#listen i have some pretty big problems with the public school system

[brianbrianbrain]

Thoughts in no particular order on This College because I have been :/

COVID isn't over and the school that had the audacity to send out a school wide email promoting a documentary about the history of the disability movement here unsurprisingly does not actually give a shit about anybody's health. I sit outside and every 5 minutes or less someone walks by on the street coughing with zero mask. There are people coughing during lecture but for some of them attendance is mandatory no excuses right now :/

Go to the dining hall and half of the people dump a full plate of food into the compost. Reminds me of an article I read in the school paper where they were like "no casual link between food waste and food insecurity" like yes, they had some good points about how food is just too fucking expensive but at the same time it's about people's attitudes to food and how they just don't fucking care. If many people are regularly tossing perfectly good food I guarantee you most of them don't give a shit about the cost of food and how fucked up our food system is, and that is a fucking problem and insulting on a campus that claims to care about human rights and the environment and all that shit. There is a big gap between "don't care at all about individual actions and mindset" and "corporations need to stop pretending that all the onus is on individuals," and food and water access is core to every single human and labor rights issue because of the simple fact that if people don't have food and water, they cannot exist in the first place.

On that note I'm losing my mind over people's first approach to their (humanities related) interests being "haha I'm going to double major/minor!" Like yes, please do educate yourself, but generally it is far better to focus on interacting with the actual communities involved outside of a academic setting rife with respectability politics, bureaucratic bullshit, and accessibility issues.

Someone got drunk 3 days after we moved in and multiple people keep talking about rushing. IDK about you but no trust for sororities and frats which by definition generally reinforce the binary and all the shit that comes with it. Most of them are socially acceptable (white) cults that you pay to be in in order to destroy your health.

Keep seeing shit about "philanthropy" on this campus. Like goddammit how about you work more on people getting what they need from the beginning instead of focusing on your savior complex.

U.S. centrism, obviously.

There was an event where a bunch of big brands came and were like "we're serving the community" like that is just marketing bullshit, please fuck off.

On that note once again you cannot "buy sustainability." Consumerism is fundamentally incompatible with respect for each other and life as a whole.

Interacted with a 30? mid-30s? year old transfer who lauded China. There's a big difference between "China definitely does some shit better than the U.S." and "China can do no wrong" and they were definitely going for the latter. Pretty much every single U.S. v. China discussion that I've seen so far still treats U.S. and China as totally separate entities and does not look at how both governments benefit from the power play and how the economies are intertwined.

Forced to listen to shitty self help speech that doesn’t actually address any root causes, as usual.

Personally has not been bad just... ticked off. Went to the public library (not the campus libraries) and was very nice. At some point I'm also really going to make a coherent effort to visually illustrate some of this shit, hopefully soon.

Unrelated to college stuff but with all the strikes... imagine if we could go further and eliminated the corporate boss entirely... no?

#rant

[nullset2]

Ruby, or how I learned to Stop Worrying (about Inheritance) and love Composition

Hi, I'm Alfredo I used to live in a ghetto in Mexico and I got out of the sewer by sheer determination and now I'm in Washington. I'm also a complete and utter fool and an Internet Clown. Word of warning.

It's the world of the 90s and the commercial Internet, in its nascent stages, was just about to change everything as we know it. It is foreseen that there will be a massive demand for software engineers, and a simplified programming paradigm and development methodologies are in order, lest the wave is missed (and you don't wanna miss the billions that are about to come your way with the Internet wave).

So, a solution is conceived: let's design simplified, managed memory models to run software in. Then, let's outsource. Let's have the glorious engineer from the North design the class hierarchy (there's a little snicker-worthy joke in there but that's an exercise left to the student) and ship it off to the cargo cultists in the south so they replicate it verbatim. Pointers? Dereferencing? Calling free()? Psh, all of those things are too complex. You cannot trust those types, whose brains are assumed to haven't even achieved anything past the concrete developmental stage. Let's do managed memory models and after that, let's move to Object-Oriented programming and boom: that's the ticket right there, you prompt the developers-slash-cargo cultists to "inherently" model things as a relationship of concrete things (you know things, right? I know things. I have things around. I use things! Things are good. Things are safe. I'm a material girl in a material world).

Congratulations, now you unlocked an almost infinite pool of workers. Your stock will go up by a quarter of a cent.

So there comes a little cool company called Sun Microsystems which made some kickass servers and they come out with a hardcore Object-Oriented language and a "processor independent" (famous last words) runtime for it called Java and we're all merry. It's actually pretty brilliant in a vacuum. Its model of Object Orientation is the ~~dumbest~~ simplest possible way to explain relationships between entities in a system. Make everything follow a class hierarchy and make the program necessarily exist within it. Maximize code reuse. Model everything with inheritance (which is also sort of a very easy concept to grasp). You're laughing all the way to the bank.

Cat extends Animal Dog extends Animal Car extends Vehicle Compact extends Car

All of us went through these asinine examples ~~because Oracle and Microsoft moneyhatted our schools to guarantee a steady funnel of third worlder human sacrifices to the tech god~~ because OOP is sort of assumed to be the lingua franca in programming. We learn to model things this way and to write a useless interface with a single implementation for the 100000000th time. We like big, buff Object Oriented code because it makes us feel like big boys. It looks industrial. It's what I learned in school. It makes me feel warm and secure to model everything as objects. We hit our code with a hammer and it makes a loud CLAAAAAAAAAAAANG and we like it. We can get to write unit tests with Mockito or some other nimrodian unit test framework for a whole day and still get paid.

But what's the problem with Object-Oriented Programming? It is pretty fallacious to assume that every component in an abstract system can be modeled in a concrete manner, and that's why at some point you end up with -Handler classes or enact() or do() methods or, eek, even worse, static class methods that do all sorts of naughty things, and there goes your laughing to the bank and now you're stuck listening to a dude who looks like this talk about public static void main and being pedantic about programming in Californian Fry.

Parentheses: I've been on both sides of this world and let me tell you that it's horrible all around. I hate how many times I got the stupid "What is dependency injection" interview question, which is like the litmus test that you're baseline edumacated, which you're supposed to answer legitimately and not by googling and reciting Spring MVC documentation, which is what most third worlders apprently do. I have more important stuff to do with my life other than proving that I'm not a mouthbreather. I am still a mouthbreather, but I don't want to prove that I'm not. I want to get to the good part.

There's also the usual, predictable arguments about the weak points of inheritance: multiple inheritance diamond problem, etc. I won't talk about them here. Let's get to the good part.

There's also the inherent, never-ending change to things. As much as the I-Ching is the book of changes and how there's a succint vibration in everything we do and are, systems change, and change often. Business priorities change. The code necessarily reflects the business, and these have to change and adapt faster and faster and faster in a high-paced world such as ours. And this is relevant --over time we have sort of converged on this idea that java codebases are too burdensome to stay agile in today's world. Nobody wants to do Java anymore. Billion dollar industries have been created merely to find a way to make it palatable to work with the java machine, like Scala and Clojure.

So in the 2000s you had your teenage years and everyone was like, punk rock and stuff and wanted to do things differently and NO IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM, THIS IS WHO I REALLY AM, and the python, ruby, and (big L on this one) javascript environments take prominence, and there you have a sort of established internet making billions and we all hear about the Zuckerbergs and the Billion Dollar companies and everyone and their grandmother wanted to make an app to ape it.

Now, the pendulum has sort of swung back and we're old and tired and grumpy old people and we want our static typing and our compile type safety because we don't have time to manage a personal life and marriages and kids and fucking ruby code of all things, and that's why everyone likes golang now and why you can't presume to do javascript without typescript unless you want to be very much shamed.

But fortunately we did learn something in those teenage years, and what I want to mainly cover is that there are better ways to architect software besides Inheritance. Golang supports composition through struct embedding for example.

Composition makes change easier (allows for loose coupling)

Have you ever seen those pieces of japanese wood joinery, where they manage to beautifully join several pieces of wood in a perfectly solid way without any glue or compounds, and which can be assembled or disassembled without tools? That's loose coupling and it's a principle that applies to software as well.

Remember, software changes because everything changes, and you want to make it so it's as easy as possible to change and rip apart dependencies and components in your software in a clean and easy way, without having to redo the whole thing.

When I used ruby I noticed extensive usage of the include statement (which apparently did something different than it does in other languages, which is to read external source code) and Mixin types. I found out that the Module (instead of the class) is the first-class citizen in the Ruby world and that when you use include you "glue" (or "mix in") the methods of a module into another one. You don't have to carry the cruft of both inherited classes.

Composition expresses your components' relationships as a "has a". Instead of modeling Manager as an inheritance of Person and Employee (Manager is a Person and Manager is an Employee) (good luck with that, it already sounds painful enough), you can just model a Manager as a selective mix in of certain sets of attributes which are not tightly bound, (Manager has some traits which make it a manager). If something changes, you just remove mixins as you please. You don't have to worry about a whole chain of classes in the hierarchy being affected because one day you had to change Person and everything breaks now.

You're effectively doing "inversion of control". A thing should not have to produce its own dependencies, its dependencies should be provided to it.

Besides I like this pattern of things being dependent on the module rather than the class, because in my opinion, systems have two kinds of collections of behavior: what happens to the data, and the processes in-between. It makes total sense to use the object as the first-class citizen for data, because it's intuitive: it's an instance a domain model with data, and the data travels together with little pieces of logic which tell it how to transform. However, for the "behavior in between", it makes not as much sense to pair data and logic. Some things are data-only (Config) and some things are logic only.

Composition makes testing easier

Let's pretend that we test our software, mmmkay? Somebody will come along and start chastising you about test-first, and unit testing everything, but in the java world, unit testing things is incredibly complex and not a very pleasing task. You end up using unholy concoctions of frameworks to just write a single unit test. You have to refactor your dependencies into interfaces so they can be swapped for a patched component at test time with some esoteric binaries.

In other languages? "Just write better modules bro". In golang it is incredibly easy to swap patched dependencies in testing time. In java you have a bad time every single time.

Composition effectively delegates traits which would normally be expressed as part of the domain model onto dependencies, which can be swapped out in testing time for patched dependencies.

Inheritance breaks encapsulation, Composition does not

Let's return to our Manager example. If you model your Manager implementation such that it inherits from Person, you're effectively exposing all the innards of the Person class to the Manager class, which it may not necessarily need. If you used mixins, all of those implementation details would remain isolated. That's why it's considered that Inheritance breaks encapsulation.

Composition is better for ORMs

It is also incredibly complex to map your inheritance-centric domain classes to tables in a database because SQL has no way to express inheritance relationships between tables. Rails uses a hack/workaround called "single table inheritance", where a certain type is assumed to be many other subtypes depending on an extra field which the framework bolts onto a database table called "type". This is cumbersome and leads to more questions than anything.

In contrast, SQL uses foreign keys to represent composition relationships between tables, and this is incredibly smooth.

Conclusion

Not everything is bad news in inheritance land, however. It has perfectly valid use cases, but it is tight coupling and it will be complicated to modify over time, and my dear friend, what I'm trying to do here is to provide little tidbits to make your day better and your work easier. It was the giant on which shoulder we used to once stand, but we get to do things differently now.

But as with everything, tread carefully.

#works #essays

[luminousvision]

Class

A girl in my second-grade class stood out with all distinction I failed to understand. Prim, intelligent, cultured—she represented all the best opposites of me. She was infuriatingly good in every way, so I decided to beat her at her own game. Unsurprisingly, she distinctly disliked me. What immature kid would make such a big deal out of outdoing her on homework assignments, tests, and the sticker-oriented juvenile meritocracy?

Even at the precious age of seven, kids understand hierarchy. And this girl, whom I’ll name Rebecca, was at the top. Already, I was obsessed for reasons I would eventually understand. She stood for all that I simultaneously resented and wanted to achieve in this world. Rebecca had class.

She embodied elegance, listened with patience, read the most, spelled the most accurately, behaved the best, and was pretty much the best at everything except chilling out and having some fun. She knew she was the best, and acted like it with the unvoiced arrogance of the elite. I was just an immigrant who had learned English just the year before and still picked my nose. But I didn’t like losing, so I compensated by being really good at numbers.

I read more than she did, just to beat her and brag about it. I put my i’s and e’s in the right order and still made more friends than she did because I knew how to have fun! I swam in numbers and never lost a math test. When the teacher asked a question to the class, my job was to have my hand up before her’s. But even when I beat Rebecca at all of these things, I knew deep down I was still losing to her. I just didn’t understand why.

By the fifth grade, I had grown bored of a type of defeat beyond my comprehension. For the most part I kind of just forgot about her. But I still clearly remember one moment in sixth grade, when she brought it all back and slapped me in the face. Rebecca auditioned for, attained, and absolutely crushed the part of a lovesick teenage boy in a coming-of-age play that was written for high schoolers. This prepubescent boy (me) thought it impressively audacious and frankly a bit crazy for a girl to play a boy’s part. Eww, gross! High school romance? No awkwardness playing a boy’s part? Not one bit: she was hands-down the best actor or actress in our class. I remember how many times that year my teacher running the same play year after year would keep mentioning something about “maturity” in the same tone parents would later mutter something about “responsibility” to their college-bound kids. Damn, talk about out-classed.

We traveled the same academic path until seventh grade, when I heard that Rebecca had scoliosis, stomach problems, or some rumor of that sort, and dropped out for home schooling. In retrospect, I would not be surprised if she or her parents thought they were better than public school. Regardless, I missed out in a big way when she left my world. I would have had the most unbearable crush on her had she stayed around any longer.

I had felt the aura of class. Rebecca had class. I had none. I knew class when I felt it, but couldn’t explain why some people had it and not others. At the time I understood it so poorly that I believed only girls could attain it. After all, I had only one example. Go ahead, laugh at me.

Through middle school and entering high school, I began to grasp how people started applying their conceived social hierarchy onto the people around them. This exercise should have been quite ironic because the average public school is incredibly egalitarian. You had people of all incomes and social classes mingle together, most of whom hardly grasp the significance. Still, within this sphere, very simple social dynamics built hierarchies. For example, the popular kids were simply the ones pickiest about whom they made friends with. They were generally the attractive ones, who found it easiest to be picky. How lame, said I.

I was a nerd and had no qualms about it. My system was meritocracy-overrides-all. It was built to smash Rebecca’s smug face and if I couldn’t attain class, at least I could beat it. Transitioning into high school, I still didn’t have framework to understand that there were three related but separate pillars of capital: financial, social, and personal. I was the weird kid who really only cared about the personal, the one who believed that winning for myself, both in the system and outside of it, was the only thing that mattered.

What was class? I forgot, because Rebecca was no longer in the picture to remind me.

By junior year, I could feel distinct social camps forming. People understood the ramifications of college and were old enough to start feeling the power of money. Some kids had nice cars, others didn’t, and that mattered. Enough people experimented with dating to find out that it had everything to do with social capital almost nothing else. Clothing made statements. Despite my continued oblivion, running off of my momentum of meritocracy, I obtained my an incredible cache of social capital via my Stanford acceptance letter. For a moment, I had attained class. I was the only one in my year accepted to a top-tier university, one of the few who had stood for utmost academic integrity, demonstrated versatility as choir accompanist and esoteric Java programmer, and above all, seemed to operate at a different level. I was flattered by but unprepared for the girls drawn to my social capital. I sound stupid evaluating my social capital on the basis of attractiveness to the other gender, but I’m telling you, it’s accurate: crushes are made almost entirely of social capital excess. 

By the time I left high school, I had a rather delusional and incorrect view of capital. My experience went to my head and convinced me that if I was pushing myself to the boundaries of personal success, the rest would just follow suit. My ideas swam in the currency of individualism, beautifully articulated by Ayn Rand, who claimed that the individual created the only valuable social structure. She’d go even further to argue that social and financial capital naturally followed personal capital.

My freshman year of college was the apex of my childhood. High off the successes from high school, I refused any acknowledgment of the new social and financial ladders that the far more diverse environment constructed around me (like, having a job, grad school, etc.). I would rather die than surrender my personal capital to the pressures and incentives from the world around me. I would die, one proud kid on one tiny hill, clutching onto my precious principles until the very end. Once again, it worked. Slightly oddball me, passionately principled, religious coder and pianist, drunk on life, socially inflexible, rather unkempt—all combined into another sort of odd social capital. Yes, freshman year was the last year I could fake it.

I read Rand very differently from the way she wrote it, a dichotomy I find funny to this day. I think I read it better than she wrote it. Her stories merge the relentless individual’s drive for personal excellence with the status and class earned by high standing on the social hierarchy, and believe that the rightful world merges the two. Well, Ms. Rand, I am sorry for myself, and almost sorry for you, but our world is not rightful at all.

Her characters were anti-Icaruses, both the ones who thrived close to the sun and the ones who fell into the ocean because they feared the sky. If she heard my story, she might have told me that I was flying just fine until I looked down and realized I didn’t actually have wings. There is some truth here, but I don’t agree, and we can save this story for another day.

I wonder what Rebecca would have said of me, particularly at my peak of manufactured social capital. I’m certain I would have had a crush on her and I’m equally certain that she would never have seen me in the same way. I lacked class. I could not have matched her tidiness, restraint in all things said and done, erudition, high mannerisms, grace, wealth, among all other elements of elite society. 

I abruptly stop here because this whole piece reads like a winding letter to a lost crush, compensating for the lack of sense with length and reflecting increasingly poorly upon the author with each passing page. There is a lost crush here, but it isn’t Rebecca—it’s the convergence of individual excellence and social capital. I believe in the incredible power of the individual to bend the world to her will, but class is kind of like old money. You can’t even pretend like you had to work for it.

[bimb0beee]

stay with me.

suna x y/n

in which youve liked suna for years, suna is a tsundere, and tsukishima is a little shit.

includes tsukiyama, best friends tsuki & yamaguchi, mentioned miya twins, tsukishima is a shit stirrer and we love him for it.

warnings: smut, public funking, big cock suna, stupid suna, a little spit, uhhhhh, also my fics are never beated all mistakes are my own 🥴

wc: 4.1k

The first time you saw Suna Rintaro was at nationals. He was easily one of the prettiest boys you have ever seen. All you wanted to do was introduce yourself to him, but seeing as how they lost to Karasuno… you didn't think he'd give the time of day to a student there.

You debated following him on his socials… but ultimately went against it.

There was no way he'd be interested in you anyway.

The second time you saw Suna Rintaro, you were eating lunch with Kei and Tadashi.

You were midchew listening intently to Tadashi's story when you looked up and saw him.

He was walking with his friends, the twins, and you started choking.

Kei glanced at you while Tadashi fussed to make sure you weren’t dying.

He also happened to glance in the direction you were looking and saw the reason for your sudden choking.

“Y/n, oh my god, are you okay??”

“Tadashi, she's fine. She just so happened to see her four year crush.”

You punched him in his stupid gut.

The third time you saw Suna he was in one of your classes. Along with one of the twins. The one with yellow hair… What was his name again?

You were seated near the back, always keen on avoiding human interaction if you could.

And, of course, they both decided to sit directly in front of you.

Not that they paid you any attention.

Which was fine.

Until your professor told the class they should get someone elses contact information.

Since you were alone, and no one was near you except for Suna and Miya, you had no choice but to give it to Miya when he asked.

“Yo, I’m Atsumu! This is Suna.”

You looked up at, ah his name is Atsumu, Atsumu and smiled shyly.

“Hey! I’m Y/n…”

You took a chance at Suna but he's looking at his phone, not even bothering to give you another glance.

Unknown to you, he was already looking at you, but decided to look away before he got caught by either you or Atsumu.

You offered up your email and number to Atsumu, looking over to see if Suna wanted to as well.

He didn't even look at you, which may or may not have bummed you a bit, but you decided it was better this way.

You and Atsumu exchanged at least which was better than nothing, you suppose.

From then on, you and Atsumu became fast friends. You would try to talk to Suna, but he would just grunt at you or not even bother answering. So you gave up on trying. Which kind of fucking sucked, but if he wanted to be a prick, then you wouldnt bother with that.

Has your crush dwindled? No, of course not.

Atsumu was always talking about Suna and the stuff they were up to and he seemed so wonderful, so it sucked that he wouldnt even look at you.

You're crying about Suna to Kei and Tadashi; you're so distracted you don't even notice them walking in.

But Kei does, and right before you say his name he decides to be nice and cut you off.

“Shut up. Look who’s here.”

You look to glare at Kei and then you look up and, oh my god, of course it's him.

Suna and the Miya twins.

Atsumu notices you and starts walking over to you excitedly like a little puppy.

As annoying as he is, it's so endearing, you can't help but love him.

“Hey, Y/n!”

“Oh, hey Atsumu. Whats up?” You crinkle your eyes at him and in the most subtle way a tick appears in Suna’s eyebrow.

No one notices, except Kei.

He mentally grins.

“Oh, this is my brother! Osamu! We’re twins!”

You laugh and Kei puts his arm around you.

“Wow, really? I would've never guessed.”

You slap your hand on Kei’s leg and tell him to be nice.

He turns to whisper in your ear, “Leave your hand there. I'm testing a theory.”

You look at him with a question in your eyes but decide to listen anyway. Let him have his fun.

“I didn't know you had a boyfriend,” someone who definitely isn't Atsumu says.

You look up, why is Suna talking to you?

“Hmm?” You're staring at him curiously and then he just stalks off.

Atsumu starts to cackle. “What the fuck. He doesn't talk to you at all and then says that shit?”

“Y-yeah. What the hell was that about?”

Osamu is looking at you with sparkles in his eyes and you're about to ask what that means when he's suddenly walking away, “Sorry, gotta go and make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt himself! It was nice meeting you, Y/n.”

“You too…?”

Atsumu catches up to them to see what the fuck that was about.

They're sitting on a bench outside and Atsumu walks up to them trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck was that, Suna? I thought you didn't like her!”

“I don't.” He rolls his eyes, but there's a faint blush to his cheeks.

“Oh my god. You fucking like her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tsumu.”

“LMFAO.”

“Atsumu, why the fuck did you just say that out loud?”

“Suna, you’re such a fucking tsundere. Why don't you just talk to her, idiot?”

“Why would I do that, when she clearly has a boyfriend?”

“Well, Rin, you didn't even let her answer before you stormed off. Maybe if you actually talked to her, you might find out the truth.”

Suna blinks at Osamu and gives a gentle smile.

“This is why you're my favorite twin.”

“Fuck you, Suna. You can't even talk to the person you like.”

“What the fuck was that. Kei? What the fuck was that?”

You're kind of having a little breakdown. Why did Suna randomly ask that, out of absolutely nowhere. He doesn't give you the time of day, then all of a sudden asks if you have a boyfriend? In what universe is Suna Rintaro living?

Kei is smirking.

“Babe, I think Suna likes you.” Surprisingly, it's Tadashi who speaks.

“Suna doesn't like me, Tadashi. He's clearly an idiot who knows nothing.”

“No, yeah. He totally likes you. He looked like he wanted to kill me.”

“Kei! You can't go antagonizing people!”

“Yes. i can. Especially assholes who think they can say shit when they don't even bother to talk to you.”

You smile wide. Fuck. “Oh my god, Tadashi! Kei loves meeee!”

He blushes and pushes you. “Fuck off, no one even likes you.”

You wrap him in a hug and he's groaning the whole time, but Tsukishima Kei loves you. 

Thankfully, it's friday. Which means you're not going to think about school for the next two days.

Unfortunately, Tadashi is dragging you to a party. Originally, he was only taking you because Kei refused to go. But now there's a change in plans.

You're whining into the phone, “Tadashiiii, if Kei is going then why do I have to??”

A voice, who is most certainly not your sweet freckled baby, answers instead, “Because your stupid boyfriend,” “I dont have a boyfriend, Kei” “is going to be there, and my job is to piss him off.”

“Why do you live off of chaos? What do you get out of it?”

“Pissing people off is one of my favorite pastimes, midget. Get ready.”

And the mother fucker hangs up on you.

One of these days, you swear you're going to kick him right where it hurts the most. 

You walk into the party, Tadashi holding your hand and Kei's hand on your back. It's nice. It's comfortable. You feel like everyone thinks you’re fucking them both. You're not. They’re fucking each other, but that’s a whole other thing you’re not going to get into.

Tadashi goes to get some drinks and Kei takes you to a wall and cages you in.

You blink up at him so prettily, he thinks, if he wasn't in love with his boyfriend, you would've been his next one.

“Kei?” You say so softly and he smirks like the demon he is.

“Saw dumb, dumb and dumbest playing beerpong. I think one of them saw you, so I’m just doing my friendly duty and pissing him off.”

You roll your eyes good naturedly at him and see Tadashi making his way over to you guys.

“Yummy! Give me, give meee!”

Tadashi smiles at you so sweetly and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, sweetheart!”

“Babe, I'm gonna blush, you womanizer!”

He blushes at that. Tadashi is much too sweet for your teasing but you love seeing how red he can be.

“Shut up, you little brat!”

Suna noticed. He always notices you. He saw the moment you walked in. He narrowed his eyes the moment Kei caged you next to the wall. He also saw when Tadashi kissed you.

The math aint mathin, he thinks to himself.

Atsumu notices his glaring and wants to see what has Suna so angry. At a party.

Then he sees you and who you're with and he laughs in Suna’s face.

“What are you angry about? You never talk to her, idiot. Why don't you change that? Actually, lets go.”

He grabs Suna by his wrist, dragging him across the room to where you three are.

“Y/n! Hey! I didn't know you came to parties!”

You blink your pretty eyes towards them and you smile wide.

“Tsumu! I don't usually, but they wanted me to come and I love them so… Here I am!”

“What, you're not gonna say hi to me, too?”

Now. normally, you would blush and brush it off. But unfortunately, you got some liquid courage in your system because of Tadashi.

“Oh? What's this? Suna is actually making an effort in talking to me?”

You smile so cutely at him and his eyes widen. Is that a blush?

Before he can respond, Atsumu is laughing his ass off.

“She’s got a fuckin point there, Suna!”

“Shut the fuck up, Tsumu. Whose side are you on anyway?”

“Obviously, Y/n’s side.”

You start laughing loudly at their interaction. Kei has a tight grip on your waist and Suna is glaring at the offensive hand.

���You got a staring problem, Suna?”

You glance up at Kei and see a mischievous fire in Kei’s eyes.

“Can you be nice for two seconds, Kei?”

“He's glaring at my hand. Am I supposed to say nothing?”

“Maybe you're just imagining it, hmm?” You say sweetly to him.

He’s about to tell you how stupid you are when someone speaks up, “Hey, Y/n. You wanna go outside? Me and Tsumu are gonna go get some fresh air.”

Kei raises a brow at that, “What, just Y/n? Not us?”

“Nope.” He says, popping the p extra loud.

“Yeah, sure. It's stuffy in here. I'll be back okay? Try not to murder anyone. Love you, bye!”

You make your way outside and find a nice little secluded spot.

It feels so much better than being inside a cramped party where everyone is breathing the same air.

“Wow, it feels so nice out here, huh?”

You have such a pretty little smile all Suna wants to do is kiss you until you're giggling just for him.

“You're really touchy with your friends, aren't you Y/n?”

To your utter surprise, it's not Atsumu who is talking to you.

Atsumu is trying to hold back his cackle; sometimes Suna is too blunt for his own good.

“Hmm, I guess so. I've also known them forever, so it's natural for me to be like that with them. Why, you jealous, Suna?”

You're sitting down squished between Suna and Atsumu and it's giving you butterflies.

Suddenly, Atsumu’s phone is ringing.

“Fuck, its Samu.”

“Yeah? What's up? What? Why did you leave, you stupid… Alright. Stop. Osamu, stop, I'll be right there. Jesus.”

“Sorry, guys. Osamu is drunk and is attempting to walk home alone for whatever reason. I'm gonna go get him. See you guys later?”

“Hopefully! Let me know when he's safe, okay, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart!”

You blush, Atsumu has never called you sweetheart before.

Suna knew he was a fucking liar and only doing it to get a reaction out of him. Fucker.

He clears his throat, “We’re friends, aren't we, Y/n?”

You hum, thinking over what he's asking. “Are we, Suna? How can we be friends when you never speak to me?”

You smile oh so sweetly at him and he wants to bite it off of your face.

“We’re talking now, aren't we?”

