed and rested back against the sink, “I can’t fathom the mental rings you run around yourself on making that decision, but Dean... he’s not talking to me, not to you, no one. I’m worried about him.” “I’ll have a word.” “I’m scared-”

Sam woke with a start, looking over to the other side of the bed as he sat up, pulling both hands through his hair then down his face. The nightmare was so real, he’d killed YN so easily, and it made him sick. Sick at the thought he could get satisfaction from the power that had surged through him in his dream, sick that he didn’t feel anything when he’d killed YN... then killed Dean. Sam didn’t know if he wanted to see YN, be wrapped in her warm embrace, her easy love, soothed and comforted, or if he wanted to hide from her, like she’d see what he did, that he enjoyed it. He pushed himself off the bed and padded out to the kitchen, finding Dean and YN in there, voices low, standing close, heads together. YN was the first to look up, breaking apart from the older Winchester.

“Morning,” She offered. “You weren’t-” “Yeah, started breakfast, couldn’t really sleep,” YN said, cutting Sam off. “I slept great, thanks.” Dean interjected, already feeling the mood of the room shift. YN went for the coffee machine as Sam approached, filling her mug and handing it to him. “Thanks,” Sam mumbled, frowning as she left without a further word. “She okay?” He asked Dean, staring after her. “Are you?” Dean countered. Here we go again, Sam thought, he’d just rather have time to himself, try and sort through his thoughts. He left the bench for a seat at the kitchen table, sitting with his back to his brother. “I’m just saying-” Dean began over the sound of plates, and the scraping of a pan. “I know what you’re saying.” Sam interjected. Dean planted the plate of bacon down on the table and sat down opposite. “You barely leave your room anymore, man. You need to get out, clear your head.”

***

YN played interesting games, always had, but they infuriated Dean, even her turn for I-Spy annoyed him. She was too smart, too educated, and she flaunted it. “A fuckin’ indicator? How the shit was I ever gonna get that?” “Cause you use one, oh that’s right you d-” “Okay, come on.” Sam tried to cut in. Dean jabbed his finger into the centre panel, jamming the radio on, then flicking to the tape deck, turning the volume up on his latest find, an old cassette of Van Halen live in concert. “Dean!” YN whined, a smile on her face when Sam glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, can’t hear you!” Dean called out, too loud when Sam turned down the volume, “Come one, man!” “Can we just focus on the case?” Sam asked, making both Dean and YN sigh and sit back in their seats. “Of course we can, Sam, what’ve you found?” YN questioned, jabbing a finger into Dean’s shoulder when he wobbled his head. She knew he was pulling a face while mouthing an impression of Serious-Sam. “Well, there’s this discrepancy here,” He said, handing the iPad back to YN to look over.

***

They had checked in at a motel on the border of town, spent the day shaking down the local police, questioning witnesses, and chasing down dead ends when they all finally called it a night, returning to the motel after a late dinner at the only bar open. Sam had climbed into bed and fallen asleep almost immediately, while Dean and YN moved around the room getting ready for bed, sharing thoughts on the case, but soon both were dead to the world. YN stirred in the middle of the night, feeling something wasn’t right, she listened for a while, listened to the man she loved whimper and whisper. Then he woke, sitting up and curling over.

“Another nightmare?” YN asked, eyes barely open as she reached for Sam’s back, circling it with the palm of her hand. He turned toward her, shifting down the bed, dipping his head to her chest, curling into her, his arm on her stomach, hand over her heart, feeling the rhythm, the life beating through her. YN let the broad man tuck himself close, like a child snuggling up to its mother, the closer: the safer. Trailing patterns over his shoulders and brushing soft fingers through his hair, she felt his breath over her chest beginning to slow from the frantic panting he’d done in his sleep. “You called out for Jess in your sleep, again.” She whispered after a minute. “She was right there, I could touch her, reach her, but I couldn’t...” Sam choked on his words. “Sweetheart, the last thing she saw was you. You trying to save her.” YN cooed. “Trying and failing.” Sam sobbed. “No, baby, she saw you trying.” Sam’s breath caught as he sniffled. “Jess… the last thing she saw- she knew, was you were there. She knew you were trying to save her, and in that thought is a bit of peace.” YN pressed quietly, crooking her neck awkwardly to press her lips to his hair. Sam’s hand shifted from her chest to her rib cage and he pulled her tightly into him, holding her.

Dean had woken to the murmuring coming from the other bed, he knew Sam struggled; fifteen years and all the shit they’d gone through, it was a miracle they weren’t psychopaths or worse. But unlike Dean, Sam couldn’t find a way to justify their decisions, the deaths that surrounded them, Dean knew he was lying to himself when he explained it away at night, Sam’s brain just wasn’t wired like that.

“Tell me how you met Jess?” YN whispered into the night, her fingers still lazily stroking through Sam’s hair. “A fr-- we met at a party.” Sam quietly explained, the pain in his voice evident. “What was she studying?” YN prodded. “Educational psychology, she wanted to be a teacher and double as a counselor.” “She sounds like she had it figured out.” “She did, she was so… every decision she made was like, she knew what she wanted to do, she was topping the secondary teacher education class and... she just knew exactly what she was going to do, where she wanted to work, she had it all planned out.” “Where did she wanna work?”

Dean smiled to himself as he listened to the two, he was happy Sam had someone to talk to about all that. He wouldn’t have even known Sam was having nightmares if YN wasn’t around, he doubted Sam would even open up to him about Jess. But Dean also couldn’t help but wonder if YN knew Sam was going to propose to Jess, if she knew Sam had been ready to settle down if it hadn’t been for his big brother pulling him back in. What would YN think if she didn’t know and Sam told her?

“You were both so lucky to have each other, to share a love like that.” YN breathed, her fingers stilling in Sam’s hair. He frowned against her breast and tilted his head up, trying to see her face in the dark. YN’s eyes were open, her stare fixed on the ceiling. “You know I-” Sam began, but her eyes quickly found his and she interrupted. “What we have is so different, Sam,” Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb running back and forth over his temple, “No love is ever the same.” YN looked over his face, his nose and brow standing out in the street light filtering through the dusty, torn, woolen curtain. He blinked and then craned his neck, reaching for her lips, pressing a brief kiss to them when she raised her head. When she lay back, he stretched out and followed her, pressing his lips to hers once more, holding her in that moment for longer, hoping that his thanks was without judgement.

Dean could feel the tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable, and when he heard the hard breath only noses made when they were pressed against another’s face, he was plunged into a situation he never wanted to be in. At the next telltale noise of lips breaking apart, he did the only thing he could think of. He groaned loudly as he pulled the blankets up further, “If you two are gonna fuck, you’re gonna need to get another room.” He rolled onto his front and pulled his pillow over his head. He could hear the slight sound of one of them snorting a laugh and just like that the tension melted like ice under boiling water.

***

It was a tough hunt, not just physically either. When it became clear it was a couple, they managed to catch them, but they weren’t expecting one to be a human. They weren’t expecting him to try and explain it away, for her to promise she’d never hurt anyone again, for him to sacrifice himself to try and save her. It was tough. And it didn’t become apparent that they’d handle it in their own ways until they got back to the motel room.

“Well… that sucked but, hey, job well done!” YN congratulated as they dropped the bags back in the motel room. “How can you be happy at a time like this?” Sam accused. YN froze, the smile faltered on her face, “Cause if I’m not happy, then I’m wallowing in something dark, and that’s a deep well I can’t fall down.” “Well, it’s messed up. It wasn’t a job done well.” He pushed. “Sammy, leave her be.” Dean tried, “She meant well-” “Meant well? We just killed a couple of kids... for what? Cause she was forced into that life? He was trying to help her best he could?” Sam burst. The smile disappeared, her shoulders slumped, the weight of the world back to rest upon her. Her eyes began to brim, her gaze dropping with the first tear. “I’m just... I’ll...” she stammered as she picked up her bag and left the room. “Nice one, Sam.” Dean chastised, heading for the bathroom, slamming the door. The shower clunked to life, pipes squealing, the water hitting the curtain. “I just...” Sam sighed, he didn’t know what he wanted. But he ruined it. Ruined her.

Part 2

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flower-queen-of-the-internet · 4 years

Text

Apraxia Awareness Day

Hi! Little bit about me. I was diagnosed with apraxia also known as dyspraxia when I was 2. When I was diagnosed I had very little sounds and I’ve likely had all words and sounds drilled into me by a SLP (speech-language pathologist), I love my apraxia although it definitely affects me and will affect me all my life.

What is Apraxia?

Apraxia is a motor based speech disorder. It’s a spectrum disorder so like autism if you’ve met one apraxic you’ve met just one. Childhood Apraxia of Speech is equal to a diagnosis of developmental verbal dyspraxia.

Signs of apraxia of speech (verbal dyspraxia):

1. Very little babbling as a baby

2. Difficulty putting syllables in the correct order

3. Difficulty saying complex words

4. Being able to pronounce a sound or word one day but not the next

5. Incorrect inflections or stresses

6. Omitting sounds

7. Limited vocabulary

8. Grammar issues

9. Trouble coordinating jaw, lips, tongue

One of the major Speech therapy programs which helps is called PROMPT and is made for CAS. It’s a multi-sensory approach. Although CAS has the word childhood in it, apraxia is a life-long disability and it’s there to symbolize it’s from birth rather than only affects you in childhood. Which is a distinction which isn’t always spoken about.

It’s Me!

I’ve known that I’m apraxic my entire life. I was given the definition that my brain sends messages to my muscles but they don’t respond. I’m a person who if I opened my mouth and I wasn’t focusing you would just hear an accent (a British one). When I’m focusing I’ve been told that my “real” voice sounds like a different person. I can’t flow well or use intonation when I’m speaking in my “real” voice. To me, I have two voices my normal one that everyone hears and I constantly say the wrong articulation in and my “real” one I have when I’m concentrating in speech therapy or in one moment. Where I hit almost every R through the technique over pronunciation. I’ve done acting for a decade now and onstage I use my normal voice. On the other hand, I can’t move my facial expressions on command. I’m always being told I didn’t know you had a disability (I’ve apraxic and I have a LD). As I apparently don’t sound like it. It’s hard because at the same time when I mispronounce a word people laugh at me and tease me and make fun of me. It’s not on me. I can pronounce a word one day and not the next. I hate it, really really hate it as it’s something that feels impossible to control and I’ve done years of speech therapy (and still going) for it. Worse, it’s usually the people I’ve known for a long time including my family (not my parents they are wonderful in supporting me) who do it. I’ve been bullied for not being able to pronounce one of my best friends names. She never told me I was mispronouncing her name as she knows I struggle with Rs and based on the letters in her name I will probably always struggle. She’s never mentioned it but the fact that people who’ve known just how much speech therapy (as it actually tends to be friends who’ve known me for years...) Who’ve felt the need to do so in my hearing range as I sat in that room pains me. My journey has continued from that day. I used to get accommodations in school through my guidance counsellor and LS teacher in middle school. In high school my LS teacher didn’t even know that apraxia/dyspraxia existed let alone that I had it. She knew that I did speech therapy and thus had a speech impediment. This year I’m getting accommodations. I’m getting 25% extra time in presentations and orals to allow me to say all my thoughts as I speak slower to be understandable and I struggle with stumbling over words, articulation and clarity of speech. As well as, in all presentations and oral exams my pronunciation, articulation, and clarity of speech cannot be marked. As that’s out of my control, I also don’t take a spoken language class which helps. As that would usually not be included for that. I take Latin which honestly doesn’t include much speaking in Latin. In the past few years I’ve started advocating for disabilities including apraxia/dyspraxia in my community and online. Through speaking with other people online I’ve started to feel like a belong. I’ve also started talking to people about the side of being the kid in the situation. Its to be noted that I don’t plan to go out quietly. I want to go to the UK and attend dyspraxia events, I want to arrange events where I live, and I want to get further connected into it here. I’m constantly offering myself to be a helpful ear as I’ve done all of this research. I’ve been heavily interested almost none stop for the past 4 yrs. Whenever I have a spare moment I’m looking up LDs, adhd, autism and dyspraxia. I’ve read everything that I can get on it. I enjoy talking about accommodations and if it is fair (it totally is and I stand by my opinion!) This is just a little on my experience of being apraxic. In the future, I’m planning to look at the motor coordination side and focus more on dyspraxia as a whole which I’m not really doing for today.

My Poem

I hate being misunderstood

It's a constant though

I'm consistently reminded that I don't truly speak English

Though it's my mother tongue

My first language

My parents gave up teaching me

French, Greek, Hebrew or any-other

Because i couldn't speak English

I wish it was as easy as growing up

I wish it was as easy as everyone says

I wish that when I say my best friends names people understand me

Because they don't

Because the people who’ve known all along

When they've been there every step of the journey

Yet they can sit around a table and laugh

Laugh at the fact you can't say your best friend's name

Like this is a joke

Like this isn't my life

Each day in and out

Like I'm not here

Sitting, listening to them

Bug me

Listen to them

Again and again

Like I'm a kid

But, I'm 16.

I'm 16, and I can speak

I will speak

I will speak out for those who have a similar story to my own

And different ones too.

I can speak and I will

You might not understand each and every word. It might be like your dyslexic and the letters flip. That's the way words sound when they come out of my mouth to a listener. I thought it was only unfamiliar ones. I guess I was wrong..

Because I can talk

Because I will talk

Because I will not stay silent

Because I'm a girl who's dyspraxic

Because I'm a girl who's disabled

Not differently abled

Because I can talk and always will

But most of all because I'm me and I can speak.

-A Dyspraxic Gal who has lost her voice more than once

#actually dyspraxic #dyspraxia #apraxia #verbal dyspraxia #apraxia awareness day #my writing #also on my blog #neurodivergent #my poetry #poetry

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theinconsistentnihilist · 4 years

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Myself

So... funny story.

