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sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

Daylight

Spencer x GN! Reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: After a long time without answers and your relationship ending on rocky terms, you run into Spencer and can finally put things to rest. Part one.

The prompt from @veraiconcos Fic Writer Challenge was “If I asked you to stay, would you?” This is bolded within the fic.

Category: Angst. Just pure angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Mention of normal CM stuff. Suggestive content.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: This was initially a songfic and now it’s not, however it was still inspired by the song “Daylight” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

Internal dialogue

Flashback

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In one word, complicated.

Yes, that was a cliche and overused, but there was really no better way to describe your relationship with Spencer. Unless of course people preferred terms like arduous, intricate, convoluted, twisted, entangled, or your personal favorite, fucked up. Although, that might be a little harsh. Kind of. It was complicated.

And things continued on that path when you waltzed into the San Jose precinct, ready to defend your client against none other than the BAU.

Despite being 28, you were already one of the most successful defense attorneys in the state, and had already had a couple run-ins with the FBI. Luckily, none of those had been against the ‘all-powerful’ behavioral analysis unit, and you were able to wrangle out some wins, or at least, the best you could have hoped for given the circumstances. This time, a man, Brayden Lee, had been arrested as a suspect for a series of strangulations, all of the victims tall, blonde, college athletes. Looking over his case and the amount of evidence against him, you felt sure that you could manage a favorable deal.

But now, your strides faltered as you saw the team of profilers standing around in a circle, speaking in hushed voices, immediately turning around to watch you in. Well, it wasn’t necessarily them that teetered your confidence, it was more like him. And that damn hair.

You were at your older brother’s graduation. A small, skinny kid with moppy brown curls walked across the stage, the gown he was wearing clearly three sizes too big for him. He looked really young, about your age, which immediately interested you.

“Spencer Reid,” the announcer called. He accepted his diploma, moved his tassel from one side to the other, and plopped right back down in his seat.

You just stared at him from your place high up in the bleachers, almost missing your brother as he walked across the stage. You clapped and cheered, but you still couldn’t tear your eyes from the strange kid who’d walked across moments before him. When the ceremony was over, you asked your brother who he was, and all he gave you was a shrug and an arched eyebrow. That was not exactly the answer you were looking for. So you took it upon yourself, being the awkwardly brave kid you were at 12, to find him and learn more. You ended up taking him home after the ceremony, and that was that. You still remember the dopey smile he gave you as he hopped out of the backseat, a smile that you would miss for three more years.

You tried to compose yourself as you avoided eye contact with any of them, marching toward the interrogation room to have some time alone with your client. But it had never been this hard to concentrate before.

Snap out of it. It’s been four fucking years, six if you really think about it, so you need to get it together. This man, the one right in front of your face, needs your help.

So you did just that. As a lawyer, you had to have intense focus, so you made yourself hone in on that skill. The two older men of the team came in to have quite the nice chat with you and your client, but it ended fairly close to how you predicted. He would be let off, for now, but you would have to stay on call in case they found more evidence of your client’s guilt. You ushered Brayden out of the station and into a cab, telling him that you’d be in touch if anything else came up and to keep a low profile.

You were ready to be done, but had to make sure there weren’t any other loopholes or things they weren’t telling you before you could leave. You trudged back into the precinct, expecting to talk to the two men you saw earlier, but found that once-nerdy boy you used to know waiting for you. Not to say he wasn’t still nerdy, you were sure he was, but he’d definitely changed since the last time you saw him.

You tried to act as professional as possible, “Is there anything else that I need to know about this case and your evidence against my client?” Honestly, you were shocked at how calm your voice sounded.

“As long as you’ve heard about his recent purchases and easy access to the material used to strangle these women, no,” he responded, just as casually.

“Okay great, and nothing else in the profile I should be aware of?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then,” you said, turning on your heels to walk out.

“That’s it?” Spencer’s tone suddenly sounded confused, even accusatory, which was such a stark contrast to the smoothe, gentle voice you remembered.

You were at the local library studying for your midterms before the holiday break. No one really went there anymore, and there were a ton of good research tools available, so it was the perfect quiet study spot. Well, mostly quiet, that was, until the ever-so-irritating ping of books being checked out was going off non-stop. You’d had enough, so you shot over your shoulder, “Jesus, how many books do you need?”

The pinging immediately stopped, and you heard a small, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

It wasn’t a lot, but something about that voice seemed familiar. You turned fully around to see those piercing gold eyes staring at you, and you recognized those curls.

“No way. You’re the kid who graduated high school at age twelve! I remember you,” you blurted before really thinking.

“Yeah. Hey (y/n),” he said.

“I’m so sorry I snapped at you like that…”

“Spencer,” he filled in, after hearing you hiss like a snake, trying to jog your memory of his name.

“Spencer! Sorry about that, I’m just kinda stressed about my exams,” you explained.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Spencer replied, gesturing to his ever-growing pile of books.

You inquired about how things were going for him, and he told you all about how his first year and a half in college had been, already obtaining his bachelor’s in mathematics.

“That’s so impressive. Think you could help me?” you said in a somewhat mocking tone.

Of course, he took you seriously, not picking up on the half-joke. “Sure.”

Although, you were thrilled he offered, and the two of you spent the next couple of hours talking about high school and college classes, your seemingly easy math compared to his, and him helping you with any other subject you needed help with, like AP biology and psychology. At the end of the night, you gave him your phone number, trying to cover up your little crush with a joke about needing his help as you rushed out into the freezing night air.

He never used it.

“Yeah. That’s it,” you shot over your shoulder.

“(y/n), hold on, I-” he started.

“Doctor Reid, they need you in the conference room,” some lady said. Now that caught your attention. You spun back around to look at him with raised eyebrows. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes flitted between you and the lady who told him he was needed.

“What are you waiting for, Doctor,” you sneered. He let out a sigh, giving you one last pointed look before turning away. You didn’t even know people called him ‘doctor’ now.

You returned home, hoping that the case would get cleared up easily, that they’d find a different culprit and you wouldn’t have to risk that floodgate of emotions bursting open. No such luck. They found Brayden at the scene of the crime, literally in the middle of digging up an old victim to do god knows what with, and took him back into custody. When you got back to the precinct, you told your client not to say a word, and asked what the charges were and if he was going to be transferred in the meantime. The answers to your questions were not in your favor, and you had one of the worst client-lawyer conversations you'd ever experienced. The man wouldn’t tell you a damn thing, and if he didn’t tell you anything, then you couldn’t help him. Of course, it was your job to try and help him as best as you could, but you whole-heartedly believed he was guilty too, which didn’t help you keep the right mindset. Plus, your heart was pounding into your ears for more reasons than being across the table from a serial killer.

Focus, please, you begged yourself. And you did, for a while, but it became a futile effort. At one point you just wanted to say ‘fuck this shit, lock him up’ and leave, you were that desperate.

When it was all over and the station was getting everything together in order to transfer him to a holding facility, you tried to slip out the doors and wait outside. Only moments after, though, you heard the door squeak back open.

“(y/n),” Spencer started.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly interjected. You had been contemplating for the last day or so if you needed to apologize, and just figured you would, if not for your sake, for your clients’. I mean, they would probably end up testifying at some point, not like that was the main thought going through your mind, but you convinced yourself it was. “I shouldn’t have conducted myself like that earlier. It was unprofessional and you were just trying to talk to me.”

“It’s fine. I probably deserved it,” he acknowledged.

“Probably, but that’s all in the past and I should have left it there,” you concluded. You both stood in absolute silence until it became too much to bear. You decided you’d at least try to act natural, “So how have things been since the last time I saw you?”

Spencer looked at you with surprised eyes, but answered with, “They’ve been interesting. There always seems to be a new case. How about you?”

“Same. Just one after the other, but it’s nice knowing I’m helping people,” you added.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Come on, what else can you throw out there? “Uh, so, they call you ‘doctor’ now?”

He offered a small laugh. “Yeah, they do. When I started, you know, I was much younger than anyone else in the bureau-”

“Still are,” you interjected.

He continued, “-true, but one of my mentors, who’s gone now, told people to call me that and I guess it just stuck.”

“Well, it sounds nice.”

“Thanks. I hear you are doing pretty well yourself, getting national mentions and such,” he stated.

You raised your eyebrows, “You heard about that?” A year or so back you got recognized as the top rising talent in your field of work, but you didn’t think that news would make it to the other coast. Unless he was specifically looking for that information…

“Yeah, I did. The FBI likes to keep tabs on people that might cause them the most trouble in a case, you being one of them.”

“Seriously?” You were astonished. The FBI was keeping tabs on you? “Why?”

“Just in case they get tired of opposing you and would rather work with you,” he shrugged, “But you seem to be having fun opposing right now.”

You let a smile reach the surface at that. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m a profiler. Plus, you’ve always had a thing for opposing the ‘overbearing’ power and sticking up for the little guy.”

That was a little too close to home. You knew he meant that in more ways than one, and you couldn’t help but think about that god-awful night when you were just two kids trying to take a walk in the moonlight. The night that solidified your friendship.

It happened so fast. All you did was walk away for a second to throw your trash away, but that was all it took for the boys to pounce. Spencer had been attending CalTech for three years, and you were there to pop into the chemistry class, which you conveniently had with Spencer. Those other 20 year olds hated you and Spencer for the sole reason that you were two nerdy 17 year olds that were making them look bad. They’d already gotten in a few good punches before you returned, but when you did, you were livid. They were holding Spencer up while taking turns at him. You worked quickly, setting your phone to record before stepping in between one of the boys and Spencer. You hadn’t intended on getting caught in the crossfire, but you did, landing yourself a pretty bruise on your cheek for the next two weeks. You yelled at them about how they were assaulting a minor and how you now had all of their faces on tape, along with some other legal shit. One of them smashed your phone and went for another punch, but you kicked him in the throat before he could get to you, putting him flat on his ass. He tapped out, and you later found out he’d gotten whiplash from how he landed on the ground. They ran off, and when you turned around, Spencer collapsed in your arms. He was littered with cuts, blood, and already developing bruises. You took him back to his dorm and cleaned him up, spending the night before figuring out how to recover the footage. Once you did, you showed it to the board members, effectively expelling the boys and bringing them up on charges for assault. They got convicted, and no one screwed with either of you again. That was the moment you really decided to become a lawyer.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” you murmured. Brayden was brought out in cuffs and shoved into the back of a squad car, which was your cue to get moving. You had a full case on your hands.

You turned to leave, but as you did, Spencer stopped you. “Hey, would you maybe want to catch up later?”

You didn’t remember him ever being so bold before, and were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled out, “Uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Just … coffee, maybe?”

“Sure,” you said, and immediately saw Spencer’s shoulders relax. “Do you still remember where Arnette’s is?”

“Of course,” he responded. That used to be your favorite go-to spot.

“Alright then. I should be done with this at around eight,” you said, hopping into your car before he could respond. The officer with Brayden had already sped away, and you needed to stay close behind.

The whole drive you kicked yourself for saying yes. You were getting over him. You had gotten over him. And you loved Jordan and couldn’t help feeling like this was somehow betraying him. Plus, why should you be meeting him to catch up? He hadn’t been interested in that for five years! I mean, you put everything into making your relationship work. Sure, you were realistic that it wouldn’t last, but he could have at least tried.

You had it planned out. You would keep in touch until you could go out and visit him during the summer for Fourth of July during your sophomore year of college. The next year, he’d visit you, and the one after that, you’d visit him and so on. But that was the problem. There was no ‘so on.’ You visited him for the second time and that was it. And pretty soon, you could barely get him to pick up the damn phone. The last thing you heard from him was that he was pretty busy starting out with the BAU, along with an unanswered text wondering how his first case went.

But, you already agreed, so you might as well just see what happens.

You threw on some nice, non-work clothes and drove to the little shop on the corner. God you felt like a teenager.

It was just before eight and Spencer was already there waiting for you. Of course he was.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was supposed to be two people who used to care about each other, and honestly still do, just catching up. Simply talking. About the present, no need to worry about the past.

“Hey, (y/n).” You always liked the way he said your name with welcoming confidence.

“Hey,” you replied. He opened the door for you and you shuffled in. With no surprise, you were the only two in there, and he went ahead and ordered for both of you, remembering what you wanted with ease. You gave him a bit of a confused look as you waited for your drinks.

“What?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable by your staring.

“Nothing, it’s just that you remember my order, that’s all.”

“I do have a really good memory,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but you also told me once that that only went for visuals, and your eidetic memory didn’t really work on audio,” you quipped.

“That’s true. I guess some things just stick. Plus, it’s not like you made it hard on me. You always ordered the same thing.”

You laughed a little, “I guess that’s true.”

You grabbed your drinks and left the hole-in-the-wall, autopilot kicking in, taking you both along the path that went around the park. Spencer sighed.

“Hm?” you questioned.

“Just, you know, thinking,” he said, brows furrowed.

“About what?”

“How we used to do this all the time. You’d finish your high school classes, drive over to CalTech for chemistry, and then afterward we’d stop by for coffee and a walk,” his voice sounded like he was in a dream, and he looked into the night air as if there was some answer or memory floating around out there. You guessed there was a memory floating around out here.

“Yeah those were crazy years,” you recalled. “I felt like I was constantly on the move and everything was happening all at once and I had all of this stuff I needed to get done. But this was always a nice place where I could clear my head and forget all of that.” That feeling was starting to return as you kept walking, the sticky air of California clinging to your skin.

“It was nice. I miss those days sometimes,” he said.

What is he getting at? “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You walked in silence for a while, but you could see Spencer’s posture tense up more with each step. There was something on his mind and he wasn’t telling you.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he acted bewildered.

“What’s on your mind?” He tried to shrug it off and deny it, but you knew him better than that. It might have been a while, but some things, like he said, just stick. And the way his body acted when he was thinking was one of them. “Don’t even try that. I know when there is something bothering you, now out with it.”

“Who is it?” That was all he offered and it was your turn to be confused.

“Huh?”

“Who has the other one?” he said, voice a bit harsher than before, motioning to the gold ring around your finger.

“His name is Jordan.”

“Jordan, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What does he do?” Spencer inquired.

“He’s also a lawyer. We actually met in law school,” you answered somewhat hesitant. You still didn’t know what he was getting at, if anything.

“Oh. Nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your attitude starting to flare up.

“Absolutely nothing. Just not what I thought,” he stated with a bit of an edge to his voice.

“What did you think?” You were trying not to get offended by whatever he was implying, but you couldn’t help it. He asks me to catch up just to make passive aggressive criticisms?

“I don’t know. Not that, I guess.”

At this point, you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “Well, you know, you could have changed that,” you replied in the same passive aggressive manner.

“What would you have wanted me to do?” his voice was raising, obviously picking up on what you were putting down.

“Uh, I don’t know, how about respond to one goddamned text?”

“I tried.”

“Not really. And then you just went dark,” you spat.

“You seemed to be fine with that. You moved on pretty quickly,” he hissed, not even bothering to look at you.

“Why do you think that is, genius? I visited you, and then you stopped answering my calls. You stopped responding to my texts. I basically never heard from you again, and then the next thing I know, your showing up on my fucking tv, in California for a case, and you don’t even reach out. You didn’t even ask to meet up anywhere, not even stop by to say hey. Nothing. You did nothing once your job swallowed you up whole. I know what that’s like and it’s hard, believe me, I’m a lawyer for Chrissake, but I found the time. Plus, for all I knew, you had already found someone else, so I wasn’t going to wait around for the guy who seemed to love me much less than I loved him.” By the end, you were yelling, and thanking the stars above you that no one was around to hear it.

“You’re right,” he whispered after a while.

You were stunned, and could only manage a small, “What?”

“You’re right,” he repeated. “I should have put in more effort. I don’t know, (y/n), I wish I had a better answer for you but I don’t. I was young, and stupid, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I let my insecurities get in the way of us, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that.”

“What?” It was seriously the only thing going through your mind, however, you were able to force out, “Insecurities?”

“Yeah. I was worried that because I was away, you were going to tire of me, that you weren’t going to want to stay in a relationship. I thought that maybe, by being ‘tied’ to me, so to speak, that I was holding you back, which we promised each other we would never do. We said that we would never get in the way of the other’s dream, and I wondered if maybe I was going to do that to you. I just … I had all of these doubts, so I panicked. I stopped responding. And I was so wrong to do that.”