“I suppose we are, Suna…”

“Call me Rintaro.”

You stammer at his bluntness, “O-okay… Rintaro…” It feels like candy on your tongue.

You’re so fucking cute, he thinks.

“Are you shy? Like a cute little… bunny.”

You stare up at him, eyes wide, face red.

“B-bunny?! Do you go around calling all unsuspecting girls, bunny, Mister Rintaro?”

“Nah. Just the cute ones named Y/n.”

“You're very bold for someone who I just became friends with, aren't you, Rin?”

He puts an arm around you and pulls you closer.

“But, you're so cute, bunny. I can tell you like the nickname. Should I keep calling you bunny? Hmm?”

You're trying to fight the heat on your face, but he's so cute. His words make your insides jelly and you want to kiss him.

“Should I keep going, bunny? Or go back to Y/n?”

You whine at him, “Noooo, Rin…”

Suna can’t help but think how cute you are. He can't help but want to pull more reactions out of you. He manhandles you onto his lap and you're squirming around a little too much.

“Watch it, bunny. If you don't stop you're gonna make this hard for the both of us.”

You stop squirming and cover your face with your hands trying to fight off your blush and embarrassment.

“Rintaro! You can't just say shit like that!”

“Oh? So you want me to get hard? Bunny, you're nasty, aren't you?”

He wraps his hands around your back and snuggles you right next to him so he can whisper naughty things into your ear.

“Bunny, if you wanted me that's all you had to say. I'm all yours, yeah?”

He brings his mouth to plant sweet kisses onto your neck and you're so embarrassed and in shock this is happening to you, you don't react immediately.

Then you feel his teeth sinking into your skin and you let out a breathy moan.

“Oh? What's this? You like being bitten, little bunny?”

“S-shut up, Rin…”

He huffed a laugh against your skin and continues to kiss and nibble at you. He's determined to mark you up so everyone can see just who you belong to.

He moves his hands so they are under your clothes touching your soft skin and it feels so good to have him touching you like this.

“Rin, more, please…”

And who is he to say no to a pretty little bunny?

He gives you the sweetest kiss which is all the warning you get before he's thrusting his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss and he soaks it up. Your tongues are battling and you've never experienced such euphoria in your life. If you could die right now you would be happy.

He removes himself from your mouth and you whine out a protest.

“Hush, bunny. Open up, yeah?”

You look at him questioningly but do as he says anyway. You open your mouth wide and loll your tongue out just a little bit and he groans at his obedient little bunny.

He stares you dead in the eyes and slowly drops some of his spit into your mouth.

“Don’t swallow until I tell you to, bunny.”

He watches the way his spit runs down into your throat and his dick swells tremendously.

“Okay, sweet baby. Swallow for me, yeah?”

You start to grind down onto his clothed cock and, fuck, it feels so good.

He grabs your hips and helps you rub your tiny little cunt all over him.

“Feel good, bunny? Hmm?”

“Y-yes Rin, feels so good… More…”

“More? Here, bunny? Are you sure?” He laughs into your skin.

You're so delirious with lust it doesn't really occur to you where you are, just that you need to feel him inside you.

“Are you sure bunny? I don't know if your little cunt can take me like this…”

You pout at him, “I can do it, daddy…”

He stiffens at the name. That's new.

“Daddy, please…”

Suna is pretty sure you have no idea what you're saying to him but how can he deny you when you're begging him so sweetly?

“Alright, pretty bunny, let daddy take care of you, yeah?”

Your eyes sparkle in utter happiness and he's struck back for a second. You're going to be the death of him, he thinks.

He goes to move your panties to the side and scoffs. As if he could even call these panties. It's basically a piece of string covering your little cunt.

So, he rips them in two.

“Rintaro! You can’t just rip my fucking underwear!”

You’re pouting at him and, fuck, he wants to shove his cock down your sweet little mouth. Another time, perhaps.

“Hush, baby. I'll buy you more. Not that it was covering much anyway.”

You're about to give him an earful before he's shoving a finger into your sopping cunt.

“Wow, bunny. You're soaked. Is this all for little ol me?”

He's leisurely pumping a long, thick finger in and out of your cunt and it has your thighs quivering.

“Yes, Rin, all for you, always for you,” you cry into his neck.

And all too soon he's taking his finger out and you look into his eyes and watch as he sucks your arousal off of his finger.

“Alright, bunny. Take my cock out.”

You're reaching down to his jeans and just seeing his bulge makes your cunt throb. Fuck, you cannot wait to have it inside you.

You slowly take his cock out and of course it's big and pretty just like him. Can't really say you're surprised about it.

He watches you as your eyes widen in excitement and softly stroke his pretty cock.

“You like what you see, bunny?”

You don't even spare him a glance while you lick your lips and nod softly. You very much do like what you see.

“Alright, sweetheart. It's gonna be a tight fit. Are you sure you want this here?”

“Yes, yes. Rin, please, daddy, please if you don't shove your dick inside me soon I will explode!”

He laughs at your word vomit. You're just so unbearably cute and there is no way in hell he can ever deny you.

“Alright, sweet bunny. Get ready, okay?”

Even when hes about to fuck your brains out, you cant believe how sweet he actually is.

He spits on his dick and lifts you up ever so slightly so he can slip the head inside your quivering hole.

Not that he needed the extra lubrication, he just wanted to make sure it was extra sloppy.

The fat head of his cock makes its way past your folds and you close your eyes with a silent, open mouthed moan.

“Shh,” he coos at you, “look at my sweet little baby, taking my cock raw. Does it hurt, bunny?”

He thinks he hears you growl more at him and he chuckles into the night.

And then he’s sinking you lower and lower and lower, until he's inside you.

All of him is inside you and, fuck, he wants to live in your cunt.

“You take me so well, sweetheart. Were you made for me? Is this cunt made only for me?”

You're babbling a symphony of yes, more, all for you daddy and it's doing everything in his power to not pound you like an animal.

“Rin,” you whine into his ear, “if you dont start moving now im going to walk away and never look back you stupid-”

He grabs your hips and lifts you till he's barely inside you and slams you down onto him.

You're squeezing him so tight, your cunt fluttering around his cock and he's trying not to finish right then and there.

“You're on top bunny, come on, show me, help me out, yeah?”

You can't hear anything; you just have this raw, vicious need for his cock to split you in half.

You start moving up and down as hard as you can and it's the most beautiful feeling you've felt in months.

He's helping you so he reaches a little deeper, you are involuntarily squeezing his shaft, so lost in pleasure.

No one has ever fucked you like Suna Rintaro is currently fucking you.

You're pretty sure no one else will ever measure up to him.

He's sucking hickies all over your unblemished neck, a feral growl in him knowing he's the one who's gonna have his marks all over your precious body.

“S’at feel good, baby? You like when I bite your neck and slam you on my thick cock, bunny?”

“Yes, daddy, yes I love it so much, please more!”

And then he really puts you to work.

He's slamming you down onto him as hard as he can. Your heady arousal is absolutely soaking him. It's so filthy and nasty and perfect and you wouldn't have it any other way.

“God, fuck. You're perfect, bunny. Touch your sweet little clit for me?”

You're so lost in pleasure you don't hear him through the haze of your arousal.

He growls into your ear, “Touch your fucking clit and make yourself cum on my cock or you’re never getting this dick again, bunny.”

You whimper out into the night sky and sluggishly move your hand to your poor, throbbing clit.

You press your finger gently onto it before matching suna’s rough pace.

“God, how can you get any fucking tighter. Its like fucking a virgin, at this point.”

Which makes you rub your clit faster, “Daddy, daddy, please m so close, wanna cum all over your pretty cock!”

He wraps a pretty hand around your throat and demands, “Cum, bunny.”

You cum so hard you see white.

You're moaning and he shoves his tongue into your mouth.

Your cunt is fluttering around his so fucking deliciously he cant help but slam you down one last time and fill your guts with his semen.

You're still shaking in his arms from your orgasm and he just holds you and kisses you through it until you finally relax.

You blink up at him, trying to get some clarity in your eyes.

“Either you're an angel, or you're sent straight from hell. How can the best fuck of my life be at some shitty college party?” You ask him. And then it hits you.

“OH MY GOD, Suna! Why did you let us fuck at some shitty college party?!”

He laughs loudly at you.

“Bunny, you asked. I delivered. Shouldn't you be thanking me?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you so much, Suna-sama, for defiling me at a nasty frat party!”

“Baby,” he smiles mischievously, “anything for you.”

You're laughing into his skin when all of a sudden someone is throwing a towel? at your head.

“Hey, what the fuck-”

You turn to look at the offending fucker and you just see a blushy Tadashi and smirking Kei.

“Kei! Tadashi!” And then you remember Suna’s softening cock is still inside you.

“I cannot believe you nasty fucks couldn't wait until you were at someone’s house. Outside of a party. You're kidding.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kei. Mind your business!”

Suna pulls you protectively to his chest.

Kei laughs at him and rolls his eyes, “Relax lover boy, Tadashi is all the ass I need.”

Tadashi turns into an even blushier mess and hisses at him, “Kei! You don't have to be so lewd!”

They're turning to leave when Kei graces you with a parting gift.

“Good job, Y/n. It only took you 4 years to talk to your crush.”

Fuck. You're going to murder him in his sleep. You know where he lives. You have his key.

“What does that mean, bunny?”

You groan into his chest; you were hoping to avoid this topic forever if you could.

“Ughhhhh, I saw you when you played against Karasuno at nationals and I've just kind of had a crush on you since then,” you say really fast hoping he'll drop it.

Unfortunately, he does not drop it. 

“Well, I guess I have a lot of time to make up for then, don't I, sweet bunny?”

Your heart flutters and you place a heart stopping kiss to his soft lips.

“Can we go now?”

You laugh and yeah. You guess you’re kind of glad you came to this stupid frat party and had a class with Suna Rintaro.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #suna rinatro #suna x reader #suna smut #suna x y/n #suna x you #rintaro smut

[couldyouspeakmyname]

Shishigumi and the reader who has adopted children

You know I'm a sucker for blended families

-Maeve

Ibuki

Already is kind of a dad to the rest of the Shishigumi and Louis

While Ibuki is initially really nervous about adopting a child, as soon as they hold them, all his fears melt away.

If they’re an older child, he’ll let them call him by his name if that’s more comfortable. He doesn’t have to be called “dad” to be a parental figure. 

Ibuki is very supportive of his child, and has a lot of patience. 

Ibuki may actually be prone to adopting a child out of the baby stage. He may even adopt an older child who just needs a home (even if they’re almost of legal age to live on their own).

Ibuki would be great with troubled kids. He has the patience of a saint, and has seen a lot of bad in the world, and been a lot of that bad.

Ibuki allows the child to adjust at their own pace, and never pushes them to fit or meet a standard,

Ibuki cooks for them, and listens when they talk. 

Ibuki wants them to be comfortable, always. 

He enrolls them in the best school he can, and goes to every major event. 

He allows them to style their own room, even if he doesn’t always understand what they like. 

He’s adamant that at least three nights a week you all have a family dinner. 

He tries his best to help with homework or any problems they may have. 

Free

Free is freaked out at the idea of adopting a kid. It probably takes a few years for him to be comfortable with the idea.

Honestly? He’s just worried he’s going to be a terrible father. He’s already kind of a menace, he’s not even sure why you’re still with him.

Then again, Louis turned out great and Free likes to think he had a hand in that. 

After some time he finally comes around to the idea. Why not? He can do this. 

When Free and you adopt a child, it’s probably going to be an infant or a younger child. 

It only takes a few hours before Free is a doting father figure, and labels your new child as ‘His’.

Free loves playing games with his kid. If they’re a toddler when you two adopt them, he’s probably going to go crazy at the toy store with them (who needs ten nerf guns?). Free had it rough growing up, he wants his kid to have the childhood he didn’t get to have.

Free isn’t great at homework, but he tries.

Free teaches them self defense early on, just to make sure they can protect themselves when he isn’t around

That dad that plays any game his kid comes up with, and makes forts out of blankets and pillows. 

Dolph

Dolph is actually on board with the idea of adoption

I could see Dolph adopting an older kid, maybe even a pre-teen or teenager. They’re more difficult than a younger child, but Dolph is okay with that. He’s patient, and knows how wild kids can be. He was in a gang, there’s not much trouble a kid could cause that would come anywhere near the trouble he dealt with in the gang

Dolph is big on education, keeping his child in school and having them graduate is important. 

Dolph is calm and collected, and he listens and gives advice where it’s needed.

If he did adopt an older kid, he’s okay with working with a phycologist. Sometimes you just have to talk without worrying about getting in trouble.

Dolph wants his kid to always feel safe and secure. They will always have a room and a place to come home to. 

If they’re worried about someone taking their stuff, Dolph will install a lock on their door. This way they can lock the door and have peace of mind. It is their room. Dolph isn’t going to take things from them.

Same thing with food. If they’re more comfortable keeping snacks and need a mini fridge so they know they wont go hungry, he’ll do what he has to to make them feel secure 

Helps with homework and attends school events. 

 Doesn’t hold his kid to unfairly high standards. If they get a ‘C’, he’s fine with that, as long as they gave it their all.

He’s strict, and has rules. Don’t be out late, don’t do drugs, have dinner with the parents at least twice a week, homework before video games. It’s basic rules, but he’s ridged about them. In a way, that gives his child structure. 

They don’t have to call him dad, but if they do it makes him all emotional

Makes them ask you before they do something

“Dad can I-” 

“Go ask Y/N”

Agata

Agata would probably do best adopting a small child or a baby

He has a lot of anxiety, and he’d do better parenting a kid from the beginning 

Agata raises his child with his whole heart. It doesn’t matter that they were adopted, there’s no question that Agata would die for his child. 

Agata puts the needs of his child above his own, without question. 

Agata is honest when his kid asks if he’s adopted. Agata isn’t going to hide that from them. He will answer any questions they have, and let them know that you don’t have to be blood related to love someone

Agata is that ‘cool’ dad that plays video games with his kid. Agata lets them win.

Agata also beats any levels they get stuck on. 

Agata doesn’t like the PTA, but will go to all school events, and is there for all milestones

Agata tries his best to make sure his child is confident in themselves, and knows that Agata will always be there to back them up

Agata is kind of a softie, you’re going to have to be the rule enforcer

Not to say Agata can’t get strict, he can, but he doesn’t want to

Agata will always make sure his child knows their home is a safe place to go to

If his child ever wants to know their biological parents, Agata will help them. 

Miguel

Age doesn’t matter for Miguel. He’s willing to take any kid that needs him, and is a good fit for you two

He quickly establishes a healthy lifestyle. He wants them to live a long time, and fuel their body properly 

Cooking may actually be how he bonds with them initially, if they’re older. If they’re really little, he’ll bake cookies with them

Miguel is at all school events, and may even be part of the PTA

Miguel may be pretty quiet, but he’s not one to hold back praise when a child does something good. He’s big on positive reinforcement

Rarely raises his voice. Instead, he talks everything out.

He’s very patient, and quickly learns his adopted child’s personality, and adjusts accordingly

That big beefy dad that’s having tea/playing pretend with his child

He can and will switch his child out of a class if a teacher is unfair. A lot of adopted children may have a hard time adjusting, and not all teachers know how to handle that. If they can’t, Miguel will find someone who does. 

Miguel is going to be overprotective of his child. He chose to adopt his child, and it’s his job as a father to make sure his child thrives. He’s not going to allow anyone to drag his kid down the path Miguel himself once walked.

Miguel is that dad that doesn’t talk a lot, but you can talk about anything with. It doesn’t matter what it is, he’s going to listen. 

Sabu

Sabu doesn’t care about age when he adopts a kid. He would be prone to adopting a child that’s mute or deaf, or a child with another disability. 

I have a headcanon that Sabu doesn’t talk much, but knows sign language.  

He’s also very quiet and patient,  and not much phases him. He’s also very flexible, and is willing to make big changes if that’s what his child needs

Sabu is also very involved with schooling, even if most of the staff find him unnerving. It doesn’t take long for them to warm up to him though. Sabu has a good heart, even if he makes a bad first impression. 

Sabu helps with homework, and is fine with taking breaks and coming back if his child becomes frustrated. 

He will totally get a side car for his motorcycle 

If the kid he adopts doesn’t know sign language, Sabu teaches them.

Sabu loves for his child to be passionate about their hobbies. 

Sabu likes it when his child expresses themselves, even if it’s not always traditionally.

If Sabu has a kid, and they want to do his mane, he’ll let them. He doesn’t even mind going out in public with it if his child is particularly proud of it.

Never is afraid of telling his child he loves them, or that he’s proud of them.

Jinma

Jinma would do better adopting a child that was a smidge older.

He does a lot of research before adoption, and tries to find information on what to do, what you two need, and problems that may come up

If they are older, Jinma is going to get them a psychologist if they need one. If they’ve been in the system for a while, they may need a third party to talk to

Jinma is also going to make sure his child has no siblings out there. If they do, he’s going to do his best to reunite them. If they’re not adopted yet, expect Jinma to try and adopt them as well.

Jinma is big on school, so he tries to learn what kind of schooling works best for his child. Are they a tactile learner? A reader? Once he knows, he works in that learning preference for homework. 

Jinma is great at communicating with his adopted child, even if they aren’t a great talker. 

Jinma doesn’t need his child to call him dad, but if they do, he’ll be thrilled.

Dope

Dope could adopt any age of child and be happy

Dope is great at reading body language, so it’s easy for him to understand what is child is saying, even if they don’t want to talk initially. 

Dope is also very big on schooling, but he tries to find a school his child is comfortable with.

If his child was close with their foster parents, Dope is fine keeping them in their lives if they’re also okay with it. 

Dope reads to his kid every night. He will also never say ‘no’ if they want books from a store (but they have to be paperback)

Dope is the dad who will le their kid crawl into bed if they have a bad dream. He also gets up so you can sleep. 

Dope finds the best way to communicate with his kid, and loves spending time with them. 

Dope is what teachers fear. Parent teach night involves Dope trying to figure out lesson plans, accuracies in education, and making sure his child is set up to succeed. He’s both a pain in the ass for the teacher, and a blessing, since he will always be there if they need chaperones or any other volunteers. 

Hino

Hino would rather adopt a child that’s younger, but they don’t have to be a baby (he’s fine if they are though)

Hino puts all his love into his child. It doesn’t matter that they’re adopted, they’re his

Hino loves styling his child, but is fine when they pick out their own outfits (even if it hurts his inner fashionista)

Loves doing family activities with all of you together

If they have a nightmare, and need dad to be there, he’s going to fall asleep in their room

That dad that has waaayyyy too many pictures of his child. He screensaver is you and your child.

Hino is always there for any event, but avoids the PTA. 

That being said, he will volunteer for events, and weaponize his good looks. 

Builds up his child’s self-esteem. No matter what species they are, they’re beautiful. Not only that, but they’re smart and capable. Hino wants them to know there’s so much more besides looks. 

#ibukixreader #ibuki x reader #free x reader #freexreader #dolph x reader #dolphxreader #agataxreader #agata x reader #dope x reader #dopexreader #jinma xreader #jinmaxreader #jinma x reader #hino x reader #hinoxreader #sabu x reader #sabuxreader #miguelxreader #miguel x reader #beastars imagine

[himboarcher]

reasons i've seen folks say that grad critics hate grad:

they hate travis (in fairness, i’ve def seen some comments of people shitting on trav for the sake of shitting on trav, but it’s not super common and typically gets downvoted into oblivion on reddit.)

it's not balance / travis isn't griffin (???????)

they hate neurodivergent people (again, in fairness, i have seen a handful of comments that could come across this way! but most of the time when travis being ADHD or his NPD is brought up, it's by defenders saying that criticizing travis is ableist because he's neurodivergent or, in one particular comment, infantilizing him bc of it and literally comparing grad to putting a kid's artwork on the fridge. there were some comments early on that pointed to him being a narcissist as the reason for things people disliked about grad, but everyone seems to have realized that that's a shitty train of thought and left it behind.)

they're just toxic haters (again, there are a small handful of people like this because this is the internet, but the genuine criticism greatly outweighs their bullshit. i 100% think that the people, which is mostly just one dude who is also insufferable on reddit, who have been responding rudely to positive tweets under the episode announcements lately are out of line and need to stop. there's been an influx of that lately, presumably because people are frustrated that after over a year of grad going on, there's been no improvement to most of the major issues. that's still no excuse to be a dick to folks, though.)

vs some of the actual reasons i don't like grad:

the racism / racist tropes, and the way that they’ve straight up ignored this criticism and will likely never acknowledge it. pretty wild considering a core tenet of their brand is their willingness to acknowledge when they’ve messed up and do their best to course correct.

clumsy attempts at inclusion that are shallow and often end up being fairly offensive ("...ask me about my wheelchair," anyone?)

on a related note: i don't think that travis had bad intentions, but as an nonbinary person, it feels othering to me that travis only has enby characters give others their pronouns unprompted. i'm thinking specifically of kai here. having listened to their introduction, i don't think it's as bad or awkward as some people have said, but i can't remember travis ever having another NPC tell the PCs their pronouns, especially not a cis character. it's not a huge deal, but it's something that rubbed me the wrong way. admittedly, i don't think it would bother me so much if travis hadn't dropped the ball so much with performative inclusion in the past.

okay i'm putting the rest under a read more because even without getting into all of the problems i have with it, this got Long.

little to no player agency. player choices are ultimately meaningless and have little to no effect on the world. even when he seems to go along with a plan they come up with, it always ends with them having to go back to travis' pre-written script (see: subpoenaing the xorn, but not really because they had to go with travis' original plan of "send the xorn home through the rift".) the players repeatedly get told things about what they think or feel or what they've been doing to an unnecessary degree. fitzroy is the only one who really gets space to play and decide things for himself, and that's only because travis has decided he's the main character.

the NPCs are all too nice and willing to give the PCs anything they ask for and more, unless the PCs are trying to follow their own plan and then the NPCs are completely useless. but honestly, aside from gray, all of the NPCs are just.... nice. travis refuses to even let his antagonists be mean or cruel or even more than just slightly rude, because that'd be a bummer and we don't want that! the "twist" of gordy the lich king actually being polite and chill is not a twist at all because everyone is like that in this world. the NPCs are also wildly overpowered, but then suddenly absolutely useless when the PCs actually want their help.

too many cliffhangers that are dropped immediately at the beginning of the next episode. i feel bad for travis because so many of these cliffhangers actually set up good momentum and seemed like things were gonna get interesting, but almost every single time he just dropped them at the beginning of the next episode. like when althea showed up to interview the boys and the next episode started with travis being like "actually you went to sleep, she said she'll be back tomorrow!"

that time travis specifically said in his exposition dump that the thundermen left their horses behind because they thought the centaurs might be offended by them riding horses, only to later on rag on them for being surprised that the centaurs had horses they could ride.....

also the centaur arc in general, but i already listed racism above, so.

the way that the toxic positivity and parasocial tendencies in the mcelroy fandoms have made a large portion of the fandom take ANY criticism as a personal attack on travis and/or on themselves for enjoying something others consider bad, either morally or just quality-wise. it’s okay to admit that something you like has problematic elements or just isn’t as good as it once was. you can and should engage critically with the media you consume.

related to above: the way travis has handled genuine criticism, which is to throw public tantrums on his twitter or make weird passive aggressive tweets & ultimately ignore all the genuine criticism and advice he's been offered by claiming it's all subjective, even after he specifically asked for it and set up an email for folks to send in genuine, objective advice for him (after he threw a tantrum on twitter and replied to someone's criticism publicly, which resulted in his followers dogpiling on that person bc how dare they insult their internet best friend). while i was writing this last night, he actually announced that he’s taking a break from Twitter and acknowledged that he’s been using it as an echo chamber where he can easily get validation from folks, and honestly i’m happy for him that he’s recognized this problem and is stepping away for a while! i hope he’ll genuinely use this time to reflect on how he’s been behaving and find a more healthy way to use social media. i’m leaving this point in because i think his Twitter being such a positive echo chamber was encouraging him to do stuff like this, and him somewhat acknowledging his behavior doesn’t mean it can no longer be discussed.

rainer. extremely cool concept in theory and i was very into it until that awkward "does anyone want to ask about my wheelchair?" moment. also when travis had her use her mobility aid to RAM INTO A DOOR instead of just fucking knocking???? also all the times travis has tried to force a romantic relationship between her and fitzroy, despite fitzroy displaying no interest in her in that way. also, just to clarify: as an ace person, i don’t think this is aphobic! (and it’s kind of a stretch to call it that imo, especially since griffin never explicitly said that fitzroy's aromantic!) i just think it’s weird and awkward and a little uncomfortable for me personally, mostly because it reminds me of the times i’ve been in similar situations.

less of a problem than a lot of the other stuff and more just bad writing, but the forced emotional moments. in general, nothing in grad feels earned (why are the boys heading a war? when they have multiple actual heroes with combat experience on their side and a supposedly powerful secret organization? and the thundermen are like 21 years old max and have only had like ~10 fights in the entire campaign?) but there've been a couple times where travis has tried to force unearned emotional moments, presumably because he knows people enjoyed those with the last campaigns. but the difference is that in balance, the big emotional moments happened because they were earned. in grad, it's just travis throwing a baby pegasus at us for a few minutes and then the next time she shows up, it's supposed to be a tearful goodbye.

there are absolutely no stakes. remember when the thundermen got told that if they left, gray would kill 10 students? and then they left and came back and it turns out that what gray actually meant was, "i'll tie ten students who are mostly nameless NPCs to a tree and throw some dogs at them that you can easily stop in time, then throw a tantrum because how dare you but i'll leave before you can really do anything to hurt me lol" travis did have fitzroy's magic get taken away, but like. it didn't really do anything? also all he had to get it back was be coerced into using drugs by an authority figure and trip in the woods?

we're told that the school is weird and the hero system is corrupt, but the world of nua is still presented as more of a liberal utopia than anything? althea getting fired because of a corrupt villain is the only time we've somewhat seen corruption, but even then, she was still allowed to get (what seems to me, anyway, but admittedly i don't know for sure bc nothing about the HOG makes much sense) a fairly important job from the very people who stripped her of her hero license or whatever the fuck heroes need?

travis doesn't actually seem to understand how capitalism or bureaucracy works and just chalks up everything to "red tape." also more on the rest of the boys than him specifically, but the "let's destroy capitalism!" thing turning into just pushing some filing cabinets over................... okay.

and one last piece of extremely subjective criticism: it's just kind of.... boring. i think a lot of people, myself included, would be willing to overlook 90% of the problems with graduation if it didn't feel like such a slog to get through.

also people saying that we can't or shouldn't criticize graduation because it's "free" is absolutely absurd for several reasons. first, something being free does not make it above criticism. second, there ARE people who directly financially support the show with monthly donations. three, there's a difference between something being free and something being not for profit. podcasting is their full time job. they make their living off of money made from TAZ and MBMBAM (and probably their other shows to a lesser extent). this not a fun home game that they are graciously recording and sharing with us. it is a product they are producing that they make money off of, both from ads in the episodes and merch & books based off of these podcasts. they have marketed themselves as professionals, and both griffin and travis have been on panels where they are marketed as professional DMs and appear alongside other professional DMs (which makes it incredibly frustrating when people say that travis is just a newbie DM and we can't criticize him because of that. if he's a newbie, then he should not be taking part of panels as a professional DM where he speaks as an expert). TAZ is free in the same way that an episode of NCIS is free. i may not pay for it directly, but the creators are paid to create it and profit off of me consuming this product. so saying we should be grateful for any mcelnoise that the benevolent good boys share with us and that we're not allowed to criticize it "because it's free" is absolutely wild.

#negativity cw #i guess #anyway this is not meant to say that you cannot enjoy grad. #but i'm tired of folks on this website acting like there aren't genuine problems with it #and saying that people just dislike it bc they hate travis etc etc #taz graduation #i genuinely don't expect anyone to read this bc it's so long #but here ya go. #long post

[whitehotharlots]

CRT and the sad state of educational politics

If our culture is studied 100 years from now, the predominant theme of the research will be a sense of perplexed revulsion toward how we did nothing to address the climate crisis in spite of having decades of forewarning. If there is a second theme, it will be a profound confusion regarding our immense and unearned sense of self-certainty. A retrospective of the early twenty first century would be titled something like Who the Fuck Did These People Think They Were? 