I’ve always noticed that I’ve been an oddball especially in our society and well that’s evident from my posts. Personally, I always thought I was weird or “built different”. So I assumed I’ve always had a knack for being uncanny. As people read through my posts they started questioning whether or not I may have been mentally... well. Ill. To which I announced these people ridiculous as there’s no way I would have been. As time passed by, I wanted to know. Curiosity started hitting me and I begged the question as to.. What if? What if I was categorized with the mentally ill. This question bothered me so I asked a close relative of mine who was a psychologist. Let’s just say she’s really close. To which she responded with

“Oh you finally realized?”

In which this question bugged me. Realized what? That there could be something wrong with me?

She didn’t even flinch, she gave me a card to a specialized therapist who deals with people with Antisocial Personality Disorder. Which at the time I had no idea what it meant. So I simply.. went and from there I was diagnosed as a Psychopath.

Let me clear the air for you, although I am a psychopath. The term has been misused and Hollywood has given it a bad reputation. Being a psychopath isn’t black and white. It’s a spectrum. For me, I was somewhere around 6-7. Which is essentially pretty bad, but not as bad as one thinks. You see, there are things in my life, which I’ve also written in this blog that I thought was normal. I’ve always assumed that what I thought was weird was weird. However, it has become apparent to me that I’m the weird one. Initially, this understanding stuck with me. I struggled with it. How can I be weird? Until eventually, I accepted it. However, there are still several things that may affect me. For example, someone using the word “Psycho” as a derogatory term. Which I completely understand how we can be a little... off..? But honestly we can’t help it.

I’ve come to terms with these facts but I still can’t get over the idea that some things I do are not supposed to be that way. For example, you know that little voice inside your head that tells you not to do something? It’s called a conscience, and I don’t think I have that. The first time I heard about a conscience was when I was just in class and my teacher mentioned about a conscience. To which I contemplated like.. What is that? I don’t have that? He must be silly. Well, now I know why.

Generally, I also questioned why do people care so much about things. Apparently, empathy isn’t exactly my strong suit. It also matches that of a psychopath. Personally, I always thought that maybe some people care more than others well. Apparently not.

According to my therapist, psychopaths have a different brain than most people. Our brains apparently miss some parts (To be honest with you I wasn’t really paying attention at all) and those parts are what makes you.. a regular human? To which I started questioning, what makes me so different? I don’t feel like I should be categorized in labels. Why are psychopaths so disliked throughout the community?

Also there are myths I’d like to bust. No we are not completely emotionless, in fact we may be the opposite. The only difference is that we don’t show our emotions well. Not all psychopaths are violent, to tell you the truth I don’t really feel the need to hurt or injure someone, but there would be times when I have these urges to actually do something immoral.

Regarding masks, If you read my previous post, I have mentioned about masks. In which I thought were normal, well turns out it was actually a coping mechanism due to the difficulty I have in socializing regularly with people. Truthfully, it’s difficult to be myself as even I don’t know if I want to be myself to anyone. I can assure you I’m not dangerous as I have personally never hurt anyone.. intentionally?

With this said, I feel like this tumblr page is about to get a lot more interesting. I’m also thinking of turning it to a page where I discuss my journey as a misunderstood Psychopath. Hopefully, I can raise awareness as media has made it look like all psychopaths are evil or dangerous. I just want people to at least know what people like us are like before reaching a concrete decision as to how they should approach us.

Lastly, I’d like to mention that I’m continuously seeking help and I’m keeping up with what I should or shouldn’t be doing. As of right now, I’m undergoing a Decompression Model for Psychopaths which I honestly don’t understand what it is yet. But if it helps, I guess that’s great.

With this, marks the end of the inconsistent Nihilist.

And the start of the Misunderstood Psychopath

#myself #ax3305 #psychopathy

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sandersstudies · 5 years

Text

Quirky - Chapter 4

A High School Superhero AU - Sanders Sides

(US Boku No Hero Academia AU - Will add tag list in a reblog! If I miss you, please let me know ASAP - Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than usual- As always, asks, comments, messages, reblogs, and keysmashes are more than welcome.)

-> Chapter Five

<- Chapter Three

<<- Chapter One

You can now also find the fic with the same username and title on AO3 :)

Something’s wrong, Patton realized as he rolled through the doors of the school. Upperclassmen in the hallway were whispering to one another. Some of the first-years looked almost dazed. A group of students from Patton’s class huddled around a locker, looking at something on a smartphone. Nobody was laughing.

Patton knew it was rude to use his quirk without permission, but he couldn’t resist extending his mind into the surrounding space: a jumble of sounds and emotions, too thick to sort through. A passing girl almost bumped into his wheelchair, and made eye contact for a split second.

Something happened. The brief glimpse hadn’t been enough to give Patton any details. He stared around again, but everyone was rushing to class or focused on a conversation. Patton turned toward his classroom and rolled faster. He was a little early but he had a better chance of finding out what was going on there. A kid rounding the corner glanced at him, and Patton caught another image.

It’s the news, something on the news, he thought. The haze that hung over the school reflected that. His quirk was picking up general disturbances left and right, and most of the students’ thoughts seemed suspended in a cloud too thick to make out individuals. Something on the news — a murder? A natural disaster? An alien arrival?

When Patton reached his classroom, it was empty except for Virgil, who started to glance up and then immediately stared down at his notebook. He would, unfortunately, be very little help. He was always charged with nervous emotion, and today was no different. Whether he was even nervous for the same reason as the other students, it was impossible to tell.

“Good morning,” Patton tried.

“Mmm,” Virgil said. He was blocking his notebook with one arm, hunching over it so closely that Patton couldn’t see his face.

“What are you working on?”

“Nothing.” The response was clipped, and Patton took the hint to be silent as other students started to enter the room. Logan and Terrance sat down near Virgil, and Patton resisted using his quirk any more. Too much probing and people would notice. If Patton’s quirk had taught him anything, it was that whatever was upsetting the other students would come out eventually.

Some students were whispering harshly to one another as they entered the classroom, and others were silent. Patton tried to watch them out of the corner of his eye. A few, like himself, gave off bursts of confusion which grew dark as their friends leaned over to fill them in. Patton only caught a few words.

“Did you hear?…last night...police…”

There must have been a villain attack, Patton thought. That would explain it. But the attack must have been of some unprecedented size to raise such concern among the students. A little attempted arson or petty larceny was barely newsworthy as long as the event was stopped be a professional hero as most were. Only major destructions and deaths were widely known to the public, and Patton could remember no sirens, no explosions disturbing his sleep the previous night. If only he’d had time to talk to Dad in the morning…

Mr. Picani entered the classroom, began to shut the door, and then paused to hold it open one extra second as Roman rushed into the room with an apologetic nod. The nearest open seat was the one in front of Patton, and Roman slid into it instead of his normal seat on the other side of the room. Patton had never seen Roman look so demure. The boy’s shoulders slumped slightly, and his eyes were red, bloodshot even. When he reached to unzip his backpack, Patton thought he saw his hand shaking.

I wonder if the villain attack was near his house. That was always a scary event, especially late at night. He’s not hurt at all, though. Physical pain tended to fill a room like smoke; Patton could always tell when it was around.

Mr. Picani stood behind the front desk, and the room fell silent. He tapped a stack of papers against the table, and Patton felt the teacher’s nervousness seeping out of the cracks in his calm exterior.

“I’ll be filling in for Mr. Sanders today,” Mr. Picani said, adjusting his glasses twice. “I’m sure…” The teacher’s usually lilting voice was halting. “I’m sure some of you have heard the news that Mr. Sanders has been arrested.”

No gasp or chatter went up in the class, only silence and a wave of passive acceptance that Patton felt sweep the room. What had been momentarily doubted as gossip was now confirmed.

“I understand this may be a very stressful time for you,” Mr. Picani went on. “But we here at UA want to maintain our normal schedule in the face of difficulty as much as possible. In hero work, these kind of disturbances may interrupt at any time. That being said, if any of you feel you need someone to talk to, myself and the other school counselors always keep our doors open.”

Roman shifted in his seat.

The teacher went on. “Since homeroom is only ten minutes, we don’t have a lot of time at present, but if the class would prefer a more thorough discussion during Hero Studies, I can facilitate that as well. I’ll give you the rest of this time for yourselves.” He sat down.

Free time was usually coveted during the school day, but the students were not particularly talkative for the rest of homeroom. There was some whispering, clearing up of details, but that was all. Even Roman merely leaned back to pick the uneven edge off a piece of notebook paper, crumbling the shards between his fingers. None of his friends approached him, and he did not look up.

Patton scribbled absentmindedly in his notebook. Little swirls and delicate lines helped him focus his thoughts and keep out of other people’s heads, but he couldn’t help but notice Mr. Picani staring at a paper without moving his eyes, clearly thinking, distant. Patton wondered if the two teachers knew each other well, if they were friends, even. How much did Mr. Picani know about the arrest?

Patton felt something tap the wheel of his chair, and glanced down. A red pencil had rolled across the floor, just out of his reach.

“Excuse me,” he said, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “I think you dropped that.”

The other boy whirled around and in the split-second eye contact before Roman’s eyes fell to the floor, Patton felt a blast of confusion out of proportion to his discovery of the pencil. Patton sat back in his chair as Roman fumbled for the pencil and then turned around with a mumbled “thanks.”

Patton resisted asking any more questions. Roman was subdued at the moment, but Patton remembered his outburst in the cafeteria earlier in the week. If Remy hadn’t stepped in, Patton didn’t know how far Roman might have gone.

That’s another reason to keep my quirk to myself, Patton thought. Exposure to a quirked empath scared some people. Roman wasn’t the first to be startled, and even angered, when he realized what was happening. Patton didn’t like to think of his quirk as a weapon, but he couldn’t escape remembering that it could be used that way.

“It’s not polite to go through somebody’s thoughts like you’re rummaging through drawers,” Patton’s father always said.

Patton took off his glasses as the bell rang. It helped his quirk lay quiet when everything was soft at the edges.

***

Lunchtime was, for Patton, a respite from bombardment with endless thoughts. People’s heads got quieter when their voices got louder, and when he sat at a table by himself, the increased distance meant he heard even the strongest emotions as if through a wall. Joy sounded like a pounding waterfall, and Patton had often as a child fallen asleep to the sound of his parent’s warm thoughts like a distant stream. Sadness sounded like the hurried breaths that came before crying, jumpy instead of constant. Patton always tried to get rid of that sound. In middle school he’d purposefully sat with the kids whose brains sounded like that, to start a conversation. After all, people’s heads got quieter when their voices got louder.

Patton balanced his bagged lunch in his lap with one hand, rolling his chair with the other as he looked for an empty table. Remy waved from his seat between Terrance and Virgil, and Patton waved back. Virgil was leaning across the table to say something to Logan, who nodded in agreement. Patton could hear their waterfalls from a distance. It was none of his business, but Patton was glad that Virgil, always so nervous, had managed to make some friends.

Patton’s usual place near the back looked empty until he rolled past a group of upperclassmen and saw one figure half-hunched over the table. He almost turned to start looking for a new place when he recognized the wavy blond head.

Roman again. It was strange that the class representative had abandoned his usual place among his friends, and stranger still that he’d chosen the place where he’d mocked Patton only a couple days before, but Patton was reminded of the kids who sat alone in middle school, and rolled closer. He dropped his bag on the table. Roman jerked.

“What are you doing here?”

“I always sit here,” Patton said, unpacking his lunch. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Roman said. He was still, and then suddenly moved to grab his tray. “I can go, if you—”

“That’s okay,” Patton said. He took a bite out of his sandwich. “I don’t mind.”

Roman settled back into his seat.

“Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” Patton asked after a minute.

“Dunno.”.

“You must have sat here for some reason,” Patton tried again.

“Just don’t feel much like talking to them,” Roman said, a tinge of hostility in his voice..

“Or eating, apparently,” Patton said. Roman had been shoving his food around with a fork.

The two boys ate in silence for a minute. Patton kept a tight rein on his mind, fearing any probe might drive Roman away again. He was curious about the other boy’s behavior.

“You didn’t try for class president,” Roman said suddenly.

“No,” Patton responded. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Don’t you want to be the best?”

“At some things,” Patton said. “Not at being class president, though. Enjoying your new position?”

“Well, I haven’t done anything yet.” Roman paused. “Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“That’s okay,” Patton said. “Not many people want to talk to me anyway.” He stirred his pudding. Not that I mind it much that way.

“Oh.” Roman said. “Is it because of—” He waved his hand in front of his eyes, and Patton noticed that he’d dared make eye contact.

“Probably,” Patton said. “You didn’t like it very much yourself.”

Roman used one fingernail to scratch at the edge of the table. “Actually, I.” He stared at his finger, and then dropped it into his lap. “I meant to apologize about that. I was a big jerk that day. I’ve been a big jerk a lot.”

“Thank you for your apology,” Patton said. He didn’t need to use his quirk to know that it was authentic. “Was that why you came to sit here?”

“Part of it, I guess,” Roman said. “But I think I’ve been lying to myself a little bit. I don’t know, really. Sorry to be blabbering to you like this, especially after I’ve been a jerk.”

“It’s okay,” Patton said. “I’m sort of used to it.

“I just don’t want to see my friends right now and, well, you seem like the kind of person it’s safe to talk to. Like you could keep a secret.”

“Thank you, I think.”

Roman’s eyes darted around unsteadily. “Could I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” Patton said. He felt a spark of curiosity.

“I was there last night, right before Mr. Sanders got arrested.”

“What?” If it wasn’t for his quirk, Patton wouldn’t have believed the statement for a second, but it was true — or, at least, Roman thought it was.

“I just need to get it off my chest, I guess,” Roman said. “Me and...some other students. We went out late last night to see the logo that got painted — did you hear about that?”

Patton nodded. It was another thing he’d heard a bit from other’s minds before he’d seen it on the news. But the logo was gone now, scheduled to be removed this morning.

“Well, we went to see it, and while we were there, I saw Mr. Sanders and...and the Flying Falcon.”

“That’s your dad,” Patton remembered.

“They had a fight like the ones you see in the movies and on the news,” Roman said. Throughout the conversation, he’d been leaning further across the table, toward Patton. “And right before I ran away I…You swear you can keep a secret?”

“Who would I tell?”