Now that he’d said them, they sounded like some of the same doubts he expressed to you the night before he left.

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven, which means I have to be there by six, which means I have to be leaving here by four-thirty at the latest,” he recited. He had all of his stuff piled by the door, which was hardly anything at all. You were in his hotel room because his house was soon to be taken over by a young couple, since he’d be living in Massachusetts, and his mother was in a mental facility. You’d just come back from visiting her, which left Spencer in tears.

You ate dinner while playing chess, which he effectively beat you at. You were actually pretty good at it, but no match for his math-based brain. You snuggled into bed next to him, willing yourself to keep it together because the last thing you wanted to do was spend your last night with him an emotional wreck. He queued up a movie, but neither of you paid any attention to it. His arm was draped around your shoulders and yours were clasped around his waist.

Spencer’s hand lazily circled your back until it moved with purpose down to your thigh. He continued his lazy patterns when you looked up at him, a question in your eyes.

You’d been with Spencer for over a year, and recalled your first time. You were ready before he was, which came as no surprise, but that didn’t stop the nerves from racing through your head. But if you thought you were nervous, you had no idea what was going through Spencer’s head. He later told you that he was absolutely terrified because he didn’t want to do something wrong, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to think less of him because of his body style, and a million other things that he was scared about. That’s how you accidentally said the ‘L’ word. “Spencer Reid, I would never judge you and you could never scare me away. I love you and your body and your brain, and you are not going to do something wrong, not like I’d know because we are both new to this and are doing it together. Understand?”

He gave you a shy smile. “I do.”

Now though, it was very different. Comfortable, confident, safe.

“Can I have you?” he asked, “All of you, one last time?”

You leaned up to kiss him, and he sighed when you pulled away. You looked him straight in the eyes, “I’m all yours.”

And you were. You felt like you always had been and probably always would be, and could only hope that he felt a fraction of the same. Your bodies pushed and pulled in perfect unison, fitting together as if you were two pieces of a puzzle, specifically crafted for the other.

You returned to your curled up position beside him, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears silently flowed out of your eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself peel your arms away from him long enough to wipe them away. You attempted to sob without making a sound, knowing that if Spencer saw you crying, it would make him cry, and he couldn’t cry because it would make you cry more, splitting you right in half. It didn’t matter how quiet you were being about it, because when you looked up at Spencer, you saw the same silent tears glistening on his cheeks. It was only then that you pulled your hands from around him and brushed away his tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” you apologized. “This is supposed to be exciting. You’re going to the best school in the country to get your PhD.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, moving his hands up and down your arms, “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making the right decision.”

This took you by surprise. He’d always seemed confident about this, passionate about furthering his education. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want to complicate things for anyone. For my mother. For you.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” You knew it was unfair, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The only thing you wanted to say. You needed him, and it was sickening wondering if soon, he might not need you. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, so you quickly covered it up with, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You are about to start a whole new part of your life, and you should go, pursue your dreams with the best education this country can offer. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

You repositioned yourself back on his chest, and started to drift off to sleep when you felt him sigh. You lazily peered up at him, meeting his restless eyes. “Spence, you need to sleep.”

“I can sleep on the plane. I need this more,” he said, smiling at you. You tried to stay awake like you knew Spencer would, but to no avail. You did, however, wake up to him getting ready to leave. He kissed you goodbye, and you held yourself together until he’d walked out, the door shutting with a definite ‘click.’

All the air had been stripped from your lungs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you’d never again without him by your side. You cried yourself back to sleep, willing this all to be one giant nightmare, but when you woke, he was gone. And you felt completely numb. So while you may have been two pieces of a puzzle, aiming to create the same beautiful picture, you no longer fit together.

You felt yourself starting to get flushed from constantly going in and out of anger then feeling bad and forgiving. It was exhausting, and probably part of the reason things didn’t work out between the two of you. That didn’t mean you loved him any less, though. He was, in fact, your first love, and you guess people were right about that stuff being more powerful and affecting you longer. Hell, you walked into the precinct for a total of three seconds before he was affecting you all over again!

You took a deep breath in before saying, “I guess we both made mistakes and wished we would have handled things differently.”

“What would you have handled differently?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“When I saw that you were in California for a case, instead of … doing what I did, I should have been the one who reached out. I could have just asked you then what was going through your mind and what was going on between us. Who knows how that might have changed things? But, I was petty,” you gave a cold laugh, “I guess I still am sometimes, huh?”

You had definitely been acting that way lately. You felt guilty and ashamed about it, but in that moment of anger four years ago, knowing that Spencer was out there ignoring you, you sent him a hurtful message and then blocked his number. Only a week or so prior, you’d met Jordan who was clearly hitting on you, and you were so firm about moving on that you asked him out. He eagerly agreed, and the rest was history. Or, at least, you thought was history.

Spencer shrugged and dodged the somewhat rhetorical question. “We can’t really dwell on that now.”

You knew he didn’t really mean that, considering he was the type of person who dwelled, but he was right. You were engaged to a great guy and soon to be married. This, Spencer, was something you were just going to have to come to terms with, something you realized you hadn’t come to terms with yet.

You’d been walking so absentmindedly next to him that you hardly noticed you were outside of a hotel. He stopped just outside the lobby entrance and turned to face you.

“Walk you to your room?” you offered. What the fuck did you just say? Why did you say that? You can’t say things like that. Stop it.

Spencer gave you that small, closed lip smile of his which immediately ended your inner scolding, and nodded, holding the door open for you. You walked up the stairs together in silence. When you reached his door, instead of getting out his card, he leaned his back up against the heavy wood.

“Alright, well, it was nice catching up, and I wish you safe travels in the morning,” you said, turning to leave. He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks, and you spun around to face him.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” Those words pierced through your ears, ringing all too familiar from when it was you who said them.

“Spence-” you started. And then his lips were on yours. Those sweet, soft lips. It had always been so natural between the two of you, and you felt his tongue bypass yours as you pushed further into the kiss. Then you remembered where, and when, you were, no longer that hopelessly devoted kid but an adult with a wonderful man waiting for you when you got home. You pulled away. “Spence-”

“I would have said yes, you know,” he confessed. The question must have been etched on your face, because he continued, “When you asked me that night, given the chance, I would have said yes.”

His words stung, and your whole body ached from rehashing old feelings, to igniting new ones, to the guilt of what just happened weighing on you so heavily you might just crumble beneath it. You murmured out, “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you were right. I thought I was doing the right thing. Out of all the mistakes I’ve made, all the regrets I have, you, (y/n) (y/l/n), are my biggest one.” His honey brown eyes peered right into yours, like he was looking at something far greater than just your eyes, and repeated, “So right now, if I asked you to stay with me, would you?”

It was too much to handle. After all the time you’d spent wishing he was still yours, he finally could be, but you could no longer be his. Tears were streaming down your face as they once did, the first time you lost him, and you choked out, “I can’t.”

One More Night

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binniedeactivated · 4 years

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saint. || soobin (3.2)🌪

pairing: soobin x reader genre; au word count; 1k

proudly finishing his exam was soobin who felt more than relieved after having being in that room for two hours. his hand cramped awfully and the sister gave him a weird look while she collected his test, thinking he must’ve been up to no good. she hadn’t ever saw Choi Soobin sitting down to take a test before.

soobin could care less though he was just glad it was over. but then again he regrets letting his mind float elsewhere because now he’d be force to think about the news yeonjun gave him. he tries his best to be normal. he wasn’t in the room at all so what possible evidence would they have on him? absolutely nothing. he runs his hands along his pants waiting for the bell to ring. he shook off any negative thoughts he was having about the case and approaches your locker.

“how was it?”. you smile and he smiles in exchange. “it wasn’t bad. I hope I did okay”.

“i’m sure you did. you’ve been studying hard”.

“we can only pray at this point. you ready?”.

you chew on the inside of your cheek sliding your last textbook into your bag.

“hm?”.

“yeah-about that taehyun is helping me study after school today”. you admit nervously. soobin rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I told you I’d buy you a tutor”.

“I don’t want you to buy me unnecessary things”.

“it’s not unnecessary if you need it”.

“soobin, seriously. it’s just math. I’ll be fine I’m a big girl”. you assure. soobin smirks and folds his arms.

“since when? your head barely reaches my shoulder”. you scoff and slam your locker shot.

“where are you meeting this kid?”.

“in the school library. it’s only for a little while”. you tap his cheek two times with your hand before you get on your way. he was helping you, the least you could do was be on time. entering the library that reeked of old paper you spotted taehyun at circular table in the back, he was on his phone. you approach the table and sit your bag down.

“hey. you ready?”. taehyun asks. you nod and lay your notes out on the table.

“yeah. I really hope I can get my questions answered. thank you for this taehyun”.

“no problem. I have these practice problems we can work on. these are the kind of problems that are going to be on the test so I recommend we hit these”. you nod, sliding a strand of hair behind your ear while he takes the easel behind him. he scrawls the equation on the white board with a blue expo marker.

taehyun working through and explaining the problems was like a breath of fresh air compared to your teachers would was speaking gibberish every time they taught. It was quite intimidating doing your work with taehyun but he was nice about your mistakes. much nicer than you thought he was going to be.

“no, four isn’t the exponent”. he corrects while you solve the problem under his supervision.

“why not?”.

“what do you do after you take the derivative?”.

“don’t you multiply the base by the exponent?”.

“and then what?”. he asks.

you looked at him in confusion. “um-”.

“what do you do with the exponent after that?”.

“oh! subtract the exponent by one”. you say, erasing your mistake.

“and this is called?”. taehyun asks pointing to the white board.

“the power rule”.

he nodded, pleased. “see look at you. you’re not as dumb as you think”.

“oh please. I have a seventeen year old tutoring me in math. how dumber can this get”.

“I don’t know why you discriminate me so badly for my age”. taehyun says laughing softly.

“I don’t, you’re just young so it’s fun making fun of you”.

he laughs, “yeah and you’re a bully. typical church girls”. he says sarcastically shaking his head.

you scoff pushing him playfully. “what do you mean by that?”.

“you know. church girls are never as pure as everyone thinks”.

“oh yeah? how do you know that?”.

“do you know what school we go to are you really asking me that?”.

“you’re right. but if that’s the case we can say the same for church boys”.

taehyun shrugs. “that’s true too. except for me though”.

you continued solving the problem until you thought of something to say.

“what makes you pure?”. you ask sincerely. the red haired boy sat and thought for a swift moment.

“school is the only thing I know”.

“the only thing you know?”.

“yes”.

“so you’ve never done anything? no parties? no drinking? nothing?”.

“no”.

“girlfriends, relationships?”.

“no”.

you nod. “you’re like me then”.

taehyun scoffs, “psh yeah right. you’re probably secretly obsessed with soobin too aren’t you?”.

soobin could choke. he wasn’t expecting him to mention his name at all. yes, soobin was hiding behind a bookshelf pretending to read a book. he couldn’t leave you alone with this kid.

“why do you care if I’m obsessed with him or not?”. you laugh.

“because. I want to know if you’re different. I mean no hate to being exactly like everyone else I’m just curious”.

“I can like soobin and still be different”.

taehyun hums, letting you do the work by yourself for a little, you were getting the hang of it.

“well, if you are obsessed with him, don’t let him change you alright? soobin has done some fucked up things”.

“he hasn’t changed me. he’s changed his ways a lot”.

taehyun sits up in his seat a little. “that’s good that he’s trying to be better but some of the things he’s done I don’t think he’d ever be able to come back from them”.

you nervously laugh, and soobin is two seconds away from punching taehyun in his face. his fists ball in his lap while he listens in on the conversation.

“you’re talking about him like he’s some rapist”.

taehyun looks at you and swallows. he has this cold expression on his face like he wanted to tell you something but didn’t quite know how. you opened your mouth to say something but was interrupted by soobin approaching your table.

“let’s go. I’ll buy you a tutor”. he says bluntly.

“soobin I’m fine. taehyun is helping me”.

“I don’t want him tutoring you”. you glared up at him frustratingly.

“why? can you please stop? this is so annoying”.

“no I can’t stop. come on”.

you huff your breath annoyingly and collect your things. “I’m sorry taehyun. he’s being ridiculous right now”. taehyun could only remain calm, he hoped the best for you. soobin was no good and he knew it.

“you did a good job today”. taehyun replies. once you began walking down the aisle soobin turns to taehyun and bends to his ear.

“mind your fucking business”. he spat shortly before walking away.

as angry as can be you were following soobin to his car. you couldn’t contain your emotions.

“why are you treating me like I’m your daughter? taehyun can tutor me if he wants!”.

“I don’t want you around him anymore”.

“why not! give me one good reason soobin! you don’t even know him”.

“because I don’t”.

“you know what? I don’t have to listen to you. you’re not my father”.

soobin gets into his car and slams the door shut. “just get in the car”.

you open the door but you got an idea.

“as a matter of fact. I’m not getting in this car until you tell me who you are”.

“what are you talking about?”.

“who are you soobin? what did you do and why does everyone know about the horrific things you did except for me?!”.

“can you relax?”.

“no! answer me now! who are you?”.

“you know who I was in the past already. so why are doing this? why are you acting surprised that I was a bad person every time you hear something?”.

“why do I have to hear things! why can’t you tell me?! huh? what did you do?”.

“I didn’t do anything”.

“you’re a liar��.

“I’m not lying”.

“until you tell me who you are soobin, I don’t ever want to speak to you again”. and on that note you slam the passenger’s seat door and start your journey to your house.

#txt au #choi soobin smut #choi soobin #txt #choi beomgyu #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #bugsbinnie #saint au

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bandana-fox · 3 years

Text

God I hate where I am

I am in this place for autistic / adhd / mentally ill / otherwise handicapped people. There’s lots of different things that you can work as (gardener, cook, woodworker etc) it’s basicially work for people like me so we can have it easier than let’s say a normal job. Depending on what you have, you get someone who understands and our needs

We also still have school

I’m autistic and like, chose woodworking because we don’t have any kind of work with animals here. Because why the heck not. You can use it for almost everything and it’s a job with creativity.

It already started in my first year of woodworking training where they wanted to keep me in first year instead of letting me into my second year because they thought I won’t manage it. Which, okay, yeah - I admit I am not that great but I also could improve myself at home during the corona break and refused to stay in first year.

Which was also the one time that, usually as quiet and polite i am, that they notice I can act differently and won’t let me push around.

Guess what? I got in my second year and everyone was surprised how much I actually improved.

Third year, same shit is happening again. My...”caretakers” saying that I won’t manage my final exam (which is only in June but okay) and they know that I want to contuine school and go studying biology / zoology (because I really don’t feel prepared for work once my woodworking training is over)

And even here they say I don’t manage it. I get it, my grades are not the best, never have been. But back then in my younger years? School was whack. The teachers hated me, I hated them, the people in class sucked so of course I do not have the motivation for school.

We have school in this building as well. The teacher is VERY competent compared to those I had like ten years ago. Learning with her is fun. I actually improved a little in math.

And guess what? I am actually buying math books and learn. This proves how much I want to go studying actually and take it serious.

And once I am finished with here? I am trying to do the school stuff I didn’t manage, I don’t want to start studying immediately.

I thought I made it clear not to understimate me the first time but apparently not. And like, it’s so tiring.

If you guys don’t think I manage something that’s only in June, then you are probably bad at teaching me shit but okay. I get it my motivation has dropped, which means yeah, I am bad currently but it’s only because I don’t want to be here anymore? But it’s my last year and if I go out now, it only means I quitted. And I do not quit near the end.

I don’t really care if they say I won’t manage studying because I know myself. I know how hard I work when I am focused on a goal. Heck, I wouldn’t have willingly bought math books in the past. If I truly was this bad as they say, my brother, who has done all this already, would’ve cut me off right then and there when the idea came instead of suggesting to study in english (I’m german) since I understand more in english than in my original language.

Oh and we also get our own therapists based on what we have, mine prides herself for autism but she doesn’t know shit about it

#im so tired of being here tbh #it's fine it's only until june now #but hhh

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG181!