The latter theme is illustrated in the debacle surrounding a recent slew of municipal and statewide bills that seek to ban the teaching of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in public schools. For the record, I am strongly against these bans. But I’m also self-aware enough to know my opinion matters very little, and therefore realize that an analysis of the discussion surrounding the bills will yield much more worthwhile observations than a simple delimitation of their pros and cons. Regardless of your personal opinion, I hope you’ll humor me.

I am, in some regards, a moral absolutist. But I also realize that abstract morality has very little bearing on material and political realities. In my ideal world, classrooms are free from political meddling. Teachers teach to the best of their ability, presenting students with truths that are confidently unvarnished due to the thorough amount of work that was required to reach them. I don’t cotton any of that socratic bullshit. Students are there to learn, not to engage in weird Gotchas with some perverted elder. The teacher’s job is to teach. The material they teach needs to be subjected to some graspable and standardized mechanism of truth adjudication before it is worthy of being taught. Teaching is not therapy. Teaching is not poetry. Teaching is not love, nor is it religion, nor is it a means of social or political indoctrination. There are plenty of other avenues available to accomplish all of those other things. Teaching is teaching. 

That’s the ideal. But ideals are just ideals. They never come true. The art of teaching, regardless of setting--from overpacked classrooms to face-to-face instruction to curricular design to nationwide pedagogical initiatives--boils down to a teacher’s ability to reconcile the need to convey truths with social and political pressures that are heavily invested in the suppression of truth. 

I have formally studied and practiced education for nearly two decades. In that time, the prevailing political thrust toward education has been a desire to casualize the practice of teaching, to render educators as cheap and fungible as iphones. The thrust takes different shapes depending on the political affiliation of whomever happens to be in charge of the state and federal governments that fund education, but the ultimate desire is always the same. The goal is always to attempt to make teaching rote and algorithmic, something akin to running a google search for How to do math? or What is morality?. The framing is always just windowdressing, empty culture war bullshit. 

Maybe it’s the inescapability of this thrust that’s rendered so many educators so blind to it? We only have nominal political choice, after all. The discourse gets more blinkered and vicious as the stakes decrease. At any rate, this is the undeniable reality, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth listening to. 

Non-administrative per-pupil spending as been on a steady decline since George W. Bush was president. Administrative bloat and meddling are becoming as common in k-12 as they are in higher education. The will of parasitic NGOs are implemented as common sense pedagogy without anyone even bothering to ask for any proof that they work. The so-called Education Reform movement is sputtering out due both to its manifest failures and rare, bipartisan backlash. But it will be replaced with something just as idiotic and pernicious. The thrust of causalization will not abate. 

And so what do we decide to do? What’s the next big thing on the education policy horizon? Critical Race Theory. 

Okay, this makes sense. In 2021, a local paper can’t run a news story about a lost cat without explicitly mentioning the race of every human involved and possibly also nodding toward the implied cisnormativity of pet ownership. So it makes sense that this broad rhetorical mandate would come to dominate the transitional period between Bush-Obama Education Reform and whatever bleak future awaits us. The controversy is so perfectly inefficacious that its adoption was inevitable. Because, seriously, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of the outcome of this kerfuffle, no problems will be solved. The real shortcomings of public education will not be addressed. Larger social problems that are typically blamed on public education in spite of having little to do with public education will especially not be addressed. Maybe white kids will have to do struggle sessions in lieu of the Pledge of Allegiance. Maybe black kids will get full credit for drawing the Slayer logo in the part of the test where their geometric proof is supposed to go. Or maybe it won’t happen. Maybe instead these practices will be banned, and in turn liberals will begin to embrace homeschooling, the charter movement will be given new life as a refuge against the terrors of white supremacist behaviors such as, uhh, teaching kids to show their work. Whatever.

Within the context of public education, the outcome will not matter. It cannot matter. There will be broader social impacts, sure. It will continue to drive Democrats more rightward, providing their party’s newly woke corporate wing with progressive-sounding rationales for austerity. But so far as teachers and students are concerned, it won’t matter.

Why do I give a shit about this, then? To put it bluntly, I’m struck by the utter fucking inartfulness of CRT’s proponents. At no point has any advocate of CRT presented a case for their approach to education that was at all concerned with persuading people who aren’t already 100% in their camp. There’s been no demonstration of positive impacts, or even an explanation of how the impacts could hypothetically be positive. In fact, so much as asking for such a rationale is considered proof of racism. Advocates posit an image of existing educational policies that is absolutely fantastical, suggesting that kids never learn about slavery or racism or civil rights. But then... then they don’t even stick with the kayfabe. They’ll say “kids never learn about racism.” In response, people--mostly well-meaning--say “wait, umm, I’m pretty sure they do learn about racism.” The response is “we never said they don’t learn about racism.” You’ll see this shift from one paragraph to the next. It’s insane. Absolutely insane. 

Or take this talk from a pro-CRT workshop in Oregon. The speaker freely admits that proto-CRT leanings like anti-bias education, multiculturalism, and centering race in historical discussions have been the norm since the late 1980s. The speaker admits that these practices have been commonplace for 30+ years, as anyone my age or younger will attest. Then, seconds later, the speaker discusses the results of this shift: it failed. Unequivocally:

We had this huge, huge, huge focus on culturally relevant teaching and research. [ ... ] So you would think that with 40+ years of research and really focusing and a lot of lip service and a lot of policies and, you know, a lot of rhetoric about cultural relevancy and about equity and about anti-bias that we would see trends that are significantly different, [but] that’s not what we’re finding. What we’re finding that you see [is] that some cases, particularly black and brown [students] the results, the academic achievement has either stayed the same and gotten worse.

Translation: here’s this approach to teaching. It’s new and vital but also we’ve been doing it for 40 years. It doesn’t work. But we need to keep doing it. Anyone who is in any way confused by this is a dangerous racist. 

Even in the darkest days of the Bush-era culture war, I never saw such a complete and open disregard for honesty. This isn’t to say that Bush-era conservatives weren’t shit-eating liars. They were. But they had enough savvy to realize that self-righteousness alone is not an effective way of doing politics. You need to at least pretend to be engaging with issues in good faith. 

This is what happens when a movement has its head so far up its own ass that it cannot comprehend the notion of good-faith criticism. These people do not believe that there can exist anyone who shares their basic goals but has concerns that their methods might not work. Their self-certainty is so absolute and unshakeable that they can proffer data demonstrating the complete ineffectiveness of their methods as proof of the necessity of their methods.

For decades, the most effective inoculation against pernicious meddling in education has been to lean upon the ideal form of teaching I described earlier in this post. We claimed that teaching is apolitical and that no one is trying to indoctrinate anybody. Regardless of the abstract impossibility of this claim, it has immense and lasting appeal, and it was upheld by a system of pedagogical standards that allowed teachers to evoke a sense of neutrality. The prevailing thrust in liberal education is to explicitly reject any such notions, and no one--not a single goddamn person--has proffered a convincing replacement for it. We still say, laughably, that we’re eschewing indoctrination. But people aren’t that stupid. If you find it beneath yourself to make your lies digestible, people will be able to tell when you’re lying to them. 

This, my friends, bodes very poorly for the future of education, regardless of whatever happens in the coming months. A movement that cannot articulate its own worth is not one that is long for this world. Teachers themselves are the only force that can resit the slow press toward the eventual elimination of public education, and they have embraced a worldview and comportment style that renders them absolutely unable to mount any worthwhile resistance. 

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Friendly Encounters- Chapter Eight

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Angst

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Racism, Yoongi and Jimin are angels, Graphic depictions of sex, really angsty

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4.9k

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Reader x Yoongi

Masterlist

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                         ______________________

“I’m gonna cum, I’m close!” Yoongi’s entire body shakes and shudders underneath you as you voraciously fuck him with all your strength. You aren’t going easy on him at all, using the lube and your hands to simultaneously jerk him off as well. The sounds he makes are delicious, absolutely delightful as your mouth waters at his small, high-pitched whines. Thank God you have pillows, but unfortunately you still had to keep the noise level to a minimum.

As Yoongi cries under you and shudders once more, you lower yourself slowly, spreading his cheeks with your hands. You both were sweaty, horny, and so very exhausted. Yet with the feeling of your strap applying pressure to Yoongi’s boy-pussy, he knows that he doesn’t want it to end so soon. Him and Jimin had spent hours together, playing in bed. Why couldn’t you have the same? Even if you had sex in the cabin and you spent a lot of time together anyways.

There was always something lacking, and that was the sexual intimacy between you and Yoongi. You knew it was a matter of time before you found a dynamic that worked for you.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum on my fingers, I want you to feel good too.” You start acting like you have a dick too, as Yoongi moans loudly into the pillow once more, his release building up as you shift again, your pussy drenched completely from seeing him all vulnerable like this.

“I want you to cum too,” He’s puddy in your hands, as you stroke his arms and press the softest kisses to his shoulders. “Cum with me kit-AH Y/N!” He’s writhing in pleasure as you pump his cock between your hands, and with him hunched over on the bed it makes it even easier for you to lean forward and brush your dildo across his throbbing hole. Despite removing it earlier, his puckered hole is still wide, and so ready for penetration.

You tested him first with a finger before taking your vibrator and bringing it down to the base of his cock.

“Damn, I think you’d cum right now if you saw your ass. So fucking perfect, round and squishy. No wonder Jimin moans so much with you.” You both groan as you decide to stop playing around and actually fuck him again, this time, tightening your belt before rolling your hips against his soft cheeks.

“You’re so sexy, and wonderful. I love you, Y/N.” You softly kiss his lips before pulling out and surrendering to sleep. You need a lot of rest, after that intense workout.

“Love you too, Yoongles. Also, Jimmy’s gonna kill us tomorrow but that’s fine because you looked so hot submissive like that and I had fun. I never thought a fake cock could make me feel so powerful.” His giggles are like music to your ears. You were starting to get used to the sound.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I play dom most of the time. It’s a hell of a lot more fun when I get to play with you two and I get to use my cock as death.” It’s your turn to laugh, as he makes it sound like a weapon or power move of some sort.

“I hope you aren’t in too much pain, I got a little carried away.” You sigh, rubbing your thighs together anxiously.

“What? Nah, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll be a little sore tomorrow, but I think I’ll be able to sit. Let’s just say, if I can’t sit, it’ll be considered a win for you.” Your blond boyfriend gives you a wink as you reply with an, “Okay, I’ll take that. As long as we get to do this again, and maybe I can even fuck you in the tub!” Yoongi cringes at your words.

“Let’s not get too ambitious. On three let’s say it together, 1,2,3: Let’s not get too ambitious.” You both giggle the rest of the night away, concentrating more on each other than cleaning up your mess made of dildos, lube, and straps. You were too lazy to get out of bed, and Yoongi was keeping you busy, so you didn’t really have a reason to, other than cleaning up.

“Oh, aren’t you guys going back to work tomorrow?” You ask, as Yoongi pulls you in for a tight hug.

“Sweetie, we used up pretty much all of our vacation days with you. It doesn’t mean we won’t ever get time off from work again, but officially, we’re back on full-time duty.” You had forgotten how much older your boyfriends had been than you. You were so close with them that the age difference slipped your mind.

It wasn’t like they were in their mid-thirties, you could understand their problems, since they had no other way of making money. Plus, they were dating their landlord’s daughter, they didn’t want to feel indebted because of you.

As easy as they make the relationship seem, you still feel uncertain at times. Actions speak louder than words, you were thinking of doing a large gesture for them. Something to let your boyfriends know you appreciate them.

“I know you like working at the café, but wouldn’t you like to be a music producer, Yoongi?” Your boyfriend wraps a towel around you before throwing his boxers back on and checking if the hallway is clear first before pulling you towards the bathroom.

“I already sold one of my songs. It gave me quite a bit of money, so I think I’ll keep doing it.” Your heart fell at that statement. You were really hoping your boyfriend was making his own profits from releasing his own albums on spotify, but it seems that he did the opposite, not even getting credit for his own tracks.

“That’s not right. Those people won’t even credit you, now that you sold the rights of that song to some heavily produced company. It’s like some crappy teen drama, where everything is forced instead of being introduced and built on. You can’t just sell your music and expect it to resonate with them.”

“Slow down, I don’t recall telling you who I sold the music to. Don’t jump to conclusions without learning all the facts first.” Yoongi snaps at you before folding his arms together, as you check the water in the shower to make sure it’s warm enough for you to step in.

This wasn’t your first time showering together, you already had that experience back in the mountains, during your first and only romantic getaway with your boyfriends. You felt comfortable being naked in his presence now, enough to trust him to retain a little bit of self-control when he’s in the same position.

“Fine, I see your point. Who did you sell your music to?” You turn around, making sure your hair gets wet too. Yoongi had some shower gel in his hands so he was currently lathering your arms and shoulders. He was saving your more sensitive areas for last, since he saw your nipples harden when you stepped into the water.

“J-Hope. I actually made the beats for Outro: Ego.” Your eyes widened at this new bit of information. Yoongi never bragged about it, or bought it up. Even that time you were actually at that concert, listening to that same song. How did he fail to let you in on something so important? Did he think that telling you was a waste of time?

“Yoongi, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have supported you regardless.” He sighs, looking elsewhere to take his mind off his thoughts of work. Music was a hobby of his, one that he was good at. He just wanted to make a profit without worrying you. 

He knew if he told you about the side projects he was working on, you would get very worried and then go way over your head before having the entire thing explode in your face. You weren’t the most graceful girl in the world, you were clumsy and that’s why Yoongi fell for you.

Your “I can do it,” attitude had its setbacks, as you often got too serious about simple things and overcomplicated in your head, he knew you were currently doing just that. Your perseverance was admirable, though.

“I’m gonna tell you this just once, kitten. You might have not noticed it but you have a bad habit of meddling, and when you do that, it makes trouble for others. Please understand that I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stick your head in it. It’s my music, and I know what I want to do with it.”

You weren’t offended. Your first thoughts were, ‘Oh, he’s telling me to drop the subject. I can do that,’ but as time progressed, you found yourself growing anxious. You knew Yoongi deeply cared for his songs, and the little free time he spent with you was taking away from his hobby. You wanted him to focus on his career, and become a better artist.

So, you decided to get Yoongi a whole setup using your birthday money. You were saving up to buy something big, but it seems that Yoongi needs your help more than ever.

You go to amazon, adding foam panels and lots of tech equipment to your cart. You spent exactly $228 after everything and you still had about $300 remaining in your birthday cash. You got $500 from your Grandma.

You yawn before crawling into bed for some sleep. Since you spent your day focused on Yoongi, you failed to remember that you hadn’t seen one of your boyfriends the entire day.

                ༻• Thursday, At School •༺

School took a toll on your mental health. You needed a break, even though you just started. The public education system was seriously messed up, making you work double of what you had to do over break. The only thing that made it bearable was your group chat with your boyfriends.

You lock your phone, uneasiness washing over you like an ocean wave. You wish you could go to the beach. Spring seemed neverending and all you could think of was fucking your boyfriends like a bunny in heat.

School passes by slowly, and just as you’re on your way to the café, Jaehyun stops you.

“Jae, hey what’s up?” He looks bruised and battered. You can tell something is horribly wrong.

“The cops arrested my buddies, it was horrible. If you know me, you know I’m not a bad kid. Those guys weren’t either, they were just chilling in my living room, vaping, when a cop busted my door down and arrested like six of my friends. They were all 14, 15, and 16. Not even legal adults, what the fuck is wrong with the justice system?”

“Do you know where they are?” You don’t ask many questions, immediately getting your phone out to text your boyfriends and mom about the situation, since they all knew your daily schedule. Jaehyun was an old friend of yours, too, you couldn’t just leave him.

“They were taken down to the local police station on 95th street. Oh, it was terrible Y/N. They beat me up and I was actually just asking them what my friends did wrong. After that, my parents kicked me out for good. So now I’m homeless.”

“I thought you said you moved out a long time ago?” You help lower him to sit on a bench so he can calm down.

“I-I did, but then those guys were dealing drugs. I didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. So I moved back home.” He starts crying, tears flowing down his cheeks. You had never seen Jaehyun so sensitive in such a long time, that was probably because you made the wrong assumptions about him. 

“Alright, I’ve texted my mom and two other roommates of mine to let them know the situation. Yoongi and Jimin should be here any minute.” You continue comforting your crying friend as your boyfriends pull up to you and Jaehyun. You help him into the car as Jaehyun looks at Jimin with confusion written all over his face.

“Hey, aren’t you the pervert who tried coming onto my girlfriend?” Yoongi mistakes him for Jungkook, as he gets a bad view of him from the front seat.

“No...and what do you mean your girlfriend? You’re dating that guy, right?” He points at Jimin, confusion apparent on his face.

“We’ll explain later. For now, just tell them what you told me. Jimin, full speed ahead to the police station on 95th street.” 

You arrive at the local police station in ten minutes, despite the traffic being horrid. Jimin stepped on the pedal and managed to reach where you needed to go.

“Officer, where are the three young men you arrested from his house?” Yoongi asks, as soon as you reach the police station.

“Oh, those thugs? Yeah, they vandalized private property so we had to jail em. Bail is $200. You can go see ‘em over there.” Jaehyun runs ahead of you to the temporary holding cell in the back of the room.

“Oh my god, guys. Thank goodness you’re okay. I hope they didn’t beat you up too bad?” A tall dark male with some visible tattoos and jet black hair stands up, putting his hand through the cell to hold his friend’s fingers through the bars. You could tell from the grim expression in his eyes that he was used to this. The horrible treatment from the authorities because they assume they’re bad guys. It’s no coincidence that they’re targets because of their dark skin color. Fuck racists, these guys deserve better.

“Nah, we’re fine. We’ve been through worse, right boys?” 

“But still, this is wrong. It’s illegal! They can’t just-”

“Move aside. We’re setting you free, since your brother who’s a district attorney has connections. Just don’t repeat it, okay?” The boys don’t even make a sound as the police officer lets them out of their holding cell and they walk out with their hands behind their heads.

“Are you really used to it? Getting arrested just because some cop thinks you’re dealing drugs or something?” Yoongi’s curiosity gets the best of him, as he asks the boy who spoke to Jaehyun earlier.

“Yep. It happens all the time. Like Marc here was playing basketball out in the driveway once when he was 10 and before we knew it this cop had him pinned down on the ground with his hands over his head. He said the ball looked like a weapon and gave a half-assed apology to us after our neighbor who saw the commotion came outside and told the cop to let go of him. It was really awful, but he got tougher from the experience.” 

You couldn’t imagine a young boy at the age of ten going through something so dramatic and traumatizing in a quaint little town. Even now, the boy standing before you was just a teenager. He had torn jeans and a stylish leather jacket, but you could tell he was a little younger than the rest of the boys in the group.

“That shit ain’t right.” Jimin shakes his head as another boy smacks his arm in agreement.

“You can say that again. We’ve been through some things but it’s not mentally scarring or anything. You can’t beat those racists, huh?!” You bite your lip. You hated bringing up the topic of racism because it is the root of all evil. You hated how parents taught it to their children and it became engraved in humans. Skin color doesn’t determine a person’s worth.

“I guess you’re right. I was the only asian kid in my class in the fifth grade. No one else in that town had a fleck of gold on their skin, they were all pasty white kids. I didn’t know it at the time, but apparently their parents fed them lies and I was never invited to pool parties because they thought my skin was “dirty.” Racism starts at home, man. It doesn’t just appear out of thin air.”

That was the first time you’ve ever heard your boyfriend recite a story from his past so passionately. You had no idea Jimin experienced such shit, especially after going through everything with Jaehyun and his buddies. You’ve never seen high school students look so calm even in the presence of police officers. It’s obviously because they knew they were innocent from the get-go.

“Well, this is where we part ways. I gotta take this uber to my house, catch you later!” You wave as the guy named Marc hops into a taxi and disappears off into the freeway.

“What about you?” Jaehyun gives his friend a puppy-eyed stare as you can tell he wants him to go with him. 

“I’ve gotta go too, bud. It was nice seeing all of you, thanks again for driving down to the station even though we didn’t need your help.”

“Wait!” You stop him before he can get in the waiting taxi. “What’s your name? I’m Y/N, an old friend of Jaehyun’s.” He gives you a small smile before winking at you.

“I’m Duval. Nice to meet you.” 

                                   ༻• Thursday, At Home •༺

You were back to freaking about your graduation again. Your entire life in school was a waste since you were single, you never hung out with friends, and you spent all your free time doing homework. You wish you could go back and rewind time but you would gladly go through it all again if it means you could meet Jimin and Yoongi again.

You’re so in love with them that you might just marry them. You were at least hoping you could have a commitment ceremony so that you didn’t have to worry about being legally bound to one man when you could be equally committed to both. The problem is, your wallet is more empty than your belly when you aren’t shoving food down your throat.

You dedicated all your time to school that you forgot about the outside world. And now you want to spend it on your boyfriends. Ah, when will the pain end? You needed to start working fast before anything else. There was only two weeks left till your graduation, and your anniversary with the boys was coming up as well.

The very much less anticipated arrival of your father was approaching as well, and you were trying to figure out a way to tell him that you were in love with two boys who you also thought of so fondly that you were ready to give your life to them in exchange of a future of happiness and the fact that you weren’t keen on dating or marrying any of the men your father picked out with wealthy backgrounds.

“Babe, will you stop pacing? It’s making me dizzy.” Jimin sinks in your swivel chair as you walk back and forth in the little space between your bed and the table. Thanks to Jimin’s comment, you were even more antsy, biting your nails out of habit until Yoongi bursts into your room with good news.

“Hoseok said he had a singer friend who heard one of my songs and he loved it!”

“That’s great news, now why don’t you come sit and talk to us so we can get our kitten’s mind off school?” You grimace at Jimin’s attempt to switch topics so nonchalantly as Yoongi excitedly makes his way towards you, cornering you into your own bed as he informs you of his day’s events.

“He said he wants me to go over and play a demo for another song since he’s gonna be in town for a couple more days. Hobi said he got lucky because the guy happened to be in town for his own concert and he was on tour so he would only be here until Sunday evening. It’s a three-day concert.” 

This was great! All the pieces were in place and now all that was left to do was wait for Yoongi’s little surprise to arrive. You were keeping an eye on the online package, since you ordered quite a few items.

“Great, so I’m guessing you’re gonna head on over there after work tomorrow?” You ask, unaware of their current situation.

“Actually, since we took all our time off during your spring break, Jin decided to be extra mean and make us work a double shift on Friday. There’s no way I’d be able to leave in between, even if Jimin covers for me. That’s the only day we can meet, since he planned this on such short notice too.” You stand up, banging the palm of your hand flat against the soft cushion on the swivel chair, Jimin’s head just inches away from your arm.

“I’ll do it!” Your boyfriends stare at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“No, are you crazy?”

“My grades are fine, plus this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you. You should go, Yoongi. I’ll take your place in work. How long is a double shift anyways?” You want to so desperately express your love for your neglected boyfriend that you’re willing to go through such lengths. That, and you’d be killing two birds with one stone since you could also spend more time with Jimin. Work is work but mixing a little love won’t hurt anyone.

“If you’re sure. A double shift is 14 hours. You’d have to work 6 hours after school, you think you can handle that?” Right on cue, you get a text from your mom. She’s doing the night shift so she probably wouldn’t notice your absence. You’re a good daughter, though, so you text her to make sure she knows what your plan is. She knew about the little setup you were planning for Yoongi, and she supported you in virtually everything you did. Except for your sex life, she definitely had no clue that you had actually gone further than second base, that’s for sure.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Plus, I’ll have you too.” Jimin gives you an endearing smile before pulling you down to his lap. You snuggle into his warm chest, breathing in his sweet scent. You loved your boyfriend with all your heart. The mochi hits differently.

“I’m just gonna...go back to my room.” Yoongi awkwardly makes an exit as Jimin continues nuzzling your neck affectionately. You couldn’t help but feeling a bit guilty, since your other boyfriend seemed a bit troubled and you were sitting here, fooling around with Jimin like some teenage slut.

“He’s more awkward than usual today, you wanna go ask him what’s wrong?” He seems to already know what you’re thinking, as you shift around in his lap and you stay silent for an abnormally long time.

“Normally, I would just give him space but he seems to have a lot on his mind. I hope he isn’t too stressed. The opportunity presented itself and I feel like I forced him to do it.”

“No, baby, what are you saying? Yoongi never does something because someone told him to. He really wanted that deal, you know how long he’s been producing as a hobby? So many people have taken advantage of him in the past but this is the real deal.” You didn’t want to ask Jimin to elaborate, as he shifts in his seat and you feel his body heat rising. He’s sweating as well, so you decide to climb off his lap and onto the bed once again, sitting with your legs and arms crossed when you do.

“I know, that’s why I told him I’d work his shift. He can go visit this producer guy on Saturday and blow the hats off those guys while I flaunt my temporary barista skills.” 

“Honey, if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a coffee machine, you’re dead wrong.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yours and Jimin’s playful banter carries throughout the walls and onto the next room, where Yoongi hears every little exchange between the two of you. To be honest, he’s never felt more insignificant in his life than he does now. With his partners laughing and having fun without him...he felt so self-conscious.

He loved you and Jimin dearly, but sometimes his self-doubts would get in the way of his love for you. He couldn’t trust you because he couldn't completely believe himself. He knew he was in love with Jimin fully, but was he really in love with you? He remembers that very first day when you walked into the coffee shop and openly flirted with his boyfriend. That “friendly” exchange led to something more, something unexpected. 

He never thought he would be the one to initiate the first sexual encounter, but it seemed his fingers had a mind of their own. He developed a little crush on you shortly after you became friends with Jimin, but then his body betrayed him once again when he found out you were living in the same house as him.

He jerked off to the thought of you every day after that, to be honest. He felt dirty, but it felt right. He started getting confused only after you all started dating. You and Jimin were closer than him and Jimin, and him and you. Out of all the combinations, yours was the weakest. 

Sure, you had music in common, but did that really mean anything? Physically, you were more compatible than a glove with a hand, but emotionally, you were distant. He wanted you to follow him out of the room and climb over his back, he truthfully wanted Jimin to kiss his worries away like he always does, and when you were finished, he wanted to be the one to wake you up in the morning just in time for school. He was bad at social interactions, so any dreams of affection were just imaginative unless you took the initiative, or if you were at the right place at the right time.

“Yoongz, I know you better than I know myself. What’s going on in that handsome brain of yours?” His boyfriend is always spot-on when it comes to his emotions. Unlike Yoongi, Jimin excelled at expressing himself and interacting with the world around him. He was like Yoongi’s mouth, at some point. Yoongi had gotten arguably better at expressing himself, though, after meeting you he always put himself out there, just talking to you about whatever was bothering him directly. Of course, Jimin knew this happened only 60% of the time. It’s still a huge improvement for him, Jimin was happy either way. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Yoongi opens up to you completely. A full 100%.

“What if my love for Y/N is just an illusion and my body is addicted to her but my mind is not attracted to her?”

What the fu-

“Think about what you just said. Think about it again, long and hard, imagine her body this time.” Yoongi does exactly as Jimin instructs, feeling his worry melt away instantaneously just by thinking of you. He feels more at ease and a little bit floaty as well.

When he opens his eyes, Jimin is staring at his crotch deep in thought, probably pondering what he just said. Yoongi honestly has no clue anymore. He’s gotta be in love with you, he just knows.

“Just as I thought. You’re craving her again. Go ahead and get her, you dog.” Jimin lets out a short howl before spanking his boyfriend’s ass. Yoongi tries to protest but Jimin simply shoves him towards the direction of your room.

“She’s not some food item, you know? You can’t just say I’m “craving” someone and just walk away.” Yoongi rolls his eyes before knocking on your door.

“Oh, hey Yoongi, you want me to suck you off?” Well, that was easy.

“Really?” You stare up at your boyfriend, looking up from your phone in a bored manner.

“I finished my homework early so I think I deserve a reward, plus I’ve been craving that dick ever since I fucked you. Oh gosh, did you even mention it to Jimin? I don’t think I told him yet.”

“Tell me what?” You and Yoongi both jump back in surprise. Your blue-haired boyfriend is directly behind Yoongi, smiling at you with those half-moon eyes. You love the way Jimin’s face looks when he smiles, it’s simply adorable.