Roman nodded, but paused and chewed the inside of his lip. “That’s all, I guess,” he said. He settled back into his seat.“It was stupid of us to go out, really.”

“Well, maybe now it won’t happen again.”

“Maybe,” Roman said. He stood up. “Sorry to bother you, but thanks for listening and all. And I’m really sorry, again, about before.”

Patton nodded. “I hope everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” Roman said as he started to walk away. “Me too.”

Patton mused over his lunch until the bell rang and he rolled away to class.

***

“I’d like to begin with a quick activity,” Mr. Picani said, walking around the room to place slips of paper on students’ desks. “I often find that in group settings, students are shy to speak up in front of their classmates for fear of seeming silly. Now, I’m of the belief that there is no such thing as a stupid question, but sometimes we need a safe environment to share our questions and our feelings. So, let’s take a minute to write down any questions or feelings we might have that we may be too shy to share out loud.” He passed the last of the papers out, and then perched on the edge of his desk. “Remember, there are no stupid questions.”

Patton stared down at the blank clipping of paper. The top was uneven where Mr. Picani had sheared it away from the rest of the sheet. He tapped his pencil against his desk. Sometimes it was difficult to sort through everyone else’s feelings to find his own. He placed his glasses in his lap and blinked a few times, trying to retreat back into his own skull.

How did he feel? Well, he didn’t like that Mr. Sanders was gone. It made him...not scared...uneasy. Heroes weren’t supposed to go to jail. What had he gone to jail for, anyhow?

That’s a question, Patton realized. Was that information on the news? Oh well, no stupid questions. He wrote it down, his letters slightly crooked without the help of his glasses, and folded his paper in half. When Mr. Picani circled the classroom with a glass jar, Patton dropped his paper in. When the teacher made it back to the front of the room, he lightly shook the jar before drawing a few papers in his hand.

“Remember,” he said. “We aren’t here to make judgements, we’re here to have a discussion. Let’s see what we have here.”

Many of the papers were about Mr. Sanders’ arrest, lots of feelings reflecting what Patton had felt from the students throughout the day. Uncomfortable, scared, upset, sad, angry, confused.

Every time Mr. Picani read off an emotion, he would say, “how many of you feel like that?” and several of the students would raise their hand. Mr. Picani sometimes raised his hand as well.

“I recognize,” Mr. Picani said, pulling his glasses off and setting the jar on the desk next to him. “That many of you still have a lot of unanswered questions. I want you to understand that we, the teachers, also still have questions. We are not hiding information, we’re right there with you.” He twirled the glasses between his hands. “I like to do activities like this to remind you that you aren’t alone, we all experience these emotions from time to time. This is a very confusing time for everybody, and it’s frustrating and saddening for us that this has happened right as all of you are beginning your time at UA.”

He reached into the jar again, and peeled open a scrap of paper which had been folded over itself many times. “Speaking of beginning your time at UA,” he said, a bit of his normal smile returning to his face. “This student says, ‘I am worried about Mr. Sanders because he seems nice but also I am still worried that my quirk is not as good as my classmates.’” As he read, Patton detected a sudden spark of fearful energy on the other side of the room. Virgil’s anxiety was spiking.

He wrote that, Patton realized.

“It’s almost nice to see such a common concern from a student,” Mr. Picani said. “And that’s what it is, a common concern. Anybody who is thinking or feeling this way, you are not alone either.” He smiled softly and gazed over the class. “Not everybody is so confident as they pretend to be here,” he said. “And many students compare themselves to upperclassmen or even to professional heroes. It’s important to remember that each and every one of you is here because you passed the same test as most of your classmates, or because you were professionally recommended by a current hero, and neither passing exam grades nor recommendations are given lightly.”

Patton drummed his fingers against his knee. He still wasn’t sure exactly what the entrance exam had contained, though he knew when the other students thought of it they experienced a rush of adrenaline. He was probably lucky he’d managed to bypass it. He knew without his quirk, of course, that Roman was the other recommended student. The son of two major heroes was unlikely to be otherwise.

“Everyone in this class has their quirk on record in student files,” Mr. Picani went on. “And every year we are impressed with the variety of talent among our students. Everyone in this room deserves to be here, and all of you are here to make the most out of your quirk, so you can use it for the most good.”

Virgil sunk lower in his seat, bouncing his leg.

He got in on the entrance exam that I didn’t even take, Patton thought. Hundreds of people take it and don’t pass. How can he think his quirk isn’t good enough?

Granted, Patton hadn’t seen Virgil’s quirk yet, but that was true for much of the class. People like Roman had the ability to be flashy and dramatic, but Virgil, Logan, and many other students chose to keep to themselves, and that included their quirk abilities. If it wasn’t for that moment in the cafeteria, Remy’s quirk would have remained secret until he’d tried to use it in the field test.

Think of the devil, Patton thought as Remy glanced over at him. Remy’s energy felt like pop rocks in his mind. It wasn’t a bad thing.

Mr. Picani talked through a few more questions and feelings before giving the students the rest of the class to themselves again. “However, assuming Mr. Sanders has not returned tomorrow, we will be picking up on the syllabus where you left off,” he said when the final bell rang.

Patton was always one of the last to leave; he didn’t like getting stuck in the crowd at the end of the day. He smiled politely to Mr. Picani when he left, and the man’s face wrinkled slightly around the eyes as he returned the glance. Patton wasn’t trying to pry, but there was a well of sadness below the teacher’s calm exterior, and Patton felt, as he always did, as if he’d entered into a room marked Private, where he wasn’t supposed to be.

As Patton rolled out of the doors of the school, he saw Virgil waving goodbye to Logan before shoving his hands into his pockets and slinking off in the other direction. Virgil always walked home at the end of the day; he must live close to the school. Patton rolled after him and reached out to touch his arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

Virgil started to turn around, and then abruptly drove his gaze into the ground. “Yeah, fine. See you tomorrow.” He shuffled away like he was in a rush at the pool, but the lifeguard was watching from under the “no running” sign.

Patton’s phone buzzed before he could decide whether or not he ought to follow. When he glanced at the screen, his father’s icon lit up.

“Hey, Dad,” he said as he answered. “Everything okay?” It was remarkable, the lack of thought he picked up over the phone. Every conversation seemed a little mysterious. He supposed that was what it was like for other people all the time.

“Everything okay with you?” his father replied. There was light noise in the background, and Patton supposed his father was still at work. “I wish we’d had a chance to talk before you got on the bus this morning. Did you hear about what happened last night?” He wasn’t a hero, but Patton’s father seemed to be always up-to-date on villain news. It came from working in a hospital and seeing the casualties. There was also, of course, the other reason—

“Yeah, Dad, I heard all about it,” Patton said. No need to think about that.

“Weren’t snooping, I hope?” Dr. Summers joked.

“Only a little,” Patton admitted. “You remember Mr. Picani? He took over our class today. But I’m fine. Some of the other students were kind of upset, though.” Roman.

“Well, you would know,” Dr. Summers said. “It’s all I heard about from the nurses at work today. You about to catch the bus home?”

“Yeah, if only I can get my dad to stop delaying me.”

“All right, all right, I get it. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you.”

#sanders sides #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #studywritesstuff

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essekknits · 5 years

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A few tips for a tutor (or a student)

Now, I’m a tutor. I never studied it, I’m a high school graduate who was looking to earn some money to pay for driving lessons so their parents wouldn’t have to. But somehow I apparently got better results than any adult that taught those kids before. So here’s what I learned.

People know the things that make them comfortable in learning. They know them better than me. On my first lesson with any student, I make it very clear that this is not school, and if there’s anything that makes them feel more focused, be it music, or playing with their pencils, or drumming on the table or anything at all, they can do it. So one of my students always fidgets with her pencil. Another student I had would mix cards. One had the tv on as background noise.

Learn different ways to do the same thing. Not every method of teaching works for every student, and sometimes I had to go through five different ways of explaining the same assignment before my student got the idea. That’s okay and natural. Everyone’s brains work differently.

Learn not just how to do something, but why. Especially important if you teach maths. Teachers don’t actually teach what Pi means until high school, and sometimes not even then, when you use Pi since 6th grade. For most of my students, learning what Pi actually meant made it a lot easier to study circles and learn the formulas related to them. So many other formulas too. When you teach your students the “Why”, it can help them make sense out of the “How”. It doesn’t always work, but in many cases it does so it’s worth it.

If there’s a difficulty somewhere, try playing with outside factors. The problem might be somewhere different than you think. In the year I’ve been doing this, I met kids that told me “I hate reading, I can’t do it” (I teach most of my students English as a second language, so it’s usually English where I encounter it, but I got it in Hebrew too). But the simple act of moving the text to Word, dividing it to smaller paragraphs and changing the font to something more comfortable to read (you’d be surprised how nice Comic Sans can be to read), made a huge difference. She’s thriving. No, it didn’t solve all the problems. She still has a very small vocabulary, but all of a sudden she can read. She doesn’t mix the letters as much as she did. She doesn’t skip lines or struggle with words she knows as much as she used to.

Divide the studying time. I work on full hour basis, and some of my students take an hour and a half, or two hours. Divide studying times.If you have multiple subjects, divide your lesson into different parts. If you have only one subject, allow short breaks. I let my students complain about their school experience. I share some of mine with them. I let them tell me about their day or week while we’re working, or when we take a break. Maybe this works just because I’m closer to their age, but I seriously doubt that, because I used to do the same with my seventy years old piano teacher.

Shorten the studying time if you need. Leave something in the end that your student actually likes as a reward. Like, we studied boring maths for a whole hour? Let’s finish with thirty minutes of talking about black holes, cause holy shit they’re cool. The subjects are endless. In those end segments, I already discussed god and biblical stories, Greek myths, black holes, hemophilia and how Queen Victoria almost killed all of Europe’s monarchies, axolotls, water bears, and platypuses (she didn’t know they were a real thing. She thought they’re something Phineas and Ferb invented). This Sunday I’m planning a short lesson about the immune system and vaccines (we didn’t get to do them in a while because of tests).

Music is the best way to learn a language. When I teach 6th graders English, I let them analyse Beatles songs. That way they enjoy music while also learning vocabulary and grammar. Disclaimer on this one: Queen songs are NOT good for this. They’re for older students to learn English. Not for 6th graders.

Can’t believe I have to say that, but don’t talk over your students. Be on their level. Kids learn a lot better when you are their equal instead of an authority figure. Humanise yourself. Tell them about a failure you had in the subject you’re studying, cause they’re most likely failing the subject now and are terrified that you’ll judge them.

While we’re at it, establish that you’re never going to judge them for failing, not understanding or asking questions. You’ll need to remind them every lesson that if there’s anything they don’t understand they need to stop you and ask, and you’ll never judge them. No matter how stupid they think their question is, no matter how many times they asked it, it’s okay and you’ll be happy to explain it again.

Don’t let your students say “I can’t do it”. A kid that says “I can’t do it”, or “I’m just not good at it”, is a student who is giving up. Change that way of thinking. Turn “I’m not good at it” into “we didn’t find the right way to do it yet”. When they say “I can’t do it”, point at a similar assignment that they already completed, and say “I don’t know about you, but this makes me think you can definitely do it”. Let them know you believe in their abilities. Challenge them to think that they can do it.

While answering an assignment, ask the student to tell you everything that comes to their mind. No matter how stupid they think it is, ask them to tell you their first thought. I learned that often those first thoughts, and the entire thought process, are really close to what needs to be done. They just need to look at it differently.

Sometimes, you won’t be able to teach. Accept that. In some lessons, your student will be unfocused, or bothered by something else, or distressed after something happened in their life. Maybe they had a fight with their siblings, maybe they have a relative who isn’t doing so well, maybe they had drama in their friend group. It happens. It’s out of your control. Try your best to help them focus, but accept that maybe you won’t succeed. Accept that maybe they’ll need to just vent it all, or they won’t be cooperative, or they’ll take their anger and frustration out on you (especially relevant in younger students). It happens. Don’t let them take their anger out on you, but don’t get angry back. Be kind and patient. Even if you didn’t manage to teach anything that lesson, you might be able to help a little, and that matters just as much if not more.

For the love of everything that is good, back your student up in front of their parents! If the parent belittle’s the child’s achievements while the three of you are together, tell them that you think they’re making a great effort and improving very well. If it was a hard lesson, and you didn’t manage to learn a lot, say you decided to give them a break in studying in order to learn to understand them better, so the next lessons would be more beneficial to all of you. Don’t get me wrong, if the kid doesn’t make an effort it’s a whole other story, and you should make the parents aware that there is a problem (still, without pointing fingers and shaming your student, and with as much subtlety and gentleness possible). But back your student up in front of their parents. Let them feel that if their parents are pressuring them too much, they have some form of authority that says “yes, things aren’t as good as we’d like them to be, but your efforts and improvements are recognised and appreciated”. If possible, help the parent acknowledge and recognise the improvement and effort.

Dont assume that your student is neurotypical!!! Please, don’t assume that your student is neurotypical, because if you do, you won’t be able to recognise the signs that they might not be. And if you don’t recognise the signs, you won’t know to help them. Many kids who need tutoring are ND. I suspect the majority of my students are ND. If I didn’t look for the signs I know (being ND myself and learning in a class full of other ND people), I wouldn’t have been able to help them study the way I did. According to their parents, I managed to help them in a way no other tutor ever did. One of my students’ grades in English jumped from 60 to 100 after two lessons, just two, because I knew how to approach the problems differently, in a way that would help and make sense for her.

All these advice are phrased as advice to a tutor teaching other students, but honestly? These would’ve probably helped me as a student as well. Treat yourself the way you would treat a student you are teaching. Learn what works for you. Listen to yourself. Be kind to yourself. I know studying is hard, and school can be hell sometimes, but you can get through.

#studying #tutoring #studying tips #tutoring tips

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bluehhj · 5 years

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listen to me — chapter 13

LISTEN TO ME — 0013

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.8K

The next morning, Jisung was surprised to open his door. Although his two best friends lived on the same street, Han never liked people to wait for him. He preferred to go his own way, for he had no time to leave. There were times when he was too late and missed the first two classes, as well as times when he arrived too early to lose sleep and the patience to wait for the minutes to run on the clock with the speed of a turtle. Not even in the company of Chaerin, when still he shared the same roof with the girl, was acceptable. Jisung liked freedom. However, a small plague wanted to change the routine that day.