- Little nice touch: the fact that time was passing normally inside of the house… immediately felt through the sound of the clock in the background, marking the passage of time:

(MAG180) SALESA: [SAD SIGH] [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ANNABELLE: I did say this might happen. SALESA: You did, you diiid. Well… so much for my big reveal… Shame.

(MAG181) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [CLASSICAL MUSIC IS PLAYING; LOUIS SPOHR’S “SECHS DEUTSCHE LIEDER FÜR EINE SINGSTIMME, KLARINETTE UND KLAVIER, OP. 103: N°2 ZWIEGESANG”] [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY AND LIQUID BEING POURED] SALESA: Hmmm.

(I still have the reflex of associating the sound of a ticking clock with Elias’s office, so I was expecting Big Talk from the get-go! Aaah, I wonder if we’ll “hear” Elias’s office again, before the end…)

As they discussed, time was quantifiable again, existing outside of Jon&Martin (even when they were sleeping), not solely as events succeeding to each other. … On the other hand: it’s concerning that the tape’s case number was still “########-21”: time passes and is quantifiable on a day-to-day basis, Martin was able to conclude that it was daytime thanks to the light, but there was still no date inside of the house. It’s a “little bubble” of normalcy and time, but still existing in the middle of a chaos.

- In the same vein as last episode it was also neat how we could already understand that this space was operating differently, since Jon&Martin needed to physically take care of themselves again:

(MAG180) SALESA: Ah, well. We can talk after they’ve slept, I suppose. Urgh! And had a bath. And some food. No rush. [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY MOVING] We have all the time in the world.

(MAG181) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] […] SALESA: Come in! Did you sleep well? Have you had something to eat? Annabelle said she’d shown you the pantry? [SALESA CEASES THE MUSIC] ARCHIVIST: [UNCOMFORTABLE] I, er… We… slept. I, I don’t know… H–how long’s it been? SALESA: About seventy-one hours by my clock. […] Come on, sit down, have a drink. [CLINKING SOUNDS OF GLASS AND ICE] MARTIN: You’re… sure? What time is it? I– Oh, huh. Huh! I can actually ask that question here! SALESA: You can indeed. MARTIN: And the sun’s high, so… SALESA: Good eye…! Martin, was it? MARTIN: Uh, uh… Yes. SALESA: Well Martin. It’s about ten in the morning, more or less. […] You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane.

They slept, drank and ate! (But did they bathe. We don’t know if they did bathe. Though, Salesa would have probably commented on it again, if they didn’t.)

And on the one hand, I’m laughing really hard that they needed to sleep for three whole days to compensate for time spent in the apocalypse (that’s a long nap.), on the other hand… that’s weirdly optimistic for the rest of humanity trapped out there: I was fearing that if Jon&Martin managed to turn the world back, everyone would just collapse and die on the spot from exhaustion/hunger/thirst but, no, it seems like they could recover in this case?

- More on the differences between Jon and Martin later, but I like how it was quickly clear that Jon was less in control than his usual, and very aware of it: Jon was “disorientated”, his sentences were more hesitant, while Martin was quick to notice things, bouncing off from Salesa’s or Jon’s sentences, able to make small jokes. I loved and got sad over the Beholding one, since:

(MAG181) SALESA: How’re you feeling? MARTIN: [BLOWING AIR] ARCHIVIST: Disorientated. It’s like, hum… li–like I’ve lost my sight o–or, uh… SALESA: Well, you have, haven’t you? [HE CHUCKLES. IT ISN’T THE FRIENDLIEST SOUND] Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. [PAUSE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Well, I–I wouldn’t exactly say I, I “work” for it… MARTIN: Uh… Well, I–I mean, you say that, but when you stop to think about it, it was literally our employer, Jon, so… Mmh! ARCHIVIST: I, I suppose.

They were actually talking about two different levels, each correct in his own way? Back in season 4, Martin had already pointed out to Jon that working in the Archives meant working for Beholding (MAG129: “I just– I worry. You’re working for someone… really bad!” “Yes, I’m not an idiot, Jon, but it’s no… worse than working for something really bad, so…” “At least, The Eye hasn’t gone after our own. Lukas has vanished two people!”); but on the other hand, Jon… has tried to distance himself from The Eye and what he wanted (by stopping to take live statements, by refusing to indulge in any contentment induced by the apocalypse, by deciding to stop the smiting spree): “working for” is both true (as a neutral stance, since they were tricked into working for Beholding through the Archival contract) and wrong (“working for” also implies some level of active participation?). It reminds me of Melanie’s stance about it (MAG150: “I didn’t say I was going to quit. I said: I’m not going to do my job. No researching; no filing; no… field trips. Nothing that is going to help the Institute in any way. […] Because this place is evil, Jon! And so… doing this job… Helping it out… even in small ways, i–is in some way… evil too! Every time we try to use it to do good, it just seems to make everything worse, and… and I will not be a part of that anymore. […] If I’m… just another cog, er… Maybe I can’t leave the machine, but from this moment? I–I–I’m not turning. I’m… jammed.”), and makes me wonder whether Martin and Basira’s ties to Beholding have been more or less protecting them in the apocalypse… Basira said that she thought she had been protected from the first wave because she was in the Institute, and Jon told her he couldn’t ensure her safety if they went their separate ways, and it didn’t prevent Daisy (who had been bound to the Archives by her own archival contract since season 4) from losing herself to The Hunt, but I still wonder if their ties to the Institute will factor in at some point…

- Blowing kisses in Martin’s direction for being a Polite Boy… and also absolutely doing with Salesa what he did with Peter and Simon – he KNOWS how to play older and potentially terrible men like cheap whistles and/or to get information out of them, and how to get them to like him!

(MAG120) MARTIN: W… what… What are you doing here, mister Lukas? PETER: Please, call me Peter. MARTIN: N–no. No, I think I’m okay.

(MAG151) SIMON: Let’s start over. Simon – Simon Fairchild. Peter asked me to look in on you and… have a small chat. Well! A big chat, really. Answer all those… nagging questions. MARTIN: Simon Fairchild. [PAUSE] [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] Wait, “Simon Fairchild” as in… SIMON: As in “all those people who said I did horrible things to them and their loved ones”? Yes. They have been in, haven’t they? I’d hate to think I’m underrepresented in here, not when Peter tells me that that… “bone” fellow has at least half a dozen. MARTIN: N–no, no, [NERVOUS CHUCKLE], not… not at all. Y–you’ve sent plenty of people our way. […] Right. SIMON: Sorry. Too “big” picture? I get that a lot. MARTIN: No, it’s… [INHALE] Thank you. This has… actually been quite helpful.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Uh… Mr.… Salesa? SALESA: Mikaele, please. Come in!

(MAG126) PETER: He managed to convince himself that he could get his ritual off first, which would have made all of this a… bit moot, but that’s not really an option anymore. So it’s down to us. You and me. The dynamic duo.

(MAG151) SIMON: And he’s not at all certain the world as we understand will come out the other side. MARTIN: And let me guess – you think he can’t see the “big picture”? SIMON: [INHALE] I see why he likes you! MARTIN: [SIGH] […] I thought you said that the maths doesn’t work. SIMON: Oh, you are a quick one! […] And this has been fun! [INHALE] Now. [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] If we’re about done– MARTIN: We’re not. Sit back down. SIMON: Boooold~ [CHUCKLE] [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] I like it.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Uh… Well, I–I mean, you say that, but when you stop to think about it, it was literally our employer, Jon, so… Mmh! ARCHIVIST: I, I suppose. SALESA: [FRIENDLY CHUCKLES] I like this one! [SHUFFLING] Come on, sit down, have a drink. [CLINKING SOUNDS OF GLASS AND ICE] MARTIN: You’re… sure? What time is it? I– Oh, huh. Huh! I can actually ask that question here! SALESA: You can indeed. MARTIN: And the sun’s high, so… SALESA: Good eye…! Martin, was it? MARTIN: Uh, uh… Yes. […] [SCOFF] In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous…! SALESA: Ha! I do like this one! […] MARTIN: [LAUGHS] So–sorry, sorry! Y–you did look kind of funny, it was… li–like, like you were flunking an exam or something! SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Yes! Exactly that! […] MARTIN: Look, fo–for what it’s worth, I’d, I’d also quite like to know how this all happened? SALESA: … Fine. I’ll tell you how it happened. But you must sit quietly while I tell it.

I love Martin’s ability to get what he wants by weaponising his politeness/social niceties/a sense of familiarity.

- How Dare You, Salesa.

(MAG181) MARTIN: [SCOFF] In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous…! SALESA: Ha! I do like this one! [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY BEING PUT DOWN] Now you mention it, you actually remind me of Jurgen a bit. In his– MARTIN: Ah, uh… SALESA: –younger days of course.

That was SO RUDE (who, in their right mind, would like to be compared to Leitner), and:

* Martin’s comment was quite interesting given that he never got directly involved with a Leitner, unless there is a Secret Story incoming from the time he worked at the Institute library, before the start of the show? But statements-wise (the ones Martin recorded, at least), the “DIG” book from MAG088 hadn’t been identified as such… and Martin had however speculated that Dexter Banks’s book, destroyed by Alexia in MAG110, was “a Leitner”. And it was a Web one.

* Not a direct experience, but he witnessed someone use one:

(MAG158) MARTIN: … That’s a Leitner. PETER: It is! MARTIN: And the, hum… the blood on it? PETER: That’s Leitner too! MARTIN: … Riiight… PETER: Do you want to see how it works? MARTIN: Uh, n–no; no, I’d really rather you didn’t mess it up– PETER: No, I insist! Watch. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Very impressive. PETER: I’m reading. Shush.

… And had been the one to discover the body of Leitner himself, alongside Tim, at the end of MAG080. Martin, especially Martin, wouldn’t want to be compared to Leitner given how he lived his life and how he ended.

* “In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous” says Martin, who WANTED TO TOUCH THE BOOKS:

(MAG113) MARTIN: Ooh! Ooh! There’s a book in this one. ARCHIVIST: [HASTILY] Don’t…. touch it! MARTIN: Ooh… OH! Right. Yes. ARCHIVIST: Let’s… not touch any books we don’t know. MARTIN: Right.

(The books, and the plastic explosive. Arsooooon!)

- … So, Martin hadn’t had a direct first-hand experience of how dangerous ~open books~ could be, but meanwhile, someone who had a direct encounter with a Web one withdrew from the exchange and only chirped in when prompted, and to be distrusting of the Spider person. Jon wasn’t having a perfectly excellent time at the moment, uh?

(MAG181) SALESA: You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: Oh, you know Annabelle? [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Sort of. You do know she’s part of The Web? SALESA: [SARCASTICALLY] No? I assumed the thread holding her head together was due to a childhood knitting accident! [CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Ha!

* … I’m REALLY, REALLY, ABSOLUTELY NOT SURPRISED that Jon, especially Jon, would want to avoid any “gift” from a Spider-person, given how 1°) he read enough statements about Hill Top Road to know that Raymond Fielding was making the teenagers eat apples full of spiders to turn them into eggs sacks (don’t accept the Spider’s food!), 2°) it mirrors guests bringing gifts to Mr Spider in the hope of not getting devoured. Was Jon internally panicking during their stay, fearing that Annabelle would take Martin like Mr Spiders had taken the gifts and the people bringing them, including Mr Horse’s son…? (I doubt that Martin made that “guests” comment on purpose; I’m still not sure he knows the details of Jon’s childhood encounter with The Web? He knows that Jon hates spiders and is wary of them, that he has suspicions about Annabelle Cane, but did Jon tell him the whole story about the book?)

* … However, that brings to mind the lighter again: Jon “I don’t intend to accept anything by [Web-related individual]” has kept the Web-design lighter since he realised it had been delivered to him in MAG036, had been unable to question it when prompted by Gerry (MAG111) and Daisy (MAG136), complete with static-indicating-that-something-supernatural-was-going-on in the latter case… So, hum. Jon, your lighter. Think about your lighter, Jon. Was it a gift, and for what, Jon. Is it a 100% Web-flavoured gift, or is there a bit of something else (Desolation, Agnes) in that one making it more acceptable, Jon.

* Uh, so quite strangely, we got confirmation that Annabelle does look like the description we previously had of her, with her head injury:

(MAG069, Darren Harlow) “With a sudden, unexpected motion, he charged at her and slammed his full weight into her side. The attack took her completely off guard and she fell hard against the edge of the broken window, the side of her head making a god awful crunching sound as it hit. […] I looked at the crumpled form of Annabelle Cane just as it started to get back up. I could see the side of her skull had been caved in, and beneath the wet mess of blood and bone, I saw a mass of dull white cobweb.”

(MAG123, Angie Santos) “As he told it, she was young, rail-thin underneath an oversized brown hoodie, which she kept pulled up, trying to cover up a network of pale stitches that stretched over one side of her head. […] All through it, she just kept staring at him, hands pressed into the pockets of her hoodie – occasionally pushing long, spindly fingers out against the fabric, smiling to herself.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “It was almost six months ago when the woman came to our door. She looked like a film student, and at first I took her for a fan. […] I was about to ask her to wait while I checked with him but as I started to speak, she turned her head, revealing a mass of white thread, criss-crossing all over the side of her temple, standing starkly against the dark brown of her skin. She told me to sit down. And I did.”

… Which is… rather distinctive, so how come Jon apparently got a bit of trouble recognising her immediately when she opened the door?

(MAG180) [DOOR OPENS] [MUSIC CAN BE HEARD PLAYING MORE CLEARLY] MARTIN: Oh. Oh no, uh… [FOOTSTEPS] ANNABELLE: Good morning. ARCHIVIST: [FAINT GRUNT] MARTIN: Uh… Yes… ANNABELLE: Come on in. He’s waiting for you. ARCHIVIST: Oh. And who exactly– MARTIN: J–J–Jon. Jon. ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I think… Hum… Annabelle? Annabelle Cane? ANNABELLE: Come on. He’s very excited, you know. [FOOTSTEPS AS SHE TURNS TO LEAVE] MARTIN: [FAINT GROAN] So, do we… follow or…? [PIANO CEASES] ARCHIVIST: I… I suppose. [FOOTSTEPS] [DOOR CREAKS] [STATIC RISES ABRUPTLY, WITH A GLITCH, AND FADES] ARCHIVIST: Oh… MARTIN: Oh, hum… ARCHIVIST: Oh. [PIANO RESUMES] [DOOR CLOSES] [FOOTSTEPS ECHOING AS THEY GO] MARTIN: [INHALE] [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: So… Annabelle, what are you playing at, what are you doing here?

Was it Jon recognising her but not making a fuss about it? Being so used to relying on his powers that he didn’t even have the reflex of connecting the dots himself? Was Annabelle’s head covered, or was she showing another side of her head?

- Letting The Web do whatever is confirmed as the most popular tactic to deal with it, uh.

(MAG121) OLIVER: Honestly, I’m… still not exactly sure why I’m here. But… you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what She asks!

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: I’m sure the flares will work fine. … I mean, un–unless it’s all some… elaborate… plot… to have us… burn this place down again. BASIRA: So what if it is? ARCHIVIST: I don’t follow…? BASIRA: I mean. Anything we do could be part of the “Grand Master Plan”. So – what, we do nothing? Just… sit on our hands, and hope that’s not what the spiders want? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG148) BASIRA: Or that we were being stalked by some freaky spider woman. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about that! ELIAS: Ah, uh, y–yes… W–well… To be honest, I’d… advise you to leave that one – well alone. BASIRA: Oh yeah? ELIAS: Uh! Look, look, look. I’ve… been doing this a long time now and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about The Web, it’s that it plays its own game. All you can really do is… hope it doesn’t get in the way of whatever your plan is. Because the Spider usually wins…!