“I threw on a strap and I fucked Yoongi. I’m not joking, I really did.” Jimin’s eyes darken with lust as he stares between the two of you.

“Can you do it again and let me watch this time?” 

#yoongi #jimin #bts #jimin x yoongi x reader #yoonmin #yoongi x jimin #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #Smut #angst #cafeau #barista #cute #oc #btsff #btsfanfic #yoonmin x reader #Poly #yoonmin poly

[mostlysignssomeportents]

David Dayen's MONOPOLIZED

The world is beset by urgent, fantastically technical challenges - vaccine logistics, financial misconduct, geoengineering proposals and fights about what we should eat and how we should get from A to B.

These are thorny problems. Getting them right is urgent - and hard. Not just because these are complicated questions, but also because there are powerful, monied people who benefit when we get them wrong, and they pay handsomely for doubt.

Worse: many of these problems involve far-off, probabilistic consequences for actions we're taking today: "If we don't do something about climate change, your grandkids will experience some bad stuff. Probably. Maybe not yours. Someone's though."

Add it all up - complexity, bad-faith doubt-sowers, and probabilistic, far-off consequences - and it's really hard to get people to treat these issues with the warranted gravity and urgency.

Authors who write books on these subjects use two main tactics:

I. Explainers: demystify a complex subject, breaking it down until it becomes legible to a lay audience, and

II. Storytelling: find people whose lives dramatize the technical issue and tell their stories.

This is a pretty good strategy. Get the balance right and the explainers become eye-opening jolts of recognition ("Oh, *that's* why things are the way they are!") while the storytelling personalizes the new knowledge.

But both have their limits, especially when it comes to the monopolies of late-stage capitalism. The thing is, every grift in the monopoly playbook - evictions, CDOs, pharmacy benefit managers, ad-tech, patent trolling - is just bullshit.

These things aren't hard to understand because they're complicated. They're complicated so that they'll be hard to understand. The first time you unravel one, it's quite gratifying: "Oh, I'm not stupid, it's just all nonsense. Wow."

The fiftieth time, it's like, "God, not another one?"

It's like when I worked in a bookstore and hustlers would come in trying to cadge money from me by telling me long stories about buying bus tickets home to help an ailing relative.

The longer the story went on, the most obviously untrue it became. The experience goes from amusing to weird to tedious.

Listen long enough to the idiotic scams of Gwyneth Paltrow/Alex Jones or Reverse Factoring hustlers and your brains will start running out of your ears.

And there's a storytelling failure mode, too: focusing down on "characters" can make systemic problems seem like individual ones - like, if we just punish that racist bully, we're driving out racism itself.

Writing an effective activist book on these lines is an art, not a science: just enough explaining to make it clear how wicked and awful the bad guys are, just enough storytelling so we know what the consequences are.

Which brings me to David Dayen's MONOPOLIZED, a *superb* book about the rise and rise of monopolies.

https://thenewpress.com/books/monopolized

If telling this kind of complicated, technical story and making it personal and urgent is an art, then Dayen is an artist.

Chapter by chapter, Dayen weaves explainers and personal stories together, unpicking snarled knots of bullshit and laying them straight to reveal them for the turds they are; then showing how we're personally drowning in crap.

From pharma to aviation, airlines to newspapers, Big Tech to Big Funeral, Dayen's book connects together every one of the scams that picks our pockets, robs us of dignity and life chances, and laughs in our faces.

He shows how monopolists - and their court sorcerers from the Chicago School of economics - have spent 40 years telling us that we can't believe our own experience of the worsening, contracting world around us, that the models prove it's getting better.

He shows us how both reviled mega-CEOs like Jeff Bezos and cuddly "investors" like Warren Buffet are brutalizing workers, inventors, customers, travelers, prisoners, and everyone in between.

His technical breakdowns are flawlessly understandable and witty, too - and never lapse into the tedium of "not more of this bullshit, no," while the human stories are perfectly chosen to illustrate how these scams hurt real people.

Dayen doesn't just break down his subjects - he builds them back up again, illustrating, for example, how monopolies in pharma forced the hospitals to monopolize in self-defense, and *that* led to monopolies in insurance.

The point being that any monopolies lead to everything being monopolized - and that the only sector of the economy that doesn't get to band together under a single institution to push back is us, the public, the workers, the consumers.

In the year since this book was published, the problems have only gotten worse. I noted with irony as I finished the excellent audiobook that it was recorded by a company that became a division of a notorious private equity fund over that period.

Our new gilded age is coming apart at the seams. A transparently absurd doctrine that assured us that monopolies were "efficient" and would benefit us all has brought us to the brink of ruin.

MONOPOLIZED is the story of how we got here - who is to blame, what's really going on, and most importantly what we need to do to turn it all around.

#pluralistic

[artxyra]

Another DC TA Marinette Story

*So the other version is strictly a one-shot drabble post while this one might, and I repeat might have more than two parts. 

Part 1: Welcome to Gotham 

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | 

Marinette’s having a bad day. It started with her waking up late, breaking her five-day streak of waking up early. She nearly fell on her way down the stairs, thankfully she remained unharmed. Then she was late coming to class, but that mainly due to poor time management decisions. Only for her to then realize that she’s no longer a student, but the teacher assistant for Mme. Bustier’s class. 

“Look Mme. Bustier, Marinette’s late again.” Lila points out, as the graduate rolls her eyes and takes her place in the back of the classroom. 

“That’s enough, Lila.” Caline scolds, before turning her focus to her teaching assistant. “Is everything alright, Marinette?” She asks. 

Marinette nods and pulls out a folder filled with paperwork that needs to be grade. The class continues as follows. Caline spoke about the upcoming projects about the American lifestyle in specific cities. Marinette would finish the paperwork, pull out her laptop, and take a few notes on class’ behaviors. 

Everything seemed fine, but that crashed when Lila thought it would be a great idea to once again open her big mouth. 

“Mme. Bustier, I cannot do this project as [insert overly used lie here].” She pouts. 

“Girl, I can help you. She did say that we can do it as a group project.” Alya interjects with a smile. 

Lila ever with the dramatics, “Oh Alya, you can’t be serious. I don’t want you doing all the work.” 

Marinette could feel her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulls it out to see that it was a message from Gotham’s Prince. She smiles and opens the notification. 

Gotham’s Prince: Did you sleep well, Angel?

Gotham’s Fashion Sense: It was good until it wasn’t. 

Gotham’s Prince: What do you mean?

Gotham’s Fashion Sense: You’re not with me. 

Gotham’s Prince: Well, soon I will be. 

Gotham’s Fashion Sense: And I’m counting down the days. 

Marinette looks up from her phone and sees that her former classmates are staring at her. She shrugs and places her phone in her pocket.  

“What city do you plan on doing, Marinette?” Alix shouts out catching the attention of both Caline and Marinette. The teacher and her assistant lock eyes before the former curtly nod. 

“Gotham.” Marinette murmurs, gathering her supplies to neatly present them later. 

“I actually visit Gotham, you know.” Lila states, “If you need any help, I’ll gladly give information to you.”  

Marinette scoffs and forces a smile towards the pathological liar, “Thank you, Rossi, you will be my last resort.”

Lila once again started the dramatics by crying her eyes out. It is amazing how that liar can still be able to cry with the amount she has done. 

It wasn’t long before the class was over. Marinette walks over to the front desk and hands Caline the stack of graded assignments.

“Thank you, Marinette,” Caline says, accepting the assignments. 

“I want to tell you in advance that I’ll be joining my boyfriend in a couple of days. Do you think that you’ll need me during that time?” 

Caline thinks for a moment then she shakes her head, “I don’t believe so, Marinette. Thank you for the heads up in advance. How are your studies going?” 

Marinette smiles, “They’re going great, my business classes are helping me in running my freelancing business. And I already finished my fashion assignments earlier this week.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Caline opens the door for the two of them to exit through. Marinette walks out first with a quick curtsy to the gesture. 

Marinette’s phone buzzes again. 

Gotham’s Prince:  You are the only person that my brother will listen too, call them. 

Gotham’s Fashion Sense: Why? 

Gotham’s Fashion Sense: What did they do now? 

She didn’t receive an answer. Shrugging, Marinette places her phone in her back pocket and make a beeline to the main entrance. 

“I’m sure whatever charm you have over Mme. Bustier, will be gone before you know it,” Lila whispers into the graduate’s ear. Marinette rolls her eyes and continues to walk away. Unbeknown to Lila, it was a smirk that presented on the teen’s face rather than a pout. 

“That was very brave of you, Marinette.” Tikki complements when the two are alone. 

Marinette turns to her kwami and smiles, “I have way better things to do than to let some phony ruin my day. Besides what she does will indeed hurt her at the end.” 

“Marinette…” Tikki sighs with a giggle at the end. 

“What? You know that it’s true. As long as the class doesn’t know that I actually graduated last quarter, anything that she throws at me will be seen as an assault.” 

“You’ve been spending to much time with Jason, haven’t you?” Tikki wonders. 

“Only on the weekends, Tikki.” Her chosen jokes before catching the sight of a certain blonde model. 

“Hey, Manette,” Adrien Agreste greets, running over to the graduate.  

“Hey, Adrien, how was your photoshoot?” 

“It could have been better if Lu was there, but I rather suffer in silence and get comforted later.”

“That’s...good to hear.” Marinette’s eyes narrowed unsure of her reply. “Have you thought about the city assignment?” 

Adrien shakes his head. “Honestly, I have no clue. I was planning on doing Smallville, but I don’t know.” He looks to Marinette with kitten eyes, “Are you really doing Gotham?” 

Marinette nods only to lean against a nearby wall. 

“I figure that would be easier to do since I’ve been there and all.” She admits, holding her arms against her chest. 

“Great, Gorilla is here.” Adrien groans. 

“He’s more of a guardian than anyone else,” Marinette states, spotting the large bodyguard and pushing herself off the wall. 

Adrien sighs and wishes the fashion designer a farewell before heading over to Gorilla. Marinette smiles softly seeing how much the model has changed since entering the public school system. Of how he has grown since becoming Chat Noir, granted they did have their ups and downs but once he finally accepted his being, everything has been smooth sailing. 

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

Gotham’s Prince: Check Twitter.  

Marinette’s eyebrow raises at the message and she opens up her Twitter app. 

Dick Grayson @theflyinggrayson Grumpy-pants here is missing his GF

Below shows a picture of Damian Wayne looking at his phone with what appears to be a sad look on his face. 

A chuckle escapes her mouth. 

Manette @GothamsFashionSense  Thanks for the laugh @theflyinggrayson, I pretty sure that you all miss me.

 Marinette then adds a cute kitten gif relating to the post. 

Gotham’s Prince: What the hell, Angel! 

Gotham’s Fashion Sense: You asked and I delivered

Marinette places her phone back into her back pocket and walks in the direction of her family’s bakery.

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

“What do you mean you won’t be able to come?” Caline Bustier asks her assistant in the middle of a meeting. Marinette bites her lower lip and looks between the principal and the full-time teacher. 

“What I mean is that I’ll be overseas staying with my boyfriend’s family around that time. At the very least tell where you’re having the class exchange at and I can make plans around that.” Marinette informs the two with arms cross and an irritated look on her face.

“The exchange is with Gotham Academy, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”   

Marinette’s eyes bug out. Her whole demeanor changes. “No,” She denies. 

“Will that be a problem, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?” The principal asks slightly concern for the alumna’s wellbeing. 

Marinette straightens herself out. “No, in fact, I will already in Gotham. If something does come up, I will only be a phone call away. Will I get there in time that will depend on what I am doing at the moment.” 

Caline’s face brightens, she’s not going to be alone with the class in Gotham. “That’s great news to hear, Marinette.” 

“Yes, I’m sure. The trip is in a month, correct?” 

“Yes, and the exchange will last for about four weeks. Mme. Bustier will only be there to oversee the program and class if something were to go array. They will be living in housing provided by the school as we’ll do the same to their students.” The principal states. 

Marinette nods, “Is that everything or do I need to fill out any paperwork allowing me to supervise the class while at Gotham Academy?” 

“I do have the paperwork here for you to fill to get access into the building. Other than that you--well we should be fine. I will inform you if anything has changed.” 

“Thank you, Principal De La Fontaine.” Marinette exits the office with a smirk on her face.  

Ever since the akuma has begun showing up in France, the Paris school board officials declared Principal Damocles unfit to be a principal and opted for De La Fontaine to oversee college and lycee of the Dupont schools seeing as they are short-staffed. Marinette was able to take the Baccalauréat after pleading to her parents. Thankfully, she was able to pass on her first try and even convinced the school to allow her to be a teaching assistant until the end of the school year. 

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

“I’m telling you Dami, I have everything ready and pack for my trip to see you.” Marinette states into the phone. She sighs and switches shoulders as she is placing the final set of clothes into her suitcase. On the other side of the phone, Damian said something that causes her to roll her eyes. “Damian I will end this call; besides, you know that I would call you if something goes wrong. I’ll see you in two days. Je t'aime.” Marinette ends the call before she couldn’t find it in her to blow up her international data even more. 

 Marinette throws herself onto her chaise sighing, “Tikki, should I take the miraculous box with me or ask Kaalki to open up a portal?” She wonders as her flying ladybug kwami hovers beside her. 

Tikki, munching on a cookie, says, “Marinette would it even matter. You use Kaalki every time you go to Gotham. It’s a miracle that you’re parents haven’t caught on yet.” 

“You say miracle, I say luck.” Marinette plays, “Besides making it look like I go to the airport has covered my quick trips pretty darn well.” 

“Well, what are we going to do about Hawkmoth?”   

“I’m giving Luka and Kagami their miraculous for when the class goes to Gotham as Adrien will most likely be joining them. Hopefully, Hawkmoth doesn’t do anything drastic while we’re gone.” Marinette sighs and kicks herself over to lay on her back. 

Tikki could only smile at how far her chosen has come. From the unsure thirteen-year-old to the now strong level-headed seventeen-year-old woman. Ever since Fu’s amnesia, Marinette has done a great job of making sure that everything regarding the miraculous box is kept secret and safe. She created a box similar to her diary box to protect the miraculous box. 

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

After giving Luka and Kagami their miraculous, she (as Ladybug) informed them that she will be once again going on a vacation overseas. The two wished their friend farewell with the promise of calling her when Hawkmoth attacks.

“I expect details on the proposal when I get back,” Marinette demands, pointing at Luka causing him to blush thinking about a certain cat-themed hero. 

“You’ll give a heart attack if you keep saying things like that, Manette.” 

“I know,” Marinette beams. 

The group of three hugs each other before parting ways. 

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

Gotham’s air may have never been clean as crimes happen all the time, but to Marinette, it was like a second home. She loves returning back to Gotham since she met the Wayne family, which was completely by accident. Well, it wasn’t much of an accident it was through Jagged Stone that they met; however, it was by accident how she met Damian. 

“Angel! You’re here...finally.” Damian greets his lover of two and a half years. Marinette giggles and runs into his arms. She misses the feeling of his body warmth and well just him in general. Just don’t tell the others that.  

“Of course, I’m here and now you’re stuck with me for two months.” 

Damian is taken back, “What happened to being here for two weeks?” 

“A class exchange with Gotham Academy. As the TA of the class selected, I was roped into joining them on their journey to hell.” 

Damian curtly nods his head and wraps his arms around her torso. He kisses her cheek causing the Paris native to blush.

Manette @GothamsFashionSense Look’s who’s back in action. Can’t wait to spend time with you all. 

In the attachment is a photo of Marinette posing in front of the Wayne Enterprises with a smile reaching her eyes. Comments flood the designer’s notifications to the point she had to turn them off. The majority of the comments were from the same people, the entirety of the Bat-family.  

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

“Jay-Jay, I swear if you play a prank on me, you’ll receive no cookies for the rest of the week,” Marinette growls, exiting the guest bedroom--well it’s really hers, but won’t admit it.

“Todd, it’s too early for this.” Damian groans, coming from behind the designer in a personalize pajama design set. 

Jason stares at the two in shock and teasingly asks with a mock sense of seriousness, “Did you at least used protection?” 

Marinette’s jaw drops as murderous intent rolls off Damian. 

“I’m gonna kill you, Todd!” Damian screeches, pulling a katana out from miraculous knows where and chase at the laughing anti-hero. Marinette stood frozen as a rosy pink color spreads across her cheeks. 

“Why would Master Damian and Master Jason be running down the halls, Miss Marinette?” Alfred wonders, appearing in front of the designer. 

Marinette shakes her head and gives the butler a cheeky smile, “Jay-Jay being inappropriate. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually kills Jason today.” 

Alfred sighs and tells her that breakfast should be done in a moment. Marinette happily nods then returns back to her room to get change. 

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

“What do you mean that Marinette isn’t coming to class?” Chloe shrieks, when Adrien announced that Marinette had left for a trip yesterday. The entire class could only focus their ears on the two blondes for gossip. 

“It’s like I said, Mari, said she’ll be gone for a couple of weeks. She didn’t say where and all I know is that Mme. B let her off the presentation assignment.” 

Chloe scoffs then huffs at the newfound information. “Well, that will explain why Lu and Gami showed up last night instead of her.” 

“I’m sure she’ll give us a call when she settles in,” Adrien adds on just as Mme. Bustier walks into the classroom with a stack of papers in hand. 

“Good evening class.” She greets, setting the stack down on her desk. “As you all know, our class was selected for a class exchange with our American partners. These are your permission slips to sign and date for the trip. If there is any question, please do not hesitate to contact me.” 

“How long will we be gone for?” Alya asks raising her hand without being called on. 

“The program will last for four weeks. What you learn during the exchange will count as a credit to graduate.” The teacher smiles. “Are there any other questions?” 

No one else raises their hands. Caline smiles at this and begins to hand out the permission slips. 

“Have these all turned in by the end of this week.” 

“What about, Marinette?” Surprisingly, this question didn’t come from the protect Marinette squad but instead Juleka, who is usually quiet in the class. 

Caline is taken back, “Marinette will be joining us for this exchange. We have already contacted her parents. Are there any other questions?” 

The room goes silent. Caline nods and turns on the projector. “Today we will be going over your presentation assignment. The only person excused is Marinette as she has completed hers in advance.” 

Of course, the class blows up at that declaration. 

 “What, why does she get special treatment?” Alya’s voice booms through the classroom. “If you one it should be Lila!” 

“Alya, calm down, the reason why Marinette did her assignment is that she won’t be with us these coming weeks. If you have an issue with that take that up with her. Now please, can I continue with my lesson.” Caline could feel a headache coming. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to mention Marinette’s presentation and just use it as a template for the others to follow. 

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

Manette @GothamsFashionSense    Been in town for two days and these idiots are still the same. Mar’i, honey, you the best!

Below the tweet is an attached image of Marinette sitting in the middle with Mar’i Grayson on her lap laughing as Damian appears to be yelling at Jason, Tim’s head smack-down on the table a coffee cup in hand. Dick behind them all with Kori’s arm wrapped around his torso. 

Marinette laughs at the impending struggle Damian has in an attempt to once again harm Jason. She plays with the young toddler on her arms as Mar’i tries to take a scoop of the leftover ice cream. Marinette bounces the young Grayson in her lap and feeds a scoop of ice cream. 

“It’s so nice to have you back, Nette. Mar’i miss her Auntie.” 

Marinette chuckles brushing off the comment, “Mar’i has several other Aunts, how could she miss me? Beside’s I’m not even a Wayne.” 

Kori raises an eyebrow and Dick coughs up a “Yet.” before turning away as if he didn’t spill anything important. 

“Pardon?” Marinette wonders turning her attention to the older Grayson. 

“It’s nothing Bluebird, just a cough that is all.” Marinette purses her lips before deciding to let it go to play with Mar’i. 

Mar’i squeals in delight as Marinette plays with her stomach.

Damian watches from the corner of his eye. A smile sneaks it’s way up onto his face. 

“Wake up, Replacement.” Jason say as he kicks Tim’s leg. 

Tim’s arms grab the nearest coffee cup and drinks from it. He bounces back up with sleep still in his eyes. 

“Tim, you need sleep.” Marinette states. 

“Look whose talking. When’s the last time you slept?” Tim counters, knowing that they would have battles on who can stay up the longest without rest. They’re pretty much tied for first. 

Marinette was about to open her mouth, but one glance at Damian told her otherwise.

“Angel, when was the last time you slept--I mean actually slept?” Damian asks, appearing behind her. He kisses her cheek. She blushes and leans her head into his chest. 

“I’m fine, my prince. I actually slept well last night.” She answers before whispering, “Being next to you and all.”  

Jason oohs but quickly moves to evade the punch that Damian was about to throw. Marinette laughs and pushes away the mess that Mar’i created on the table. What a normal evening with the Wayne’s. 

“So, Bluebird, how are your studies going? I hear that you have a big project coming up soon.” Jason asks, taking a seat across the designer. 

Marinette chuckles, “They’re going great and that big project you supposedly heard about is nearly done, but it’s not for a class.” She teases. 

“Do we at least get to see it? C’mon Bluebird, help your brother out.” 

“Damian doesn’t even know about it.” Marinette narrows her eyes at her boyfriend. Damian chokes on his drink and looks away. “Jay-Jay you will be the first to know.” 

“Hey, what about me?” Mar’i’s voice asks looking up to her aunt. 

“The second person, Jay-Jay, you will be the second.” The designer corrects herself before snuggling the younger Grayson in her arms. Mar’i giggles.

Jason scoffs, but he has to agree that seeing Marinette and Mar’i acting all cute and stuff was a miraculous sight to see. 

Dick Grayson  @theflyinggrayson The two Maris in one place 

Attach is a photo of Marinette holding Mar’i outside the ice parlor smiling at one another with Damian off to the side looking longingly at Marinette. Comments from the surrounding BatFamily, Dick’s followers and co-workers flood the comments section. 

----------

Two weeks of pure and utter bliss. Too bad, it had to end seeing as the worst class at Dupont Public schools in Paris is coming to Gotham Academy the next day or so. Marinette’s mentally preparing herself to the slaughter of comments that will be coming her way. 

“Mme. Bustier, I can assure you that I will check with the academy this afternoon about the arrangement. You can worry about preparing the class for this trip.” Marinette speaks into the phone. 

Damian waits for the call to end to sweep in and be the caring boyfriend. He kisses her cheek and holds her. 

“These next four weeks are going to be hectic. I just know it..” Marinette mumbles to him. Damian huffs tightening his grip. 

“Thank you, Dami.” Marinette pauses, “I really needed that.” 

“Of course, Angel.” They kiss. “Do you need any help?” 

Marinette shakes her head. 

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

Back in Paris, the class gathers at Dupont for departure. Parents came and went saying goodbye to their teens and wish them the best. Lila’s already trying to spin a story that focuses on her and this time she really trying hard to spin her web deeper than ever 

“It’s been forever since I’ve been in Gotham, you know. The last time I was there, it was for a Wayne Gala and my Damibear asked me out. It was so magical. I was dress is this sunset like gown and he was matching me. You know, when I told him that I was coming, he practically jumped with joy…” 

Adrien and Chloe could only wince at the sound of her voice and eluded lie. Everyone in their right mind would know that Damian Wayne has been in a relationship with this girl under the username GothamsFashionSense as the Wayne family tweet about her a lot. Along with that, she look eerie similar to Marinette but with black hair and pink lowlights.  

“I can’t wait to see their faces when the cat jumps out of the bag. Oh, how her empire will crumble to nothing.” Chloe admits to, reapplying her lip-gloss.

“Well, I just hope this all ends before graduation. Do you think Mari will be joining us on the flight or something?” Adrien wonders as he watches Luka say his goodbyes to his sister. 

Chloe shrugs and looks at Kagami, who’s coming their way. 

“‘Gami,” Chloe greets hugging the Japanese fencer. 

“Hey Bee, and hello to you too Adrien.” 

Adrien curtly nods to Kagami. Luka walks over to them and stands behind the blonde model. No one but the two women in front of them notices the interlocking of their hands. 

“You think you can live without your model for a couple of weeks?” Chloe hints with a smirk on her face. 

Luka sarcastically laughs, “Yes, I’m sure Bee.  Though the real question is can you last without your dragon for four weeks.”

Chloe scoffs as Kagami laughs pulling her girlfriend closer to her. 

It wasn’t long before Mme. Bustier called for the class to get onto the bus. The couple gave their significant others a quick kiss or in Adrien’s and Luka’s case a hand tightening before heading off. Oh what they shall await when they reach Gotham. 

~Part 2

As of 12/9/19, the Tag List is CLOSED

Any asks before that will still be added. After that, I’m sorry but can follow my fic tags.

Tag List: @virgil-is-a-cutie | @thejustmesimplyme | @mewwitch | @tamoni112 | @goggles-mcgee | @bb-basbusa | @mochinek0 | @schrodingers25 | @zalladane | @jessigurl-design | @constancetruggle | @tog84 | @shamefullove | @mindfulmagics | @scribblinggraveyard | @clumsy-owl-4178 | @captainmac6 | @vivilakitty | @sonif50 | @mystery-5-5 | @emjrabbitwolf

#daminette #teacher assistant Marinette AU #teacher assistant au #ml x dc #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #maribat #mlb x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover #marinette x damian

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Bokuto, Tsukishima, and Iwaizumi in Bad Day Surprises

OMG LOVE. THIS IS SO BIG-BRAIN, I LOVE THIS. I hope you enjoy this @scrappydaisies​ 😘 

Word count: ~1.7k

BOKUTO 

⭐ It was one of those days where everything that could go wrong, went wrong

⭐ You woke up late, missing breakfast as you ran to work, awkwardly putting on your jacket as you sprinted

⭐ When you got to work, you hadn’t printed your proposal and notes, so you ran late for the meeting because of it

⭐ To top it off, you forgot you had a meeting with your supervisor to discuss a potential raise

⭐ (Yikes)

⭐ Of course, you not only forgot your lunch, you’d forgotten your wallet so you couldn’t even buy food!

⭐ Just a whole-ass series of unfortunate events 😔

⭐ Normally, you’d go bother Akaashi - one of your coworkers’ & the reason you had met Bokuto - but he was out with the flu so you didn’t want to bother him

⭐ You also would have texted Bokuto an SOS, BUT of course, he was out traveling for a match so there was no help there

⭐ So, you found yourself fuming at your desk, asking yourself and all possible deities out there on why you had such bad karma, angrily vent-texting Bokuto

⭐ Though he was preoccupied and not reading/responding to your texts, you felt a bit better getting it out of your system

⭐ One of your other coworkers noticed the predicament that you were in, and ended up buying you food

⭐ As you made your way home, you pull out your phone again to see that Bokuto had left you on read 

⭐ Well okay then

⭐ It’s not like that hurt or anything

⭐ (it 100% did but what else could go wrong, y’know?)

⭐ Bokuto wasn’t supposed to be back for a few days because work

⭐ But that didn’t stop you from opening the door and calling “I’m home!” to an empty house

⭐ Leading to you laughing at yourself...which eventually became hysterical...and soon enough, you were standing in the hallway sobbing

⭐ “Babe?”

⭐ Your brain short-circuits

⭐ “K-kou?!” you sniff

⭐ You were a complete wreck by now. Like, your entire face was hot, the tears would not stop, you were snotty as heck

⭐ Your boyfriend appears in the doorway, his eyes wide at your face before he rushes at you

⭐ “What’s wrong pretty one?” he asks, “is it because of your day?”

⭐ (ngl imagining Bokuto calling you ‘pretty one’ made my heart skip a beat)

⭐ “Kou!” you sob, burying your face into his chest. “Today was honestly the worst day of my life”

⭐ He just rubs your back soothingly, murmuring soft declarations of love and comfort

⭐ You pull back, wiping your nose on your sleeve 

⭐ “Wait, what are you doing here?”

⭐ “Oh right! C’mere”

⭐ Bokuto takes your hand gently, leading you towards the living room

⭐ He had taken the time to construct a massive blanket fort there, golden fairy lights everywhere. The TV was already on with your favorite movie queued, and bags of your favorite takeout were there

⭐ Bokuto scratched at the back of his neck. “I knew you were having a really rough day, and I got back early so I figured you’d like this surprise”

⭐ Of course, you start crying again and Bokuto’s freaking out like OML WHAT DO I EVEN DO

⭐ He thought he broke you, the poor bby

⭐ You’re just shaking your head, crying and you’re just like “I just love you so much, why the heck are you so thoughtful”

⭐ He panics and is like, “why don’t we get you outta this and we can start watching some movies, yeah?’