"Good morning, oppa!" Yoorim opened her smile. The excitement and excitement she carried could be seen eighty miles away.

"Good morning" on the other hand, Jisung's drowsiness could be seen more than a hundred miles away. His eyes met Hyunjin's 4x4 pickup truck across the street, its black body shining in the sunlight. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"We're not being good friends lately" Yoorim's positive aura lost intensity as she assumed a sorry expression. "We barely talked last week and just met in college."

"It's okay" Jisung forced a sincere smile. "None of us are unoccupied to the point of being able to spend all day talking."

"I know, but it's different now, you have to feel loved."

"But I already feel loved" such words sounded strange in the boy's mouth, his throat seemed to twist painfully to expel them. "Don't worry about it, Yoorinnie, I'm fine."

Heo kept her little eyes fixed on his friend's face as she absorbed his blatant lie. At last, she sighed and nodded. She was already accustomed to Jisung's genius and knew that he'd rather die than admit that he needed someone.

"Anyway, Hyunjin and I want to do something at home tomorrow. It's a simple thing, just to distract our minds, Are you coming?"

"To be the third wheel?" the boy laughed. "I think not."

"Nah, you don't have to be the third wheel." Hyunjin had gotten out of the pickup truck sometime unnoticed by Han and was now approaching the pair. He was wearing light-blue jeans and a striped button-down shirt of white and dark blue; as always, looked like a model. Meanwhile, Jisung wore his sweats and his dead face. They were real opposites. "Woojin hyung is also coming and you can call your new friend."

"Jinah?" Jisung raised his eyebrows and almost refuted that the girl wasn't his friend, but realized that, since when he felt bad after being rude with her, denying her was no longer so easy. "Would she come?"

"Probably so" Yoorim shrugged. "Not only for you, but for Woojin as well. I bet they're friends or at least they get along, after all, Woojin oppa gets on well with everyone."

Jisung leaned against the doorframe and pondered. The last time he talked about Jinah to the couple was in the University cafeteria, when he said he'd push her away in his own way, that on days when he was still trying to win the clashes with the girl. Hyunjin and Yoorim were supposed to believe nothing of it, and they really didn't, so much so that they were now indirectly insisting on a rapprochement between the two. Jisung followed another line of thought and began to remember his few experiences with Jinah and the reasons that led him to fail to keep his word from sending her away, and he tried in many ways!

Ignoring was no good, being rude wasn't enough, forcing a friendship with the intention of making it bad enough until she gave up, either. What was Jinah's problem? He insisted on questioning himself.

"Aish," Jisung grunted and shook his head to keep the thoughts from stealing with unwanted perseverance. "I'll talk to her."

Hyunjin opened his snowy white smile. He believed in first impressions, and the one he had from Jinah had been great. He wasn't sure of anything, but something in his heart said that the girl would do well for Han's patched heart, so, he would make efforts to help.

♡˖°

Jinah had a hell of a headache.

She really wanted to pay attention to Taeyeon's class — it was the best of them, dammit! — but her throbbing head was stealing all her concentration. She couldn't tell, but she was pretty sure the one responsible for that torment was the lasagna Chan had planned to make for the previous day's dinner. Jinah mentally noted that she should never again be a guinea pig for the culinary experiments of her friend whom wanted to change the eating habits of that apartment, but didn't accept the fact that he was almost graduating for a doctor, not a chef. When the nuisance of not being able to stare at the slides without feeling a twinge behind her eyes, Jinah gave up trying and gathered up her few materials, then quietly exiting the room.

The campus air rushed into her lungs as she pushed her body out of the building. She was torn between going home early — since there weren't many important things on that day — or just getting some rest until the next class. If she chose the first option, she could review the matter for the tests that would be applied at the end of her penultimate period at the institution or simply lie in bed and sleep until go to work. The indecision was dispelled when she felt her phone vibrate inside the pocket of her jeans, and the girl already imagined that the person who was sending the messages was Jade. No mistake, after all. After reassuring the american, saying that she only left the room because the headache was preventing her from understanding the luminous content of the projections, she decided that she'd stay at the University until the end of the five lessons. It was tempting to stay at home doing nothing, but she couldn't do it whenever she wanted and forgot her obligations.

Jinah sat down on one of the little tables on the campus and covered her eyes with her hands. It was about fifteen minutes to the next class, that is, fifteen minutes to try to repair the damage inside her head. Her whole body went into a perfect state of inertia.

On the other side, oblivious to the girl's presence, Jisung held up the face of someone who only wanted to die as he left the library. Han had taken advantage of his free time, since the professor hadn't gone in the day because of family problems, to look for a book that would help him to do a work required by the same teacher, last week, and having exhausted the minimum of encouragement he had to scour the dozens of shelves, completely lost the want to do anything that involved burning the remaining energy molecules in his cells. In short, he just wanted to procrastinate.

Jisung continued on his way to nowhere, but, when a wind hit his face and brought a scent of pear and peach, it was impossible not to look away and recognize the gray sweatshirt that should've been the girl's favorite. The fact that her head was down didn't stop him from recognizing Jinah's dark and silky hair. The doubt soon came.

"Hey" he touched the girl's hair, who jumped in fright and looked up at him. "Are you alright?"

Han Jisung worried?, Jinah thought. Or rather, worried about me?

"I am," she replied casually, hiding the surprise. "It's just a headache."

"Why don't you go home?"

"Just because of a headache?" the girl raised her eyebrows, trying to be indifferent, but this only served to worsen the discomfort and soon turned into a grimace.

Jisung sighed and felt his pockets. Besides being a forewarned person, he always suffered from migraine attacks, so carrying pills was almost as vital as charging his phone.

"Here." he tossed the silver card to the other.

"How will I know it's not poison?" Jinah made a joke.

"You won't know" Jisung sat on one of the empty benches and watched the girl pick out a capsule and swallow it with two sips of water from the half-bottle that was in the pocket of her backpack. "But just for now. Your body will let you know soon enough."

"Fool" Jinah rolled her eyes with a slight smile tracing her lips. "Why aren't you in your class?"

"My professor’s getting a divorce. It seems like he was going to solve something related to that" Jisung shrugged, the other's life really didn't interest him. "Remember my friends, Yoorim and Hyunjin?"

"Yeah, why?"

"They'll do something at their house tomorrow and asked if you want to go."

Jinah thought it odd, "But I only talked to both of them once."

"Yeah, but they think I'm not aware of the attempts to make me socialize with different people," was Jisung who rolled his eyes this time. "Anyway, you can go if you want. Woojin hyung will also be there."

"You don't mind?"

Jisung looked at Jinah's pretty face and for the first time, was sincere in replying: "No."

The girl smiled. She imagined she'd hear a whatever, but, apparently, things were really changing.

"Okay, then. What time will that be?"

"I don't know, I think at eight."

"Woojin knows where it is?" obviously Jinah would have Kim's moral support, for although she had no difficulty keeping in touch with people, getting to the home of two "strangers" alone was a little embarrassing to her.

"Woojin must know even the address of the President of the United States."

Jinah opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when she noticed someone else's presence. It was Lalisa Manoban, who passed by the table looking at them in a weird way, similar to what Yugyeom had looked at Jisung the other day. Jinah quickly despaired. She didn't want others to judge her relationship with Han in the wrong way, because she knew he didn't like it and didn't want to ruin things again. However, when she prepared to question the thai girl, Jisung intervened.

"Nevermind" he checked the notifications on his phone and wanted to die even more when he saw that the minutes had run too fast and that he couldn't be late at all for the next class, since the teacher was annoying. "I have to go." he stood up.

"Thank you for the medicine" Jinah handed the card back. "And the invitation."

"You're welcome. See you tomorrow."

The girl nodded and, as the boy walked away, she opened a satisfied smile. She only hoped that that more receptive phase of Jisung persisted and that he wouldn't be like he was before again. Jinah felt good to see him get good little by little.

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cofandchialpha · 4 years

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Blog Post 1

My learners are going to, hopefully, be in the elementary age level, all of them with different levels of skills whether in technology or reading and many other things. I anticipate having students who just want to get the lesson, the interested learner, the analytical student, the student that is only at school because it is required, students that get distracted easily, and the know-it-all student ( :,D yay). This leads to the WHY? students want to learn, also known as their motivations. All of my learners will have different motivations as to why they want to learn. They can either be extrinsically motivated so they only want to learn for an outside reward or punishment because it feels “required” instead of interesting to them. My learners can also be intrinsically motivated so they are genuinely interested in learning in order to explore their own curiosity. Whether or not a student is intrinsically or extrinsically motivated depends on the subject that they are learning about. For instance, a student that loves to learn about music or become a better musician will have intrinsic motivations in music class, but if they detest math class, they will have extrinsic motivations because they just need a high grade. As I begin to start lesson plans I should really make sure that I have talked to my students because they can give me insights as to HOW it works, not how it SHOULD work. Teachers need to modify plans in order for the students to actually have in interest as to what they are learning about. Students also tell us where it hurts. They tell you what they are actually liking and understanding and what they don’t like and aren’t understanding which is good because learning is about them, not the teacher. (OOOOffffff!!!).

Learners all learn very differently, I can use organization, visuals, stories, work through problems, have the learners design their own way of learning, or use a metaphor or an analogy. This can also go with the different learning styles that we have learned about 1,000 times before this class is Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences. Apparently, the only learning styles are spatial, linguistic, logical, kinesthetic, musical, interpersonal, intrapersonal, naturalistic, and existential. There is also VAK or VARK which is a model that shows what kind of styles people usually learn at such as, auditory, visual, reading, or kinesthetic learning. The last theory is called Kolb’s Learning Styles Inventory which basically shows that there are converger, diverger, assimilator, and accommodator. Even with all of these theories, LEARNING STYLES CANNOT (REALLY) BE PROVEN!!

I KNOW! Even with all of these theorists testing multiple children, we can’t really say whether they are true because they are still only theories. BUT, we do learn that everyone learns differently, there are different kinds of intelligence, we are more alike than different (if only EVERYONE knew this), and teachers still need to show various ways of learning approaches. I also definitely do not want my students to feel stupid so I will try to see where all of my students are at and slowly increase the difficulty of the subject little by little every time the whole class understands.

Some new insights that I learned from Chapter 2 were that I need to pay attention to what level of skill they are currently at with different subjects that we will be learning about. With those that need more help, I will need to proficiently provide them the guidance that they need and have a good structure with my lesson plans. For those that are already proficient learners, they need me to coach their behavior and continue to advance their intelligence. I also learned that our brains really are structured like closets! This is so funny if you look at that metaphor because we put the things we like and dislike in there and yet we keep them! If there is not a context that goes with what is being taught to the students, then the subject will not be in their closet but instead on the clothes pile that they have on the floor. Another insight I got was the visual of only the teacher lecturing to their audience (students) what they need to know. It would be so much more helpful to know during the lecture if students are confused so that the teacher can re-explain what they just taught and make sure the majority of the students understand the material. The students need to be confident in vocalizing that they are not following the lesson, no matter if the teacher thought out every little detail because there will always be surprises!

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milliadoc-brandybuck-fanfiction · 4 years

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(SPN FIC) The Five Points of the Pentagram: Episode 1 | New Kids on the Block | Act 1

MATURE. FEATURES MILD HORROR AND EXTREME GORE.

The silence of the main courtyard of the large college campus was only occasionally interrupted by a dog barking, trees rustling or the wishing of the winds. Not a person was in sight on the quiet night in early August, only the sounds of nature and the distant orange glow of the nearby town present, which was noticed and appreciated by janitor Jimmy Michaels, who moved as quietly across the campus as the breeze itself. Tired and feeling low, he had finished his 10-hour shift and was ready to leave for the night, though took his time so as to appreciate the peaceful atmosphere that he knew would be lost once the kids moved back in. He felt his mood lower deeper, however, as he realised that this was the only time when he felt truly at peace.

But amongst the apparent calm, shadows crept along the sides of buildings and through the whispering bushes. Slowly and steadily, they stalked the janitor, who was unaware of any break in the status quo. They waited, biding their time until he was cornered without even knowing it. Sliding along tiles, over walls and across the concrete of the path he was on now… slowly approaching and ready to pounce on this unsuspecting prey…

Jimmy stopped. He felt an odd chill brush past him, and suddenly felt quite a sickening feeling, as though he was being watched…

He turned around.

Nothing.

Taking a breath and turning his head back around, he tried to look past it, tried to convince himself it was just the wind and he was being paranoid. He continued on.

Immediately he was met with a searing fire of pain, staring in his chest and spreading fast through his torso, arms, legs, hands and feet, before creeping up his neck and infecting his mind, forcing him to emit a scream of anguish that struck terror in him like he had never felt. He pushed against the pain and pressed his hands onto his head with great difficulty, feeling like there was a great force of red hot ropes holding his wrists back. He continued to shriek in horror, hoping amongst his nightmarish thoughts that someone, anyone, would hear him and come to help him out of this hell that was killing him in the most hideous and cruel way possible.

But alone on the large campus so late at night, no one heard his screams in time.

***

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP-

Lory’s alarm screeched at her repeatedly on the bedside table. This would have been really annoying, had she not already been awake for at least two hours. Her hand finally reached out and switched it off, and she rolled onto her back to continue staring at the ceiling for a few more minutes.

Today was college move-in day for the freshman crowd. As a sophomore she had moved back into her dorm a week early, and had been spending almost every waking moment dreading the mass of new faces and difficult new classes and teachers she’d be up against. She knew all week, all summer even, she’d have to face it, especially the socialising. There was no way she could have avoided all human contact for four years. Make no mistake, she’d thought about how she might be able to enough times, but there was no way around it.