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: O–kay. [SIGH] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

(MAG181) SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? SALESA: Not especially. And even if it did, what good would it do? MARTIN: … Uh, so what’s the deal with you two anyway? SALESA: It’s an odd situation, but not a complicated one. Shortly after I decided to stay here, she arrived; wandered in from the chaos out there and told me she was going to stay with me. I didn’t get this far by pitting myself against The Web, so I welcomed her in. ARCHIVIST: … “And”? SALESA: And sometimes she cooks. ARCHIVIST: She “cooks”? SALESA: I don’t know what you want me to say, it’s a big house and I don’t see her much. Can’t even say which corner she’s made her nest in! Whatever she’s doing… all I can do is hope it doesn’t wreck my little oasis. And if it does… then I hope that by keeping her in good graces, she’ll at least do me the courtesy of killing me first? MARTIN: Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! […] She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…! […] ARCHIVIST: I… It’s going to be difficult to relax, with a spider lurking around. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: … It gets easier with practice.

I mean, as mentioned by Salesa, there is still the risk that Annabelle will kill him or make him suffer worse, and has just been using him for her own goals… But also: not worrying about it means not feeding The Web? Unlike Jon, who spiralled so heavily into paranoia during season 4, worried about being trapped in The Web’s plans, about being potentially influenced and threatened by it.

I love how Salesa depicts Annabelle’s arrival and behaviour towards him: it’s… absolutely spider-like? She entered the house, made herself at home (she even has a “nest”), and gets rid of the insects. She had told Martin&Jon that Salesa was waiting for them:

(MAG180) ANNABELLE: Come on in. He’s waiting for you. […] I’m just helping out around the place a little bit. Making myself at home. You know how it is. MARTIN: … Jon, I don’t like this. ANNABELLE: You can relax, Mr. Blackwood. You’re safe here. […] Well. There you go, then! Just in here. [OPENS THE DOOR] Your guests are here, Mikaele. [PIANO CEASES] SALESA: Hoo-hoo-hoo! Excellent! Come in, come in! Ah, a pleasure to meet both of you. Thank you, Annabelle! ANNABELLE: You’re quite welcome. [PIANO RESUMES] Have fun.

… but it was initially her who just Informed Salesa That Yep, He Has Guests Coming, Lucky You, and Salesa rolled with it.

- On the one hand, Salesa is going with the flow hoping that Annabelle doesn’t intend to make him suffer much even if she needs/wants him dead, and sounds pretty rational about it… But on the other hand, OOFT, BIG RED FLAG that Salesa, who sounds like his situation is still on his terms… was and is at the same time shown as a heavy drinker, who could potentially die from over-consumption:

(MAG141) FLOYD: He was drunk for the next two days, and we kept sailing on towards Cape Town. We no longer had anything to deliver there, but no-one was really sure what else to do. Whenever there’d been similar disasters before, Salesa was quick to make a new plan, let Captain Gaultier know what the next steps were. It was one of the reasons the crew trusted him so much. He just always seemed to know what we needed to do next. This time, though… felt different. He was distant, quiet. His words, when he spoke to you at all, were blurred with alcohol and regret. Nobody knew what the plan was, so we just kept going.

(MAG181) SALESA: Well Martin. It’s about ten in the morning, more or less. [PAUSE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] MARTIN: … And you’re drinking. SALESA: Of course! Even in my little bubble of peace, I find drinking after dark leads to some rather morbid thoughts. […] And when I realised that the power moves with the camera, well, hm!, let’s just say I loaded up a truckload of supplies and went on some journeys of my own, before I found… this place. [MORE CLINKING GLASS AND ICE] No reason to not live the apocalypse in style…! [STIRRING NOISES] In the end… I find myself quite happy. I’ve supplies, for a good few years, and then I… plan to take my own life. I think perhaps that’s the greatest blessing the camera can bestow: I – can – die – here. Escape this place. Not yet, of course; and maybe the wine will do me in before I have to take matters into my own hands, but still… it remains a comfort. Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink […].

Which. Is self-destructive on its own, and clearly indicating that Salesa hasn’t been quite as fine as he likes to pretend (assuming his role, hiding himself behind it with his friendliness and knack for stories), but also concerning when associated with Annabelle’s presence:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Looking back, of course… and remembering the crunch of used syringes beneath my feet, I realise that addiction… is one of the strongest vectors of control there is.”

We-oops.

- Did Annabelle gossip about Jon&Martin here and there?

(MAG181) SALESA: Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. […] Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! […] You know, Gertrude once used that little trick to ask if I was trying to sell her a forgery? Admittedly I was, so I don’t hold a grudge; but I didn’t much care for the experience. Anyway.

He knew about the compulsion from Gertrude, as well as the nightmares induced by giving a statement (MAG115: “So I suppose if it’s a statement you’re wanting… it’s no inconvenience to me. I don’t sleep well anyway.”), Annabelle apparently introduced Jon&Martin a bit (and had warned him that they would pass out when entering his “little bubble”)… but what about Jon’s title as “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London”? It was Jon’s way of introducing statements from season 1 to 3, not Gertrude’s (“Gertrude Robinson recording.”)

Did Annabelle make him listen to a few tapes? Specifically the ones about Salesa? Or did she report the way Jon used to introduce himself, a lot, to the point of Salesa internalising it as a way to chide and make fun of Jon?

- Oh JON…

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: What is this place, how did you find it? SALESA: [SLIGHTLY CURT] I didn’t find anything. I made it. ARCHIVIST: [COMPELLINGLY] Tell me what happened. SALESA: … “No”. ARCHIVIST: I– Uh… Wh… Wh–what? SALESA: [DEEP AND LONG CHUCKLES] The look on your face! [CHUCKLES] Look, he’s so confused! MARTIN: [LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Martin! MARTIN: [LAUGHS] So–sorry, sorry! Y–you did look kind of funny, it was… li–like, like you were flunking an exam or something! SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Yes! Exactly that! MARTIN: [CHUCKLES] SALESA: Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … So what now? SALESA: Ah, no need for the suspicion, I’m not going to hurt you…! You’re quite safe! I’ll tell you soon enough; like I said, I have no secrets. But it will be… in my own time. ARCHIVIST: … Right. SALESA: You know, Gertrude once used that little trick to ask if I was trying to sell her a forgery? Admittedly I was, so I don’t hold a grudge; but I didn’t much care for the experience. Anyway. For now, just relax, and no doubt I’ll get there eventually; I haven’t had anyone to talk to properly in months! MARTIN: I thought… What about Annabelle? SALESA: She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…! MARTIN: Uh…! Yeah, that sounds familiar. ARCHIVIST: I’m trying to be less cryptic…! MARTIN: I know, I know.

* That was incredibly rude of Jon, technically, so I laughed altogether with Salesa&Martin! Jon… is not used to people refusing to answer anymore, uh? But, on the other hand: YIKES that Jon is not used to people refusing to answer him and that he would try to rely on his compulsion… on someone who had been pretty chill and friendly so far, and wasn’t actively hiding anything or saying that some topics were forbidden. Jon was cut from The Eye in there, so it’s really… him, and him alone, who still has the reflex to ask / order people to give him an answer? It’s him and him alone trying to rely on his powers to gain control of a situation, when said powers weren’t currently influencing him? He wasn’t asking/ordering for The Eye or pushed by The Eye? I wonder if the few days he spent in the house helped him a bit to think about the habits he grew as Archivist, what had become a reflex that he had to let go of…

* Keyboardsmashing over Salesa cheerfully explaining that Gertrude had compelled him to check if he was trying to swindle her, and that he was, so he found it fair. Though, “I don’t hold a grudge”: he might have been a bit more pissed at the moment? I remember his MAG115 statement, where he was clearly annoyed and frustrated and toying with her, after one of his artefacts caused damage in the Institute – I like the permanent ambiguity, in Salesa’s words, making you wondering if he’s absolutely sincere… or “playing his role” of the good-natured and jovial merchant, who does awful things but is above feelings like regrets, heartbreaks or annoyance. There is definitely a bit of unreliable narrator vibe to his whole persona?

* Sarcasm was through the roof, tho (Annabelle’s knitting accident, Jon’s face when failing to compel, Annabelle being cryptic), but AHAH for Martin joining him – he’s getting to see many new deluxe Jon faces! (Pretty sure Martin must have found Jon’s bewilderment super cute?)

- I love how Martin can be laughing and the instant afterwards be firm about words that could cross a line:

(MAG181) SALESA: So what’s it like out there? I assume the Archivist must be a rather… powerful position, since you seem to be travelling through it pretty freely? ARCHIVIST: It’s, uh… Uh… Hum… MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: Uh, sorry, I–I just, uh… Hmm. MARTIN: Uh, i–it’s bad. Really bad. [SIGH] It’s, it’s all carved up between the powers, and everyone has just been, sort of… scooped up and chucked into their deepest fears, it’s just… it’s just nightmare after nightmare after nightmare, and… I… uh… Why are you smiling? SALESA: I’m sorry. You’re quite right, it’s inappropriate. It’s simply… [INHALE] I have spent the last decade preparing for this to happen. Not just something like this, but almost exactly this situation. There was every chance, in fact, the great likelihood… that I was wasting my time, and throwing away years of my life on a ridiculous precaution. But I was right. I. Was. Right. … And now here I am, safe, warm and comfortable while out there the whole world screams! I don’t mean to sound… uh, uh, a–as if I’m happy that people are suffering– MARTIN: Good, ‘cause it does sound a bit like that. SALESA: … Then I apologise. I’m just not sure I can fully communicate the sense of… of vindication that I feel, all those long nights I spent wondering if I was paranoid or overreacting. But no! I am here. And I am safe. MARTIN: [SIGH] I mean… I guess that makes sense?

* So, unlike other avatars, who were able to tell on sight that Jon had a “powerful position” in the new order, Salesa deduced it from facts! That was a nice touch.

* … Worried over the fact that Jon… didn’t seem able to describe the apocalypse spontaneously. Was he trying to “know” about it from inside the house, once again hitting a blank wall, just like when he tried to compel Salesa? Has he lost the habit of just… storing, remembering and using information regarding what he experienced? It’s interesting that there was no static at all during the whole exchange: Jon was indeed unable to use his powers there.

* LOVE HOW QUICKLY MARTIN REACTED when he saw Salesa’s reaction; Martin was probably gauging him? He had been quick to ask for smiting (and was even planning for the possibility when they were at the door of the house), so… did Salesa dodge a bullet. (Martin, please.)

* Salesa has been shown to be quite prideful, uh? “I made it”, “it will be… in my own time”, “I was right”… (And I can’t tell whether he’s absolutely sincere about that pride! Is it, genuinely, an absolute comfort, or is he grasping at straws because what’s the point of being right when you’re alone and basically waiting for your death with a few luxuries?)

- So, confirmation that Annabelle does know about their journey! It was rather obvious but technically… we didn’t know for sure, since Martin had bullshitted a bit when reporting her words to Jon:

(MAG166) MARTIN: Just, what do you want? ANNABELLE: I want to help you, of course. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … No. Thank you. ANNABELLE: It’s a hard place to find yourself in, maybe I can be of some… assistance…! MARTIN: You can assist me by giving the… “creepy phone” thing a rest…! ANNABELLE: He is more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? [PAUSE] And you’re not sure what that means for you. MARTIN: [INHALE] I’m hanging up now. ANNABELLE: Does he even need you at all?

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what? […] So. What did Annabelle say? MARTIN: She offered to help, but she didn’t say what with; she… asked us where we were going. I didn’t tell her, but… [SNORT] it was pretty obvious she had a good idea.

(MAG181) SALESA: So what of you two, what, what, wh–where are you going? You seem to be travelling with some purpose…! ARCHIVIST: Did Annabelle not tell you that? SALESA: She said you were travelling to the Tower, the, hm, “Panopticon”, she called it? Whatever that might be; she didn’t say what for. [SUSPICIOUSLY] Nothing that might cause me trouble, I hope? MARTIN: We’re going to try and end this. Turn the world back. ARCHIVIST: Martin…! MARTIN: Wh–what? Okay; maybe he can help. We could use some support and it’s, it’s not like he wants the world to stay like this either! SALESA: You are right. To a point. [INHALE] I would welcome a return to the real world. Eh! To be the only man to weather the greatest disaster in history of reality, utterly unharmed… What an achievement that would be, quite the boast! But alas, no, [INHALE] I can’t help you. MARTIN: What? Why not? SALESA: I have nothing to offer. Well, except perhaps some… basic provisions. I have food, drink, a few luxuries, but none of that would help you out there, and I’m certainly not going to follow you. No, I think the best thing I can do is to welcome you to stay in my sanctuary as long as you wish…!

* Annabelle at least knew their destination already; which means she might have a good eye on the map, and would know that (according to real-world geography) they’re also coming closer to Hill Top Road…? Also: was she expecting them to change their mind about their initial plans to turn the world back? Or did she not tell Salesa because she assumed it was doomed already, or in order to not worry Salesa too much?

* … I keep hearing Salesa and going “Welp, that’s someone who is VERY depressed and also good at hiding it”: the way he jumped with such curiosity and passion on Martin&Jon’s current journey, the fact that they had a “purpose”? It feels to me like someone who currently doesn’t have any, is missing company, and wants to hear about anything that could manage to break his routine.

* Martin had mentioned with Helen already that they were lacking allies, and he&Jon just separated from Basira… So he really craves any help they could get, uh… AND AT THE SAME TIME: Martin is very good at weaving truths when he’s trying to manipulate people; he did that with Elias to make Elias accept (/feel like he had decided) that Martin would stay behind at the Institute in MAG116, he did that with Peter all through season 4 (believing in The Extinction, wanting to stop it… but also, loathing Peter and refusing to serve his plans)… so was he trying to do the same with Salesa, sneaking into his good graces and pretending to be absolutely transparent, nothing to hide sir!, before evaluating whether Salesa was a threat to be disposed of or just harmless?

- … So, Annabelle had been there for at least a month, so she definitely banked on them finding this place on their way… or did she find ways to influence their journey in order for them to walk by the house…?

(MAG181) SALESA: It’s an odd situation, but not a complicated one. Shortly after I decided to stay here, she arrived; wandered in from the chaos out there and told me she was going to stay with me. I didn’t get this far by pitting myself against The Web, so I welcomed her in. […] ARCHIVIST: … Alright, I… [INHALE] I guess we can stay. Just for a bit. SALESA: Excellent, ah! I haven’t had guests since the world ended. ARCHIVIST: [FLAT] Lovely. SALESA: Oh, saying that, I suppose there was that insect thing that stumbled in here a month or so back… MARTIN: Oh, uh, uh, in–“insect thing”? SALESA: Some creature of the Crawling Rot. Anyway, it didn’t actually make it into the house before Annabelle managed to get rid of it. So, I refuse to count it as a guest. MARTIN: Mmm. ARCHIVIST: I suppose that makes sense…! SALESA: Of course, I can’t actually stop things crossing the border into my hideaway, as you both discovered. Another reason I’m content to leave Annabelle to whatever schemes she might be weaving.

Or did she influence Salesa in taking residence there? The fact that he would be there and that Jon&Martin would come close enough for Jon to notice that the whole area was weird (and that they both agreed to take a look) is… a lot of coincidences. Jon “baited” Basira when they were close enough, and they then hunted Daisy; and as for Helen, she has been explicitly following them – those weren’t coincidences, but intended. On the other hand, the current layout is a bit more suspicious?

… It also takes us back to the start, for a Web-affiliated person to go against a Corruption-thing. We had witnessed this since season 1: spiders attracted by worms because they’re food (as Martin suspected in Carlos Vittery’s building), a spider warning Jon of the incoming Prentiss attack (end of MAG038), big spiders eating worm corpses in the tunnels under the Institute…

(… Salesa mentioned that Annabelle was cooking, WHAT IS SHE COOKING. DID SHE COOK THE CORRUPTION THING… DID SHE FEED THEM ALL WITH THE CORRUPTION THING…)

- Aaaaah, I’m having so many feelings over Jon asking so many questions and being so curious!!