⭐ And you’re like nodding (you’re still crying lmao) as you drag your feet to the bathroom to freshen up, change, and rejoin your mans in the living room

⭐ “You’re literally the best, you know that?” you sniffle as you re-enter

⭐ Bokuto flashes you a grin, opening his arms as he waits for you to crawl into them

⭐ “I’m so lucky to have you” you mutter, burying your face once more

⭐ “Oh baby, I think I’m lucky to have you” he says as he chuckles, rubbing your back and peppering kisses onto your face

⭐ But in general, Bokuto will randomly surprise you with food, snacks, spontaneous things whenever you’re having a bad day because spontaneity is fun as heck! 

TSUKISHIMA

⭐ You and Tsukki met when you guys were in the same class

⭐ Your teacher had separated him from Yams because they kept talking (SMACK)

⭐ Little did he know that by moving Tsukishima to sit behind you, you’d end up dating!

⭐ It started when you were jamming out to music and straight vibing

⭐ He was kinda intrigued, the boy thought you were cute but he didn’t want to vocalise it because he’s such a kuudere istg

⭐ It was Yams who started talking to you, which encouraged Tsukki to do so as well!

⭐ SUCCESS

⭐ Anyways, y’all start dating and all that jazz

⭐ One day, you come into school lookin like a wreck. A complete mess

⭐ You had pulled an all-nighter in order to finish a paper you were really struggling with

⭐ Like, you had been working on it all. week. and you STILL needed that extra 8 hours to work on it

⭐ And as you were leaving the house this morning, your parents were yelling at you for grades or something, so in general you were in a bad mood

⭐ To top it all off, your headphones had decided to die while you were walking to class, so you didn’t even have the comfort of music to help you

⭐ You were ranting the entirety of lunch, with Yams interjecting with some words of comfort as Tsukishima just silently listened and provided you soft touches to let you know that he was there

⭐ He really wasn’t the type to talk much, especially in public. BUT he was definitely very expressive behind closed doors

⭐ So, once school ends, you head home and just collapse onto your bed - dead to the world

⭐ You woke up because your phone started ringing

⭐ In your haste to fall asleep, it somehow ended up stuck to your face LOL

⭐ You pick it up, groggy as heck

⭐ “Hullo?”

⭐ “Can you open the door?”

⭐ “Kei?!” 

⭐ You stand up suddenly, falling onto the floor as the sudden blood-rush made you lighte-headed

⭐ “Did you just fall?” he asked, snickering slightly

⭐ “Shut up” you scowl as you slowly get your bearings and make your way to the door, hanging up in the process

⭐ “What are you doing here?” you ask, rubbing your eye with your knuckles as you stare up at your boyfriend

⭐ “Am I not allowed to visit you?” he quipped back, a pink flush on his cheeks. “I have something for you”

⭐ You step back, letting him into the house. “You didn’t have to, I’m sure you’re tired after practice”

⭐ “Shut up, I wanted to”

⭐ You guys make your way to your room

⭐ Tsukishima sits at your desk, unzipping his volleyball bag and pulling out a box. “Here.” he says, passing it to you

⭐ Your eyes widen. “Kei! You really didn’t have to”

⭐ He had gotten you some fancy, noise-cancelling headphones 

⭐ (Personally, they’d be AirPods but y’know, it’s whatever y’all prefer!)

⭐ “I know you were having a rough day, and music always makes it better for you so just take it,” he scowled, hiding the red roses on his cheeks

⭐ You grin, putting it down gently before you throw yourself onto him. “Thank you, thank you so much”

⭐ “You’re welcome.” He coughs awkwardly

⭐ Pulling back, you eye his face as he fiddles with his hands.

⭐ “Do you...maybe wanna cuddle or something?” you smirk

⭐ “Shut up..maybe”

⭐ “C’mon then”

⭐ Anyways, if it wasn’t obvious, Tsukki is the type that will hold you and listen to you rant 

IWAIZUMI

⭐ Ugh, college-life woes

⭐ You and Iwa lived together in an apartment. Y’all have been dating for a cool min now

⭐ But the problem of adult life!!

⭐ Y’all just don’t have time for one another

⭐ Or, not as much as you’d like

⭐ Iwa’s busy with his classes and internship

⭐ (Not to mention working out because c’mon this man never stops the grind)

⭐ Like this man is working HARD for his future!!!

⭐ You’re busy finishing up your own final projects and working too

⭐ Y’all basically only see each other for a few minutes every night when you’re laying in bed, updating each other about your day’s before you KO

⭐ SO, when you come home after a really stressful week of late-nights, little sleep, one-meal a day type of situation, you were pleasantly surprised to find your boo at home

⭐ Not to mention, there were candles out, a bottle of wine on the table, and plates of your favorite meal

⭐ HOME-COOKED BECAUSE THIS MAN IS THE PERFECT PACKAGE OK

⭐ “What is this?”

⭐ He looks up, grinning. “Well, I know that someone hasn’t been able to take care of themselves this week, so I decided to take the night off and spend time with them”

⭐ Iwaizumi comes around you, guiding you to the table by the small of your back

⭐ Pulling out the chair, letting you sit before he pushes it in

⭐ “You’re spoiling me Haji” you muse as he pours you a glass of wine

⭐ “Well if you won’t do it, then I will” he shrugs. “Cheers baby” he lifts his own glass, waiting for you to tap yours against his

⭐ If you thought that was the surprise, YOU WERE MISTAKEN

⭐ BECAUSE THERE WAS MOREEE

⭐ He decided to go ALL-OUT with the romance

⭐ After you guys finish dinner, he leads you up to the bathroom where there were unlit candles, and a BATH BOMB

⭐ TBH, I’m imagining LUSH’s Sex Bomb bath-bomb, but it’s whatever you prefer!

⭐ Just know that he added extra petals into the bath just for you

⭐ (you always complain that there weren’t enough lmao)

⭐ He draws the bath and lights the candles as you strip and get ready to shower

⭐ This man is out here washing your hair, soaping you up

⭐ All that wholesome goodness 💘

⭐ He even carries you into the bath!!

⭐ After you’re situated, he brings you the wine glasses and a tablet so y’all can watch a movie or catch up to whatever anime y’all are watching together as he slips into the bath behind you

⭐ All in all, he goes ALL OUT when it comes to spoiling you (he’s a romantic at heart) and honestly, you just need to cuff this man A.S.A.P. 

general taglist: @scrappydaisies​ @newfriendjen​  @kyomihann

Please contact me if you would like to be a part of my general taglist! 💞 Check out this link for information about my taglists.

#haikyuu hcs #bokuto hcs #tsukishima hcs #iwaizumi hcs #hq hcs #bokuto headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #tsukishima headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #skye's requests

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

“I’ll Lay You Down Before You Fall” - Ally Mayfair-Richards x Lana Winters

Alright. ALRIGHT. Not to be dramatic, but this ship has absolutely ruined my life and I would GLADLY die 1000 times over for these headstrong idiots. Safe to say that once I thought about it I couldn’t get them out of my head. So, here we are, 9,000 words later. 

Special thanks to @thatgirlintheleatherjacket​ for humoring me and giving me the kick in the ass that I needed to actually post this, and @shineestark​ for listening to my incoherent rants about these cuties and unsticking my writer’s block :)

Words: 9,700

Summary: Allyson Mayfair-Richards doesn’t like losing. And she especially doesn’t like losing to pretty reporters with dark hair and perfect lips and a confidence streak that could outrun the sun. 

~Enjoy!~

Ally had stared at the thick, wooden door for twenty-three minutes, foot tapping as she mindlessly flipped through the papers in her hand. 

It was stuffy in the building, too stuffy for Ally not to be uncomfortable. And after checking and re-checking her watch and telling the receptionist at least three times that she had an appointment, Ally’s patience was near to gone. 

When that same receptionist had come to get her and escort her into the editor’s office, and Ally realized that Lana Winters had been in there alone the entire time, her patience had flown so far out the window Ally couldn’t even fathom reeling it back in. 

And after Lana had smirked up at her, teeth almost bared as she popped her brow and addressed her with a sarcastic, “You wanted to see me, Senator?”, Ally was fighting a losing battle to keep ahold of her tone with every inch of her being, let alone keep her hands from shaking in anger. 

She had barely been speaking with the journalist for five minutes, and Ally was already shocked at how deep Lana had dug herself under her skin. It was like she knew everything Ally was going to say. Had a counterpoint to present before Ally could even finish her sentence.  

All Ally had come to do was politely tell Lana that she couldn’t film on school property. To put her foot down and pull her rank if absolutely necessary. It wasn’t exactly against their state laws, or even the code of the city for that matter. But it was wrong, and Ally had taken the time to draw out a detailed proposal that explained exactly why she was correct. 

But whatever she had planned for, whatever conversations she had run through in her head, she certainly hadn’t considered losing. And right now, Ally sure as hell felt like she was losing, clinging to her point with a death grip as Lana swirled a tornado of words around her and spun her out. 

Ally was barely managing to hold on to her thought process, trying miserably to navigate Lana’s counterargument. Which was probably why her perfectly thought out proposal was currently crunching under her tightening fingers, paper crinkling as Ally forced herself to take a deep breath. 

“They shouldn’t have been at the school.” Ally set her jaw, locking her posture at the annoyance of having to push the same reasoning at this woman seven times. But she just wouldn’t listen. 

“My girls are going to do what it takes to get their story. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“What’s the point?” Ally countered, voice rising against her better judgment. “I don’t know, maybe respecting the privacy of children and learning institutions, and teaching your girls some boundaries for once in their lives?” 

Lana’s eyes flicked down to the “time’s up” button pinned to Ally’s blazer. 

“Are you supportive of female journalism, Senator?”

“Am I...? What?” Ally scoffed. “Of course I’m supportive of female journalism.”

Lana quirked an eyebrow. Popped her tongue. “Alright.” 

And the way she dragged it out, the way she drawled on the word and tilted her head as her eyebrows flicked up in a soft nod, had Ally’s skin crawling and blood boiling in seconds. She threw the papers down on Lana’s desk. 

“Keep your girls out of the public school systems. If you want to get up in some private school’s business, that’s fine. Take it up with them. But our city’s public schools are under my jurisdiction and I am telling you that next time you want your cameras and microphones and pushy-ass questions inside one of them, you’ll have to go through me first.”

And with a huff she was gone, the calm clicking of Lana’s typewriter following Ally down the hallway and making her eye twitch. 

~~~

Ally was late to pick up Oz. Thirty-six minutes late, to be exact. Her meeting had run over and her sitter had fallen through, and her car could only get across the city so fast. 

When she made it to the front doors she was nothing but grateful and apologetic, signing him out on the clipboard and scruffing his hair with a smile as he hugged her legs. 

“I missed you,” he murmured into her side, and Ally knelt down on his level. 

“Oh Ozzie, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He grinned. “What do you think about getting some ice cream on the way home?” 

“Really?”

Ally nodded. 

“Yes!” And then he tackled her in another hug, and Ally couldn’t help but beam as his little arms wrapped around her neck. 

She pulled away, patting him on the head and ruffing up his curls as he shrugged off his backpack for her to carry. She had just picked it up, thinking absently that his books were getting too big and too heavy, when movement behind him caught her eye. 

Oh hell no.

There she was. Lana Winters. With a fucking camera crew and an amateur reporter. She was tracking her finger down the script in the girl’s hands, positioning her and the cameras in front of the fence by the playground. 

“Mama?” Oz questioned, blinking up at Ally. 

And in that split second Ally went against her better judgement because she had principles and she was never one to let things go. 

“Just… sit right here on the steps okay?” she said absently to Oz, dropping his backpack and patting his shoulder as he sat down. “Right there. Get started on your homework and I’ll be right back and I promise,” a soft kiss to the top of his head, “that we will get ice cream as soon as I’m finished.” 

She cut clear across the sidewalk, crossing the grass as her mind ran over the million different things she wanted to say to this woman. But somehow when she reached her, got right up in her face and loomed over her, practically snarling, all she could land on was, “Winters.” 

“Senator.” Lana’s brow quirked up challengingly. 

Ally growled. “I thought I told you that you needed permission to film on school property.”

Lana stifled a smirk. “And I thought I told you that we would do what was needed to get our story.”

The determination that was set in her eyes was driving Ally mad in the most agonizingly slow way. She clenched her fists at her side, swallowing down a rude remark. She was a public figure. They were both professionals. They could work this out. 

“Listen,” Ally tried, speaking a little bit too slowly to keep her voice steady. “Obviously we’re at an impasse. Why don’t you come to my office and we can discuss this properly. Find a middle ground.” 

Lana hesitated, glanced over at her cameraman. It was clear that she had expected Ally to snap, and Ally couldn’t help but smile at the idea that she had thrown her. 

Lana fidgeted with the papers in her hands, composing herself. 

“My lead is going to go stale in about eight hours, Ms. Mayfair-Richards.” Her voice was firm, and the way that her eyes searched Ally’s face, narrowing almost imperceptibly, left Ally’s jaw twitching. “I’m not going to miss out on this story just because you have a problem with me filming in front of an empty field.”

“I won’t let you air it,” Ally warned, crossing her arms. “Not without a proper meeting.”

And Lana had the nerve to sigh, circling her finger in the air and motioning for her team to wrap. She gestured to the young girl hovering a few feet away, taking the papers from her and sorting them with her own. 

“I have about forty-five minutes now,” she said, still looking down at her papers as she rifled through them. She replaced the script and flicked through a few more pages before looking up. “If you want to have a formal meeting. Otherwise I’m not free until Thursday and like I said—“ She pushed the papers back into the girl’s hands, trading her for her phone. “My lead goes dry in eight hours. It’s now or never, Ms. Mayfair-Richards.”

And oh how Ally despised when people called her by her full last name. She knew it was part of the job. It was the proper way to address her. But it only reminded her of Ivy. Betrayal. And when Lana said it… It made something hot stir up inside of her that set her teeth on edge. 

Ally shook her head. “I have to take my son home. Now’s not a good time. I have a slot free before my morning meetings tomorrow, but that’s the best I can do for you.”

Lana smiled, licking her lips. “I’ll give you six hours to change your mind. After that, we start filming, understood?” 

And Ally shook her head again. “What? No. Ms. Winters, that’s not what I said. You’re not filming here without permission, and I’m not—“

“You’ll change your mind,” Lana called over her shoulder, already walking away across the large field. And as she marched off, heels miraculously not slipping into the soil, hands gesticulating and snatching papers back and forth from the girl on her team, Ally couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. 

~~~ 

“Could I please have chocolate chip?” Oz asked sweetly, pushing his glasses up his nose. A moment, and then a tug to her sleeve. “Mama.”

Ally snapped her attention back to the ice cream shop, back to her son. “What, honey?”

“I would like chocolate chip, please.”

And Ally tried for the best smile she could, stroking her fingers through his curls. “Of course you can have chocolate chip, my polite little man. You’re growing up too fast, what am I going to do with you?” And Oz squealed as Ally pinched at his cheeks, scruffed his hair. 

She kept spacing out in line, focus snapping between her son and Lana’s words, echoing over and over in her mind. Her smug smirk. The way she owned every situation she came across. Like Ally was supposed to. Like Ally did. Until today.

Two chocolate chip double scoops later, with the ice cream dripping off the bottom of her cone, Ally decided that she didn’t like losing arguments. She didn’t like not being in control of the situation. And she certainly didn’t like letting someone else have the last word. 

“Mama,” Oz giggled, licking up the side of his cone to catch the melting line of chocolate chips. “You’re getting ice cream on your pants!” 

And shit, of course he was right. Ally had spaced so far out that she had forgotten that ice cream melts. And it was leaving a nice white puddle on the thigh of her black pants. 

“Oh gosh,” she muttered, swiping at her leg. “Thank you, Ozzie. Let me just— I’m just going to go inside and get a napkin, okay?” 

He nodded enthusiastically, and Ally had the wherewithal to keep her eyes on him the entire time she was inside the store, hands finding the box of napkins and pulling too many as she tracked him licking his ice cream, watched every single person who walked by. And when someone walked up with a dog that got a little bit too close, Ally was back out the door like a shot. 

“Ozzie, wait,” she started, but he was already deep in conversation with the man, his inevitably sticky hand scruffing between the dog’s ears. And as Ally glanced up at the man to apologize, her heart stuttered. 

He had blue hair. And even though it was cut short and it was the wrong shade, her brain still played horrible tricks on her. This man wasn’t Kai. People didn’t come back from the dead. But it was just enough to pull those old anxieties up and make the world spin a little bit too fast. 

“That’s enough, sweetie,” Ally tried softly, hand on Oz’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright,” the man with the dog said, smiling kindly at Ally. And she really, truly tried her best to smile back. 

“I appreciate it, but we had better be going. Right, sweetheart? Thank you so much for letting him pet your dog.” She nudged Oz. “What do we say?”

“Thank you,” Oz giggled, muttering a soft “ew” as the dog licked his hand. 

Ally nodded. “Alright now, say goodbye. We’ve got to go.”

Her grip was iron on his shoulder as she pulled him alongside her back to the car, tucking him in close and letting out a soft sigh. 

“Are you okay, Mama?” Oz asked after they had been driving for a few minutes.

Ally nodded, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Always, sweetie. Why do you ask?”

Oz shrugged. “He just looked like Daddy, that’s all.”

Ally’s heart lodged in her throat, tears burning her eyes as her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. 

“Ozzie, sweetie. He’s not your daddy. Remember? He was never your daddy. He lied.” 

And Oz nodded with a light “okay” before pulling a book out of his backpack and flipping through the pages. 

Ally turned the radio up as she cleared her throat, swiping at her tears as nonchalantly as possible and sniffing softly. Another glance in the rearview mirror and he was still reading. With her. Safe. 

When she hit a red light she dropped her head back on the seat, groaning and cursing herself before snatching her phone from her purse. A few swipes and taps, and she had her sitter on the phone. 

“Hi. It’s me. I know you said you couldn’t pick Oz up from school, but would you maybe be free in an hour? Something’s come up.”

~~~ 

Ally’s fingers tapped over her coffee mug, leeching the warmth from it as her leg bounced under the table. She watched the door, perking up every time it opened and the bell dinged. But it was a good ten minutes before Lana walked in, blue blazer just a little bit too perfect as she wiped her hands and casually threw her coffee order at the barista. It was met with a frantic “yes, Ms. Winters” and then she found Ally, eyes locking on her and raking down her form. Her brow quirked up as she sauntered over. 

“Senator,” she drawled as she pulled out her chair. 

Ally stood, hand outstretched. “Ms. Winters.”

Lana waved her off, sitting. “Oh for god’s sake, don’t be so formal. Sit down.”

And there it was again, that heat that flared in Ally’s cheeks because she wasn’t in control of the situation. All she could think was fix it. And fast. 

But before she could swallow and get her mouth around words, Lana spoke.

“You changed your mind.”

A nod.

“Why?”

Ally’s hands found her mug again, fingers skimming over the smooth porcelain. She stared down into the foam for a moment, and when she looked up, Lana’s eyes were tracking her fingers. 

“Tell me again what your story is about?” 

And at that, Lana met her gaze. Skepticism clouded her features. She licked her lips. 

“We got a tip that someone tried to break into the school last night. A man was seen hopping the fence and testing the doors.”

Ally nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Lana’s eyes narrowed, and there was a question pushing against her lips. Ally could see her fighting it. 

“Why this story?” Ally asked, even though she knew the answer. Anyone with any common sense knew the answer. But she wanted to hear it from Lana’s mouth. Just to be sure. 

Lana cleared her throat. Straightened. “Senator,” she started, folding her hands in front of her. “People deserve to know when—“ Her coffee was set in front of her. “Thank you— People deserve to know when their children are in danger. When their neighborhood is in danger. They deserve to know. To be well informed and have the time and the means to protect themselves.”

“And why in front of the playground?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Emotional appeal. If we shot it from across the street, with the logo of the school in front, it wouldn’t hit as hard as if you’re seeing the jungle gyms and the mulch kicked up and the balls left abandoned in the grass.”

Ally hummed, chewing on her lip as she ran her thumb along the rim of her mug. A long moment while Lana took a sip of her coffee. And then Ally nodded. 

“You can shoot your segment there. Tonight. In front of the playground.”

Lana half-smiled at her, taking another slow sip. “Well,” she started, brow raising as she looked up at Ally over the rim of her mug. “I would say thank you, but…”

Ally challenged her, quirking her own brow. “But?”

Lana shook her head. “It’s not important.” She cleared her throat, replacing her coffee on the table in front of her. “What is interesting me, though, is that mysterious stain on your pants. Seems like there’s a story there.” 

The blood drained from Ally’s face as she looked down at the ring from the melted ice cream on her thigh. She had been home for a good twenty minutes. She had had time to change. But Oz had needed help with his homework and then there had been a fiasco with his afternoon snack and a slight fit over the fact that it was peanut butter and celery again, and she had honestly been in such a rush to touch up her makeup and fluff her hair that she had forgotten about her pants entirely. 

Ally tried to blow it off the best she could, pushing a hand through her hair and chuckling something about how kids were a handful and she barely had time to pee, let alone change her clothes once he got home from school. 

Lana smiled. A big, genuine smile as she leaned forward on the table. “Tell me about your son. Ozzie, right?” 

And before Ally knew what had happened, two hours had gone by, both of their coffees ice cold, half-finished, and forgotten between them. They had laughed, Ally had cried, as hard as she had tried not to. And when the tear fell and she swiped it quickly with her thumb, Lana’s hand had found hers across the table. But now, as Lana recounted details from her kidnapping, Ally found herself leaning into her voice, chin propped in her hand and brow furrowed as she nodded along with the words. 

“And he needed me, I think,” she continued, staring intently at Ally. She didn’t look away. She didn’t drop her gaze. It was incredibly brave, how open she was being. And Ally understood. 

“It’s that dependency,” Ally agreed, eyes narrowing. “Did he have issues with his parents? Kai’s died when he was young.”

Something ghosted over Lana’s face and she cleared her throat to cover it, tilting her head and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Smiled softly. “He had… He needed a mother. And he chose me to fill that gap.”

And the way she talked about it, like it was just something that had happened, like it hadn’t left deep scars and didn’t stick with her. Like she didn’t wake up in the middle of the night screaming… Maybe she didn’t. At this point Ally thought she was probably the strongest person alive. It wouldn’t have surprised her one bit if Lana had completely moved on. Goodness knows she certainly talked about everything well enough. 

But something nagged at the back of Ally’s mind. Maybe it was the way the tip of her eyebrow was twitching. Maybe it was the way she held onto Ally’s eye contact like it was a lifeline. Whatever it was, Ally had a feeling that beneath that strong, hard outer layer was someone so soft and so broken that Lana had to hold onto those walls she had built, re-fortify them every second of every day to keep her most vulnerable parts safe. 

“We don’t need to talk about this,” Ally started, clearing her throat. But Lana squeezed her hand and she stopped herself.

“Please,” Lana tried, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t… Not many people understand what I’ve been through. And probably no one quite like you. I don’t mind.” She swallowed, her smile twitching. “If that’s alright.”

Ally found herself whispering “always” before she knew what she was doing. Before she knew if she wanted to keep talking about it. Because there was something intoxicating about having someone else stare into her soul while she talked about her deepest secrets, her deepest fears. To place them right there. Out in the open. And not be judged. To have someone nodding along who actually meant it. Who understood. Who knew those emotions that she kept dug down in that deep place within her mind, without her having to say a word. 

Lana’s smile grew and she licked her lips, her thumb brushing over Ally’s palm, and a shiver ran up under Ally’s skin. She blinked, and Lana blinked back, and suddenly she was overcome with the deep, aching need to kiss her. 

Anyone but her.

Ally cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she tried, pulling her hand from Lana’s grip. She told herself it was a coincidence that Lana’s smile fell at that exact moment. “Don’t you need to go film your piece? You’re going to run out of daylight.”

Lana glanced at her watch, seemingly jolted back into the real world. Her eyes went wide. “Shit. Shit! Is that the time?” She scrambled, gathering her purse and digging out a ten dollar bill to drop on the table. 

“No no, let me,” Ally tried, fumbling with her own purse. “You did me a favor, meeting me here.” 

But Lana waved her off, shouldering her bag. “How about you give me a ride back to the school and we call it even? I’ll never make it in time if I walk.”

And Ally found herself smiling. “Alright. Deal.”

~~~ 

The television droned as Ally washed the dishes, scrubbing them down and drying them off. One by one. She didn’t know why, but there was something so soothing about it. Oz tucked snugly in bed, the quiet of the house. The rhythm of the washing and drying and washing again. It gave her time to think over her day, sort out cases, process everything and anything that was picking at her mind. 

Right now, it was Lana Winters. And she hated herself for it. Hated how much she had enjoyed the closeness, the familiarity. The immediate warmth that had threaded through her body at Lana’s touch, her words, just listening to her talk. 

The way her hand had brushed over Ally’s as she was buckling herself into the front seat of Ally’s car.

Ally fought to keep the woman off her mind. And she was failing miserably. But she full-on gave up when Lana popped up on her television, her voice breaking Ally’s thoughts. 

She was in front of the school, mouth moving over empathetic words. Brow pushed up. Eyes almost watering. Damn, she was good. Ally had just noted that Lana had taken the story herself, she hadn’t let the intern do it, when the doorbell rang. 

She set the plate down in the sink, drying her hands on a towel and silently cursing her neighbor for always asking to borrow ingredients this late. She had asked her multiple times not to ring the doorbell after nine, but the woman never complied. 

Ally made a bet with herself that it would be eggs this time - what was it with this woman and eggs at night? - as she pulled the door open. 

And froze. 

Lana Winters stood before her, hair caught up in a ponytail and makeup still absolutely perfect. She was wearing the same stunning blue blazer combination that she had worn earlier in the day. And Ally was still in her stained pants.

“Senator,” Lana greeted her, a soft smile pushing her cheeks up. 

“Is everything okay?” Ally tried, tugging at the hem of her shirt and smoothing it down. 