After a further five minutes of ceiling-staring, Lory closed her eyes, took one last breath, and rose up from her bed. She glanced over at the window where she could hear the noise of some new students bustling around with their parents and moving boxes. Lory let out a loud sigh and swung her legs out of bed, beginning the first few phases in facing the day.

***

On the farthest end of campus, a ‘67 Chevy Impala was slowly driving through the dorm house roads. Inside were two brothers, one looking around curiously, the other looking around sceptically. The sceptic-looking one let out a grunt, which caused his brother to roll his eyes.

“What now, Dean?”

Dean bit his tongue and made a face before answering. “Just don’t feel right here. Like I really don’t belong here.”

His brother let out an ironic chuckle. “Yeah, well, unless you’re about to tell me that you also put in an application to come here nine months ago then you’re not far off on that.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just- I’m sorry, okay? I just meant that you’re not the one who has to stay on campus all the time, only temporarily. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I wish that was true. I wouldn’t exactly call this job worry-free, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t reply, knowing full well that Dean was right and reminding him why they were really here, something that Sam had done his best to forget for the duration of the journey. Turning back to the various scenes of parents helping their kids unpack and move into their dorms, the sight suddenly struck a chord in Sam’s heart. Dean apparently felt the same.

“What dad would say if he saw us now…” Dean noted.

“Yeah, well, dad’s not here. We are.” Sam replied softly. Dean took it more as a comment of comfort than rudeness, and relaxed a little.

Suddenly hearing some more aggressive tones, Sam’s gaze fell upon a girl staring straight ahead with her arms crossed, standing at the bottom of her dorm house steps, facing who he assumed was her father, who was the source of the aggression and standing several feet away by his car. The interaction didn’t look dangerous, just like strict parenting, but even so that same chord was struck again and Sam felt sorry for the girl. He felt selfishly grateful when they were out of view; he and Dean didn’t need more reminders of their special family life.

***

Surely coming to college meant that she could escape her parents’ grasp? Did moving out not mean that she was her own person, and didn’t need to be told what and what not to do? Apparently her father had other ideas. He was standing on the farthest edge of the sidewalk from her, one hand already on the open car door, whilst she was stood by her dorm house steps. Both of them were so close to freedom, to not having to care about each other for a good few months, and yet he insisted on staying and giving her the talk of what he expected from her whilst other students and their families awkwardly walked past.

“-and we expect you to make the most of this… opportunity, you’ve given yourself. We won’t support you if you slip up, in any way, got it?”

“Yes dad, I understand.” She said flatly, trying not to sound too annoyed so as to avoid another lecture.

Her father didn’t even say anything to that. He just lowered the hand he had been pointing at her with and nodded, like he’d won. Always trying to make it a competition, she thought.

“Come on, Mike, let’s get going.”

Her father briefly looked away to the inside if the car where her mother couldn’t wait to leave. He turned back to her.

“Stay out of trouble.”

Unlike the other kids around her, it was more of a command than an affectionate little parental joke. She didn’t even respond, vocal or physical. She just watched him get in the car, and as soon as she heard the engine start, she turned around and walked up the steps into the house at last.

Breathing out a huge sigh of relief through her mouth, she was greeted by one of her three housemates, who didn’t even notice her entrance at first. She was clicking away on her flip phone, texting one of the thousand people she had already got the number of and added to her little group. She looked up at the sound of Gwen picking up one of her boxes, but immediately looked back down at her phone and continued typing before she even said a word.

“Oh, hey. We were gonna head down to the Courtyard if you wanted to come too, I guess.”

The lack of energy in her voice was outstanding. Gwen looked past it, however, and politely smiled.

“I think I’m just gonna stay here and unpack, actually, get used to my new room-”

“Yeah, they said you probably wouldn’t wanna come anyways, it’s cool.”

Taken aback by this bluntness, Gwen blinked and began busying herself by walking over to the stairs. As she started heading upstairs, another of her housemates bounded in and showed the first something so absolutely scandalous that they both burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Out of sight, and knowing they wouldn’t notice her anyway, Gwen rolled her eyes, leaving them to giggle away downstairs.

The room Gwen was staying in - the last in the house to be filled- was right at the end of the corridor, the sounds of hectic families (whomst, for once, she did not envy in their stress) filtering in through the open window at the end. Gwen couldn’t wait to step away from all the fussing around her, all the gossip and glamour of her new housemates, and her room offered her a wonderful excuse to be anti-social for at least a few hours.

Opening the door to her room was something that Gwen hadn’t expected to be so important to her until it actually happened. Her breath hitched for a second as this fresh start was displayed right in front of her eyes; blank walls, empty shelves and window sills, and barren notice boards for her to stick random reminders and study notes onto. Her college identity was a clean slate waiting to be shaped, and the room, stupid as it may sound, seemed to make her realise that for the first time.

She placed the box down on the floor and walked over to the window, taking in the room as she did so. She peeked outside to the ground below briefly,somehow even more crowded with move-ins than when she’d been down there, before looking back upwards and resting her elbows on the window sill. She placed her head on her arms as she took in the clear blue sky above her, barely a wisp of a cloud about.

Honestly, this might be really good. This might be my chance to take some control again, she thought hopefully. I think I can start to be myself again.

***

Lory came downstairs to see one of her new housemates, a girl called Meredith, amongst an abundance of cardboard boxes and plastic bags, looking lost.

“Need a hand?” Lory asked kindly.

Meredith turned to her and her face lit up. “Yeah, thanks.”

Lory picked up a few plastic bags.

“Ooh, those are for the kitchen!” Meredith said.

“Got it.” Lory replied walking over to place the bags on the kitchen counter. “You sure have a lot of stuff. Your grandma in there somewhere too?”

Meredith laughed, and Lory instantly felt happier hearing it. “I’m just terrible at getting rid of stuff. And my family are terrible at resisting giving me even more stuff. Pretty sure my mom gave me half the kitchen supplies from home, and my little sisters drew me about fifty thousand pictures of them in case I forgot what they look like whilst I’m here. Plus my dad gave me a bunch of his old clothes from when he was in college, y’know, ‘just in case’.”

Emerging from the kitchen, Lory grinned. “That’s cute. Sounds like they really care about you.”

Meredith smiled fondly, as if revisiting happy memories. “Yeah, we are pretty close, I suppose.” She said almost to herself.

It was sweet to see such love emitting from one person. Still smiling and feeling happy, Lory picked up one of the heavy boxes.

“Where to, chief?”

“Up to my room, first door on the left, thanks.”

Nodding, Lory walked over to the staircase. Catching onto a thought, Meredith turned around suddenly.

“You wanna check out the Eastern Courtyard?” suggested Meredith. “Apparently they’ve got it all: singers, performers, club sign-ups, free giveaways...”

“And have to socialise with random people before they have any alcohol in them? Yeah, no, I’m good thank you.” replied Lory, but with a playful smile.

“Oh, come on,” grinned Meredith. “It might surprise you!”

Lory laughed, continuing to talk as she disappeared upstairs. “The only thing that surprises me about this college is the free parking.”

As Lory disappeared from sight, Meredith shook her head, both amused and concerned. She rifled through one of her own boxes, feeling an oddly-shaped object that she didn’t recognise. She pulled it out, revealing a small item wrapped up in blue-grey tissue paper. Unwrapping it carefully, Meredith let out a soft gasp when she recognised the sharp curves and dents of her family crest, sized down and with a thin chain around it. She didn’t remember packing it… Her grandfather must have slipped it in when she wasn’t looking.

Meredith was only vaguely aware of her family’s heritage and bloodline. She had only really been told about it in the last few months before her leaving for college, a little by her mother, briefly by her sister, but mostly by her grandpa, who loved to go into great detail when exploring the family history. But this time he did seem different about it, like he was warning her. All this talk about ‘protect yourself’ and ‘watch out for trouble’. Meredith had assumed he only meant to say this because she was moving out, and that he was just looking out for her as she moved into adulthood.

She set the tissue paper down and took the crest in her finger tips, moving them along the small gems and edges that ran through it. It felt… strange to her touch; she expected the metal to feel cold, but it felt warm as soon as she held it, her finger tips barely grazing it before she felt the heat radiating from it. It was almost welcoming, familiar.

But it was no less unnerving. In fact, it was probably more so.

She blinked and shook herself out of it, breaking her trance. She wrapped it back up in the tissue paper. Not yet. Not in freshman week. There are enough things to deal with right now without this too.

Turning away from the bag with the necklace in it, Meredith picked up a box containing her notebooks and began the trek up the stairs after Lory. She was determined to make this week count for her, and wanted to begin in a happy state of mind, as ever.

***

The door sharply shut behind Gwen as she stepped back out into the fresh air. For once she didn’t care how loud it was, she knew her housemates wouldn’t notice the noise being too engrossed in themselves and random Facebook profiles (“Oh my God, her hair is unreal!”) to have any awareness. Initially she hadn’t wanted to go outside, but her housemates had chosen to stay inside being loud and generally disruptive (much to her annoyance), forcing her to go outside anyway to get away from their constant laughing and shrieking.

Wrapping her oversized dark patterned cardigan around her and folding her arms into it, Gwen began walking along the sidewalk and away from the house, in desperate need of a semi-peaceful walk, which she could have now that the streets had cleared up and most students had properly moved in. There was only a distant cluster of voices coming from one of the nearby ‘freshman zones’, of which Gwen had no intention of going to. A walk around the quiet campus seemed much more inviting. Besides, she wasn’t alone, not really; there was a cool autumn breeze that danced around her feet and made her feel safe.

***

After an hour of seemingly endless nagging, Meredith had finally managed to convince Lory to leave their shared dorm house and come out into the world. Despite this small victory, it proved to be short-lived as they headed down to the Eastern Courtyard and Lory’s moaning and excuses filled the air.

“Seriously, I don’t have time for this.”

“Yes you do.”

“I really don’t, I have somewhere to be.”

“I’m sure your bed is very comfy but that’s not where we’re headed.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

Meredith, being fairly patient, said nothing, though had to refrain from rolling her eyes at Lory’s constant whining. As they rounded a corner, a figure coming from the opposite direction rounded it too. When they came into view, Meredith saw that it was a girl walking alone in a large patterned cardigan. She perked up; here was an opportunity. As the girl approached, Meredith broke into a warm and friendly smile.

“Hi!” She said brightly.

The girl’s head snapped up, as did Lory’s, and Lory thought she saw panic flash in the girl’s eyes for a moment. When she saw that Meredith and Lory really meant no harm, she averted her gaze and smiled awkwardly.

“Oh- uh, h-hey.” And with that she continued walking, possibly quicker than she had been before. The girls watched her go for a moment before Meredith sighed.

“Oh well. Worth a shot, I guess not everyone wants to be friends.” She continued on, Lory following behind, still begrudging.

“I’ll bet everyone’s just like her, not wanting to talk, just wanting to get on with things. A smart move if you ask me.”

“Aw c’mon, it’s gonna be great!” Meredith replied, ever the optimist, it seemed. “You might meet some new friends whilst we’re there!”

Lory huffed. “Why would I need any more friends when you’re already soooo perfect?” She mocked with a fake smile.

“Ha ha,” Meredith grinned. “Flattery, fake or otherwise, won’t get you out of this, hun.”

Lory groaned, knowing, sadly, that she was right.

***

The harsh white lamplight hit the desk as Sam sat down and dumped his notebook onto the table, opening it up on a new page and immediately beginning to scribble out notes and to-dos. Dean stood behind him, admiring the room.

“Gotta say, not a bad place to crash for a few months.” He remarked. Sam ignored him, engrossed in his writing. Dean leaned against one of the walls and continued regardless, “Actually looks better than most of the motel rooms we stay in. Maybe I should try out this college thing, might get a decent night’s sleep out of it at least…”

He looked over at Sam’s reaction to the joke, but was met with his brother’s back leant over his desk. Dean sighed loudly.

“All right, something’s gotta be interesting if me saying I’m thinkin’ about signing up for college doesn’t get your attention. What’re you writing?”

“Class times for tomorrow,” Sam replied shortly.

Dean stared at him. “That’s it?” He looked disbelieving of this underwhelming answer. “God, you are such a geek.”

“I’m the one actually trying to get a degree here, Dean.” Sam replied without looking up again. “Some of us aren’t here just for the job.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna go find somewhere to stay for the night. I’ll call you when I’ve got a place.”

“‘Kay.”

Shaking his head and smiling slightly, Dean pushed himself off of the wall and left Sam to his constant scribbling.

***

In the Courtyard, Meredith was walking around, talking to people, introducing herself, and generally lighting up the atmosphere. Behind her, Lory was dragging her feet, looking as bored and disinterested in the activities and sign-ups as she felt. Meredith tried to pretend not to notice, but she was starting to feel guilty for bringing Lory to a place where she clearly felt so uncomfortable.

“Hey, look!” She exclaimed, beckoning Lory over in an attempt to spark some enthusiasm. “They’re having a two for one deal at the local pizza house for all freshman!”

“Wow, better call the twelve-year-olds, they’d go wild for a deal like that!” Lory replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Meredith drooped slightly, lowering the flyer and placing it back on the table. Lory instantly felt guilt wash over her.

“Look, Meredith, I’m sorry, it’s just… this isn’t really my kind of thing. Especially since I’m not a freshman anymore. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but, you know I’m a mature student, and I just kind of feel like I’ve… outgrown this sort of deal. But don’t think that means that you shouldn’t do it yourself, or that I’m not happy, okay?”

Not being able to lift Lory’s social spirits made her feel like she’d failed somewhat, but Meredith gave a small smile all the same. “Okay. You go do your own thing.” She said encouragingly, tapping Lory’s arm briefly.

Grinning, Lory raised her eyebrows as if remembering something. “Speaking of my own thing,” she said. “I’ve gotta get to work. Have fun.”

She swished past a confused Meredith, who turned around and called after her, “You have a job?”

Lory looked back, still walking. “Yeah, I work at one of the bars in town.”

It was not possible for Meredith to look more taken aback than she did in that moment. She gaped at Lory as she continued to walk away, and when she finally opened her mouth she had to shout after her.

“You work in a bar?! One of the most social environments on the whole planet?”