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: What is… this place? SALESA: I just told you. It’s my little bubble. My silver lining on an otherwise cloudy day. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] That’s not an answ– SALESA: Now tell me […]. ARCHIVIST: … So, you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions? SALESA: [SIPPING FOLLOWED BY CONTENTED SIGH] … I am an open book. […] ARCHIVIST: What is this place, how did you find it? SALESA: [SLIGHTLY CURT] I didn’t find anything. I made it. ARCHIVIST: [COMPELLINGLY] Tell me what happened. SALESA: … “No”. ARCHIVIST: I– Uh… Wh… Wh–what? […] How big is your safe zone, is it… is it always the same size? H… How did this happen? SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Look at him! Not three days without his master spooning knowledge into his head, and he can’t bear it! I thought ignorance was meant to be bliss? ARCHIVIST: [FRUSTRATED SOUND]

Same as last episode, that was Jon! It was Jon being himself and curious… Georgie had pointed out that it was Jon’s personality (MAG093: “If your job is asking questions, I mean. You were always the one who pushed too far, and asked smart-arse, awkward questions. I always was surprised you never got punched.”), even before the influence of The Eye – and now, we have the additional dimension that Jon might have grown a bit too accustomed to, indeed, Knowing things, and to getting people to answer him whenever needed or desired… But still. It feels like he was back to his roots?

(And Salesa was doing his best to frustrate him, cutting him off or commenting on it, pfft.)

- While Jon was more pressuring and blunt, I’m reeling over Martin who sugarcoated his approach a bit (joking with Salesa, sometimes agreeing with him or not antagonising him too much while having clear limits)… and got Salesa to give up his story:

(MAG181) SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? SALESA: Not especially. And even if it did, what good would it do? MARTIN: … Uh, so what’s the deal with you two anyway? […] Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like. MARTIN: Uh, that’s… very generous…! […] I thought… What about Annabelle? SALESA: She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…![…] I am here. And I am safe. MARTIN: [SIGH] I mean… I guess that makes sense? […] SALESA: No, I think the best thing I can do is to welcome you to stay in my sanctuary as long as you wish…! MARTIN: … Oh, well. [EXHALE] Thank you. I–I think we just might. Jon? […] Look, fo–for what it’s worth, I’d, I’d also quite like to know how this all happened? SALESA: … Fine. I’ll tell you how it happened. But you must sit quietly while I tell it. MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Don’t worry, I have had lots of practice. SALESA: … And you? ARCHIVIST: [DISGRUNTLED SOUND] MARTIN: He’ll behave. SALESA: … My story is not a long one.

(GRUMPY JON WAS SO CUTE… JUST LIKE AN ANNOYED CAT…)

Martin has had experience with Peter and Simon, knows how to be strategical, and it worked. Salesa was clearly craving to give his story, to be the centre of the attention (the main star of the show?), and Martin… played the right cards to get him there?

There was no static, Salesa pointed out that Jon couldn’t use his Eye powers here, Salesa insisted that his statement was on his own terms… but I still wonder if he wasn’t compelled a bit? We didn’t learn much, it had a bit more flourish than our usual (but it’s not unheard of: avatars were shown to be very happy to portray themselves at their best during them), there were some potentially unreliable bits here and there (not unheard of either), but it was also… pretty coherent. Flowing naturally. A long tirade going straight to the points.

Could Salesa have been influenced by Martin? Simon had made it clear that Beholding had compelled him (through Martin) to give him his piece. Or was it… the tape recorder, somehow? It turned on when Jon&Martin were arriving (so, when a discussion would happen), and turned off after Salesa was done:

(MAG181) SALESA: Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink, and… not worry about who might be… listening. [CLICK.]

So it was there for Salesa’s statement. Did it compel him?

- I like how we technically didn’t learn much through Salesa’s statement! Well, not much factual info, at least: we already had gotten a recent-ish written statement from him (MAG115, from January 2007); we knew that he had been Leitner’s assistant and had fled when he understood what Leitner was dealing in, that he initially mostly wanted to use his list of clients and had ended up dealing in supernatural artefacts almost coincidentally, that he let (rich) people acquire the artefacts they wanted and too bad for them if they caused them misery, that he was getting angstier between 2011 and 2014, culminating in the last mission to retrieve the camera, and that he had then vanished, presumed dead.

But I feel like we mostly learnt about his personality, in contrast to MAG115 (in which he was a bit more on the defensive, given that the Institute and/or Gertrude was going at him for a Slaughter artefact that had… got out of control) and MAG141, in which Floyd Matharu, who clearly kinda liked and respected him (“He was a good boss.”), had given us another look on Salesa: someone who was tired, who had lost people and was growing tired of this life. I find it really interesting to compare MAG141 and MAG181 since, in this episode, Salesa is clearly putting on a show of his own story:

(MAG141) FLOYD: Once found him pouring over an old photo album. The ship was there in the pictures, but a different captain, different crew. I asked him who they were, and he just looked at me, eyes sunken like he hadn’t slept, and for a second I felt like he was seeing someone else, not me. But then he just shrugged. “Dead now,” he said, “doesn’t really matter.” […] I followed slowly, unsteadily, but got there just in time to see Salesa throw both him and what looked like a blank rug over the side and into the ocean. Then he collapsed against the railing, a look of intense exhaustion passing over his face, and I left him there. He was drunk for the next two days, and we kept sailing on towards Cape Town. We no longer had anything to deliver there, but no-one was really sure what else to do. Whenever there’d been similar disasters before, Salesa was quick to make a new plan, let Captain Gaultier know what the next steps were. It was one of the reasons the crew trusted him so much. He just always seemed to know what we needed to do next. This time, though… felt different. He was distant, quiet. His words, when he spoke to you at all, were blurred with alcohol and regret. Nobody knew what the plan was, so we just kept going.

(MAG181) SALESA: But the years, they wear on you, and as I talked to more and more people versed in that secret world, more acolytes and would-be cultists about “rituals” and “destinies”, I began to come to a conclusion. As the number of people in the world grew, and the amount of fear grew with it, I began to become convinced that it was only a matter of time before one of them… succeeded. Before the world was transformed into… Well. You’d know better than me…! So I began to plan for my… retirement. I spent most of my fortune preparing. Some on supplies, but mostly hunting down an artifact that I hoped might give me some… protection. One I had sold right at the start of my career: an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! […] Staging my death was a… comparative, erm, afterthought. In some ways… just a happy accident. And so I waited, and lived out my days in comfort. For the longest time I thought that, well… maybe I had simply entered normal retirement really dramatically! But then… well… I was right.

* “a happy accident”, says the person living with a Web person who knew he was there and threw Jon&Martin at him. (What happened, back then? Why the explosion, why did Gaultier report that they had been “betrayed”? Was someone else after Salesa, or “helped” him hide? If Gertrude was behind the explosion, it would have been mentioned at this point… Was it Annabelle, to ensure that Salesa would be a reliable trump card in the apocalypse?)

* It had been addressed during Arthur and Gertrude’s discussion, and has been a reccurring theme in the series: who really are these characters?

(MAG145) GERTRUDE: What was Agnes like? ARTHUR: … What? GERTRUDE: Well, for all The Web bound us together, I never actually met her. What was she like? ARTHUR: I… [PAUSE] I don’t know. Not really. You got as many answers to that as… folks who met her. Never really knew what she felt ‘bout any of it! Not really. Not in her own words. Guess that’s the thing about being the… Chosen One, or… I mean, Agnes was always quiet; but even if you spend all day, every day, throwing out commandments and… laying down parables… At the end of it, you’re always just the… point of someone else’s story. Everyone clamouring to say what you were, what you meant, and… your thoughts on it… all don’t mean nothing.

Is the real Salesa the self-serving and self-centred man who explained his story to Jon and Martin, all about money and then self-preservation, not giving any retrospective thought about his crew and the people who were following his orders and yet died because of it? Is the real Salesa the “good boss” Floyd had described, who was clearly nostalgic and affected by the losses throughout his life (why keep pictures of the deceased, if they hadn’t mattered at all)? Or is the truth somewhere within the mix, every statement a bit of it – how these characters used to be perceived, how they want to be perceived right now, how they acted then and how they act now?

* There is a bit of a parallel with Jonah, with the way both reached the fatalistic conclusion that someone would eventually manage to bring forth the apocalypse:

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Why does a man seek to destroy the world? It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality, and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my God! The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness; to place yourself beyond pain, and death, and fear. It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, Jon, the freedom of it all…! I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers, all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction, in that choice. […] Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott and the rest – to discuss and hypothesise on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner… I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear. But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was still so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of their patrons: I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world. At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be… an inevitable transformation, was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment… soon became a race.”

Both came to the conclusion that an apocalypse would be likely to happen, and both of them worked on a way to mitigate the effects for them and them only, instead of ensuring that others wouldn’t succeed. … And in both cases, it doesn’t feel like they realised how they might have been used rather than in control: Jonah could have just NOT LAUNCHED ANY RITUAL when he discovered that anyway, a ritual would never work unless all the Fears were to be brought through together; and Salesa… had a few holes in his story? Admitted that there was an “accident” leading to his official death, allowing him to go into hiding? Is drinking heavily while having a Web-person as housemate, who explained how “addiction is one of the strongest vectors of control there is”?

- I wonder whether Salesa knew what had truly happened to Leitner, or not at all?

(MAG181) SALESA: … My story is not a long one. Not the parts that you care about, at least. The Powers I first learned about from Jurgen Leitner – you’re familiar with him? Then I don’t need to explain further. When I say I was one of his assistants, you know exactly the kind of education that would be. Terrifying, fascinating, misguided. The man was a genius, and an idiot. It didn’t take me long to see what he was blind to his whole life: that trying to control the Fears was a good way to get yourself killed, or worse. … I left long before he got what was coming to him, and tried to forget what I knew.

He probably assumed that Leitner had died when his library was attacked? Not brutally pipe-murdered by Elias.

(And sidenote, but: Salesa wasn’t presented as an avatar but he also joins the list of people in season 5 not even mentioning Jonah at all as an agent who matters, while Jon was identified as A Big Deal in the apocalypse. I don’t know if Jonah is still in any state to know and watch these things (merged with the Panopticon? Trapped within his old decaying body at the centre of the tower?), and he was certainly not able to see anything inside of the camera’s domain, but I hope that it Stings.)

- I’m not so surprised that Annabelle and Salesa seem to be getting along, since they both sound aware of their “role” in the overall narrative frame:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Now, I believe the tradition is to tell you the story of my life; the sinister path that led me inevitably to the sorry state in which I now find myself. Well, let it never be said I do not dance the steps I am assigned.”

(MAG181) SALESA: I lived my life, and I lived it well – successful, wealthy, and a little bit feared…! Smuggler to the rich and famous! There wasn’t an art dealer or curator out there who didn’t pretend not to know me! But the trouble is, once you’ve seen backstage, it’s hard to believe in the show anymore. You understand, I’m sure. You can never quite shake off the desire to have a peek…! To see what’s waiting in the wings…! […] Again, I made a lot of money, and remained untouched. It’s the sort of thing to set a man thinking about his life, you understand? I began to think hard about the world, about my place within it, and about fear! About the figure of the merchant, the trader who deals in strange and dangerous goods – how it can be found in so many myths and fables, dealing in second-hand nightmares. And how rarely the merchant themself is ever punished in those stories. […] To tell you the truth, I got a real kick out of playing my role. To think of myself as a purveyor of curses, walking softly through the most dangerous edges of reality, so that the rich and arrogant could buy their own doom.

(+ in some ways, Peter, too: “Thinking about it now, perhaps one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did was that I was, at the end of the day, predictable. A ‘known quantity’. I had my little patch, sending my poor lost sailors to their Forsaken end, but I rarely stepped outside of it. When I think of all those I met who travelled in this secret world we found ourselves in – Gertrude, Simon, Mikaele, even Rayner… there are plenty whose lives might well have been easier with my death, but it was rare that I strayed outside my habits.” (MAG159))

- So, who was the thing/person Salesa was “working for”?

(MAG181) SALESA: Sometimes people would come to me for solutions, protections or talismans to ward off the attention they had already called down on themselves. I sometimes did what I could to help, but I had to be careful. I could never afford to forget who I actually was working for.

Himself? The Fears, given how he made them more impactful by digging out and spreading cursed artefacts?

(Also, aaaah, I’m guessing that Noriega had been asking for help, back in MAG016, while he was suffering from Angela’s curse and had met with Salesa…)

- Salesa reminded me a bit of Leitner, and he would haaaaaaaaaaaate it? Leitner also wanted to take on a “role” and it… had backfired very badly:

(MAG080) LEITNER: I… thought that I could control them. That I alone had the knowledge to contain them. Back then, I believed they were simply books. Horrifying, powerful, yes; but with rules, limits that could be charted. … I was a fool. I had no idea what forces lay behind them, or that they had other servants that might come searching. […] I saw myself as a guardian, a reverse Pandora, gathering the evils of the world and locking them away. And so I branded them with my seal. I told myself that if any should escape such a mark could help me retrieve them. But I think, in my heart, I dreamed of my work becoming known. That “The Library of Jurgen Leitner” would stand as a symbol of courage and protection. Hubris. I suppose it is fitting punishment that my name has become a watchword for evil, spoken by those who only know it as marking the darkest, most terrible of secrets. My name has become a curse.

Is the merchant truly never punished in all these stories? Quite clearly, Salesa has it waaay better than the people out there (he’s not trapped in a personal nightmares, forced to relive terrible experiences over and over again)… but it’s also such an empty existence, with him having become what he used to loathe – as someone who felt like he was punishing the rich, he’s now living in luxury (Upton House, playing the piano, listening to classical music, drinking alcohol in the morning in nice crockery and assuming that said alcohol might end up killing him)…

- Aaaah, I love how the way the camera works does feel like it makes sense within that universe:

(MAG181) SALESA: So I began to plan for my… retirement. I spent most of my fortune preparing. Some on supplies, but mostly hunting down an artifact that I hoped might give me some… protection. One I had sold right at the start of my career: an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! It was in the possession of another scared old man, one who had long been running from his own supernatural debts. I believe it operates as a sort of, uh, battery, charging itself on all the quiet worries that come from living in hiding, and then when the sanctuary collapses, eh!, all that fear flows out at once. … No doubt if my oasis breaks before I die, The Eye will get quite the feast from me. But in this new world, I would hope it has other things to keep itself busy. […] it hid me from The Eye, which, in the new order of reality, also protects where I am from the hellscape all around us. And when I realised that the power moves with the camera.

I also like that… just like a regular camera, it puts some distance between the one who is protected and anybody else, cutting them from reality. It explains why everything went to hell on that island after they took the camera (MAG141) and might be a curse in itself: feeding from the fears of the people into hiding… and anticipating their demise? (We also got told how Salesa could “end”, if it happens offscreen: if Annabelle’s plan is to use the camera without him… either she’ll be charitable and kill him, or tell him in advance for him to kill himself beforehand, either she will just leave with the camera, and Salesa will have it worse than everyone else.)

Also explains why Jon didn’t “know” anything about Salesa’s fate after talking with Floyd, and why he might have been drawn to him? Since he was a blind spot for Beholding, someone hidden from it. It’s quite interesting that we’ve seen so many different ways to get a (temporary or permanent) protection from Beholding? Gertrude was cutting eyes from pictures all around her (and Elias admitted that she had grown quite good at hiding from him); Leitner had the A Disappearance book, preventing Elias and Beholding from seeing him; Eric and Melanie discovered that gouging out their eyes freed them from the Archives; and now, Salesa pointed out that the camera was even specifically anti-Eye – thus, Jon not being able to use his powers around it… Was it initially a Dark artefact? Or an Eye one, just with a delayed reaction (as the fear of “being watched, being followed, having your deepest secrets exposed”)?

- CRIES, because it was to be expected that Jon wouldn’t fare for long in this place:

(MAG181) [PACKING NOISES] MARTIN: You’re sure we can’t stay longer? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I–I–I’ve been, hum… Uh, these last few days I–I’ve been… getting weaker. Dizzy spells, vagueness, you’ve seen it. Being cut off from the Eye, i–it’s not good for me. MARTIN: Yeah, but if… [INHALE] If you’re that connected, that… dependent, what happens if we actually, y’know, do manage to– ARCHIVIST: We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I just need us to be moving on. MARTIN: Hm… […] Feeling better? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yeah. I’m afraid I am…!

And he reminded me a lot of how he sounded during his partial withdrawal (from live statements), in the second half of season 4: raspier voice, tiredness, the feeling unwell…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: … Still feeling weak. Restless. I want to be proactive, but there hasn’t…! That hasn’t been going quite so well for us lately.