Lana nodded, her brow twitching before morphing back into that sweet smile. “I was just…” She huffed, swallowing. “I know it’s late, but I was just about to head home, and I realized that I pass your neighborhood on my way, so I thought maybe we could—“

Ally bit down on a smile, opening the door wider and gesturing inside. “Come on in.”

~~~ 

“Red or white?” Ally called from the kitchen, hands hovering between the glasses in her cabinet. 

“Whatever you’re drinking,” Lana replied. “I’m not picky.” 

Red it was. 

Ally pulled the wide glasses down onto the counter, filling them just a bit too high, and went to join Lana in the living room. 

She was standing in front of a bookshelf, arms crossed and fingers tapping on her elbow as she looked over the pictures there. She pointed to one, looking over at Ally. 

“Is this your wife?”

Ally moved around the couch, handing Lana her glass. Glanced at the picture as Lana swirled her wine and smiled in approval. 

“Ex-wife,” Ally corrected, taking sip from her glass. 

“Oh,” Lana started, turning back to the photo. “I thought that I heard you were widowed. I apologize.” 

Ally shook her head, placing her hand placatingly on Lana’s arm. “No no,” she said as she swallowed another sip. “I was. It’s just… She’s the one that got us into that entire mess. And I realized after I figured everything out that we hadn’t been married for a while. Not really. So… It’s easier if I…” She cleared her throat. “She’s still Oz’s mother and I think it’s important that he remember her, but sometimes I wonder if it would… be easier for him if this chapter of his life wasn’t constantly on display.”

Lana shook her head. “Who knows…” she mumbled absently. And guilt washed through Ally.

“I’m sorry,” she tried, clearing her throat. “Here I am, making this all about me. You wanted to talk about something?”

Lana waved her off for the hundredth time that day and made for the couch. Something in the back of Ally’s brain hated that she was so casual about it, didn’t wait to be invited to sit. And something told Ally that she didn’t really hate it at all.

A split second decision, and Ally sat on the couch with her, instead of across in the armchair. 

“I just wanted to thank you again for letting me run that story.”

Ally smiled, shaking her head. “I made it into a bigger thing than it needed to be. It was a good piece.” 

Lana swallowed her sip of wine, perking up. “You watched it?”

“I did,” Ally nodded, smirking around the rim of her glass. “What happened to that pretty little intern who was going to run the story?”

A laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

Ally’s brow quirked. “So you knew I would be watching?”

Lana’s eyes narrowed. “I had my suspicions.”

“Oh, is that so?”

A chuckle echoed in Lana’s wine glass, and there it was again, that pounding in Ally’s head to kiss her that left her stomach flipping and her thighs clenching. 

They fell into an amicable silence, staring at each other and taking small sips of their wine. Ally didn’t know when, but at some point, Lana’s hand had slid over her own. And when she realized it was there, she traced her thumb over Lana’s knuckles. 

Lana hummed, and the way it reverberated in Ally’s chest made heat rush to her cheeks. 

“Listen,” Ally started, and Lana’s brow twitched up questioningly. “I apologize if I was too firm about filming at the school. I hope that in the future we can—“

“Mama?!”

Ice shot down Ally’s spine. “Shit.” 

She scrambled, sliding her wine glass onto the table and bolting up. Lana was right there with her, following her out of the living room.  

“Is everything okay?”

Ally nodded as she skated through the rooms to the stairs. “Yes, yeah. I’m sorry, he just, he has night terrors. Just give me one minute.”

She ran up the steps, pushing the door to Oz’s room open. 

“Oz? What is it? What’s wrong? I’m right here.” 

Ozzie was curled up against his headboard, shaking and sniffling. And something hard knotted over Ally’s heart. She rushed to his side, pushing stray hairs off of his sweaty brow. 

“Shh, shh,” she cooed, tucking him against her chest and rocking him softly. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re safe.” 

She felt him nod against her stomach and she pulled back, holding his face in her hands. “What was the dream about, sweetheart?” 

He started with his broken explanation, brow scrunching as he tried to remember all of the pieces and put them in a logical order. It wasn’t too bad, until he got to the end. And then it was Kai and Ivy, just like it always was. This time sitting on a throne and making him dance. Kai walking over and ripping his arms off. Cackling as he waved them around. 

Ally pulled him to her again, whispering a soft, “no no no, sweetie. It wasn’t real. They’re not here. They can’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

She waited for his breaths to steady out before pulling away again and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Do you want a glass of water?” she asked, wiping beads of sweat from his hairline. 

Oz nodded slowly. 

“Alright. Give me one minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Another nod. 

“Okay.” Ally pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before turning and nearly jumping out of her skin. 

Lana was leaning in the doorway. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, smiling softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Mama…?” Oz questioned uneasily, hands twisting into his comforter. 

“I thought maybe I could help,” Lana continued, half whispering, half mouthing the words. Ally gave her a soft smile. 

“Ozzie,” Ally said, turning back to her son. “This is one of my friends, Ms. Winters. She’s very nice. Can she sit with you while I get your water? I promise you’ll be safe if she’s here.”

A hesitant nod.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Ally squeezed Lana’s arm lightly as she passed, whispering a soft and meaningful “thank you”. She paused in the hallway, watching Lana sit down on Ozzie’s bed.

“You’ve got a lot of clowns in here,” she started, her voice pitched up and playful. Oz nodded, fingers releasing his sheets just so. “You know,” Lana continued, and Ally could tell by the tone of her voice that her nose was scrunched up. “If you want, you can call me Lana Banana.”

Ally heard Ozzie giggle, and then she went to fetch the glass of water. 

When she returned a few minutes later, glass in one hand and his favorite blanket in the other, fresh from the dryer, she could hear the laughter before she had even reached the top of the stairs. 

“But why does he use scissors? Why not something more… clown-like?”

“I don’t know,” Oz giggled. “But look, he has juggling sticks, too.”

Ally turned the corner into his room as Lana shook her head softly, Ozzie grinning and fumbling with the action figure in his hands. She paused in the doorway.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Lana started, finger tapping against the figure’s mask. “This doesn’t seem to add up. Where are the rest of his tricks? Does he only have one act?”

Ozzie shoved at her, cackling. “He’s not a real clown.”

Ally skirted into the room as Lana gave a light, “Oh, I see.” She handed the cup to Ozzie, trading him for the action figure and replacing it on his dresser. 

“Alright, now that’s enough Twisty for tonight. We don’t want to bore Ms. Winters.”

She scrunched her nose, mouthing a soft “it’s fine” as she smiled. 

Oz took a few big gulps of water, and Ally smoothed her hand through his hair. 

“Small sips,” she urged, tapping his hand. One last swallow and he handed the cup back to her. “All finished?” 

Oz nodded. 

“Okay then, say goodnight to Ms. Winters, and don’t forget to thank her for playing with you.” 

He did exactly as he was told, her polite little man, and she couldn’t help but smile as she fluffed up his blanket. Before she could stretch it out, though, Lana had grabbed the other end of it, pulling it across the bed so that it laid perfectly flat. And Ally’s smile wavered at the warmth spreading through her, reminding her just how nice it felt to have someone else there. To help. How nice it felt not to be alone. 

Ozzie wiggled and broke Ally’s thoughts, and only then did she realize she had been staring at Lana. She cleared her throat. 

“Okay mister, time for tucks.”

Oz laughed as Ally tucked his blanket around him over-exaggeratedly, grumbling out “tuck tuck tuck tuck” in her silliest voice. 

A kiss to his forehead, one for his nose, and then she was walking back to the door, Lana right behind her in the hallway as she found the light switch. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Ally murmured, flicking the switch off.

She waited for the soft “goodnight, Mama,” before she shut the door. But this time, before it clicked, she also heard a “goodnight, Lana Banana,” and by the way Lana chuckled behind her, Ally knew she had heard it, too. 

She turned, letting out a soft sigh. 

“I can’t thank you enough,” Ally started, making her way to the staircase. “He can be a bit of a handful, but--“

Lana cleared her throat softly and Ally glanced back at her as she made her way down the stairs. And froze mid-step. 

“I-“ Ally tried, brow pushing up at the tears in Lana’s eyes. “Are you alright…?” 

Lana smiled, waving her off and moving to push past her down the stairs. But Ally caught her arms, holding her level on the step. “Lana…?”

And Lana chuckled softly. Ally knew why. It was the first time she had used her first name. And it felt good. It sat warm on her tongue like butter. 

She sniffed again, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye so quickly and delicately that Ally almost missed it. 

“Lana, what’s wrong?” Ally tried again, sliding her hands down her arms and trying to catch her gaze. 

A long moment, and Ally waited, because she could feel Lana warring with herself. Trying to find the right words. 

“Your son is obsessed with a serial killer,” she said. But the way that she said it, like it was funny, with an ironic chuckle laced through her words. 

It split through Ally like lightning. 

“Oh my gosh, Lana. I am so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking. God, why wasn’t I thinking? I can’t even imagine what you— What do you need? Do you want to sit down? Talk about it? Would you like to leave? I would offer to drive you home but I can’t leave Oz—“

Lana pushed her finger against Ally’s lips and she faltered, little electric pulses sparking at the contact. 

“It’s not that,” Lana tried, smiling softly and sniffing against the last of her tears. “It’s that… Your son is obsessed with a serial killer, and I didn’t care.”

Ally blinked at her.

“He was talking to me about Twisty and it should have scared me. It should have brought everything flooding back. But I was so content and happy just to be making him feel better, that it didn’t matter. And I have been waiting so long for this moment to come.” 

She shook her head in disbelief, and then more tears came, her finger falling from Ally’s lips. She giggled over a sob, hand coming up to cover her mouth, ever so proper. And then she choked out a soft “oh, Ally” and Ally let herself smile at the way her name sounded on this woman’s perfectly shaped lips. 

And then Lana kissed her.

Ally froze at the shock that coursed through her body, hands springing off of Lana’s arms. And as quickly as it had happened, Lana pulled away, brow creased and doubt pulling her smile down at the corner. 

“I’m sorry,” she said almost immediately, hands pushing against her cheeks. “I don’t know what came over me, I—“

Ally surged forwards, crushing her lips to Lana’s. A tiny squeak, and then Lana melted under her, moaning as she parted her lips and deepened the kiss. Her hands were in Ally’s hair in seconds, and Ally relished the way that she tugged so lightly, urging her mouth closer. And good lord kissing her felt like filling a mold with molten gold, hot and heavy and brilliant, seeping into every hollow part of her and making her whole. 

Lana made the smallest of sounds, her hand falling to the dip of Ally’s back and pressing her closer. But they were on the stairs and there wasn’t room for both of them to find their footing, so Ally slid her hands over Lana’s waist and tugged her down the steps, one at a time. Nice and slow so that she wouldn’t have to stop kissing her. 

The second they hit the bottom, Lana had her flipped and pinned against the banister. 

Ally cried out before Lana swallowed the sound. “Shh,” she chided between kisses. “I don’t think he’s asleep yet.”

Ally laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’d be surprised.” 

Lana pulled back, quirking a brow. “Is that a risk you want to take?”

“Honestly?” Ally asked, licking her lips as she panted.

“Mhm.” It was more of a hum than a response, and before Ally could blink, Lana’s mouth was on her neck, her fingers scratching up under her shirt. 

Ally fought the urge to let her eyes roll back in her head, grounding herself on the banister digging into her back. All she managed was a small moan. 

“Don’t get in the habit of lying to me,” Lana murmured against her skin, nipping. “That’s never going to end well.” 

Ally’s laugh was smothered by a groan as Lana’s hands slipped down over her ass. 

“Yes,” she breathed, hand coming up to Lana’s hair and holding her against her neck. 

“Yes, what?” 

Another groan. “Yes, I’m willing to take the risk.” 

Lana broke away, pressing a soft kiss to Ally’s lips before nudging their noses together. She smirked. 

“Well, alright then.”

~~~ 

Ally hadn’t replaced the furniture after Ivy was gone. Everyone told her that she should redecorate, should get rid of everything they had shared and start over. A new life. Clean. But Ally had thought that would be too rough on Ozzie, so she had kept almost everything, save wedding photos and some decorations Ivy picked out that Ally absolutely despised. 

And now, pushed deep into her couch as Lana kissed down, down, down her body, she was glad she hadn’t gotten rid of it, because damn it might just be the most comfortable couch on the planet.

It had never been this comfortable with Ivy on top of her. 

Trapping her. 

Ally squeezed her eyes shut, breaths quickening as her hands tightened in Lana’s hair. 

And that was all it took. Just two quick inhales and a slight grip change, and Lana stopped mid-bite, pulling off of Ally just so. 

“Okay,” Lana said softly, resting her chin where her mouth had been, just above Ally’s belly button. She smoothed her hands up Ally’s ribs, sliding her thumbs softly over the dips there. “Okay. It’s okay.” 

And humiliation flooded through Ally as she nodded in agreement. Swallowed hard. Shook her head. 

“It’s nothing,” she tried, letting go of Lana’s hair and flexing her fingers. “Just… Give me a minute.” 

A soft nod. “Okay.”

It was more than a minute, and Ally could feel Lana’s eyes on her. And her thumbs, running so delicately over her ribs, back and forth and back and forth. 

Another attempt at an inhale, but Ally couldn’t get her breath in, the smell of Ivy stuck in her nose and the memory of her so solid on top of her blocking her lungs. Her stomach hitched up with the half-breath, and then Lana was off of her, pulling away and sitting up on the couch. 

“Wait,” Ally started, propping herself up on her elbows, because somehow the cold of the room on her stomach was so much worse, made her feel even more alone. And doubt slammed into her chest when Lana got up off the couch and walked around the coffee table. “Shit.” 

She was just about to cry, just feeling exposed enough and vulnerable enough, cold and open and hell, she hadn’t let anyone take her shirt off since Ivy and it wasn’t—

“Sit up, honey.” 

Lana was standing over Ally, and Ally hadn’t realized she had pushed her hands over her face until Lana’s fingers were prying them down. 

“Sit up.”

Ally did as she was told, propping herself up on her arm and watching as Lana sat down right where her head had been, crossing one leg over the other. She patted her lap, and the smile she offered Ally was so warm, so genuine, that Ally couldn’t help but lay back down. And the way that her head fit in Lana’s lap, the way Lana’s fingers started pulling softly through her hair, Ally brought her hand up to Lana’s knee and traced tiny circles there, breaths steadying out. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lana tried, scratching lightly at Ally’s scalp.

Ally sighed, staring at the wall. Shook her head. “It’s just that sometimes… Everything comes rushing back and I feel so…” She trailed off, thumb tapping against Lana’s knee.

“Trapped.” 

Ally startled, turning to look at Lana. “Exactly.” 

Lana chuckled, but she swallowed it down, something shadowing her eyes. 

Ally sat up, scooting closer. And after waiting for a sign to stop, watching Lana watch her, listening to the quickening of her breaths, she made the split second decision to straddle her, settling down in her lap. 

“Lana Winters,” she murmured, brow furrowed as she searched Lana’s eyes. And Lana held her gaze, hands settling on her waist. “Who are you?” 

Lana’s fingers tightened as she laughed, really, fully laughed, head thrown back just so. And Ally thought absently that she looked like an angel, her hair half-pulled out of its ponytail, curls dropping over her shoulders, lipstick worn down from kissing and kissing and kissing. Ally wondered if it was trailed across her own neck, over her shoulders, down her stomach. But more than that, she wondered if she could kiss her hard enough and long enough to get every last piece of it off. 

When Lana looked back at her, eyes glittering, Ally grinned. Shifted to ease the throbbing between her legs. And Lana’s breath stuttered. She gulped. 

“I should probably be going,” she murmured, fingers twitching on Ally’s waist. 

Ally shook her head. “Don’t go.” 

Lana chuckled, smiling softly. “It’s late.”

But her hands weren’t moving and her eyes kept flicking to Ally’s mouth, so for the thousandth time that night, Ally made a split second decision and ground down against Lana’s hips, brow raising in a hesitant question. “Don’t go.”

A soft gasp. “Alright, honey.”

“Yeah?”

Lana bit her lip, nodding. “Just for a little while.”

And that’s how Ally found herself here, hands in Lana’s hair as Lana mouthed at her neck and forced Ally down on her thigh over and over again. 

“That’s it,” she murmured against Ally’s skin, and it was hot, everything was so hot with this woman. 

Ally nodded, whining. And Lana had the nerve to giggle. 

“What’s funny?” Ally panted, moaning as Lana flicked her tongue over her pulse point. 

“Nothing,” Lana breathed, tightening her grip on Ally’s waist and forcing her faster. Faster.

And the friction that was building was sparking a volatile heat in Ally’s stomach that was pushing and growing and Ally twisted her fingers tighter in Lana’s hair to keep from completely coming apart. 

“For god’s sakes, Lana, just—“ Lana bit down and Ally cried out, and at the heat of Lana’s tongue over the bite she let out a loud moan. 

Another giggle, and a soft hum. “What do you want, honey?” 

And Ally groaned, practically screaming through her clenched teeth. “Will you just— god, oh god— Lana Winters, I swear if you don’t fuck me right now I’ll—“

Lana crushed her mouth to Ally’s, moaning as their teeth clashed and their tongues fought for dominance. 

“There she is,” she panted, hands finding the band of Ally’s pants and yanking them down. They got caught between them and Lana broke away, brow furrowing as Ally lifted her hips. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Lay down for me, honey?” And the way she asked, so soft and so easy, like she wouldn’t mind if Ally said no. 

Well. 

Ally fell back onto the couch, hands finding the silk of Lana’s shirt and pulling her down on top of her. She was over Ally for seconds before she tugged her pants past her thighs and Ally kicked them all the way off. And then Lana straddled Ally’s waist, wiggling her hips down as she pulled her ponytail out and fluffed out her curls. 

“Oh come on,” Ally groaned, rolling her eyes. “You can’t— That’s not fair.”

“Oh no?” Lana questioned, and she bit down on her finger so seductively that Ally actually felt the heat that was pooling between her legs. She thought for a split second that her couch would be absolutely ruined tomorrow and she may need to buy a new one after all, but then Lana threw her head back and laughed and Ally’s hands gripped into her shirt, rucking it up from where it was tucked into her skirt. 

“Off. Now.” Yanking, tugging, pulling. “Get it off.”

Another laugh. “Yes ma’am.” 

She lifted her arms, letting Ally rip the shirt off of her head before yanking her down on top of her and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe. 

Lana broke away, pushing their foreheads together as she panted. “For a second there I thought you were going to go full bottom on me.”

Ally swallowed. “Is that a problem?” 

Lana hummed over a chuckle, tracing her finger down Ally’s jaw, tapping her chin. “Not if I’m the one that gets to make Miss Senator fall to pieces.”

Ally laughed. “Challenge accepted.”

And Lana bit her lip, nuzzling their noses together. “Oh honey,” she drawled, “it’s not going to be a challenge, believe me.” 

Ally gasped, flushing, and Lana took the opportunity to latch her mouth back to her neck, fingers slipping down over her thighs and scratching lightly. And Ally almost drowned in the feel of it, almost begged. But just as her eyes rolled back in her head and Lana’s mouth opened in that sticky, sticky way, there was a thump.

“Mama…?”

Ally’s eyes flew open and Lana froze, pulling back. Ally caught at her shoulders.

“Don’t move,” she mouthed, acutely aware that she was not wearing any pants and Lana was the only thing covering her. “Please.” 

Lana bit down on a laugh.

“Ozzie? What’s wrong, sweetie?” Ally called, pushing a finger to Lana’s lips.

“I was thirsty,” he said softly. 

“Alright,” Ally tried, throwing a look at Lana as she pushed her tongue against Ally’s finger. “I—“ 

Lana took her finger into her mouth, holding it between her teeth. 

“Um, Oz, just—“ 

Lana sucked, hummed, barely audible, and Ally melted into the vibrations, groaning softly. 

She took a deep breath, forcing her mind back to the present. 

“Ozzie, just— go into the kitchen and grab a cup and I’ll meet you in there, okay?” 

“Okay,” he replied casually, and Ally heard him plod out of the room. 

“Stop it,” Ally started before Lana even had a chance to open her mouth. “You horrible, awful, distracting—“ 

She kept muttering as Lana giggled softly, crawling off of her and retrieving her pants from the floor. She held them out to Ally. Quirked her brow. “Quickly, honey, or he’s going to come back in here.”

Ally huffed, pulling her pants back on and pressing her mouth to Lana’s ear. “You’re dead meat, Winters. Just you wait.” 

But after helping Ozzie with his water in only pants and a bra, tucking him snugly back into bed, and making her way back down the stairs, Ally found Lana standing in the foyer, pulling her blazer on over her shirt. 

Ally stopped in her tracks. “What… are you doing?” 

Lana whipped around, smile breaking through as she finished with the buttons. “It’s late, honey. And I have an early morning tomorrow.” 

Ally nodded, brow raised. “Alright.” 

Lana crossed the room, hand settling on Ally’s chest. Two soft pats. “He’s a sweet kid.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ally tried, frustration flooding through her. “I thought he would stay asleep, but—“

“Hey,” Lana started, pressing a soft kiss to Ally’s lips. “You said you were willing to take the risk. And I knew what I was getting into when I pushed you down onto that couch. Okay?” 

A hesitant smile. A nod. “Okay.” 

Lana kissed her again, lingering as her fingers tapped against Ally’s skin. When she pulled back, she was smirking. “Are you going to be okay if I leave now? You’re not going to combust on me, are you, honey?” 

And Ally chuckled, low and soft in the back of her throat as her hands found Lana’s ass and yanked her against her. “Oh baby, I’ll be just fine. But you still have another thing coming. And don’t you forget it.” 

Lana held her out at arm’s length, eyes raking over her. “We’ll see.” 

They stayed frozen like that for a long moment, and Ally could tell by the way Lana was looking at her that she was warring with herself on something. She waited for Lana to change her mind. To pull her in and kiss her senseless. But after biting her lip and tilting her head, Lana chuckled, hands falling from Ally’s arms. 

Alright then. 

Ally grabbed Lana’s purse for her and opened the door. 

“You still have that morning appointment available tomorrow?” Lana purred, shouldering the bag with a smirk.

Ally quirked her brow. “I may be able to pencil you in.” 

A low laugh and one more light kiss to Ally’s lips. “Oh good. And here I was thinking I wouldn’t have time for breakfast.”