“I said I didn’t like to socialise with people who didn’t have alcohol in them! Byee!” She called, the smirk in her voice very evident.

Meredith was left in the middle of the crowded courtyard, shaking her head in disbelief and holding back a smile.

***

Despite having not encountered anyone else for nearly half an hour, Gwen was still cringing at how awkward she had been with those two girls. They hadn’t looked threatening, they hadn’t seemed to be too giggly or gossipy like her delightful housemates had been; the one with silver hair had some pagan tattoos, so at least there was someone else she could relate to in that, and had looked really cool; the one with the bouncy, long curly brown hair was actually incredibly pretty. Perhaps that was what threw her off, they were both too cool and too attractive for her to not act like an awkward mess around them. Sometimes, Gwen really hated her stupid social ineptity to the point where she wondered if it was possible to burn it out of her soul. Permanently. Please.

As she walked along the empty streets, she finally noticed how the temperature had gone down and the light had begun to fade from the day. She also noticed how she was in a part of campus she didn’t know, which made her realise that she didn’t know where anything on campus was because the campus was huge and she’d never been able to remember where anything was on those silly little tours. So she was lost. And it was getting dark. Awesome.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she thought rationally. She came from the North side, so all she had to do was walk back the way she… thought she came. That was her best option right now. Gwen placed her hands on her head and ran them through her hair, resting them on the back of her neck as she looked out over the dorm houses. Then she replaced her hands into her pockets, turned around and began to walk away.

Something suddenly didn’t feel quite right. Gwen could feel an odd change in the air that had nothing to do with the growing night. She looked around her, brows furrowed, and noticed that the trees seemed oddly still, even though she could feel a sharp breeze travelling over her skin. She sped up slightly, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself and firmly crossing her arms.

From a silent hideout, the shadows watched her. The temptation to follow was strong… but they could not strike. Not yet.

But soon.

***

Perhaps Lory had been right. Meredith was starting to become tired of the number of people who had approached her as a prank or with dumb joke questions, or asking if classes started tomorrow - on a Saturday. She decided to head back to her dorm house and muster up something at least edible. Thanking the person who handed her the umpteenth flyer of the afternoon, she turned and began walking back in the direction of the dorm.

As she approached the centre, a scream broke out and echoed throughout the campus. Disturbed but concerned, Meredith began running towards the source of the scream, which sounded like it came from the Eastern Courtyard. Other students were running through the arch ways leading to it already, having clearly heard the horrible sound as well. She reached the arch way and rushed to where a crowd had gathered. Pushing through slightly, she made it to the inner edge, and almost fell backwards in shock.

On the stone ground was a young girl’s body, blood pouring out of her ears, eyes and nose, white as a sheet and veins popping on her neck and face. Several staff members were attempting to block her from view and contacting the emergency services. Students surrounding the scene were whispering, some even screeching themselves in shock, some crying. Meredith could only watch in terror. She couldn’t look away. But she felt sick and empty at the sight.

Someone suddenly came up behind her, calling her name.

“Meredith! Meredith, are you okay, what’s going-”

Lory stopped as soon as she saw the body too. She let out a deep, terrified breath.

“Oh God…” She whispered in a low voice.

***

She had managed to get lost and ended up in the one place she never wanted to be in the first place; the Eastern Courtyard. But as Gwen approached, that awful feeling crept up on her again, and almost instantly after she heard a horrid scream. Fearing the worst, but praying like mad that it wasn’t anything to do with the changing winds, she ran to the source. The sight she met was awful, even worse than she could have possibly imagined. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the girl’s face, covered in bold blue and purple veins and completely sheet-white. And all the blood… The blood was deep crimson and in a giant circle around the body, spread out so far that it was a shock that the human body could hold so much of it. Gwen felt a pang of fear at the thought that this feeling and this event… was there a connection…?

Glancing over the rest of the crowd, Gwen spotted the two girls from before opposite her. The girl with the curly hair was in a state of pure shock, whilst the silver girl, who still looked horrified, put an arm around her for comfort. A sudden burst of energy emitted from the two of them that made Gwen blink suddenly and take a sharp breath. She stared at them, stunned and confused, before the silver-haired one put an arm around the other and led her away from the crowd and out of sight. Then, to her right, Gwen sensed an even stronger energy, and her head whipped in its direction. Her sight set on a tall guy with brown hair, who did not look as shocked as the other students but more… panicked. He quickly glanced around the gathering circle of students and backed out of the crowd, as two security guards stepped up to move the students back and away from the scene. A couple of them pushed on Gwen’s side too, forcing her to break her gaze on the guy, but she quickly turned and pushed herself through the crowd to get a look at the guy.

But when she emerged, he had vanished. She looked around, circling on the spot whilst students brushed past her, but he had gone. His energy was lost, and Gwen breathed. She was left confused and almost breathless at the events that had unfolded.

Who the hell were all these people?

***

Hiding around a dark corner out of sight, Sam had already pulled out his cell phone and had typed Dean’s number before he could even think about anything else. He waited impatiently, and when Dean picked up on the fifth ring, he went straight into it.

“It got someone. Someone else. It’s started moving again.”

#spn supernatural spnfamily supernaturalfic deanxofc samxofc originalfemalecharacters witches deanhateswitches wellthoughtout

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aiiizawa · 5 years

Text

your second shot (redux) 2

The wheels of fate have turned, and you have chosen to Kill Him With Kindness. For better or worse, you won’t stoop down to his level.

author’s notes: as promised, here’s chapter 2. again, a lot of it is copypasted from the previous one, but with this next choice comes another part where things start to diverge a bit more.

Hm! You’d known that it would come to this sooner or later, with someone, but the thought of it still made you mad and hurt, no matter how much you had gone over it in your head. However, you remembered your promise with All Might. You had sworn to be on your best behavior, and by god, you would do it. The last thing you needed was ammunition against you if he decided to make good on his claims. So, you squared your shoulders, pink tips brushing against the starched white collar of your suit, and smiled.

‘Smiled’ may have been a generous word for it-- You looked like a hyena baring its teeth, but you still tried to be friendly about it, tone light. “Thanks for your dedication. I’ll keep it in mind.” There were a few moments of silence as he raised his eyebrow at your expression, but you were damned if you would falter now. It was a test of wills, and you would shoot out goodwill laserbeams if that’s what it took.

God, did this guy ever blink? You were about to crack when he huffed slightly and turned away. “You do that.” In a matter of moments, he was gone, silently rounding the corner like a shadow. You waited until he was gone to fume, tapping your fingers in silent irritation. Angry. Angry.

In the midst of your small fit of anger, you failed to notice All Might had left the conversation with the principal. His warm, bony hand enveloped your shoulder. “Are you alright?” His tone was tinged with concern, which instantly helps cool your temper. You covered his hand with your own, patting it gently.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You reassured him with another deep, exhale. This time, the smile you gave him was more genuine, the ends of your lips curling into a smile. “I just met my number one fan.” All Might looked confused for a moment, and then the synapse fired in his brain and he nodded knowingly.

“I see.” He laughed somewhat apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck meekly. “I admit I did foresee this, but I didn’t think that Aizawa-kun would act so swiftly...He really is a ‘logical man,’ and he wasn’t very happy with how hard I pushed for you. For better or worse, he’s a man who doesn’t mince words, but he’s not a bad guy. I hope you’re not discouraged by this.” All Might’s expression seemed to fall more than yours.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” You reiterated, patting your large friend on the chest. “I was prepared for this at the start-- Not that it doesn’t...really piss me off, I think I can appreciate him being upfront with me. All I have to do is change his mind, right?” You flexed your bicep lightheartedly up at him, and All Might rubbed the back of his neck with a smile.

“You’re right. I’m sure we’ll be able to understand each other during the course of this year, all three of us. We just have to stay positive. Plus Ultra!” He shifted into his muscular, hero form part way through, lifting his finger to the ceiling, and you laughed as you mirrored his posture. “Now let’s go get something to drink. All of that stress dried my throat out something fierce.” You lead the way out the door, and All Might chuckled gently as he followed you out.

You and All Might sat in the farthest-back booth in the cafe, hidden from public view. Several files, some yours and some his, were spread around the cool, tan table-- perhaps not the safest place considering the proximity to your drinks, but you still wanted to speak a little bit before you headed home in a place that wasn’t the school. You traced a student’s name, peering down at his picture. “This one’s your favorite, right? Midoriya?” You asked.

All Might sputtered on his warm tea with honey, carefully wiping the corners of his gaunt face as he answered you. “W-Well, I wouldn’t say that Young Midoriya is my favorite, but it’s true that he is my young disciple…and the one to inherit my legacy...”

You laughed, pointing your finger at him. “Same thing.”

“N-Not exactly…” He floundered. “I’m going to be trying very hard not to favor him and to give my guidance to the rest of the students in a fair way.” He was starting to sweat now, so you figured it was a good time to stop teasing him.

“I know, I’m sorry for poking fun. Don’t stress yourself out too much over this. I’m sure you’ll be a great mentor to all of them.” Your voice was reassuring and calm as you read over the list of names once again, and then went on to the staff list. There would be forty children in all who would be your responsibility this year, more or less. All with different quirks, personalities, home lives, and a slew of other difficulties to overcome, and it would be up to you to help them get through it all with as little emotional trauma as possible. You had to start getting to know them sooner rather than later so that you would be able to be of use to them. Eraserhead’s warning echoed in your head, like a ghost, and you tightened your lips into a thin line. No time to worry about him. If you did your job, and did it well, then his and everyone else’s doubts would fade away. If anything, you were at least clear that you meant no harm and took him seriously.

All Might seemed to sense your change in mood, and offered you a smile and a change in subject. “How is the pro hero life treating you? I know you don’t really have your own ‘agency’ yet, but you still do work patrols, do you not?” You nodded, feeling a warmth spread in your chest. As a rookie hero, you did all of your own paperwork, promotional work, and so on and so forth. It was difficult, but rewarding. The day before, you’d caught a mugger right after he’d held up some college students. Not the most high profile case, but the smiles they had on their face after you’d returned their money made it worth it. He listened to your tale with a grin. “Exactly! I hope you remember that feeling and let it drive you forward. Once school starts up, we won’t be able to meet up as often, so I hope you take my words to heart, and deepen your bonds with your fellow pro heroes and students.”

Your face held a slightly sad but gentle smile. Despite everything, All Might still did his best to be a pro hero and make time for you. Now that he would be mentoring Midoriya, teaching students, and still acting as the ‘Symbol of Peace,’ he’d be spread even thinner than usual. It made you lonely, but you also were going to keep busy. The past two years you’d spent encouraging each other would finally be put to the test. You also knew that the reason he’d be keeping his distance would be for you as well: there were already whispers about why All Might had pushed so strongly for your addition to the staff despite being a very new hero. He wanted you to stand on your own two feet and show everyone what you were made of without him beside you. “Of course. Just you watch, I’m gonna befriend all of these people. By this time next year, I’ll be wearing several matching friendship bracelets and I’ll be known as ‘The Hero of Peaceful Relations’.” You sarcastically rolled your wrist. His face brightened at your joke, mid reply as his phone rang.

“A phone call-- is here! A phone call-- is here!” Hearing his voice ring out from his phone, he quietly excused himself, murmuring cryptically in response every so often. You could read his expression like a book after he ended the call. “I’m sorry, I know that this is supposed to be our last hurrah before the school year, but--”

“Go ahead.” You waved him off with a smile. Even in his own weakened state, he was a hero through and through. When something, or someone, needed him, he would always come running. “Don’t look so sad. The hero always has to be smiling, right?” You reached out and poked his shoulder gently when he made a difficult face. “Just do me a favor and not push yourself too much? I’ll send you a mail later. Besides, I still want to read on all of this.” You gestured to your own papers. The corners of his mouth lifted into an apologetic smile.

“Thank you. I promise the next time, it’ll be my treat.” He gave you a thumbs up and disappeared out of the nearby door and down the street. You waited until he was for sure out of sight before you sighed, shaking your head with a laugh. Apparently, he didn’t remember that this time was supposed to be his treat too. Oh well, you’d just have him take you somewhere more expensive than your usual hang out. You left some money on the table, gathering your documents into your over the shoulder bag and walked out into the bright lights of the city to your apartment.

You didn’t get to observe the entrance exams for the hero exam, so you instead read the notes on the students from your peers. Aside from Midoriya, Bakugou, in particular, got your attention. You had seen the news and heard from All Might himself, but he had to have felt some kind of way after his encounter with that sludge-type villain. According to his reports, he was a bit of a hothead, so you would have to broach the subject carefully when you approached him. You would meet all of them individually soon enough, so you tucked away knowledge of them and then sorted through the next group, the 1-B students and their homeroom teacher, Vlad King. You stretched out on your bed and turned to look at the clock. It was still early, the sun had only just started to set. Out of the corner of your eye, your hero uniform was laid out onto one of the arm chairs near the desk. You knew that the principal had said to get to sleep early and be ready for classes starting, but that was still a day and a half away. You were still a rookie, and any experience you got beforehand would help you in the future.

Do you:

Take it easy tonight. Go out for a quick stroll and get more familiar with the city since you’ve not seen it in awhile, but abstain from hero work.

Don your hero suit and do a little bit of patrolling. It’ll help you get out some of your excess energy, and that way, you can focus and rest tomorrow.

#your second shot (redux)#writing stuff #Self Insert #self ship #selfinsert #selfship #please give your answers if you read! i can't proceed if you don't

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sunyoonandstars · 6 years

Text

BTS mini series || Friday Night Club || You x (?), feat. OT7 as High School students || CHAPTER 1

This is an interactive (!) Breakfast Club kind of High School AU. For the sake of the story, all members are of similar age here.

fluff, slice of life, hints of angst, future smut, and possible romance

Pairing You x (?) || Will be decided by your choice/a poll after Chapter 1

Word count 5.790

Synopsis You find yourself in detention on a Friday night in the middle of summer at a new school. And for company, you have seven equally handsome and troubled young men. Which of them will you decide to get to know better? Your choice might just as well change your life ...