(MAG152) HELEN: Hungry, are we~? ARCHIVIST: That’s not…! I haven’t done anything– HELEN: Yet. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I feel like if I don’t… I might die. Fade away into nothing.

(MAG154) MARTIN: No, ’t’s fine, I ju– You just surprised me, that’s… Jesus, you all right? You… you look like hell. ARCHIVIST: Oh! Uh, right, I, em… ki–kind of weak. Hungry, I–I guess, sort of. I–I’ve been trying to a–avoid, being, hum… Sticking to old statements?

(MAG155) ARCHIVIST: I feel weak. Like I’m… fading away. Do I restrain myself, keep my appetite in check, even at the cost of my life? Or do I try to rationalise what I am, like… Ms. McHugh? I find myself… hating her, her… callous self-deception. But am I so different…?

Except that, back then, Martin hadn’t directly witnessed it – Jon went without statements after MAG159, for three weeks at most (after taking Peter’s live statement), and he sounded mostly fine if eager to read when they received Basira’s statements. Here, it feels like Jon’s degrading state went much quicker and more impressively… and it was a reminder of Jon’s connection to The Eye. Jon cut the conversation short, but they really will have to talk about it, and about how setting the world back, as of now, really sounds incompatible with Jon’s survival…

(Sob at Jon’s “moving on”, because it echoed MAG180’s title: back then, “moving on” had given the feeling of… reaching another chapter, accelerating after a stagnation? But now, “moving on” means returning to the apocalypse, the Fears, their journey towards the Panopticon, and did they learn anything that could help their quest inside of the house? The camera could be useful, maybe, but then…)

-I am HOWLING at Martin’s outburst of rage towards Annabelle because AHAHAH, who used to accept her tea and be a ~polite guest~?

(MAG181) SALESA: Did you sleep well? Have you had something to eat? Annabelle said she’d shown you the pantry? […] You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. […] [FOOTSTEPS] [A DOOR CREAKS OPEN] ANNABELLE: All packed? ARCHIVIST: Mm. MARTIN: Oh! Finally showing your face? ANNABELLE: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. MARTIN: Oh, pffft! All week, you scuttle around with… with food and drinks and all that other stuff, whatever we need, and just when we need it, but if we actually try to talk to you, you’re gone. ANNABELLE: [SMILINGLY] I’m very busy…! ARCHIVIST: Martin, don’t… bother, we–we’re not going to get any answers out of her. MARTIN: You–you’re joking, right? She’s been lurking at the edges of this whole thing since the beginning, and now we can finally actually talk to her, and…! What, you’re just going to pass? You don’t have any questions, nothing at all?

WHO usually provides food and drinks to get some results with people?

(MAG053) MARTIN: I was just going down to the café, did you want a sandwich? ARCHIVIST: Uh, that, that depends. Are you… hum, are you going to keep hovering around me if I go to the canteen? MARTIN: [SIGH] I just worry. You needed five stitches after you “accidentally” stabbed yourself with a breadknife. If you’re still claiming that’s what happened. ARCHIVIST: I am. MARTIN: Then you’ll forgive me for worrying when you use sharp knives. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine. I’ll come with, just… give me a second to grab my coat.

(MAG069) MARTIN: … Look. Jon… when was the last time we all just… talked? Just talked, without all of this– ARCHIVIST: Thank you for the tea, Martin. MARTIN: … Oookay. Fine. [DOOR OPENS] He’s not wrong, you know. [DOOR CLOSES]

Annabelle is just doing The Usual Martin Things, and Martin accepted it at first, probably thinking that it could put her into good dispositions to talk, except that tactic is NOT working with her and he’s SO PISSED about it =D Oh, Martin…

I’m super amused at Annabelle having so much fun being domestic and taking care of the guests while looming in the background; it’s an interesting dynamic where you can clearly feel like… everything is happening on her terms, and Martin and Jon don’t have any control over it. (And Martin is SO annoyed at the lack of control, ooooh Martin…)

(- And this is how Web!Martin can still w- (No but, seriously, I thought about how spiders can be territorial and usually don’t share the same living area?))

- I adore how you could HEAR Annabelle’s smile while she was clearly having fun.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Oh! Finally showing your face? ANNABELLE: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. […] ARCHIVIST: Look. I–it’s no accident we finally meet face-to-face in the one place I–I can’t get any answers out of her. ANNABELLE: [SMUG] I’m sure I don’t know what you mean…! MARTIN: … Why are you here? Mm? What’s your game? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I just value my privacy. MARTIN: Fine, fine! Why did you call me before? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…!

Not committing to any answer, and it was driving Martin mad, uh.

- LOVING HOW MARTIN IS JUST “RESENT AND REMEMBER”:

(MAG166) ANNABELLE: He is more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? [PAUSE] And you’re not sure what that means for you. MARTIN: [INHALE] I’m hanging up now. ANNABELLE: Does he even need you at all? MARTIN: Bye! [BEEP] [SIGH] [LOUDER, CLOSER HOWL] … I know, right?

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…! MARTIN: “Friendly”!? You told me Jon didn’t need me! ANNABELLE: Objectively true. MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED SIGH]

(Jon was out of it for most of the exchange, but… If he had been in a better state of mind, he might have reacted to this: Martin hadn’t told him about that part of the phone call, Martin hadn’t shared that with him in the following episode. So, that was new information… unless he had already “known” about it from Martin’s mind and didn’t tell Martin?)

And! We! Still! Don’t! Know! What Annabelle! Wanted! To Achieve!

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: And more importantly, perhaps I thought you might need a little bit of righteous indignation to help you power through the next steps. […] For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The call was… clumsy. There were so many things to keep track of at the moment. I must confess it did lack my usual… nuance. ARCHIVIST: And perhaps you’re now just trying to humanise yourself so we underestimate your next move…! ANNABELLE: Perhaps.

* What was that “righteous indignation” about? At this point, Martin was already pro-smiting. Did she want him to focus on his resentment towards her? Did she want to prompt a conversation between Jon&Martin, as it happened in MAG167, leading to Jon admitting to Martin that he was his “reason”? I still feel like if that exchange hadn’t happened, Martin would have had it way worse in the Lonely house a few episodes later…

* It feels like the “Jon does(n’t) need Martin” might be about two different things? It’s objectively true that Jon would still be fine without Martin… but would he keep going on his quest without him? Jon said that Gertrude likely would have given up (implying that his difference with her is that he had “a reason”, in Martin). And Jon himself had told Martin, that it wasn’t just about what he needed in the “survival” sense; it was… about what he wanted for himself:

(MAG159) ARCHIVIST: Listen – I know you think you want to be here, I know you think it’s safer and w– … well, maybe it is… But we need you. I need you. MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] No, you don’t. Not really…! Everyone’s alone, but we all survive. ARCHIVIST: I don’t just want to survive!

- Martin and Being Manipulated~~

(MAG126) MARTIN: But if I could just explain– PETER: And how do you think Jon’s going to react, to that explanation? Hm? Do you think he’ll accept it calmly? Come through with a well-considered, rational response– MARTIN: That’s not fair– PETER: –or would he assume he knows better than you and do something rash? [SILENCE] MARTIN: … I don’t like being manipulated. PETER: That’s fair. But I’m not wrong.

(MAG181) MARTIN: … I, I don’t like being manipulated. ANNABELLE: Then we probably aren’t going to be friends. MARTIN: Urrrgh! [SIGH]

(And both times, about Jon.)

- Jon was exhausted, but also kind of fatalistic over the fact that they couldn’t do anything against Annabelle anyway; had Salesa been right when he had told them they would get used to it? And in a way, Jon being less angsty over it… might be good for him – not spiralling into paranoia, being just aware that anyway, he can’t know anything for sure about Annabelle. (… Or is the feeling of powerlessness feeding her anyway?)

(MAG181) MARTIN: So, so that’s it, then? We, we’re just going to leave her here? ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: We could make her tell us. ARCHIVIST: No, we couldn’t. I don’t have my powers, if it came to a physical fight I really don’t rate our chances…! MARTIN: Hey, I can handle myself! ANNABELLE: But can you handle me? [SILENCE] MARTIN: … I don’t like you. ANNABELLE: I know.

GNIIIIIIIIIIIIH over Martin just. Being absolutely too honest and just telling her, to her face, that he doesn’t like her. Martin, you rude brat.

I got Michael flashbacks, too, because it wasn’t the first time that:

(MAG079) MICHAEL: I think I might also kill you. It would be easier than killing the Archivist; none of you are protected down here. MARTIN: No, no, now hang on… MICHAEL: You are going to try and help him. And I want to see what happens without you there. TIM: Martin… MARTIN: No, no, okay, because there’s two of us and there’s one of you, okay. He’s not killing anyone! TIM: Martin, look at his hands! MARTIN: Oh.

MARTIN WAS READY TO THROW DOWN.

- YIKES over what Annabelle has ~in mind~:

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: That’s the trouble with old houses, I suppose. Full of spiders. ANNABELLE: You boys better take care of yourselves. I’m sure we’ll see each other again very soon. Here! Why don’t I show you out?

* Was the “open-minded” a reference to the fact that her own head was opened and is currently stitched together thanks to spiders.

* So, they’re meeting again “soon”… at Hill Top Road, maybe?

* Annabelle is implying that they were refusing something about her, as if there was currently an offer on the table – what was it? Was it about the fact they were antagonising her? Jon didn’t trust her (or at least raised the possibility that she could be trying to make them underestimate her; she had explained that “I have always believed that the key to controlling people… is to ensure that they always under, or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans” in MAG147), they were wary of her… and were they right about it? She made sure they drank and ate, she encouraged them to be well; she needs them functioning and still going, but what for? I’m still really curious about Annabelle; it felt to me that she needed them to reach a certain conclusion by themselves, and that they have failed so far… Or is it way more sinister than that, is she waiting for them to ask for her help regarding Jon’s current state?

* Overall, it feels to me like she’s focusing on Martin more than Jon, as if Jon was a “given” in her equation but Martin a more active and rebellious piece?

- Ooooh, Salesa… he really was craving for company, uh.

(MAG181) SALESA: Aaah! You are off, then? [FAINT SOUNDS OF MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND; LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN’S “9TH SYMPHONY: FINALE”] ARCHIVIST: … Yes, uh… MARTIN: Uh, thank you, for all your hospitality. SALESA: You are sure you won’t stay a little longer? You’re more than welcome! ARCHIVIST: N–no, I, uh… I got to, hum… leave. MARTIN: What he said. SALESA: Ah, such a shame. And you’re sure I can’t give you a little something for the road? Uh, food, wine? MARTIN: Uh, no, thank you. Uh… [SIGH] Nice things, they… tend not to stay nice out there. SALESA: [SCOFF] True enough.

And sob about the fact that Martin has learned to not trust “comfort” too much. (What about the tea he had stored in his own bag? And the bandages he used on Jon didn’t turn against them either, so a few things stayed safe.)

- I love how Annabelle and Salesa seem to be getting along with their cruel humour:

(MAG181) SALESA: Well: best of luck I suppose. And if in the end, you can’t save the world… you know where I am. ANNABELLE: Actually, he doesn’t. SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Of course. What a shame. [INHALE] Well then, I guess it really is goodbye. Travel well. Don’t be Strangers! [MORE CHUCKLES, LOWER AND DARKER]

(SOB, Salesa, “Don’t be strangers” had been copyrighted by Georgie in season 3 already!)

… Really curious that Annabelle seemed to already know that Jon would quickly forget about the place, as soon as they would leave; in the same way that she predicted that they might pass out when entering the domain protected by the camera. She… knows… stuff… and understands how things work, uh…

- Cries about Jon just fading from conversation, it REALLY was time for him to leave:

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: Yes, I–I–I’ve been, hum… Uh, these last few days I–I’ve been… getting weaker. Dizzy spells, vagueness, you’ve seen it. Being cut off from the Eye, i–it’s not good for me. […] MARTIN: You don’t have any questions, nothing at all? … Jon? Jon! [CLICKS HIS FINGERS IN FRONT OF THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [DISTANT] Wha… Oh, yes, uh, sorry… Look. […] MARTIN: God, fi–fine. Fine! [BAG IS GRABBED] Come on, Jon. ARCHIVIST: [VAGUE] Mm… Oh, I’m… sorry, what? MARTIN: We’re leaving. […] SALESA: You are sure you won’t stay a little longer? You’re more than welcome! ARCHIVIST: N–no, I, uh… I got to, hum… leave. MARTIN: What he said. […] Y–yeah, uh, come on, Jon. Let’s go. ARCHIVIST: Mm, what? Oh. Yes, ri–right. Yes…

Jon prompted their departure, but it sounded like he forgot about it multiples times during the conversation… He was absolutely drained and ready to collapse, uh?

(Or is it linked to his other memory losses, such as forgetting his bully’s name, or that he had gone for ice-cream with the assistants for Martin’s birthday? I think it really was exhaustion in this particular case (head empty), but…)

- … Jon’s sense of humour…

(MAG181) MARTIN: Feeling better? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yeah. I’m afraid I am…!

“Afraid I am” – said he, who is currently back to feeding on fear.

- I’m glad that Jon apologised for making them leave, was aware of what Martin had to give up for him, but also that Martin was clear about his Priorities (and differences from Salesa, who was satisfied being protected and safe in his “little bubble” while others are suffering) and absolutely not holding it against him:

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I… It would have been nice to stay. MARTIN: [WISTFULLY] Yeah… I’d almost forgotten what it was like, you know? A bit of peace, eh! ARCHIVIST: I mean, you could have… MARTIN: No, don’t say it, Jon. You know I never would. I–I can’t just “forget” about all the people out here! Besides, I’d rather be trapped in a post-apocalyptic wasteland with you than spend one more moment in paradise with her. ARCHIVIST: [FAINT CHUCKLES] That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!

… But it also makes me worry about the alternatives Martin didn’t mention: what about “spending time in paradise without her nor you”, or “going back to the normal world without you”…

- I personally interpreted the last scene as the camera taking back the memories with it, since it was supposed to protect itself and the perimeter around it from The Eye, and Jon knowing/remembering about it would mean giving Beholding access to it:

(MAG181) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Ah… Pity. MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: It’s, uh… It’s going away. That… peace; the, the safety, the memory of ignorance… MARTIN: That’s… [INHALE] Yeah, I guess that makes sense. [STATIC FADES] Do you… remember any of it? Wha–what Salesa said? Annabelle? ARCHIVIST: Some. I–I think. It’s, uh… Do you mind filling me in? MARTIN: Wait, you need me to tell you something for once? ARCHIVIST: I guess so! It’s, uh… It’s gone. Like a dream. … What was it like? MARTIN: … [SIGH] Nice. It was… It was really nice.

(“Ignorance” both as willingly ignoring something you’re aware of, and not knowing what’s happening out there…)

But CRIES about the tinge of nostalgia, at the fact that Jon had been so hopeful during MAG180 while discovering this place (… and was now walking out of it with mixed feelings), and the fact that… these nice memories are stored within Martin, and Martin only.

… And the tape which recorded Salesa’s statement.

- WHAT ARE THE TAPE RECORDERS…

(MAG181) SALESA: Hmmm. [SHUFFLING] Interesting… […] Now tell me, do you know why there’s a tape recorder here? I noticed it just now, but I don’t believe I actually own one. ARCHIVIST: … Uh… Not really. MARTIN: They sort of just … follow us round? SALESA: Hmmmm. Interesting. Did you carry it in? Things shouldn’t be able to manifest in here like that. ARCHIVIST: … You had one in your… bag, I–I think, Martin, did, did you drop it here? MARTIN: Uh… I, I don’t think so…! SALESA: … Very well. In that case, we shall leave it to be. It’s hardly valuable, and it’s probably best not to upset whatever it might be involved with. Besides! I have no secrets to hide. […] Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink, and… not worry about who might be… listening.

Jon had already told Tim back in MAG114, but the fact that this place was an anti-Eye zone kinda confirms they’re not Beholding? But outside of that…

* It’s interesting that Jon immediately asked Martin if it was his. Did Jon have his own in his pocket and could tell it wasn’t his? When did Martin acquire one: was it the one drifting alongside him in the water (or not water), in MAG163? Or was the one in MAG170 different?