And then she was gone, walking down the drive and leaving Ally standing in the doorway alone, gaping and shaking and absolutely soaked. 

~~~ 

“I told you, we’re not cutting the story. It’s already half-way in print, for heaven’s sake.” 

“I’m not asking you to cut the story,” Ally snapped, arms crossed tight. “All I’m asking is that you cut that one specific part.”

“And I’m telling you no.” 

Ally let out a growl, standing abruptly and bracing her hands on her desk. “God, you are so infuriating! It’s two lines. Just fucking cut it!” 

“Why?” Lana slammed back, spinning on Ally. “Why should I be the one who has to cut my story? Why can’t you let us run this one?” 

“Because I let you have the last one. And the one before that—“

“And the one before that you cut,” Lana argued, smacking her hand down on Ally’s desk. “You have no respect for journalism. If you would just listen—“

“No respect? No respect?!” A flat laugh fell out of Ally’s mouth as she skirted around her desk. “Okay. Let’s talk about respect. Let’s talk about the way you completely went behind my back with that story about the bar? About how you snuck one of your girls into a private city council meeting and then flat out denied it when they called you out?”

She was right on Lana now, towering over her as her chest heaved. 

“I’ll protect my girls. I stand by that and I stand by them.”

Ally glared at her, growling. “You want to try that again?”

But Lana only straightened, arms folding across her chest as she tilted her chin up challengingly. 

Ally huffed and Lana licked over a smirk, fingers tapping on her elbow as the fire in her eyes stoked with her inevitable victory. 

Ally forced herself to turn away, shaking her head out as she took a long breath and pushed her fingers into her temples. “Winters, I swear, sometimes I just—“ 

There was a beat of silence and Ally whipped her head up in the same second she smelled smoke. She groaned. 

“Ms. Winters, can you please not smoke in here? This is a public office.”

Lana raised her brow, sucking on her bottom lip. She held Ally’s gaze, pulling the cigarette to her mouth and taking a long drag. “Sorry,” she drawled, resting her elbow on her arm. “Nasty habit.”

Ally pulled her hands through her hair as she gathered her wits, sitting back at her desk and crossing her legs. Straightened her posture. “I am not going to let you run the full story.”

“I think you will,” Lana countered, sauntering over to the desk. She sat down on the edge of it, dragging on her cigarette.

Ally’s eyes caught on the hem of Lana’s skirt as it inched up her knees, exposing the pink skin there and the annoyingly perfect little dip of her bone, hollow and flushed and— 

She caught herself, digging her teeth into her bottom lip and forcing her eyes back to Lana’s face. And the way she had her cigarette caught between her teeth, the way her lipstick stained the edge of it, the way her fingers twitched on it as her lip quirked up at the corner, Ally had to force herself to sort her thoughts, running over arguments and counterarguments, categorizing them and ordering them and building a wall of a defense against the way Lana was cockily skimming through the papers on her desk. 

The nerve of it all, mixed with the way she distinctly felt like she was losing again, had Ally practically vibrating. Her fingers pushed into the arms of her chair as Lana caught her eye, something softening under her gaze as she quirked a brow and covered a smirk with another drag on her cigarette. 

Ally stared her down, jaw setting as her resolve strengthened. Lana tilted her head, and Ally forced herself to match her, not letting herself register the depth of Lana’s gaze or the way her brows pulled together and she licked over her incisor. 

Frustration bubbled up the back of Ally’s throat, pushing against her teeth as she clenched them. She struggled to hold onto it, to keep the words from snaking past her lips. To center herself and stand her ground. It was her office. It was her decision. And Lana couldn’t just march into her day and flip it on its head. 

Lana shifted, crossing one leg over the other as her heel clicked against the side of Ally’s desk. Her skirt shifted higher and it was just edging on being indecent, and as Ally held Lana’s gaze she could have sworn she saw Lana push her tongue into her cheek. And that, mixed with the predatory sparkle reflected in Lana’s eyes, had the last fraction of Ally’s patience pulled to snapping, teetering right on the edge of screaming and gnashing teeth and throwing something. Hard. 

So instead, she squeezed her knees. Took a deep breath. Met Lana’s eyes. 

“You know what? You’re right. I did change my mind. Now, instead of just cutting two lines, I’m cutting the whole thing. Congratulations.”

“What?”

“It’s not appropriate and it’s not a good story and I’m not going to let it run in this city’s newspaper.”

Lana scoffed. Blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just tell me that it wasn’t a good story?”

Ally quirked a brow challengingly. “Do you have a problem with that, Ms. Winters?”

And then Lana was up, pacing and waving her cigarette as she gesticulated. “Do you even hear yourself? You are in no way qualified to tell me that this isn’t a good story. Insult me, fine. Insult my talent, fine. But so help me, if you ever insult journalism again—“

“Get out of my office,” Ally said firmly, fire in her eyes. 

“What?”

“I said get out of my office. This meeting is over. Your request is denied.” 

Lana paused mid-step. “Senator, please. We’re already halfway in print. If you would just let me—“

But Ally stood, her voice pitching higher to counter Lana’s. “I said no, Winters! I have work to finish and papers to attend to and a city to run. So like I said before, I need you out of my office. Now.”

“Senator—“ Lana tried again, brows creased down the middle. But Ally cut her off. 

“Good day, Ms. Winters.” 

Lana growled in frustration, practically screaming through clenched teeth. “I swear you’re going to be the absolute death of me, Allyson Mayfair-Richards.” 

And as Ally watched her bend over and snatch her purse off of the chair, watched her skirt lift just so and caught a glimpse of those little purple-red marks high up on the backs of her thighs, her mouth watered. And the memory of the sounds Lana had made when Ally had sucked them there — the way her fingers had tightened in Ally’s hair as Ally smirked against her skin, hot and flushed and smelling like cigarettes — mixed with the way Ally’s full name fell off of her perfect lips, bubbling up and melting like honey even when she was angry, had Ally seriously considering the possibility that Lana Winters just might be the absolute death of her, too. 

#ally mayfair richards x lana winters #ally mayfair richards #lana winters #lana banana #american horror story #ahs #ahs cult #ahs asylum #cult #asylum #fanfiction #fanfic #ahs fanfic #ahs imagines #ahs fanfiction #smut #angst #fluff

[detonizing]

headcanon.

50 headcanon challenge prompted by @bnharpchub​ bc so many people were doing it on dash and my restraint is only so strong 

coming up with 50 new headcanons was so difficult jfc AWOEINAWE i cheated a bit and some of them mention hcs I already wrote about before, but I did my best to focus on a different part of it to give it a new spin so it’s technically new....ish. awoieNAWEIAWNE

he learned how to cook because his parents were always busy and he wasn’t going to just expect them to cook for him when he could just do it himself ( he learned a whole LOT of things because he realized he could just do it himself )

he doesn’t usually keep things for sentiment reasons. there ARE a few exceptions, but for the most part if it’s important enough to remember he’ll just simply remember it 

he likes the view from up high. mountain climbing really made him aware of that, and it was a part of the reason why he wanted to learn how to fly ( that, and just the fact of it being practical, using his quirk to enhance movement ) 

sometimes puts on a clear coat of nail strengthening polish during weeks of particular harsh training. he would put on coloured polish too, but they often get ruined very quickly because of how much he uses his hands and so he doesn’t see the point to do it often 

his sweat isn’t actually toxic ( mostly bc I do NOT want to deal with all the problems having toxic sweat would cause, but there is more to it that I’ll write in depth of another day when I’m less lazy ) 

His volume is one of the few ways he feels like he can be heard. His mother is also a very loud person, and growing up he would be stuck in situations where if he doesn’t yell LOUDER, he won’t be heard. If he is WILLINGLY quiet around you, that is a sign of trust, a sign that he’s comfortable enough to not feel the need to be loud. 

he cannot stand his mouth being covered, nor does he take well to being told to keep quiet. He GETS that not many people appreciate his loudness. He KNOWS there is always time and place. But being loud is a defensive mechanism, and it being taken away against his will just messes with him a lot. 

speaking of, a large part of why he got the ‘i dont give a fuck about anyone else’ attitude is because no one would really care about him. It wasn’t just because he had a big head. He was acutely aware that people around him would praise him and rise him up, but never actually listen to him or cared what he wants. Why should he care about other people if no one gave a fuck about him? ( he knows better now )

he’s cautious about giving villains second chances. it’s not like he’s against giving villains a chance at redemption ( he knows he’d be a fucking hypocrite if he was ) but he also is realistic, and knows that some people are just shitheads and will refuse to change no matter what. knows that some people will take advantage of people with bleeding hearts ( cOUGHS like dEKU’s COUGHS ) and so he’s just. very wary and distrusting. he’ll give you a chance, but he’s going to watch you during it. 

if the ranking system of heroes gets abolished, it won’t really affect Katsuki’s goals. from the start when he says ‘number one hero’ what he cares most about is being number one by HIS standards. ofc he was planning to get ranked number one too, but if such a system falls apart, he’d just make sure he becomes the Best till no one can argue against it either way 

katsuki has always used his quirk often. he hates rules regulating quirk use because it’s so stupid to him. how the hell was he going to become number one if he didn’t know how to use his own damn quirk? ofc he still tried to abide by the law well enough, in public refraining for the most part ( but his middle school very obviously was super lacking in discipline so he just didn’t bother hiding his usage of quirk there )

his quirk acts up when he has high emotion — but MOST of the time, that is less him losing control and more of a conscious decision on his part. resisting the urge to explode when his body is aching to is dangerous, so it’s better to let loose small, controlled, explosions when the time comes. He works hard to keep control of his quirk, he knows when it’s best to just let explosions loose and when he can hold it in

even without explosions he has a habit of his fingers twisting or fist clenching when he’s high strung. restricting his hands in any way, esp during these times, are an absolute no for him. he WILL react violently if you take away his only method of physically defending himself. 

the reason why he NEEDS to be able to defend himself at all times comes from his lack of trust. He doesn’t WANT to rely on other people, because they could mess up so it’s just better to do it himself. so if people try and stop him from doing it himself.... just nope. 

he’s so so so SO bad at accepting compliments. he’s used to empty meaningless compliments, praise for things he didn’t even earn, so getting actual compliments that are WORTH something. it’s. a lot. he doesn’t know how to properly handle it yet so his first reaction is to reject it somehow ( either by telling the person they are being an idiot, or finding fault in the compliment itself, or something along those lines ) 

he has a base respect for pro heroes in general, because he understands that they have experience he is obviously lacking being a student. but he won’t be blinded by their status. if they fuck up, they fuck up and no ‘hero’ status will keep him from recognizing that 

he doesn’t actually hate quirkless people. he never really has. he had a problem with DEKU, but not exactly quirkless people in general. he started calling Izuku as “Deku” before he knew that he would never get a quirk. He called him ‘deku’ because izuku would fail at bouncing a ball or skipping stones and such ( back then, almost ALL people were ‘useless’ to him, not just quirkless people aoweinaoweianwe ) 

he as sharp teeth. not enough to be called fangs or anything, but they are definitely sharper than average ( he’s a little gremlin so I must give him sharp teeth ) 

he’s still struggling to ask for help. he can easily admit that he needs backup when it comes to hero works — knows that teamwork is essential at times and saving and BEING saved in turn is how being a hero is. BUT for PERSONAL things? Outside of being a hero? As a person??? He doesn’t know HOW to ask for help with that. 

He’s ALWAYS been super independent. so people just. expect him to be fine on his own. HE himself expected to be fine on his own. But by the time he realized wait no, I’m not fine. People stopped trying to check up on him. ( until U.A., but then old habits die hard. but he’s learning ) 

he tends to shower at night more than in the mornings, because he often works out not too long before bed. he also just takes more than one shower a day if needed ofc he takes hygiene seriously

he HATES when he can’t get a full night’s sleep. And sadly ever since getting kidnapped it’s been happening more and more often. he’s unused to functioning without a full eight or nine hours, so he gets cranky all day and feels fucking awful. He used to hate naps, felt like a waste of his day, but they’ve become a bit of a necessity with how shit his sleeping pattern has become. ( plus jordyn’s shoto has shown him the wonders of napping aowienawe ) 

he doesn’t take long to get ready in the morning. even if he needs to dress differently for an occasion or anything, he doesn’t spend long trying to decide what to wear

his quirk isn’t affected by rain or water like people would expect, but it’s fucking COLD so he still hates getting wet

he’s really good at fighting even without his quirk. he absolutely has thought of situations where he couldn’t use his quirk to full capacity, and so he decided he needed to kick ass even without it

he’s really level-headed in battle!!! despite how he acts, he ALWAYS considers all options and acts on the best one. He just thinks really fast and acts the way he does so it SEEMS like he’s charging in without thinking ahead. That being said, he used to often underestimate his opponents so he’d sometimes make the wrong call. He’s getting MUCH better at not doing that lately tho

he doesn’t really celebrate his own birthday. he gets well wishes from his family, often they’d get a cake maybe, but he doesn’t really WANT or NEED presents, so he had his parents stop trying to gift him things years ago. His birthday is SUPER close to the beginning of the year, so it is often times overlooked by his peers too, but he doesn’t care

Katsuki is demisexual!! He can recognize when people are traditionally attractive, but he doesn’t really fucking care and isn’t attracted TO them. It’s only once they’ve become someone he actually CARES about could he then develop any feelings beyond platonic ones ( no love at first sight here )

he’d NEVER pick up smoking, and even when of age he’d very rarely drink. He wouldn’t want his health to deteriorate by stuff like that. And he wouldn’t want his ability to think be hindered by alcohol

he doesn’t like lying unless for good reason ( like hiding ofa ) but he doesn’t see lying by omission as the same. To him, that’s just him deciding it’s no one’s business and so there’s no need for him to admit to anything

people have tried to bully him as a kid. we’ve seen him chase off older kids in canon before. It wasn’t just a one time thing. It was pretty constant, actually. Other kids, usually those older than him, would hear about him and his attitude and try and ‘put him in his place’ It’s not like he was very popular as a kid, it’s just that Katsuki always WON any fights so no one could actually do anything to him

his nicknames, for the most part, aren’t actually meant to be insulting. Besides like Deku, and when he called Todoroki “holding back bastard”, the rest are just,,, descriptions in his mind aowienAWE ThEY ARE RUDE AF but he doesn’t actually seek out the rudest name he can think of to call people. It’s just whatever comes to mind first

he doesn’t actually mind when people call him out on his shit anymore. he’d in fact admit that they have guts to do so. If they try and call him out on BULLSHIT though, then he’d get angry bc they are just wasting his goddamn time. 

he KNOWS when his classmates are purposefully manipulating him to doing something by phrasing it as a challenge. It’s just he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll rise to the challenge anyways and prove them all WRONG. 

If he really doesn’t wanna do something, there’s absolutely nothing that could get him to do it 

his way of SHOWING that he cares is through actions and gifts. Doing things for people ( studying, cooking, etc ) that he cares about comes naturally to him

On the contrary, he struggles to process it when people try and show that they care the same way. He doesn’t like getting gifts, and he rather do the things he needs to himself??? The easiest way he can understand people showing that they care is through quality time. If you are willing to spend time with him, seek him out? He can get that means you WANT to. ( if this is proven wrong it’d shake his entire acceptance in that person. he’d struggle to believe that they care for him at all in any way after ) 

once you broke his trust, it’s impossible to gain it back. he DOESNT trust easily. he takes so many careful measures to prevent himself from trusting the wrong person. if he gave you his trust you better fucking treasure it, because it’s only given out once. That being said, there are different levels of trust that katsuki gives out — as seen on his relationship page. Level two trust is when it starts getting serious. If you have that, that’s when if broken it’s unfixable. Level one trust is a toss up if broken, very dependent on situation

soft smiles are hard to come by from katsuki! We’ve all seen his confident grins in the face of danger all the time — he smiles a lot during challenges and battle!! But soft ones? Full of fondness and love? They are pretty rare. And even when they DO happen, often it’s only when no one can see

His EYES are actually what turns soft first!! You have a better chance catching his eyes and eyebrows turn a bit less aggressive, but again they aren’t exactly common per say. He doesn’t like showing such expression unless he feels like attention is off him. ( he just. isn’t USED to expressing himself this way. so he doesn’t really like when people draw attention to when he does. because it makes him feel like he did something wrong, in a way )

it’s actually easy to make katsuki flustered and embarrassed. he’S not uSED to it so he’s weak let him live aowieNAWE his ears are the first to turn red!!! but if you really get him embarrassed he does go completely red sorry kats

he does all of his homework well in advance. he hates leaving ANYTHING to the last minute, really

he’s done modeling work as a kid. sometimes he still does, but very rarely. He doesn’t exactly hate doing it, but he just isn’t the least bit interested so he rather spend his time doing something else. When he does do it, you bet he takes it 100% seriously.

he won’t argue if someone calls him a shit person. he knows that he is, and he refuses to deny that. what DOES piss him off though is when people solely focus on how shit of a person he is to the extend of disregarding the perfect results he gives. He’s a shit person, but he’s still the BEST and fuck anyone who says otherwise.

he also knows that he is changing, because it’s a conscious effort on his part TO change. But that’s also the thing. He’s working hard to not be shitty ALL the time, but that doesn’t change the fact that at his core, he’s still not a NICE person. he’s acutely aware that the things he struggles so much with, comes so easy to other people. He wont let this STOP him , he’s never called it quits before just because something was difficult for him, but it still sucks. knowing just how much effort he’s putting into this when some people barely think about it at all

katsuki was well versed in medical knowledge even before U.A. Not because he was thinking about how heroes may need to give emergency care on the field, but just from his own injuries during self training. he needed to know how to treat them properly so it doesn’t cause him problems in the future 

katsuki runs hot, but he gets cold easily. Because he’s used to keeping himself running at high temperatures, his concept of cold is different than most other’s. Suddenly being in like sixty five degrees Fahrenheit feels COLD to him

intended use for furniture are only suggestions. That means yes, he WILL sit on top of desks and counters, stand on top of chairs, and put his feet on the bed while he lays on the floor if he so goddamn chooses. 

no matter how close with a person he is, he’ll eventually need time alone and his personal space left untouched. It takes a lot to get to the point where physical touch is something he’d allow, ( having both touch starvation and touch aversion in equal parts ) but even with people he is completely comfortable with, sometimes it still gets to be TOO mUCH and he needs to step back. he has bad days, too. where just a brush of contact would set him off and he can’t understand himself why it happens. all he knows is that he really hates those days.

it still stings, the knowledge that All Might never even considered him for a possible successor. he was RIGHT THERE when all might picked izuku, after all. and all might can say all he wants about how ‘he was already powerful, he wanted to give midoriya a fighting chance’ or whatever. he knows he was never a contender. it’s not that he WANTS ofa though. he is perfectly happy with his quirk. It’s not even that it’s deku who ended up getting it, he in retrospect is glad deku can fight him now. It’s just. in the end, he’s always always lacking something. it just fuels to his belief of never being good enough when it counts. because HE is NEVER anyone’s first choice to be the up and coming number one. He’s GOING to be. He’ll prove EVERYONE wrong. But, it sure would be nice. Someone else believing in him, too.

#this was fun!!! ty bnharpchub for the challenge!!! #i did my best #some of these imma want to expand on at a later date #and there are two big hcs that i didn't put on here bc it would just take up too much space aweOAIWNE #and yes i am saying that while fully aware some of these have like six plus lines AOWIENAWE #·∴∵✷ [ HEADCANONS ]

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #408

“tied to the rat race  /  a big bird in a small cage”

Who, whether a person or company, emails you the most? I really don't check my email enough to even know. If you were given an assignment to draw anything besides stick figures or just doodles, what would you draw? A meerkat of course, ha ha. Do you play the games on MySpace/Facebook? I never did. Well no, I did play "Dragons of Atlantis" when Facebook bought it or whatever, but now that it's a mobile game, I don't play anything on there. When was the last time you were sunburnt? Ha, actually now. It's from riding an hour to and an hour back from the TMS office every weekday; the sun coming in through the window got my arm. Who all do you live with? My mom and my two pets. Has a guy ever let you wear his jacket? Yeah. It was so comforting when Jason gave me his leather jacket to wear if I was cold; it was pretty big on me at that time and just really cozy. Thanks survey, now I feel like crying. :^) How many friends do you have of the opposite sex? Like, one. Do you have bird feeders hanging up outside? What about any hanging plants? No. Does your house have sliding glass doors? No. Was the last food item you ate part of a meal or a snack? A snack. What color is your hair brush? I don't use a brush, but a white comb. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? I think I prefer sunny for the sake of helping keep my depression at bay, but sometimes I really do enjoy some nice steady rainfall at the window. Who’s the last person that you hugged, not family? I have no idea. What will your next piercing be? Probably getting my nostril re-pierced. How many people have you kissed, that you can HONESTLY say you loved? Two. Can you recall the last time you liked someone a lot? uhhhhhhhhhh now What’s scarier: spiders or worms? Worms gross me out, but a spider is more likely to actually scare me, but at the same time fascinate me. Do you play poker for real money? No. If you were pregnant, how long would you wait to tell the dad? I'd tell him immediately. Would you ever date out of your own race? I have in the past, and I would again. Do you still watch movies intended for children? Yeah. Hell, more than half the time they're better than "grown up" movies. What’s your favorite movie trilogy? Uhhhh does TLK count? ha ha What would you like to take lessons in? German. Whose Facebook password do you have? Just my own. Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school? No. Have you ever crawled through a window? Yes. Are you too forgiving? Yuuuup. Ever have a sleepover with the opposite sex? Well, we were dating. Have you ever gotten someone suspended? No. Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? No. Would you live with someone without marrying them? Yes; I believe you really probably should before getting married so you see if you "fit" as far as household habits and such go. Have you ever wanted to strip naked in front of someone? Yeah no. I'd feel way too awkward. What are you listening to? A John Wolfe video. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My mom. Did anyone watch you the last time you kissed someone? I mean possibly, it was a public place, and some people are definitely caught off-guard by seeing two girls kiss. Do either of your parents have any tattoos or piercings? No. Mom wants a tattoo, though, dedicated to all of us kids and her grandkids. Are you desperate for anyone’s approval, in particular? -_- Would you ever stalk a celebrity? Um, no???? You don't stalk ANYBODY. It's a violation of space, privacy, basic respect... Do you have any National Geographic magazines lying around? No. Have you ever been mistaken for the opposite gender? No. Do you use liquid foundation, mousse, or just powder? None. Have you ever picked out a song to listen to on a juke box? Maybe? I don't remember. Have you ever eaten 3 meals from 3 different fast food places in one day? Oh god, I hope not. I don't remember ever having done that. Have you ever ridden in a limo? No. I always wanted to as a kid. Have you ever tried to put a huge puzzle together? Yeah, I have. I used to like to do that with my mom especially. Ever wake up early on Saturdays to go garage sale shopping? Yes, actually. My family used to love to do that. Do you keep magazines by your toilet? No. Ya better just bring your phone. What did you last take a picture of with your camera? On my actual camera, a hydrangea bush. On the camera on my phone, I believe my cat. Are you proud of who you are? Not... really. If you were a waiter/waitress, would you make good tips? Nope. I'm too awkward and I would NEVER write the orders down quickly enough. I write so slow. What are the best kind of Girl Scout cookies? The chocolate and peanut butter ones. If you hit an animal while driving, would you stop to see if it was okay? Well I doubt it's okay, but I would absolutely stop to move it away from the road and sob my eyes out. I'd probably try to find some flowers to rest on it. What's your favorite kind of pasta? Spaghetti. Have you ever played computer solitaire for hours on end? I don't even know how to play solitaire. What's the dumbest thing you've heard of that supposedly causes cancer? Who the hell knows, everything does apparently. If you saw wet cement, would you place your handprint in it? No. Can you honestly tell the difference between DiGiorno and delivery pizza? Absolutely. Do you own a lava lamp? No, but I would looove one. What charity or cause would you donate $1,000 to if possible? Off the top of my head, the Trevor Project. I'd probably research before actually donating, though. What would you say is your greatest strength? I guess that I care a lot about people. What's one food that you find too disgusting to eat? Things like clams, es cargot, sashimi... just ew. What's something that will never bore you? Uhhhh good question. Pizza Hut or Domino's? Domino's, by a long shot. What's something that always, no matter what, makes you laugh? Stupid Vines, lol. Have you ever been in a canoe? No. How many vehicles does your family own? Just one, my mom's. Are you generally afraid of taking risks? Yes. Have you ever caught/swatted a fly in/with your hand? Ew, no. Would you ever dye your hair bubblegum pink? Yeah. What was the last thing to happen that you really weren't expecting? The woman whose wedding I shot TWO YEARS ago finally reaching out to me about buying some pictures. What does it mean when you start eating less? What does it mean when you start eating more? If I'm eating less, odds are I'm extremely serious about losing weight. If I'm eating more than usual, high odds are I'm depressed or bored. Or I'm on my period. What’s the strangest named pet you’ve ever had? Harry Potter, ha ha. He was a guinea pig. What are some defense mechanisms you find yourself using when in an argument with someone? I'm very likely to just metaphorically flee from it because I fear confrontation so much. Do you know if there is anyone who was once important to you that you will never talk to again, even though you could? If I have any say in it, I'm never talking to Colleen again. List the initials of every person you have ever kissed, from first kiss to most recent kiss. (Put “?”s in the place of initials you don’t know.) I'm not listing their last initial, but anyway: J, T, G, S. Does your face break out right before your period? Not "break out," no. I'll just get a pimple or two. What did you dream about last night? All I remember was that it focused on Jason and his late mother. I miss her so much. I hope so much that whatever exists beyond death, she found the peace she was so worthy of. Do you think the United States health care system needs reform? FUCK yes I do. Our health care system is a disgusting fucking nightmare. Who was the last person you cried over? Jason. My PTSD has been doing quite well, but I had an emotional episode recently nonetheless. Do you prefer ceiling fans or fans that stand up on the floor and you plug in? I use both, but I think my preference is ceiling ones. What would you do if your son was at home, crying all alone on the bedroom floor because he’s hungry, and the only way to feed him was to sleep with a man for a little bit of money? Hypothetically, if I had a child, if I'm totally honest, I probably would. I would hate it, but I'm not letting my child starve to death if I can do something about it. Why do you think evolution is true/false? Because there is substantial evidence for it and imo is the most logical theory we've thought up. Some things about it seem kinda far-fetched, but I still have faith in it. I trust scientists and the evolution we see firsthand, such as caterpillars to cocoons, tadpoles to frogs, etc. Who came through for you at a time when you really, really needed it? Colleen. She let me live with her when I was technically homeless. What turned out better than you thought? Good question. What object did you used to, or do you still, keep hidden? My drawings. I've flipped my shit when Mom's found them in the past, even though she went on and on about how "amazing" they were. I don't draw anything "bad" at all, but still, I don't like people seeing my creativity. Who can’t you figure out? My damn self. What are you hoping for? The most recent thing would be hoping Shonda buys a lot, if not all, the wedding photos I took. I desperately want to use the money along with what I have left from Christmas to buy Venus' terrarium and proper supplies all by myself. What’s the best physical object that you kept from a previous relationship? Idk, there's a few things. What is the most socially unacceptable thing that you have no problem with? Maybe women not shaving. Like I couldn't care less. What have you done that you surprised yourself by doing? *shrug* What used to be a secret about you? Hm. Anything that used to be a secret probably still is one. What is the most stalky thing you’ve ever done? Just Facebook digging, and that's not something I've done a lot off. What did you wind up liking that you didn’t want anything to do with at first? The only thing that comes to mind at the moment is something sexual, so let's not go into that. Who do you owe your life that you can never pay back? Mom and Jason have both saved me from what would've been suicide attempts.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''monkey tree'' by mother mother

[dorizardthewizard]

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 5

Prologue / Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

5. THE HOLO-TRAINER

After making a few final adjustments, Clamp touches - not without a hint of apprehension - the white launch button on the touchscreen of his console. No lightning or spitting this time: the controls turn green and data is displayed, indicating that the system is charged to its rated power and ready to operate. Clamp leans back in his chair with a satisfied smile and folds his hands behind his neck.

- Voila! It should work perfectly now.

- "Perfection", - emphasizes Aarch. - That is exactly the word I was looking for to describe your machines... when they work!

Much more relaxed, Clamp still makes a few adjustments, which do not cause any catastrophic reaction from his devices: on the contrary, they beep, chirp and click with gusto.

- Do you think we’re going to get much turnout? Maybe football doesn't interest anyone on this planet anymore...

As if in response, the doors of the elevator at the back of the room - the first thing Clamp repaired so he could get all his crates of equipment down there - slide squeakily and dump a dozen young people, proudly led by Micro-Ice.

- Voila! - he declares to his buddies, who are amazed by the vastness of the place and the buzzing machines. - There are still plenty more coming! - he tells Aarch and Clamp.

The coach looks at the scientist with a mocking smile:

- How’s that?

Eyes wide, D’jok considers the enormous white cube in front of him, which seems to him like an elevator car for giants. From the open door springs a dazzling light.

- What is that thing?

- Well, it's… (Clamp clears his throat: he hadn't thought of giving his device a name yet). Uh… it's a holo-trainer, - he improvises. - A virtual training machine, in a way.

- Okay well, I'll be leaving now... I’ve got no reason to be here, - says Micro-Ice, returning to the elevator.

- You don't want to take part? – queries Aarch.

- No thank you, no way! Tests aren’t really my thing. Just hearing the word makes me feel like I'm in school!

- In any case, thank you for everything, kid... we can really say you fell in at the right moment!

Micro-Ice smiles at this joke that only he understands and stands in front of the elevator, ignoring D’jok's look of disappointment at him. The moment he raises his finger to press the call button, the doors creak open again...

On a dream creature.

Thin oval face carried by a slender neck, delicate nose, curled lips, huge brown hair pulled up in a thick ponytail, a perfect body in a princess costume… and huge blue eyes that land on an amazed Micro-Ice. His joke in Maya's cave, about the pretty girl and the treasure, comes to mind… if he hasn't found the treasure, he sure found the pretty girl!

The girl pulls away from Micro-Ice and enters the room, along with a dozen new candidates. A woman follows her, much older, also dressed elegantly in a coat with a Garo fur collar: her mother is oblivious, because she speaks vehemently to the visibly annoyed girl:

- Are you listening to me, Mei? You have to show them that you are the best! You understand? The best!

- Enough, mom!

“Wow, even her voice is awesome”, thinks Micro-Ice to himself, contemplating her graceful step dreamily. Love at first sight? He isn’t sure what that is, but what is certain anyway is that his heart is pounding hard and it is making him so hot inside...

- What's the matter, Micro-loser? You look even more silly than usual!

Sinedd! In terms of cold showers, it doesn’t get worse than this. Micro-Ice suddenly descends to earth, but his natural wittiness quickly takes over:

- What are you doing here? We came to practice football. Not your nutty card game!

- Exactly, losers like you and your friends don't stand a chance here! -  Sinedd scoffs. - Make way for the real players!

- So you think you're a real player, huh, Sinedd? - D’jok intervenes.

- Maybe my ball is causing his ankles to swell, - laughs Thran.

- Can't wait to start the trials, so I can humiliate you all! None of you come close to my level. You're going to take a huge beating!

Pushing past Micro-Ice and his buddies, Sinedd joins the crowd massed in front of the holo-trainer with an already victorious stride.

- We’ll see about that! - challenges Micro-Ice.

- Ah, so you're staying after all? - remarks Ahito.