"So, what you're going to do is pair up and confess your sins and secrets to each other. Nothing too naughty. Just whatever you're comfortable with. Up here, in front of everyone, in a back corner of this room or, if you like, in a broom closet or god knows where. As long as you do it. And I need you to be honest here, with me and yourselves. Also, I'm basically a human lie detector. I will be able to tell if you didn't do it, just saying. So, find yourself a partner and get started." Mr. Wong claps his big hands, full of zest for action. "Ladies first!"

Suddenly, all eyes are on you.

"Ms. Y/l/n, please stand up and pick your partner."

With a pounding heart, you push back your chair and get up, taking a last look around, staring directly into each of the handsome faces surrounding you before you decide to follow your instincts and make your choice ...

🎶 PLAYLIST 🎶

CHAPTER 1

"Great," you mutter to yourself upon opening the door to the stuffy, almost empty classroom. A room full of clichés. And, apparently, you are one of them.

You have no idea why Mr. Wong considered it to be necessary for you to join this sad circle. Even though you haven't been attending this school for long, a few faces already seem familiar, and not all of them earned their reputation by being straight-A students and class president, as did pretty boy Park Jimin in the far right corner of the room. His is the only name you remember as you make your way to a vacant seat without establishing eye contact, even though you can feel the seven boys staring at you curiously.

"You're late," Park Jimin comments from his corner. When you turn around, he isn't even looking at you but instead fiddling with an expensive-looking silver pen.

"To detention," you finish his sentence as you plop down onto one of the ridiculously uncomfortable chairs and let your backpack drop to the floor, the very second Mr. Wong makes his presence known by demonstratively clearing his throat.

"I thought I made myself clear, Miss Y/l/n Y/n," the teacher starts out in his soft, yet firm tone, a bland smile stretching his thin lips which, however, doesn't reach his eyes. "You shouldn't view this as detention. This is an opportunity for the eight of you to deal with your issues and be better students, maybe even find friends. Since all of you seem to have certain difficulties adhering to our school's high standards, I believe it to be a good idea to actually talk and find out what troubles you before we are forced to, well, adopt more drastic measures."

"But we are being detained against our will, right?" the guy to the far left of the room, seated where the daylight doesn't reach, raises his voice. Only now do you even really notice him. It seems, though, as if he didn't want to attract attention in the first place. Shoulders hunched, pale-faced, dark hair falling into his face, hood pulled up, he sits there, a smirk plastered on his, what appear to be naturally pouty, lips. You wonder why you haven't seen him before on campus.

"Yes, Mr. Min, that's right, but -"

"So it is detention then."

"No. It's -" Mr. Wong stammers, barely keeping his countenance by the looks of it.

"So, I'm free to go?" the guy named Min cocks his head to the right, his eyes becoming visible for the first time as a strand of his soft hair shifts slightly. Those eyes, red-rimmed, appear to be infinitely tired but at the same time alight with life, dark and deep like bottomless wells, full of stories and ideas.

"No, Mr. Min, you are not!"

Mr. Wong takes a deep breath to calm himself.

"Anyway. Director Ko was ready to give up on you bunch of delinquents –"

"That's a little strongly worded, don't you think?" the tall, silver-haired guy with the cute nose in the front row cuts his teacher off. You believe to remember him from the time he sat some girl's notebook on fire, by accident as he claimed. Kim something. God, why are you so bad with names?

"Exactly!" Park Jimin agrees with him, suddenly agitated. "I don't even belong here with these –– people."

"Ha! That was a close one, Park," the hooded vampire guy scoffs. "What did you wanna call us? Weirdos? Losers?"

"You're pretty close," Park Jimin hisses back at him.

"Come on, guys. This isn't much fun as it is. But do you really have to make it unbearable?" The slender, red-haired boy seated right in front of you turns around to glare at the both of them. "I know you're gonna hate me for saying this, but let's just make the best of this and get it over with, everybody."

He winks at you as he notices you staring and throws you a gleaming smile. Now you remember. He's the dancer, famous all around town for his charm, skills and freestyling.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this," Mr. Wong continues. "But I'll have to agree with Mr. Jung. Let's all try and be civil and learn something from this experience. Otherwise, you will be back in this very same room next Friday after classes, as well. And the Friday after that, and the Friday after that."

"Yes, we get it," Min Vampire grumbles.

"Well, then there shouldn't be any further issues," Mr. Wong darts him a glare. "Whatever happened to your uniform, young man? This may not be detention, but it's still not leisure time. Take off that ridiculous hoodie."

"But I'm cold."

"It's the middle of July, for God's sake! It's 32 (90) degrees in the shade. Take it off."

"What if I don't?" Min Vampire provocatively raises a brow at him.

"I don't know what has gotten into you lately, Min Yoongi. But if you keep this up, your behavior will have serious consequences. Don't you care about anything anymore apart from your precious music? What about your poor, troubled parents? Your grades? Your future?"

"Will you stop harassing me if I take the fucking hoodie off?"

"Language, young man! And I'm not harassing you," a despairing Mr. Wong objects, throwing his arms into the air. "I'm trying to help you, boy. Can't you see that?"

"I don't need your help. And I don't want it."

"Fine," the teacher eventually gives in, already busy packing up his things while ceaselessly shaking his head. "I see staying here with you is pointless anyway, so I'll turn my attention to tasks that will actually benefit from it. If you need anything, you can find me in the principal’s office. I will check on you regularly. Here is a list of assignments you're expected to complete in order to be able to leave this building later on."

With those words, he takes a stack of papers from his bag and sets them down on the teacher's desk.

"If even only one of you doesn’t complete these, all of you will be required to stay for the night or the whole weekend if that's what it takes. This is your last chance before expulsion, and next year all of you will be seniors. So, leaving this fine institution and transferring to another High School at this time will most likely have a severely negative effect on your final grade. I hope today you finally come to realize what your misconduct may cost you and change your habits."

Mr. Wong pauses for a few impactful seconds and tries to make eye contact with each of us.

"Your parents have been informed and agreed to my methods. If you don't believe me, here are their signatures. I will be present to watch over you at any time. The end of the semester is closing in, so I have plenty to do around here anyway."

"Mr. Wong, you must be mistaken. I'm not supposed to be here," Park Jimin objects once more, this time getting up from his chair. "I can't be. What I did can in no way justify expulsion. I've been an exemplary student ever since I started attending this institution."

"That may be true, Mr. Park. And I am well aware of your great contributions and outstanding grades. But your behavior clearly shows that you are highly lacking in the social department. Those anger issues of yours have no place in this school and none in society, either. If you don't change your ways, even your talents and intellect won't get you very far, I'm afraid. And no teacher I know is willing to put up with you any longer. So you better change your approach to the people around you, or the school board will have no choice but to expel you."

"But –"

"No backtalk. I'm leaving you to yourselves now. In about an hour I will be back. I expect to see results by then."

Without looking back, Mr. Wong turns on his heel and leaves the room, locking the door behind him.

"Great. Now we're his prisoners," Min Yoongi groans, shaking his head before he goes on to place it on the table top, using his folded arms as a cushion.

Right. Finally, you remember him. He's the guy who's always sleeping in class but somehow seems to know the right answer whenever a teacher wakes him from his peaceful slumber, silently hoping he's going to make a fool of himself. You just never saw his face before. Because, well, he's always asleep.

A sudden movement to your right demands your attention. It's Park Jimin, striding to the front of the classroom, his step determined and his expression almost solemn. You never quite noticed how well-composed his body is until now when he passes you so closely his elbow brushes your shoulder. You can tell by the confidence and fluidity of his movements that he is a dancer, too, although you've never seen him perform. Without further explanation, he picks up the assignments and starts handing them out.

"Seriously?", Min Yoongi grumbles, barely lifting his head. "I'm not gonna do shit. This is illegal. He's not even allowed to keep us here in the first place. He locked the fucking door."

"Well, I don't intend to spend the whole weekend here," Park Jimin shrugs, obviously unimpressed. "There's an essential maths exam to take place on Monday, and I didn't bring my learning material. But be assured that I'm not going to let you ignorant dumbass ruin my final grade."

"What did you just call me?" Suddenly wide awake, Min Yoongi sits up straight, exasperation apparent in his widened eyes.

"An ignorant dumbass," Jimin repeats calmly, leaning in closer with each word.

"What the fuck!?" Yoongi gasps, getting up so abruptly, his chair falls over with an earsplitting bang. By the looks of it, he’s ready to fight and Jimin's posture clearly shows that he's only waiting for his opponent to throw the first punch. The tension building up between the two of them is palpable.

"Enough now," a deep, smooth voice cuts through the nervous silence. Immediately following his words, the chem lab guy steps in the middle of the two squabblers and holds each of them at arm's length, maintaining a firm grip on their shirts. "You two were best friends before you decided to run against each other for class president, remember? You were basically inseparable. This is just ridiculous. Get over yourselves, or we'll be here till Monday."

"He started it," Yoongi snorts, his eyes burning holes through Jimin's perfect visage.

"Well, you basically asked for it," Jimin retorts with a grin.

"Shut it! Both of you," chem lab guy silences them. "Pull yourselves together. We're not kids anymore, and this isn't the time for your bullshit. Didn't you hear what Mr. Wong said? This is our last shot. And I deserve being here just as much as you do, Jimin. I didn't even do anything, but here I am, and there's nothing I can do except for dealing with it. And I suppose you do the same."

With one last pull at their collars, chem lab guy lets them go and returns to his seat. Jimin follows suit, sitting down with his arms crossed in front of his chest, still breathing heavily, whereas Min Yoongi merely puts on a pair of hi-fi headphones and apparently goes back to sleep.

The whole room falls quiet since everyone else grudgingly starts skimming the printout before them. Except for the redhead in front of you. Rocking his chair backward and forward, chewing on a pencil, a smirk playing on his rosy lips, he eventually leans back far enough so he can rest his arm comfortably on your desk.

"That was Namjoon, by the way. Kim Namjoon. The guy who separated them," he whispers, pointing his chin in silver-haired-chem-lab-guy’s direction.

"He seems okay. Why's he here?" you can't help but ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Oh, he keeps destroying school property," the redhead chuckles, watching his classmate go through the list of assignments. "Unintentionally, of course. Namjoon's just hella clumsy. He's really tall and grew so suddenly, his extremities just can't keep up, you know. But the teachers call it vandalism. They believe he does it on purpose, to get attention and to work through some issues they have at home. But, from what I know about him, there aren't any. Namjoon's a decent guy. His grades are just slightly above average, he reads grownup books and listens to Hip Hop. There's nothing wrong with him. He might be the only one of us who doesn't deserve to be here."

As if he just now remembered he was even talking to someone, the redhead abruptly turns around and extends a hand for you to shake. You do so reluctantly.

"My name's Hoseok, by the way. Jung Hoseok," he smiles at you gleamingly. "But my friends call me J-Hope. It's kinda my stage name."

"You dance, right?"

"Oh, you've heard of me?" he wonders aloud, genuinely surprised as it seems.

"There's no way I didn't. You're kinda famous around here."

"I guess I am," he shrugs nonchalantly, grinning goofily. "You want me to spill all the gossip? You're new to this school, right?"

"Yes. How’d you know?"

You can't hide your puzzlement.

"Well, otherwise I would've noticed you sooner, obviously. I only saw you a few times around campus, but you caught my eye right away. Not a lot of girls manage to do that." Again, Hoseok winks at you, causing a hot blush to creep up your neck and settle on your cheeks.

"Y/n was the name? Y/l/n Y/n?"

You nod your head yes, unable to speak, your throat suddenly as dry as a desert.

"That's a pretty name. It suits you."

"Oh, stop it," you mutter. "It's nothing special. And neither am I. But I'll gladly take you up on your offer."

Hoseok questioningly arches a brow at you.

"I believe you promised me some gossip. A quick who's who? I'd really like to know who I'm dealing with here."

"Oh, sure," he agrees, slightly disappointed if you're not mistaken. "Where shall we start?"

Exhaling a sigh, Hoseok takes a look around, still leaning on your desk.

"Well, I don't think Park Jimin requires an introduction," he starts, lowering his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "He's from a good household, a straight-A student, class president, one of our school's best athletes, a talented classical dancer, a mathematics genius, dangerously handsome and on top of that our resident number two crush boy, closely following the one and only Kim Taehyung as our school's ultimate heartthrob."

"Kim Taehyung?"

He points at 'Dorian Grey' how you have come to call him. You have seen him before, often times, roaming the school's corridors, untouchable, staring into space, his head always somewhere else, up in the clouds. This unreally beautiful young man with his shiny, caramel-colored hair and delicate hands who is currently seated in the second row, next to the shy boy with the starry eyes and the most adorable nose you've ever seen. The two of them whisper constantly, seemingly lost in their own world.

"I'll come to him later," Hoseok explains. "Anyway. Jimin has trouble acknowledging his mistakes sometimes. He always needs to be the best, to be right. So, when teachers or students are 'too stupid for him to deal with', he, well, tends to lose his patience. He keeps aggressively correcting our math's teacher who does not appreciate Jimin's input. That's basically what landed him in here. But I think the anger isn't actually in his nature. Jimin surely has a temper. I believe, however, that these little escalations only happen thanks to his parents and the insane amount of pressure they put on him. You see, they want, no expect him to excel at everything. But it's kinda lonely up there on the top. Thanks to his competitive nature, Jimin doesn't really have friends. Sure, there are people circling around him like vultures, hoping his 'fame' will somehow rub off on them. But none of them have his back. He was friends with this Yoongi character for years. Don't ask me why, though. Anyway, they sort of drifted apart during the last election for class president. Ever since then, Jimin has been more of a loner, claiming he's too busy to have friends. But I think he just really needs someone to show him he's being appreciated."

"I see," you mumble, catching yourself staring at the gorgeous, full-lipped boy in awe.

"Well, over there we have Kim Namjoon. I mentioned him before."