* We’ve seen with the mention of the Corruption creature that people can go inside of Salesa’s property. We’ve seen that Jon was cut off from Beholding, but what about other powers? Jon was still fearful of Annabelle – so The Web could still be active inside of it? Is the recorder Web, another power?

- Why did Annabelle want them there? Was it for them to learn about the camera, to use later? To close the Salesa chapter? To give them some respite, for funsies? To introduce herself properly while in control of the situation, where Jon couldn’t compel her? To make them lose time because something was happening outside?

- It’s getting clearer and clearer that there are maaaany holes in Jon’s pseudo-omniscience: he’s unable to see inside of the Panopticon. He can’t see the future. He can’t know about The Web’s plans due to it being too fragmented and complex. He doesn’t know about Melanie&Georgie. He couldn’t know about Salesa’s “little oasis” since it was safe from The Eye.

What else is he missing from the big picture?

- So now, what’s coming next?

* If it was indeed Upton House, they’re getting pretty close to London, and with a slight detour, Oxford (and Hill Top Road) could be on their way; given how Annabelle told them they would meet again “very soon”, they might revisit the house… well, Martin would be visiting it for the first time. It was already weird before the apocalypse; how is it as a place, now?

* We still haven’t seen Georgie&Melanie, so they could be coming soon, unless Jon is reuniting with them in MAG189, right before the hiatus, in the same way as they managed to trap Basira in MAG176 as the ending to Act I… (And as usual, where are they? Unlike Annabelle, Jon had been able to hypothesise that they could be in London (MAG164: “Hm! I’m… I’m not… sure, I–I can’t really see Melanie o–or–or Georgie. […] if they were dead, I– I think I would know that, I just… I–I don’t know… where they are, w–what they’re doing. L–London, maybe?”). Are they in the Institute? Behind Helen’s door? Protected because Melanie cut her connection to The Eye and Georgie can’t feel fear, putting them off Beholding’s radar?)

* Basira was supposed to meet them again at the Institute; given that Martin&Jon stayed at Salesa’s for a while, I wonder if she’s ahead of them, now…?

* Last time we saw Helen was in MAG177, and we know that she was usually spying on them…Was she able to materialise her Door into Salesa’s house, or not even? I’m guessing she could be popping up soon, if she couldn’t get her hands on Jon&Martin for a while… (Oh no: given how she liked to casually torment them, she probably witnessed Daisy’s death and bring that topic back on the table just for funsies…)

I’m a broken record, but wow, MAG182’s title is concerning (WHEN IT SHOULDN’T BE…). Spiral (and Helen), Corruption or Lonely stuff? And with the second meaning, a discussion about Jon’s status in the apocalypse? (I’m also thinking about The Admiral ;_;)

#mag181 #tma liveblog #long post/#tma spoilers/#tma season 5 #the magnus archives

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loquaciousquark · 4 years

Note

I hope you're doing well! I know you posted about a stressful situation last month, and I hope it's resolved itself. Sending good wishes you you and Hamlet!

Thank you so very much for checking in on me! I really do appreciate it. An update to that post under the cut.

Carol, who moved in with me on May 28, is still here. Right now, we have set a tentative move-out goal of the first or second week of August, but this is pending an apartment application that she hopes to finalize on Monday and a job situation that is a complete mess.

Basically, according to my limited understanding, Carol is licensed to teach in Florida. Alabama has a reciprocity clause with Florida, but it must be applied for. Carol has recently begun this process, but her teaching license(s?) is (are?) set to expire in December unless she passes certain exams. She’s already passed one for...general middle and high school teaching, I think, but failed a math exam. She has an art history exam Monday afternoon and expects to pass. I hope so, because she’s been doing nothing but watching Netflix and shopping for houses for the last few days in her new 2017 Jeep Cherokee.

I remain unspeakably grateful to my parents for teaching me financial literacy, because until I witnessed Carol’s decision-making, I had no idea how hard it was for some people to not spend money unwisely.

As a reminder, Carol is dead broke. She has $153,000 in debt across student loans, medical bills, Czech and US taxes, and some personal loans she would like to repay to friends for helping her. She is unemployed and has no support from her family and has relied on couch surfing at friends’ and acquaintances’ homes since last summer for housing. Since moving in with me, she has been trying to find somewhere to live that would accept her with all her debt and her nonexistent US employment history for the last ten years. Based on what she’s said, I think she has about $9k in the bank--or did, until last week.

In short, she needs a car, a job, and a home, and as far as I can tell she doesn’t care which order they come in.

Two weeks ago, she was offered a position in a rural town about 30 minutes from where I live. It’s a small, very country town which desperately needs a special education teacher, something I think Carol really does have a passion for. However, because she hasn’t finished the reciprocity licensure application yet, they’re having a lot of roadblocks with her paperwork, compounded by the fact that when she left Prague last year, she left all her important documentation behind: things like her birth certificate, her social security card, and her letters of recommendation, which for some reason she did not have electronic backups of. The principal has been trying to get what she needs from Carol for two weeks. Carol is constantly saying that things are “in process” but has nothing to show for it.

As far as we can tell, the job is still hers, but the school year starts August 13th and she still hasn’t been approved by the Board of Education because the paperwork is still not finished on her end. She did not attempt to replace her birth certificate or social security card until they needed it for the application. (Her friend in Prague--and I am beginning to realize she uses the word “friend” for anyone she’s met longer than sixty seconds), who frantically packed up all her belongings when she realized she would not be able to go back to the city, cannot ship her belongings or go through them for the important paperwork until next summer, as she and her husband are currently vacationing in Rome for a year.

Carol decided last night she is also going to apply for some online Department of Defense position--I didn’t understand the details and don’t really want to know, except that it’s also teaching and some administration. We’ll see how it works out. She is growing increasingly annoyed at the principal’s requests for paperwork completion, which baffles me.

So, job: shrug? Maybe?

Car next, then, but this whole mess also goes back to the financial literacy thing. My parents have always been extremely frugal (pennywise, as my dad would say), and from childhood they made it very clear to us to not buy things you couldn’t afford. They’ve never had a car payment in my memory, and they paid off their house about ten years ago. This means they drove a lot of junkers for a very long time, and for a very long time we had very few vacations, but now they’re fully financially stable and debt-free and my mom has a car that she drove off the lot brand new that they paid cash in hand for.

If I had been in Carol’s situation, I would have found a cheap, mostly reliable used car that probably wasn’t going to explode on me and drive that as long as I could while saving up for housing. I did in fact drive her to look at several used cars, most of which would have been even outside my expected budget (hers, as it happens, is larger even than that, because one of her overseas friends was willing to contribute $5000 to the cost of a vehicle). (I paid $6500 for my current car, a 2004, in college in 2012 with 70,000 miles on it at the time, and have driven it ever since.)

She rejected all of them because they did not have good “energy” and “feelings.” One she was willing to buy at $3700, but told the seller to go pay for his own inspection (once I explained to her what mechanical inspections were as a concept), so they ghosted her. She also is extremely afraid of head gasket failure--I don’t know why, since she knows nothing about cars--and has assumed all vehicles she has driven are on the verge of it, so after the first week she refused to even look at a vehicle without a warranty.

This means she exclusively limited herself to used dealership options, which I’m just going to come right out and say was monumentally stupid. I don’t know if any car dealers follow me, so I’m sorry if I am misperceiving this, but in my experience almost every dealer I’ve gone to has been aggressive, manipulative, and extremely predatory in their interest rates. I cannot think of a riskier course of action in abject debt than to try to cut a deal with a car dealer for the sake of a warranty I doubt will cover that much truly expensive failure in the long run anyway.

On Thursday, Carol bought a $20,000 2017 Jeep Cherokee from a dealership down the road. I don’t know what she put down. I do know she did not use her friend’s money (why not??) and I know her interest rate on the car loan is 4%, which she is extremely proud of and which horrifies me. She also “persuaded” them into a limited warranty that will cover the vehicle up to 100,000 miles (currently at 42k, and they ~only offer it for cars under 40,000 miles~). I can’t tell you how bad an idea I think all this is.

Thursday night, as she was regaling me with stories of her negotiating prowess, she also tells me she has decided to buy a house. She’s sick of renting, and somehow, someone somewhere managed to get her approved for up to $120,000 in a home loan. She already has $150k in debt, another $20k from the car, and now wants to buy a house. She was delighted that she could make the minimum 7% down payment, even though it would wipe out every cent she has left and leave her less than $500 to her name for moving expenses, utilities, food, title registration, etc. afterwards.

She doesn’t even have a secure job yet.

However, this plan seems to have fallen through. She went out with a realtor several times this weekend and came home the last time in great, heaving sobs, because she can’t find the 3bed 2bath she wanted in her price range. (For reference, most homes in this area go between 200k - 250k right now for 2-3bed 2ba, and the closer you get to the city--I have about a 20 minute commute--the higher it gets. My next door neighbor sold her 3bed 2.5ba for >300k three months ago, and Carol knew this.) She was absolutely devastated that the only things in her range were “tiny little ugly flipped houses” and “the ghetto.” The realtor basically said she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time. Carol repeatedly told me how grateful I should be that I got in at the price point I did a few years back, because no “normal people” could ever afford to break into the market again.

I tried to tell her that it was because I lived in with a roommate in very cheap housing and then a cell of a 1bed 1ba apartment for eight years while I saved money, but if nothing else, I’ve learned I’m not allowed to compare our situations or histories or offer advice of any kind except “go ahead and buy what you want,” because that only makes her cry harder. In the end, she has decided to give up on the house for now and settle for the absolute last thing in the world she wanted, an apartment with a lease.

To be honest, until she has a signed contract in hand, I half-expect this lease to fall through as well. I have tried to offer what I think is sensible advice and been ignored or rebuffed. I have tried to offer a sympathetic ear and ended up with her sobbing uncontrollably on me--heaving, body-wracking sobs--over and over again with me trapped in my own home, providing endless emotional support for a girl I don’t even like. I have tried to encourage her to do the things she wants to do, since she’s going to do them anyway, and when she gets “negative energy” after the purchases (buyer’s remorse, I think, that one little inkling of sense saying maybe it wasn’t a great idea to buy a $20,000 car or an $1100 brand new iPhone without a job), she blames it on the exact thing I said I thought might be good and makes me feel like I have now directly contributed to a negative outcome after poor decision-making.

For the record, when she says these things to me she is not saying, and has never said, them directly at me. She has never blamed me in any way for a negative outcome. She is not consciously trying to manipulate me or abuse me or take advantage of my help. She has never once asked me for money or job connections or for me to use any of my stability to unfairly or unethically get her something she needs. She is just completely absorbed in her own (rightfully absorbing) mess of a situation, and I think just completely unaware of how much of an emotional black hole she has become. There are no problems except her problems. There are no needs except her needs, and everyone around her has to understand how hard she has it at all times.

So, we’ll see. I am praying that the apartment works out next week. The owner seems to want to work with her, which is a hopeful sign. Good thoughts would be appreciated.

Aside from all of this, work has gotten extremely complicated. I’m not going to go into all of it now, but one of my jobs is to create an extremely detailed schedule for students in clinic. This is used to schedule patients in each service--if we have this many students, we can have this many patient slots per half-day, etc. Last week, two students were out unexpectedly, one who broke her arm the day before she was supposed to begin, and one who had a terrible anxiety attack and thought the symptoms were actually COVID. That student was tested and cleared negative, but Student Health requires a two-week quarantine anyway, so she was not allowed to return.

This meant that we now had multiple patients per day with no one to see them. We tried to reschedule as many as we could, but we still ended up with multiple overbooks. This is extremely stressful for me as both a provider, an instructor, and a human being who hates having other people wait on her in a professional capacity. We got through the week, but not without several painful bumps, and it’s looking like there will be more soon.

I also woke up to an email this morning that one of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites, I’m sorry), had a completely unexpected death in the immediate family and had to rush home. This is a very, very sweet, very smart girl who has worked unbelievably hard over the past year to do well in this program and in my courses, and I am just devastated for her. One of her friends is willing to cover her clinic, so the impact will be minimal on that side, but to have this happen during this country’s hellhole handling of this pandemic...I can’t even imagine it.

All of this isn’t even touching COVID. The President’s side has won in that sense--I don’t even register the numbers anymore--but as of last week our dean sent out messaging that implied that with our state’s failure to contain the spread, new discussions were going to be happening soon regarding our August start. We already had committed to full hybrid scheduling: all lectures online, in-person labs only where absolutely necessary to continue advancement in the program, and those labs limited to two per room with full PPE, but if they decide even that can’t happen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I cannot make competent doctors over Zoom. I can’t. At some point they have to touch other people and look at other people’s eyes. They have to be able to check real, in-person blood pressure. They have to look at genuine eye movements and ocular surfaces in person and I cannot and will not let them enter clinic until they have the practice and the time and the practicals behind them. I fucking refuse to endanger the public for sixty years because someone in an office somewhere decided a timetable is more important than a patient keeping their ability to see, and I’m ready to fight administration on this if they try to push it.

But if I win the fight, what next? They just...don’t enter clinic next year. They don’t enter my program. I don’t know what they do in the meantime, as this lab meets four mornings a week and the lecture twice. The course is delayed until next year or whenever we have the virus under control again, and suddenly my fall semester sure looks like I’ll be being paid to stay at home and count carpet fibers. I don’t think they’ll fire me--no one else wants to teach my course anyway--but if I win this fight I might put myself right into furlough in the process.

I could be borrowing trouble, I know. They could come back and say that after review, our system and safety protocols (all extremely conservative) are indeed safe enough and we can proceed as we want. They could say that our limited in-person option for lectures (we have several gigantic lecture halls that could easily socially distance) is the only thing that needs to go. They could say that we just need to have smaller lab groups--hellish on me, but doable.

But it’s one more element of stress in my life that I just can’t handle worrying about right now, which is why I’ve been bouncing back and forth between random fics and oneshots (that mermaid one was feverishly written on a single evening Carol spent at her mom’s house) and pouring an ungodly amount of hours into Animal Crossing. At least there I have some control over what happens next.

Sorry, guys. I know this is not the happy update I was hoping for. I’ll try to check in again next month and we’ll see where things end up.

#quark rambles #carol #coronavirus for ts #covid-19 for ts #update post #not a happy one for those who can't handle that right now #anonymous #quark replies

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kotoplasm · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐕 ; FEAR

synopsis: in a world filled with so many people and respective talents, you feel like an outcast in normality.

previous chapter .... masterlist .... next chapter

to you, love was a fickle thing. it was unpredictable, spontaneous and incomprehensible. you recall sitting behind the counter, crossing off the flowers that were due for watering whilst your mother provided guidance for the teenager who had come to buy some flowers for his girlfriend.

"she doesn't like anything too flashy or cliché so i obviously had to cross off roses but then i didn't have any options left so i was hoping that you could...." and his words became muffled in your ears.

this emotion that everyone spoke so fondly of was something that your younger self found so interesting; so fanatical that the pockets of imagery your mind would paint whilst reading became so full with astonishment.

middle school was another story. for one, you had akaashi. despite being seperated from each other by a year, you felt comforted during your lunch breaks when you had someone to share your snacks and novels with.

a boy who would come to the florist and play hide and seek with you, hiding behind the shrubbery until you found him, his stone blue eyes staring up at you in fondness as he faced your bright and cheesy smile, was enthralled by you. so much, that he felt a piece of himself missing when the two of you were now separated by a volleyball net and a distance of twenty-seven kilometres between your respective high schools. he missed the innocence that middle school humbled them down to.

but unfortunately life was cruel. and life treated you like any other person living on earth. you faced problems such as how your skin didn't feel like your own. your thighs were starting to feel a little too thick around certain areas and stretch marks were drawn around your legs, arms and chest.

the first time someone had mentioned them, you felt sick to your stomach and came into school the next day with thick black tights. you left your blazer unbuttoned so you wouldn't have to think of how the button felt so suffocating against your body or decided to discard it all together, coming to school with the respective jumper and long sleeved shirt.

you remember kuroo and yaku (two people who you had befriended due to sharing the same classes) saying that they liked your new look.