- By the off chance, it wouldn’t have anything to do with that girl over there, would it? – quips D’jok, nodding at Mei, who is stamping her foot, still being harassed by her mother.

- You need to position yourself on offense, - she explains to her. - The biggest football stars are strikers!

- I get it, mom!

- A girl? What girl? - Micro-Ice blushes, ostensibly turning his back on him.

His friends burst out laughing, which makes him blush all the more.

- Well, we can start, - Aarch decides. – As far as I can see, we will not have more candidates...

- Think again, Aarch, - Clamp rebukes. - Look, the elevator is bringing more people!

Indeed, the doors slide open again with a horrible squeak of rusting metal. But it is not more candidates who come out this time...

It's Ballow and his three thugs.

- Hello, everyone! I see you have decided to have fun without us?

Aarch and Clamp exchange a look of apprehension: will this situation ever come to an end?

- Always so good at ruining the mood, this guy! - murmurs Micro-Ice from the middle of the crowd.

- Don't worry, guys, he's not going to stay long. - promises Thran, mysteriously.

- Okay, kids, get the hell out of here, and fast! - hollers Ballow at the gathering. – It’s not you we’re after...

With that, he walks wickedly towards Aarch, followed by his henchmen, who have drawn their tasers again.

Suddenly a bright light swirls down from the hole in the ceiling, accompanied by the characteristic whistle of turboprop engines. In the light a rope unwinds along which Callie Mystic, the Arcadia News star reporter, glides nimbly, filmed by her trusty flying holo-cam. She lightly jumps to the ground and immediately begins her speech:

- What did I tell you, dear holo-spectators? With Callie Mystic, nothing remains a secret for long!

She winks and gives the thumbs up in the direction of Thran, who returns the gesture, to the amazement of his friends.

- Did you call her? – blurts D’jok.

- Well, - Thran answers with a smirk, - I thought since we knew where Aarch was, it was worth telling Arcadia News...

Callie walks confidently towards Arch, sticking her microphone right under his nose.

- Aarch, it can be said you’re hard to find. But it takes a lot more to escape Callie Mystic's curiosity!

- So what do we do, boss? - asks Ballow’s big bald henchman.

- Arrrgh! Well, we massacre everyone on live television, that will give us publicity! Is that a stupid enough answer for you or do you want me to think of some more? - He shoves past his men and walks back to the elevator with an angry step - Come on, come on, let's get out of here!

- Well! - Callie resumes. - Aarch, how about explaining to our dear holo-viewers a little bit about this machine and what you expect from all these kids?

***

Onboard his jet-snow, Rocket rushes towards the Windy Plateaus, where he can hit real bursts of speed on this flat and empty plain, cracked with faults that add a little spice to the pleasure of sliding. The odometer is already reaching 150 km/h, but it can easily go up to 200. Beyond that, it becomes risky from a grip and stability point of view: you are at the mercy of the slightest bump or rut... but where’s the thrill, if there is no danger?

Suddenly a weird sound complements the regular growl of his turbo: a sort of roar accompanied by spitting... he checks his controls - it would be a problem if he broke down so far from Arcadia - but everything is normal: the sound is not coming from his vehicle…

It is coming from the sky.

A flying machine passes him with a thunderous noise, at a dangerously low altitude. Rocket slows down to better identify it: it's a Red-Bee-type shuttle, commonly used by moon dwellers on Obia or Tanaga to descend on Akillian. It seems in trouble: ominous smoke escapes from its reactor, the roar of which is interspersed with jolts and rattles. The shuttle plunges behind a hill - an instant later a low rumble echoes and a large plume of smoke rises.

The shuttle crashed!

Rocket steps on it and reaches the crash site in less than a minute. The Red-Bee is buried in a snowdrift, its cockpit broken, its wings twisted, its engine is spitting out sinister black smoke. Without thinking, Rocket jumps off the jet-snow, runs towards the machine and slips into the cockpit through the broken glass.

A young girl lies unconscious in the pilot's seat.

“She's not old enough to fly this,” thinks Rocket. “No wonder she messed up!”

There is not a minute to lose: smoke is invading the cockpit, it smells of burning in the back, sparks fly from the circuits... he gives violent thrusts against the airlock with the twisted door, which he manages to unlock. He grabs the girl by the shoulders and drags her outside. No sooner has he walked a few yards than the Red-Bee explodes, throwing burning debris around. Rocket throws himself into the snow and covers the girl with his body to protect her.

The blast and the sound of the explosion pulls her from her unconsciousness. She half-opens her eyes, flickering a pretty sea green. An Obiane, Rocket recognizes by her small size, her pale complexion and her silver hair.

- Aarch… I have to find Aarch… - she mumbles in a faint voice before relapsing into unconsciousness.

***

Rather than giving Callie Mystic a private interview, Aarch prefers to present his project live to all applicants:

- Let me introduce myself: my name is Aarch. You must have heard of me... whether for good things or bad. I was part of Akillian’s last great football team, before the Catastrophe. I came back because I intend to create a new, even more talented one. And this will be thanks to you! I am sure the Akillian Breath can be reawakened. Professor Clamp, here, will co-lead the trials today. We will only take the best. I'm counting on you to give your all! Well, good luck!

During Aarch's speech, Ahito almost fell asleep, awakened by a nudge from D’jok. Micro-Ice, placed "by chance" near Mei, kept his eyes fixed on her… eyes full of stars. He was paying attention, though, for he asks:

- By the way, sir, how are we going to do the trials? I see no football field...

- An excellent question, - Clamp intervenes. - I just need a volunteer. Come closer, boy, and put this on, please (he hands him a yellow and purple jersey and shorts filled with sensors). You're going to get changed in there (he points to the second white cube, the smaller one). And then you'll go in here.

He nods towards the illuminated entrance behind him.

A minute later, Micro-Ice shows up in front of the holo-trainer. Half blind by the light, he can only make out a white floor and black walls. Nothing very exciting in principle... he turns to his comrades, who support him:

- Yeah, go ahead, Micro-Ice!

- Show them what you can do!

But it's Mei's gaze on him - at whom he smiles - that gives him the courage to step into the light box. Clamp taps on his console, and the door slides closed again behind Micro-Ice.

He walks to the middle of the cube, taken aback. Is this a training ground? Where's the ball? Where are the goals, the opponents?

Suddenly, the black walls are erased, replaced by an artificial "sky"; the white ground turns green, the lines of the center and the penalty area are imprinted, virtual goals appear at each end. The whole place takes on the dimension of a real football field, much larger in appearance than the cube itself.

- Woah! – marvels Micro-Ice, breathless.

He kneels down and feels the ground with his hand: it seems real...

- Okay, let me explain (Aarch's voice comes from everywhere at once). See the red line at the other end of the field? You have to get there as fast as possible, dribbling the ball.

With his hand as a visor to protect himself from the bright light, Micro-Ice spots the line in question, in front of the goal that seems very distant to him. A ball materializes near him. He feels it with the tip of his foot: it is solid... he holds it under his heel and gets into position.

- Yeah, piece of cake!

- Obstacles will appear on your route - Aarch continues. - You will have to dribble past them without wasting time.

- Ah… smaller piece of cake.

- Ready… and go! – sounds Clamp’s voice.

Micro-Ice takes a leap forward, kicking the ball away. A few meters in front of him is virtualized a Shadow player, a completely realistic Fulmugus avatar… not that realistic actually, because Micro-Ice dribbles past him easily. Then markers appear on his course, which he must avoid in an increasingly tight slalom. If he touches one, it flashes red, emitting an unpleasant sound: a deducted point, no doubt.

- Uh oh… looks like things are getting complicated!

Seven terminals suddenly stand in front of Micro-Ice and rush over to him. He has no choice but to jump over them while maintaining control of his ball. As soon as he touches the ground and retrieves the ball, three Fulmugus avatars try to stop him, as the virtual goal appears in sight. He manages to dribble past the first by squeezing the ball between his legs, narrowly avoids the second with a turn-back, then shoots towards the goal from which the goalkeeper appeared - who catches the ball in his chest and disintegrates. The ball returns, Micro-Ice leaps to retrieve it and shoot at the goal again. But he doesn’t make good contact with the ball, he falls and slips on the pitch, pushing the ball with his foot… slipping between the spread legs of the third Shadow defender… who fades behind him. Micro-Ice turns his head… gives a smile of victory: the red line is there, just under his neck!

- Woooooooo!

The holo-trainer's door opens on a radiant Micro-Ice, immediately surrounded by his pals.

- So? How was it? - asks Thran.

- Absolutely awesome! – exclaims Micro-Ice.

- Very good, - Aarch smiles. - And now, who's next?

A good thirty arms rise immediately: “Me! – No, me! - Me, sir, me! - To me, to me! - Please, sir! - I am the best! … ”

***

Finally, she regains consciousness.

Rocket had carried the little Obiane on his jet-snowboard to his secret cave. Along the way, he considered taking her to his father's house, but quickly gave it up, imagining the scene: “Who is this girl? Where is she from? What were you doing on the Windy Plateaus instead of going to deliver my flowers? We must call the police and send her to the hospital! As if I don’t have enough worries without this…!” In short, the adventure would quickly come to an end, but it's not every day that Rocket meets someone - better: save a girl from certain death. A very pretty girl in addition: thin and petite, the face of an angel with thin, silver hair that he wants to stroke, and beautiful green eyes...

Raised by his father, his only family (since his mother passed away when he was a baby), Rocket is a loner, with no friends, and of course no girlfriends - girls are a total mystery to him. He's out of school, educated by Norata and Educator, TTV's (Technoid's) interactive education network. Norata fears that his son will one day leave the family home. This is why he employed him very early on in his small florist business, and plans to make him his partner and then his successor. Rocket only knows the world that his father allows him to know, and what he secretly learns from TTV - especially Galactik Football... because this reclusive and lonely life would be very sad and miserable if Rocket had not maintained that secret passion for GF. Like D’jok, who believes he has an extraordinary destiny, Rocket also dreams of becoming a great soccer player, of following the path of his revered uncle. But Rocket knows very well that this is only a dream, that as long as he lives by, for and in the flowers, this destiny will never knock on his door.

Until Aarch's miraculous appearance last week... his dream suddenly took shape and substance, and turned into a mad hope. A hope that Norata is working to bring down, but Aarch exists, he's on Akillian to recruit a new team - Rocket saw Callie Mystic's report on TTV. If he could be part of it... but how? Now here is this girl falling from the sky, who also wants to find Aarch… another sign of fate?

Lying on the only seat in the sparsely furnished cave, she stirs and sighs… her eyelids blink, her large green eyes rest on Rocket in surprise.

- Hey, are you okay? - he asks her, full of concern.

He tries to tend to the large bump that is blooming on her forehead with ice and bruising spray he has from the pharmacy. She puts her hand to her head and grimaces, but doesn't answer.

- What... where am I?

- Don't worry, you’re safe here… my name is Rocket.

- I'm Tia… (she walks around the cave lined with football posters, a surprising sight) Do you really live in this cave?

- Uh, not exactly, but let's say I come here very often. Do you need some ice?

Rocket breaks a piece of icicle, which he hands to her.

- For what? - Tia is suspicious.

- For your injury... it keeps it from swelling.

She carefully places the ice cube on her forehead: indeed, it relieves the pain.

- What happened?

- Your shuttle crashed... I pulled you out of it just before it blew up. You're from Obia, aren't you?

Again, Tia ignores his question. She throws the ice cube and stands up abruptly before Rocket's stunned eyes. It is true that the Obians, despite their fragile appearance, are actually very hardy… the harsh living conditions on this small moon without an atmosphere have something to do with it.

- I have to meet Aarch as soon as possible! - Tia looks at the photos, banners and posters again, stopping at Aarch's giant figure. - From what I can see, it looks like you're interested in him… do you know where he is?

Shy, Rocket can't think of anything better to do than kicking his ball, making it jump from one foot to the other.

- Well… to tell you the truth, Aarch is my uncle.

Tia's eyes light up, a smile on her face.

- For real? But that’s awesome!

Rocket pouts and kicks his ball, which bounces off a shelf of odds and ends, dislodging the box containing his collection of badges.

- Yeah, except I barely know him… I only spoke to him once.

- Is that so? - The ball returns to Tia's feet, who blocks it. – Still, I have to find him at all costs!

- Why? Do you want to be part of his new team?

Like nothing, she also kicks the ball, apparently without even aiming. Still, after a twisted trajectory that Rocket rarely did, the ball went straight into the hole next to Mark 10 - the most difficult one. His eyes go wide in disbelief.

- Yes, I’m counting on it! - Tia smiles. – What about you?

- Well… it’s not like I don’t want to, I just… hey!

Tia had rushed outside and jumped onto the jet-snowboard that she's now trying to set in motion. Rocket runs up to her.

- What are you doing?

She manages to start the vehicle, which begins to whistle.

- You have exactly two seconds to get in behind me. Otherwise, I'm going without you!

- Wait a minute, Tia. First, it’s my jet-snow, and I prefer to ride it myself. And you don't even know where Aarch is!

She backs up into the passenger seat, letting him take the handlebars.

- So go ahead, take me there!

#galactik football #the revival of akillian #gah sorry for the wait! end of semester was crazy #we finally see tia and mei here; and some cool details on where tia comes from!

[thegreatestofheck]

Bare Bones {Theory 1} ⋇ Pope Heyward ⋇

description: Pippa Cantu has always been a little…strange. With a knack for knowing everything there is to know about every conspiracy, every mystery, and every weird happening, she doesn’t have much time (or desire) for friends. But when her chemistry lab partner asks her to join him and his friends on a hunt for the Royal Merchant, she just can’t say no.

Theory 1 summary: Pippa meets Pope and gets a little closer than she would have liked. 

word count - 3.9k

warnings: swearing

a/n: thank you for being here! I am already in love with Pippa and I would die for her, so I hope that you all enjoy this story!! Much love. 

                                                      ***

Pippa flinched when the school bell rang. Keeping her head down, she ducked into her first class and found the seat farthest in the back. She had always hated the public school system in Maine, and even from her first period on her first day of school, she knew she was going to hate Kildare High just as much. 

Who in their right mind makes someone take Chemistry Lab at 8 o’clock in the fucking morning? 

Students started to fill in the seats around her, some glancing at her out of the corner of their eyes and others greeting each other with giggles and hugs and smiles. Pippa scoffed and lowered her head to her arms. All she wanted to do was get through this day and then the next day and then the next. That’s how time passed for her as of late. Nothing else mattered except getting through to the night. 

Someone slid into the chair across from her, but Pippa didn’t take notice of them. She didn’t care. She wasn’t here to make friends. In fact, she was here to do the exact opposite. 

“Hi,” the person said. Pippa still refused to look up. “I’m Pope.” 

Pippa forced a split-second smile, glancing at him. 

The final bell rang and the boy in front of her, who kept his smile despite her coldness, turned toward the teacher. Pippa scoffed again and leaned forward to rest her chin against her arms. The boy, Pope, was glued to the teacher as she spoke in a cheery, overly excited voice. Pippa couldn’t care less what she had to say. Until the dreaded words came out of her mouth. She said those two words that Pippa feared the most when she found out she was taking Chem Lab on Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 8 AM. 

Lab partners. 

“Shit,” Pippa groaned, sitting up but letting her head hang. Pope seemed eager to hear who his partner would be. 

The teacher started rattling off names, none of which Pippa recognized. Of course she wouldn’t. She had spent this entire summer hiding away in her grandma’s second-hand store, avoiding repeated human interaction at all costs. Some people were vocally happy about their assigned lab partners, others were less so. Pippa waited for her name anxiously, dreading the idea of spending an entire year with one single person as her partner. 

“Phillipa Cantu and Pope Heyward at table- Ah, the two of you are already back there.” The teacher, Mrs. Stedfield smiled sweetly but Pippa just closed her eyes and sent a quiet prayer for her nerves. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” she whispered under her breath as Pope turned to face her with a wide grin. 

“Phillipa, huh?” He said, leaning against his elbow and raising an eyebrow. Pippa could see this as an attempt to flirt, a poor one. Whoever told him that this was a good idea was a dumbass. 

“Pippa,” she said shortly. “No one calls me Phillipa.” 

“Well, Pippa,” he said her name with a partial grin. “I’m very excited to be your lab partner.” 

She hid a groan behind an attempted smile and clenched teeth. 

This was going to be a long year. 

                                                          ***

Pippa didn’t have much to say about Pope, but there was one thing for certain, he was determined. 

It didn’t take him long to figure out that Pippa wasn’t to keen on small talk, so he always talked about what they were studying in class. She liked him a lot more when he was talking about science because it was something he actually seemed passionate about. But every time she caught herself smiling or even almost laughing at one of his stupid jokes, Pippa would remind herself why she was here. 

Don’t get attached. It’s not worth it. It’s never worth it. 

But he was getting too close. He kept asking questions, kept pushing her harder to break through the walls she had made for herself. And Pippa couldn’t have that. 

“So, what do you do when you’re not working or at school?” Pope asked from behind a titration tube. Pippa glanced up at him, but he was focused on what he was doing. He wasn’t really listening. 

“I heard that the government replaced all of the birds with drones,” Pippa said, testing the waters. She glanced up at Pope but he didn’t say anything, didn’t even look away from what he was currently doing. “One of the origin stories of werewolves was just a really hairy man who stole and ate children in Europe.” 

“Hmm. Really?” 

Pippa could tell Pope wasn’t listening to what she was saying, just responding absently. With a smile, she continued. 

“Up until the 1800s, people in Germany thought drinking fresh blood from executed criminals could cure epilepsy.” 

Still no response. Pippa’s smile grew wider. 

From that moment on, every time Pope asked her a question, she would respond with one of her many random facts or theories. He never listened. Pippa started using it on others too. As soon as she got into a conversation, she somehow turned it into one of her crazy stories. It usually made everyone keep their distance. No one really wanted to talk to the crazy conspiracy theory girl who seemed way too interested in HH Holmes and the death of Princess Diana. 

“I like your outfit,” Pope said one day. Pippa glanced down at what she was wearing; an oversized hoody and a loose pair of pants. Nothing extraordinary, but he hadn’t even looked hard enough to really see what she was wearing. 

“Thanks,” she said, setting her bag down on the ground. “Back to Jack the Ripper, I’m pretty sure Mary Kelly’s boyfriend manipulated James Maybrick, you know, the rich guy with the drug problem?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Yeah, so Joseph manipulated Maybrick into thinking he was the Ripper so if the cops came knocking on Joseph’s door, he could pin it on Maybrick. Maybrick got it all muddled up in his druggie head and started to believe he was Ripper, so he wrote the diary. It all fits.” 

“Sure. Did you do the homework last night?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Pippa pulled out her notebook and handed it to Pope. 

“Thanks. My friend tore out a page and used it for a blunt.” 

“Some friend,” Pippa grumbled. 

“He’s great.” Pope’s voice was tight. “I’m sure you’d like him.” 

Pippa rolled her eyes. She had two guesses which friend he was talking about; John Routledge, who everyone insisted calling John B but that was the most annoying shit Pippa had ever heard, or JJ Maybank, who was most likely the homework stealing thief. Both had hit on her once before in a time of desperation, but one mention of Area 51 or the Bermuda Triangle and they were gone. 

It was too easy. A girl opens her mouth and starts talking about the things she’s passionate about and most guys scatter. If Pope had the opportunity, she imagined he would leave to. 

For the briefest of a moment, the idea pained her. 

“Something tells me I really wouldn’t like your friend.” 

It was March and the air was starting to get hot. Pippa hated the heat, not because it was uncomfortable, but because it meant taking off her protective layer. It was rare to see Pippa without her sweatshirt, and for good reason. She didn’t feel safe without it. 

The Bunsen burners didn’t help. Of course they were using them today, the hottest day of the year so far. Pippa could feel the sweat beading down the back of her neck as she stammered her way through a theory about aliens and the Giant Heads of Easter Island and their bodies. 

“Hey, you good?” Pope asked, stopping half-way through writing something down. Pippa struggled to nod. “Why don’t you just take off your sweater?” 

Pippa tightened her jaw. How could she tell a boy that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath? But just from the shift her eyes, Pope seemed to understand. He turned off the Bunsen burner and pulled off his goggles. 

“I have an extra shirt,” Pope said, reaching for his backpack. 

“It’s fine,” Pippa said through her teeth. 

“Pippa, come on.” He pulled the t-shirt out of his backpack and shoved it into her hands before she could protest. “Can’t have my partner fainting on me, now can I?” 

The half-smile on his face was sincere. Pippa narrowed her eyes but left to go to the bathroom anyway. There was an ounce of relief as she pulled her sweatshirt off of her body. It felt like she could finally breathe. She pulled Pope’s t-shirt on over her head and her stomach twisted into knots. She hated seeing her arms. Something about it felt so unsafe. 

But Pope’s shirt was big on her and it was at least baggy in the way she liked, so she thought she was just going to have to put with it. 

There was a blush on her cheeks when she walked into the Chemistry lab. Pope had his goggles on when she returned, having gone right back to the lab they were doing. He didn’t look up at her as she came back and she was grateful for it. 

“Here, can you write this down for me?” He asked, hovering a stick over the fire. The fire burned green. 

“Sweet,” Pippa said with a smile. She scribbled down what she could, not noticing as Pope looked away from the fire to admire how she looked in his shirt. As soon as she looked back up, he turned his face away. “You wanna hear about how Amelia Airheart sent an SOS message after she went missing but it was ignored because they didn’t think she could survive?” 

“Sure.” 

                                                        ***

Pippa was sitting in the library, bobbing her head to the music that blasted through her earbuds. Her computer sat in front of her, a thousand and one tabs open at once. Two notebooks and a few more research books lay out around her. A color-coded selection of pens and highlighters was scattered about. The table where she worked was an absolute mess, but it made sense to her. 

She was so consumed by an article and her music that she didn’t see Pope sit down in front of her. Her foot tapped against the leg of her chair while she chewed on a pen cap, eyes scanning the page. It wasn’t until she tore her gaze from the screen to scribble something in one of her notebooks that she saw Pope sitting there. 

The pen cap fell out of her mouth with a gasp and a jolt of her body. Pippa flicked an earbud out of her ear. 

“Shit, Pope!” she hissed before taking a calming breath. He seemed unphased by her shock, a book of his own resting in his lap. 

“What are you listening to?” He asked, turning the page in his book. Pippa felt a lump form in her throat. 

“Nothing.” 

“I can hear it from here. What is it?” 

“What do you care?” 

Pope smiled at her and gave a quiet laugh. 

“It’s just music, Pippa. Not like I’m asking for your life story or anything.” Pippa rolled her eyes before sliding her phone across the table for him to see. “Hmm.”

Pippa snatched her phone back, her cheeks brushed red and her eyebrows pinched together. 

“Hmm, what?” 

“Never pegged you for the One Direction type.” 

“It’s called versatility, Heyward. Look it up.” Pippa huffed and leaned back in her chair. “Is there a reason you’re gracing me with your presence today?” 

“We gotta work on that final project at some point. Came over to talk to you about it, but I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

Pippa shook off her hostility and gave a shrug of her shoulders. She capped her pen and lowered the screen of her computer. 

“Nothing important.” 

“Aliens?” 

“1500s shipwreck full of gold.”

“Ah.” Pope let the moment wear on for a few silent seconds before he leaned his arms against the table. Pippa crossed her arms. “This is a pretty big project, so I think we should start soon.” 

“Okay.” 

“Maybe we should swap numbers so we can link up.”

“Link up?” Pippa raised an eyebrow. All the coolness fell from around Pope instantly and his eyes widened. 

“I just mean...well, for the sake of the project...shit, no, I just mean….we have to get together at some point-” 

“Relax, Pope.” Pippa let out a quiet laugh and scribbled her number onto the corner of a notebook and tore it out, sliding it across the table to Pope. “For emergencies only. Everything else we do face to face, capiche?” 

“What, are you on witness protection or something?” Pope joked as his eyes scanned the string of numbers on the paper. Her handwriting was shit. God, he hoped he could read it well enough to text the right person. 

The look on Pippa’s face didn’t affirm or deny his question. At this rate, Pope wouldn’t be surprised if she was. 

“Can we meet after school today?” he asked. “I’ve got to help my dad with some stuff tomorrow and Friday.” 

“Sure,” Pippa said, before leaning back and stretching her arms above her head. Diving headfirst into her theories left her back aching, even if it was only for a free period like today. 

She stretched her arms high up enough to reveal a small sliver of her stomach, but something caught Pope’s eyes. 

“Woah, is that a tattoo?” He asked, a grin growing on his face. Pippa dropped her arms and her eyes widened. 

Shit. 

There was no lying her way out of this one. She was just going to have to run with it. Forcing a smile, Pippa lifted the edge of her sweatshirt and showed him the whole thing. The roman numeral ten was etched in black ink into her skin just under her belly button and a little bit to the left. It seemed like odd placement to Pope. 

“What’s it mean?” he asked. 

“X marks the spot,” she said with a half-grin. “Had to get something to represent my obsession, ya know.” 

Pope nodded his head slowly, but a voice in his head told him there was something deeper than that. 

“My best friend Kie, she’s got like three of them,” he said. Pippa lowered her shirt. “A dolphin, a wave, and something else, I don’t remember.” 

Pippa felt her smile turn into something real. She watched the way Pope’s face lit up when he talked about her, Kie. It wasn’t the first time. On the rare occasion that he actually tried to hold a conversation with Pippa, he would often talk about this girl. Pippa didn’t know a whole bunch about her, but whoever she was, she made Pope very happy. 

But that smile on Pippa’s face was starting to feel too comfortable. Talking to Pope as a whole was starting to feel too comfortable. 

Pippa let her smile fall and she started to shut her books. 

“I have History,” she said, slamming her laptop all the way shut. “Can’t be late.” 

She had the books and notebooks packed up in a blink of an eye and before Pope could even say goodbye, she was gone. 

                                                             ***

“A crystal pyramid in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, can you believe it?” Pippa shook her head slowly. She let herself laugh, looking down at her bowl of cereal. “Anyway, what do you want-”

“Are you going to the school dance?” Pope asked suddenly, turning away from their project and toward Pippa. She sat cross-legged on his counter, a bowl of cereal in her hand. The spoon was halfway to her mouth when she froze, her lips parting ever so slightly. 

“Oh, um, no.” She set the spoon back in the bowl. She struggled to meet Pope’s eyes. She could feel the question burning inside of him but she refused to let him ask it. “I’ve got...shit to do that day.” 

“What kind of shit?” he asked, looking back at the project. “Conspiracy shit? Alien shit? Cult shit? Or wait, let me guess, murder shit?” 

Pippa let out a strained laugh. 

“Unfortunately, no. Just...personal shit.” 

Pope hummed quietly to himself. Pippa cringed. He was disappointed, upset, hurt. Something somewhere in between. 

“So, the project.” 

“Right.” Pippa slid off the counter, setting her bowl down and stepping closer to Pope, but not too close. 

The front door swung open suddenly. Pope spun around and Pippa dropped to the ground, feeling her heart tighten in her chest painfully, her lungs dropping into her stomach. 

“Mom!” Pope smiled as Mrs. Heyward walked in through the door. 

“Hey, Sweetie. Where’s that friend of yours?” 

Pippa was still on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut. Her heart pounded in her ears and her fingers curled against the tile beneath her. She just had to stand up and smile, that was all. It was just Pope’s mom. She was safe. 

Letting out a struggling breath, Pippa pushed herself up onto her feet. 

“Slipped,” she said simply, attempting to smile at Mrs. Heyward. 

“Happens to everyone.” Mrs. Heyward handed a bag of groceries off to her son and approached Pippa, her arms open for a hug. 

“Mom,” Pope said. “She’s not into hugs.” 

Mrs. Heyward stopped in her tracks, but her smile never once faltered. 

“That’s okay. It’s not for everyone. I’m Pope’s mom. We’re glad to have you here.” Pippa could feel her breath growing short, the squeezing her chest never once letting up as she tightened her hands into fists. Adrenaline ran through her. She tried to cover it up with a smile. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

Pippa gave a quick shake of her head. 

“No, I should be getting home.” She tried not to run for the door. “Text me, Pope.”

Plucking her purse off the ground and shoving her feet into her shoes, Pippa barely heard Pope or Mrs. Heyward give their goodbyes as she raced outside. 

“That was strange,” Mrs. Heyward said, setting her things on the counter. 

“Yeah.” Pope let out a deep sigh. “She’s strange person.” 

“Pope Heyward.” Mrs. Heyward gave Pope’s shoulder a light pinch. “Don’t ever say that about a girl.” 

“I don’t think she would take it as an insult.” Pope’s gaze shifted toward the door, his eyes lingering. 

Had she known that he wanted to ask her to the dance? Was that why she ran away so fast? Or was it something else? Something about her that he didn’t yet know that made her scurry away? 

Pope wondered if she would ever let him find out. 

                                                               ***

“Well, look at that, Heyward.” Pippa grinned as she slapped their final report onto their lab table. “That’s an A for us.” 

Pope took the paper and admired the big, red letter. A smile broke out across his face. 

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Pippa laughed, sitting on her stool and giving herself a small push so the chair swiveled around in a circle. 

“I’m the nerd?” Pope asked, mock offended as he put the paper back onto the table. 

“You’re on the Mathletics team,” Pippa said. “I’m pretty sure you qualify as a nerd.” 

Pope felt a small laugh shake through him. He watched Pippa look up at the clock and sigh. 

“Last class together,” Pope said. His lips twitched as he rested his arms against the table. Whatever feeling was in Pippa’s eyes faded and she let out a scoff. 

“You sound like we’re dying once that clock strikes 9:30. It’s just summer,” she said. 

“But we don’t know if we’ll have classes together next year or not,” he said. Pippa sighed again, but it was smaller. She tried to hide it as she brushed her hand against her nose. 

“That’s the way the dice fall sometimes.” 

“We could hang during the summer though, right?” He didn’t care if he sounded desperate. 

“Maybe.” But her answer was clear by the way her gaze fell to the floor. She wasn’t interested in hanging out over the summertime. Pope just wished she would tell him why. 

The bell overhead rang. Pippa took her time pulling her backpack onto her shoulders. Pope stayed where he was. She offered something to him. 

“Forgot to give this back,” she said, refusing to look at him. In her hands was his t-shirt, the one he had given her all the way back in March. “That’s my bad.” 

Pope looked at the shirt and pulled it from her hands. 

“Don’t take it personal,” she said and let out a heavy breath. “It’s better this way. Yeah, it’s better.” 

With that, Pippa fell into the stream of kids leaving the classroom, disappearing almost instantly. 

                                                           ***

Pope fiddled with the phone in his hand. His thumb hovered over the call button on her contact. He hadn’t seen her since that last day of school, actively avoiding the secondhand shop where she worked with her grandmother. 

“What are you waiting for?” JJ groaned. “Just call her, dude!” 

Pope glowered at his friend and pressed the button while his irritation was still strong enough to overcome his fear. 

The line rang once, twice, three times. The fear returned. She wasn’t going to pick up. She would see his contact on her phone and ignore him. He was sure of it.

“Hey, Pope, waddup?” Pope smiled at the sound of her voice. She sounded so normal, as if they had just spoken yesterday and not an entire month ago. 

“Hi, Pippa, how are you?” 

“Pretty good. How are you?” 

“I’m doing good.” 

“Cut the shit,” JJ hissed, throwing a pebble at Pope’s head. Pope swatted his arm in JJ’s direction, sneering. 

“I have a question for you.” 

“Clearly.” He could hear her hesitant laugh from the other side. 

“You’re not asking her on a date, man!” John B was impatiently waiting from the side, his hands on his hips. Kie took a step toward him and Pope met her gaze. There was encouragement beneath her eyes, and she gave him a small nod. 

“Pippa, what do you know about the Royal Merchant?” 

He could hear her breath hitch in her throat as she fell silent. 

“I know a shit ton about the Royal Merchant. Why?” 

There was excitement in her voice, her thirst for adventure radiating through the phone. 

“My friends and I need your help. Can you meet us at the Wreck?” 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He could hear her shuffling around her room. 

“See you there. Bye-” 

The line went dead. Pope breathed out through his nose, pulling the phone away from his ear. 

“So?” Kie asked, taking another step closer. 

“She’s meeting us at the Wreck in ten,” Pope said, turning to his friends. John B clapped his hands together and started toward the van. 

“To the Wreck then,” Kie said. She put a hand on Pope’s shoulder and smiled. His stomach flipped. “Good job.” 

“I don’t see why we need this chick anyway,” JJ huffed as they headed toward the van.

“I doubt she’ll even want a cut of the gold at all,” Pope told his friend. 

“Bullshit. No way she’d do this for free.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“You have the weirdest friends, Pope,” JJ said with a roll of his eyes. 

“You’re my friend, dumbass.” 

“His point stands,” John B interrupted, a never faltering smile on his face. “Let’s go get that gold.” 

                                                          ~~~

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