While you listen to Hoseok's narration, your eyes wander to the prementioned who is currently immersed in the lecture of the worksheet before him. His chin protruding slightly, teeth absentmindedly gnawing at his lower lip, brows furrowed to a frown, he studies the printed lines intently, massaging his temple with the knuckle of his thumb. The dark, silvery grey color of his short hair complements his complexion and gives him the appeal of a mysterious intellectual.

"He's another model student, in a way. His grades are not as good as Jimin's, and he struggles in certain areas, like maths or science. But he's a thinker, highly intelligent and very sensitive, even if you might not think so based on your first impression of him, especially judging by his strong build. He's excellent at languages, social studies, philosophy and just joined an art club. He's also widely read and knows a lot about literature. Namjoon spends most of his free time at the library or looking up music. We get along quite well. Actually, he makes an effort to be neutral, so he gets along with almost anybody, although most people consider him a geek, so he doesn't have a lot of friends, either. He's still very kind and generous with everybody and tries to help where he can. Last term, he saved my ass when I was about to fail my English class."

"Then why's he in here?"

"Like I said. Our Namjoon here keeps damaging, or rather demolishing, school property. By accident, though, I'm convinced. On his death roll are a couple of hairdryers, two doors, I think, a few Petri dishes and glass flasks, a window, a hand-towel suspender, three soccer balls, a tennis racket, a blackboard, a few TVs – I could keep going, but I believe you catch my drift."

You nod in agreement, unable to keep your lips from smiling while you watch Namjoon shift in his seat, still focused on his assignment.

"Namjoon keeps pleading innocent," Hoseok continues, sadly shaking his head. "But both his parents and the teachers are confident he's acting up because he's in some kind of 'rebellious phase'. The guy is seventeen, for God's sake. He suddenly shot up like a palm tree. He's a teenager. His body can't handle the changes, so he's a little clumsy, sure, but he means no harm. Grownups can be so ignorant."

"I couldn't agree more," you scoff bitterly, drawing circles on the bottom right corner of your assignment sheet.

"So, who's next?" Hoseok mutters, more to himself. "Ah, right. Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome, as he likes to call himself."

You look up and in the direction Hoseok is pointing in.

"Ah, right," you nod. "He's the guy all the girls want to marry when they get out of school."

"That's right," Hoseok snorts. "Seokjin comes from a wealthy family. His father is some big CEO, and his mother is a former Miss Korea. That's probably where he got his good looks from. He's not precisely our school's brightest student, but that does in no way diminish his popularity. He takes up third place, right after Jimin, on our school's list of the 'most eligible bachelors', you might say. And he's the number one flower boy. All he has to do is blow them a kiss and the younger girls fall for him like cut-down trees."

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

"Then why's he in here?"

"I think, first and foremost, this punishment was encouraged by his parents themselves."

"What for?"

"Because Seokjin keeps making jokes in class. He's basically famous for being our school’s top class clown and keeps rambling on about wanting to become a famous comedic actor or entertainer or something."

"Oh," you think out loud. "I imagine his parents are not too fond of that idea."

"Yeah, especially not his dad. Seokjin once mentioned that they want him to take over his family's corporate empire some day. It's a shame, though, because he is good at what he does. He always makes everyone laugh, even the teachers, and you can tell it makes him happy. It's so sad that his parents can't see that and want to take away what's best for him. They even had him kicked out of drama club."

Clicking his tongue, Hoseok slowly shakes his head, eyeing Seokjin sympathetically. Your gaze, as well, lingers on his amazingly handsome features for a few more seconds before it goes on to focus on Hoseok's next target.

"Over there, you see the boy with the hazel coconut hair and the undercut? The one with the many piercings?"

"Yeah. He looks cute."

"Oh, does he now?" Hoseok suggestively wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"I meant nice," you quickly correct yourself, cheeks blushing furiously.

"Yeah, sure." Hoseok playfully pokes your arm. "Anyway. He's kinda shy. His name is Jeon Jungkook. I think his friends, well, his only friend, calls him Kook or Kookie sometimes. Which really fits him, I think. Because you're right, he appears to be cute at first sight."

„Appears to be?"

"Well, he's got the soft baby boy looks, sure, but he isn't necessarily one. Partly he might be. But he's stronger and much fiercer than he lets on. Hidden underneath that oversized uniform of his are pounds of sheer muscle. Jungkook's our school's top athletes. A fast runner, a skilled boxer, a supreme weightlifter. He does parcours and stuff, too, and lately Jimin has been teaching him some dance moves, I think. The teachers like him because the poor boy is so insecure that he's always quiet and obedient in class. Jungkook basically only landed himself in here by being a good friend."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Him and Taehyung over there," Hoseok points to the duo sitting huddled together in the front, so close to each other their arms are touching. "They are inseparable, literally. Always have been. And even though Jungkook is a few months younger and clearly the shier of those two, he has this guarding instinct and protecting drive when it comes to Taehyung. You see, Taehyung is the dreamy kind. His head is in the right place, and he's not dumb, might I add. But his mind is a wandering one. He see's the world through some kind of kaleidoscope, you know. Differently than we do. More colorful and from an artistic point of view, I guess. He's an art nerd, by the way. Very gentle soul, romantic, may appear kind of cold at times. Taehyung is very sociable, but not always the most social, if you get what I mean?"

"I guess, yeah," you shrug your shoulders, your eyes glued to Taehyung's gorgeous side profile. He seems to have some kind of power over you already. The longer you look, the stronger it gets. He's pulling you in like a magnet.

"Anyway, our Taehyung isn't exactly the toughest when it comes to defending himself against the evil in this world and dealing with nasty comments made by those who are envious of his charm and beauty, seeking to put him down. So that's kind of Jungkook's role, you know. He's always by his side, there to protect Taehyung against any sort of abuse. Taehyung doesn't exactly come from the best of families. His folks are very poor, so he's always had to deal with bullying. He's only here on a scholarship because he's practically a child prodigy, that's probably why a lot of kids hate him. You see, Taehyung took part in one of Korea's most prominent art competitions about two years ago and won third place. And he was competing against grownups there, mostly."

"Really?", you gasp with wonderment.

"Yes," Hoseok confirms, almost proud. "He's a special boy, although he usually keeps those magnificent thoughts of his to himself, probably because he's tired of being called an alien, freak or weirdo. But if you listen to him, I think you might learn something."

"So, why's he in here?"

"Oh," Hoseok scoffs. "Because he's always late and keeps missing classes that aren't, you know, art."

"Ah, I see."

You can't help but be fond of the artsy boy.

"And Jungkook? Why's he here?"

"Oh, sorry," Hoseok giggles. "I kind of drifted off there for a second, didn't I? Well, Jungkookie here received this punishment because he keeps getting into fistfights, or rather starting them. Whenever someone attacks or offends Taehyung, Jungkook kind of loses it. He's very timid, usually, like I said, so he lacks the confidence to settle things verbally and doesn't know what to do with himself. That's why he lashes out, I guess. And those poor rich boys don't stand a chance against him. Oh, I forgot to mention. He's also here on a scholarship, as is Min Yoongi. Because our school makes a point of fostering exceptional talents, in the arts as well as in other fields. So, Jungkook came here as an athlete and Yoongi because of his significant achievements in science competitions."

"Oh, I see. I didn't know they were so generous with scholarships here. It's not exactly Korean standard."

"No, it isn't," Hoseok agrees, leaning back so far now, he's basically lying on your desk. "But our principal also comes from a poor family. Everything he accomplished, he owes not only to his sharp intellect and spirit, but also to the generosity of people like himself who recognized his merit early on and saw to it that it was being nurtured. So, he took it upon himself to do the same for young people from similar backgrounds. If you don't mind me asking, aren't you here on a scholarship, as well? Sorry, if that was too direct. I just heard a rumor and got curious."

"No, it's all right," you brush off Hoseok's concern with a gesture of your hand. "It's true. I'm here on a sort of literary scholarship, you might say. I wrote a few essays, poems and short stories that received positive feedback in competitions and apparently attracted some attention. One day, there was this letter in the mail, signed by Principal Ko. He invited us to take a look at the school, and, of course, my father insisted on going. Before we left, the Principal offered me a scholarship, and my father agreed immediately."

"You don't sound too pleased with his decision."

"You're very observant."

"Why, thank you!" Hoseok smiles at you, his beautiful features twisted into an adorable grimace.

"So, why don't you like it here?", he goes on to ask, serious again in a matter of seconds.

"We had to move and leave my hometown so I could go here. My father has to drive hours to work every day, I barely even see him. Our relationship was bad before that, ever since my mother passed away, but now it’s just – worse.“

"Oh," Hoseok gasps, one hand shooting up to cover his pink lips. „Your mother – I had no idea. I’m so sorry!"

"It's all right," you lie, lowering your head, so your face is concealed by a protective curtain of hair, hiding the tears clouding your vision. "It's been years since she left us. Since then, we're not really a family anymore. I don't have any other relatives I know of, so it's just my father and me. And all he ever does is scold me and tell me to do better. The things he values most are money and reputation. I'm not like that, though. I wanna live. I wanna have adventures and write about them. I need to feel things. To see them, hear them, taste them. Everything. I can't lead the life he wants me to. So we don't get along all that well. Just last week he told me I shouldn't 'rest on my oars'. That I practically didn't even deserve this scholarship because all I did was lock myself in my room and write."

"Oh, damn," Hoseok sharply inhales through his teeth. "That's bad. How can he say such a thing?"

"It's what he believes," you shrug, attempting to appear unaffected.

"Y/n, why are you here, if I may ask?", Hoseok breaks the awkward silence that had settled in between the two of you for a few minutes of you pretending to read the assignments given to you by Mr. Wong when all you really did was stare at the blank, white spaces in between words.

"Me? Oh, you don't wanna know," you chuckle. "It's pathetic."

"I do. I want to know. What did you do?"

"You see, we were given this homework," you begin, struggling to withstand Hoseok's straightforward gaze and maintain eye contact. "We had to write a thousand word essay about our life in English class. And all I wrote was 'My life sucks'."

"But I thought it was a thousand word essay?"

"Yes. And I wrote 'my life sucks' three hundred thirty-three times."

"No, you didn't!", Hoseok shouts out, bursting into laughter, the sudden sound turning a few heads.

"Yes, I did," you snicker, for the first time since the incident occurred actually feeling proud of your childish action.

"Are you in Mrs. Kim's Engish class?"

You nod.

"So, I'm sure she made you write it again."

"Yes, she did. Two times. And I kept handing in the same text. When she asked me why, I told her the truth. That my life indeed does suck and that I hate it. Everything about it."

"Wow, that sounds kinda black and white to me. I'm sure there are some grey zones. Stuff you kinda enjoy doing. Like writing. Writing's fun, right?"

"No," you shake your head, steadily holding Hoseok's glance. "Not ever since I moved here. I've been writer's blocked, feeling uninspired. It's like torture to me."

"Ah, I get it," Hoseok mumbles, giving you a sympathetic look. "So that's why I never see you smile."

His statement hits you like a blow to the gut.

"I wonder what it looks like."

"What?" you ask.

"Your smile. Won't you show me? Just this once?" he tilts his head, placing his chin on your hand on the table and blinking up at you out of chocolate brown puppy eyes, lips pursed into an endearing pout. "Pretty please?"

"We're in detention. There's no reason for me to smile."

"But it's summer. The sun's out. The weather is nice.“

"Exactly," you scoff.

"I don't get it," Hoseok frowns.

"I hate summer. I hate the sun. And don't even get me started on smiling."

Your reply earns you a low chuckle from Min Yoongi whose face has now entirely disappeared under his sweater's hood.

"Oh, you're one of those," Hoseok comments, feigning repulsion. "I'm kidding. You're okay. I kinda like you, Y/l/n Y/n."

"Wow, was that supposed to be a compliment? Thank you so much! I feel like a whole new person now. I'm honored, really,“ you tease Hoseok who, in response, turns his back on you with a disgruntled nose scrunch.

During the minutes to come, he doesn't turn around again, and you can't quite tell whether he's merely pretending to be offended or if you actually hurt his feelings.

"Hey! Psst! Hey!", you hiss at him, trying to get his attention. "Hoseok! Jung Hoseok!"

Jimin darts you an annoyed glance.

"Hoseok! Come on, don't be like that."

You reach out and tap his shoulder with the back of your pencil.

"Come on. I'm sorry."

No response.

After another futile attempt to get Hoseok's attention, you eventually take your worksheet and tear off the upper right corner to scribble a message on the blank paper.

Hoseok. I'm sorry. I can be a dick sometimes. I didn't mean it like that. I'm really glad you started talking to me. You're the first person at this school who showed the least bit of interest and kindness. Don't take what I said too seriously. I'm an idiot.

Quickly, you crumple up the note and throw it at him. It hits Hoseok's head before it lands right in front of his nose, in the middle of his spreadsheet. He hesitates before he reads it, all the while being carefully observed by you. His reaction still comes as a surprise to you.

"It's okay, stupid," he grins in turning around. "I was just pulling your leg. But I'm glad you like me, too."

"Wait, I never said –"

Right then, the classroom door flies open and Mr. Wong enters, his step suspiciously light.

"So, it's been almost an hour, time for your second assignment," he announces with a broad smile.

"But I didn't even finish the first one," Taehyung objects, his tone whiny.

"That's okay," Mr. Wong says. "The essay can wait. You may write it later, at home even. Now, however, it's time for a joined activity."

"Oh, great," Min Yoongi grumbles from underneath his hood.

"And all of you are going to participate. You, too, Mr. Min."

The namely mentioned merely gives off a dissatisfied grunt.

Suddenly, all eyes are on you.

"Ms. Y/l/n, please stand up and pick your partner."

Who of the seven boys will you pick as your partner for this intimate assignment? Who of them do you want to get to know better? Who of them captured your interest?

🗳 Vote here. Your choice will be crucial to the further development of the story.

Thanks for reading and voting. I hope you liked it so far! ☺️💖

The next Chapter will be posted next Wednesday, at the latest.

Here you can find the matching PLAYLIST. And, if you feel like checking out more of my fiction, my Masterlist. 🙃

NONE of the GIFs used are mine. Credit goes to the initial creators. Thank you for your hard work and dedication.

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