"it gives you this mature and sexy look!" says yaku, earning a slap from kuroo who glared at him.

"she's sexy either way!"

"i never said that she wasn't!"

sometimes morisuke's blunt way of putting things were both a blessing and a curse.

kuroo didn't propose the idea of becoming a manager until you were both in your second year. the workload had increased steadily and your shifts at the florist were reduced to one every saturday and wednesday so in the time that you did have spare, you were either found doing nothing or studying for tests that you'd completely forgotten about. being given the responsibility of managing a volleyball team of a powerhouse school just sounded like another problem that would eventually stress you out.

so why did you accept it? and why did it feel like the best decision that you've made in a very long time? it felt so welcoming and warm and the friends you made were good people.

albeit, the occasional problem would arise here and there such as having to diffuse a problem between two first years when fukunaga wasn't there or trying to make sure that yaku and kuroo didn't bite each other's heads off when kai was too tired to deal with their nonsense.

so the team relied on you to be their anchor in a way. and you didn't mind it one bit.

bokuto koutarou was introduced not so long after your first introduction to the team. your little lunch break with him in the infirmary gave you time to collect enough information about what sort of person he was and his other characteristics. he was an interesting person afterall and you wanted to find out what it was that he found so interesting about you.

during practice matches, his eyes would always be on you so you couldn't help but feel flustered. and he would laugh it off, wearing this big grin that made your chest feel heavy and palms eject sweat more profusely. despite this, you got to know each other a little more over late night phone calls and texts, listening to each others voices until the other fell asleep.

it was always bokuto by the way.

his gruff voice did wonders to you when you were barely awake. the deep ripples of his voice tickled your spine and felt so soft in your ears, lulling you to sleep at three o clock in the morning.

kuroo had questions when he noticed your sudden obsession with your phone, always needing to look at your notifications to see if a new one had been deposited in the pile. of course, your answers were as ambiguous as ever because if he knew that it was bokuto who was constantly running on your mind, he as well as the rest of the team, would tease you eternally. lev had almost ruined it if it weren't for your quick senses.

"ney y/n-san, isn't that the guy who you were murmuring about just a few ho—" his sentence is cut short when you successfully slap his chest hard enough to wind him, clutching his stomach to breathe properly again.

the team stares at you knowingly (smirking. they were definitely smirking) and return back to their previous activities.

winter comes quickly soon after autumn. the trees were naked, decorated in a sheet of shallow snow from the mild blizzard that blew the night before. for some reason, you found yourself at the foot of bokuto's bed, having visted him to improve his maths skills in time for his upcoming exam. his room was a good representation of his personality: medals and photos of his achievements as well as his family. you noted that his sisters were beautiful when you found a picture of the three of them, submerged in the ocean with toddler bokuto balanced on their shoulders.

"don't tell them that head on or i'll never hear the end of it," he replies, sitting opposite you with his maths homework laid across the floor.

"wait, so you don't think so?"

he pauses, pulling his lips into a deep in thought pout. "well sort of? i don't know. they're definitely not ugly." and you snort, something he found endearing.

an hour or so passed and you had moved onto bokuto's bed, sifting through your twitter timeline. as usual nothing interesting was trending and the usual headlines were irrelevant for you. products it advertised claiming to make you lose twenty kilos overnight flashed your eyes but you paid no attention to it, bokuto's occasional glance your way going unnoticed by you.

"can i ask you a question?"

he scans your face briefly before nodding in response, the words "yeah go for it" evident.

"do you sometimes feel like your existence feels extremely ordinary compared to others? like if you were to disappear now, nobody would ever be able to truly remember your name or what mark you've left on the world?"

he remembers that late monday evening, running past akaashi to enter the florist that his kohai spoke so fondly of. the smallest glint of your features, peering into his eyes and begging him not to say a word.

"society liked to believe that amongst caffeine driven adults and stressed beyond repair broken teenagers, the world still ran on an abstract emotion known as intimacy, to put things simply, love." he remembers his teacher reading a line similar to this in his literature class and glaring at the four page analysis on that single line.

"like i can see most of you do great things like become international players for the country or become the head of important corporations that would make an prominent impact on our generation. but sometimes i feel like i won't be able to do such great things. i don't have that many talents and i'm not even that smart so what if i just disappear and nobody would even care or remember me?"

so that's what's been eating you up. he found it odd how you'd spend most your days alone or going to bed earlier than usual when he knew you were the type of person to stay up three hours later binging youtube videos. he knows that you've been feeling guilty about something but he didn't want to pry about it. he may be emphatic but he could tell when someone wants to be left alone.

so that's what he did.

his texts decreased by a substantial amount and your conversations reduced significantly. however, he still promised to check up on you. whether that catching a train to your house after school or waiting at the florist when your shift was due, he was always watching, always making sure that you were okay.

maybe if you noticed his intentions, you wouldn't be sat on his bed, tearing up at the fear of being forgotten by everyone you loved.

he could only really hold you in his arms, crawling over to your weeping figure as his arms wrapped around your frame, patting your back softly.

"if it helps, i'd remember you!" "in the urban streets of tokyo where the lights never seemed to darken...."

bokuto koutarou used to wonder whether he was just another puzzle piece just waiting to be slotted into society. but it only took you to make him realise that he wasn't the only one who felt like an "outcast" to normality.

he was a star. amongst the many others on the court, you could always spot him, projecting himself into the air and striking the ball through a barrade of hands earning him the title of a top five ace.

normality. the noun felt bitter on your tongue. was it because you envied anyone who fit into the category.

"i mean how could anyone forget you of all people? someone who's as pretty, definitely smarter than anyone else who i know, mature, responsible, funny, caring... i could list so many other things but i think you get my point."

"you're just saying that bokuto," you reply, your voice muffled into his now damp t-shirt.

"no i'm not," he says sternly as you pull away from him, wiping away stray tears. "you don't give yourself enough credit. i mean, i see you tutoring lev and some of the other first and second years on your team. i doubt they'd forget someone who helped them stay on the team."

"that's because lev begged me to. i wouldn't have done it otherwise," you tried to explain.

"well personally, i think nekoma is lucky to have such an amazing manager. to me, it doesn't really matter whether or not you've found your talents yet. or maybe you won't ever find your them. maybe some people are just naturally meant to have a larger impact on the world than others without having something that they're naturally good at. and that's alright! but isn't it more fun to try and get to their position through all the hardships and happiness?"

you said that love was a fickle thing. something unpredictable, spontaneous and incomprehensible. but at the ripe age of 18, you finally understood that maybe that was the point. you were afraid of something that you couldn't predict or understand, like any other human being. you were afraid of being hurt by something that not even scientists understood completely. it was all based off a feeling of some sort.

a feeling that had been building up inside you since that lunchtime in the infirmary. he left your mind frazzled and confused. instead of fear, you felt comfort.

love was unpredictable. you understood that now as your hands move to cup his cheeks, rubbing circles into the cherubs of fat that circulated them. you gaze intently, failing to hide the flushed smile on your face.

"ne akaashi, do you think you'll ever get married?"

"that's a very random question bokuto-san," he replies, eyes never leaving the road ahead of them. "but i hope so. i don't like the idea of spending my adult years alone."

"yeah, i guess you're right."

there was no hesitation against your lips, slowly moving his against your own with every movement pouring his passion into the mix. there was something so delicate about you. the way he was afraid to touch your body, fingers ghosting over your skin or the fact that he was too afraid to slip his tongue in case you grew uncomfortable.

but he realises as you've climbed onto his lap, straddling him that maybe you weren't thinking about that at all. maybe you were just trying to vent these pent up feelings, hoping that he'd reciprocate the same burning desire that you never realised existed for so long.

"this is okay right?" you whisper, still out of breath.

yes. this was fine.

adolescence taglist:

@sirachano0dles (send an ask to be added)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #myworks #bokuto scenario #bokuto headcanon #bokuto x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto hq #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutaro #bokuto koutarou hcs #koutarou bokuto #bokuto koutarou x reader

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writingformadderton · 4 years

Text

Why Don’t You Kiss Me?

Ship: Madderton

Word Count: 4542

Summary: We’re back in high school, Taron is the smartest student, Richard the captain of the football team. They couldn’t be more different but fate brings them together as tutor and student one day and they realize how much they need each other. While Taron helps Richard through math struggles, Richard starts to become Tarons protector.

Additional Tags: bullies, highschool, tutoring, FLUFF, soft, cuddles, friends to lovers, first kiss

Part 2

Taron pushes his glasses up into his face, that are a little too big for him. He sticks his shirt into his trousers and buckles his belt. His hair is a bit of a mess so he tries to tame it, uselessly. He puts on his watch and his shoes. Watching himself as he lets out a small sigh, seeing his eyes that had an undefined color mix of green, blue and brown. Why couldn't he just have a simple and normal eye color?

His arms are full of all the books he needs for school as he steps out of the bus and walks to the main building. It's a low spring day, the birds are singing and the sun shines in his face. It would’ve been a beautiful day, but every day in high school is a fight.

Taron was smart, really smart, but he was also one of the smaller, quieter and physically weaker boys. And some of the big, loud and strong guys liked to mock him, play pranks or make fun of him. He was so sick of it.

And then there was this good looking boy, captain of the football team. This guy had everything Taron ever wanted. He was someone people listened to, he was taken seriously and people respected him. Sounded like a dream to T.

Richard puts on his jacket and checks himself out in the mirror shortly, running his fingers through his curls. His blue eyes often appear cold to him and he hates it. He wasn't a tough, stoic guy but his eyes sometimes made it look like he was.

Rich grabs his backpack, throwing his books inside and sighs a bit. Today they would have math, and god he hated that class. It confused him and every time he thought he understood something, he saw a question about it in his book and felt completely lost again. It was a constant fight with some of his grades, and his parents weren't very pleased about it.

He meets his friends on the way to the main building and they start joking around like they always did. When he enters the building he can see Taron, the smart guy, whom he shares most of his classes with. He's taking something out from his locker and suddenly one of Richard’s mates runs towards him and gives him a push. "Nerd!"

"Cole, stop it." Richard says annoyed. Taron’s head hits his locker hard and he groans softly. He looks up when someone touches his arm shortly and stares into warm, deep blue eyes. "You alright?"

"I-I'm fine." T presses out and swallows hard. Richard Madden himself was talking to him. Was this his lucky day?

"Good," Rich says and shakes his head slightly. "I'm sorry about my friend's behavior."

"It's okay. Nothing new I guess." T admits and closes his locker slowly.

"Okay, I'll see you in class then, Taron." he says and walks over to his friends. "God, Cole, get yourself together. How old are you, five?"

"Why the fuck does he know my name?" T asks himself confused and follows them towards the classroom.

Richard watches as Taron walks in, and lets his eyes wander over him. T was pretty, even though those glasses were definitely too big. And damn he's smart. T doesn't know struggles in school or math and Rich could get jealous of him for that.

The math teacher walks inside and greets them all. "Mr. Madden, have you found a tutor yet?"

"No, I haven't, sir. I'm still trying to find someone that actually knows math instead of pretending to spend time with me." Richard says and he hates it. But it was the truth. He tried his best to find someone, but most of them were fans of him and it drives him crazy.

"Well maybe you should focus on school instead of your hobby. It shows in your grades, not only my class." The teacher says while raising his eyebrows a bit.

"I'm trying my best, sir." Rich says with a smile but can't stop himself from rolling his eyes as soon as he looks away.

"Mr. Egerton, would you come up here, please, and repeat the things we learned last lesson?"

Taron nods and gets up. He walks up to the blackboard and starts explaining everything they did during the last lesson. T hates it, it was useless anyway. No one was actually paying attention to those revisions.

Richard focuses on Taron and listens closely to his words. The things he does are logical and suddenly it all makes sense to Rich.

After class Taron grabs his stuff quickly and wants to leave the room when he hears somebody calling his name. He turns around and sees Richard coming towards him. "Yeah?"

Rich walks next to him to their next class. "I wanted to ask if you could become my math tutor?"

Taron looks up surprised and stops walking. "Why me?"

Rich blushes a bit and shrugs his shoulders. "I understood something for the first time when you explained it for like five minutes. You don't have to if you don't want to."

Taron shakes his head and continues walking. "Of course I can help you," he says and smiles a bit. "We should compare our schedules to see when we have time."

"Yeah, right." Rich says slowly and rubs the back of his neck.

"You don't have any of your classes written down, am I right?" Taron asks and looks at the tall boy next to him.

"Not really," Rich admits and T chuckles softly. "I'm sorry I'm a bit of a mess."

"That's okay. Do you have time today?"

Richard opens the door and lets Taron in first. "Yeah, you wanna come over?" T nods and Rich smiles thankfully.

That afternoon T sea saws on his toes nervously after pressing the doorbell. The door opens and he looks into Richards deep blue eyes. "Hey."

"Hey, come in." Rich says steps aside, closing the door behind him. "Mum! Taron is here, we'll be upstairs."

Richards mother appears and she shakes Tarons hand. "Hi, I hope you can take care of my lost cause here." she says and fondles over her son's head. T smiles weakly and nods.

Rich just rolls his eyes and looks annoyed as he walks upstairs with T. He closes his bedroom door and turns the key, locking them inside.

"Lost cause?" Taron asks and puts his things down on Richards desk.

Rich growls a bit and opens the window. He looks at Taron and suddenly he looks a bit uncomfortable in his own skin.

"You don't have to tell me, it's okay." Taron says quickly and opens his backpack.

Rich walks over to him, hands in his jacket pockets and shrugs his shoulders. "The only thing I'm good at is sports." T raises his eyebrows and looks at him confused. "At least in my parents eyes. They aren't very pleased with some of my grades, which makes me a lost cause, I guess."

"Okay, first lesson. Never let anyone tell you what you are good at." Taron says and puts his books on the desk. "If you listen to them, it's only a matter of time till you start to believe it too. Which leads to not liking the subject anymore and you actually get bad at it."

Rich watches him a bit stunned, and now T has got his full attention. "Makes sense."

"And you're not a lost cause, you just need some help. All of us do." Taron sits down and raises his eyebrows at Rich who's still standing in the middle of the room.

"You don't seem like you need help." Richard says frowning and sits down next to him.

"Says the one who literally told his friend this morning not to push me into my own locker." They both chuckle at that.

"Fair point. But you gotta get more self-confident, otherwise people will be pushing you around forever." Rich states.

"Math is definitely easier than getting self-confidence." Taron says and giggles at Richards shocked look.

"You know what? You'll help me with my grades and I'll help you with that." Rich offers and looks at T curiously. "Do we have a deal?"

Taron thinks for a moment biting his lower lip. He had nothing to lose, right? "Deal." he says and they shake hands.

An hour later Richard throws his pen aside. "I need a break." he groans and leans back in his seat. "When will I ever need this shit again in my daily life?"

"Probably never," Taron says and watches Rich who groans in frustration. "But you'll need it for the exam in a few weeks and that's why you need to know it."

"Oh this bloody exam." he moans and shakes his head annoyed.

T lets his eyes wander over Rich, like he did many times before. He just wasn't used to being this close to him. His eyes are stunningly blue, and his hair dark and slightly curly, with a grey streak at the front. He has full lips and a bright grin. "Don't worry. It seems like you're a quick learner, so it won't be a problem."

Rich just grins at him and shakes his head slightly in amusement. "I can't believe that you think I'll be able to do it." his eyes wander all over Taron’s face. His eyes are even prettier up close, blueish-green with those brown specks. His sweet smile that let his cute dimples pop up.

"Just believe in it." Taron says and smiles softly.

The next two months they hang out every afternoon studying hard and T didn't show mercy with Rich. When he gave him ten tasks to do, Rich had to finish them. No matter if it took him half an hour or two. And even though it wrecked Richards nerves sometimes, it was what he needed.

Richard keeps T by his side, enjoying his company and sits next to him in the subjects they share. He kept him safe from the dumb jokes of his mate Cole and most of the others weren't brave enough to mess with T when Rich was with him.

They became inseparable and good friends, knowing each other’s struggles and understanding each other. Rich became Taron’s physical support, while T became Richards mental support.

This Wednesday T is at school a bit early and checking his phone when someone steps in front of him. Taron looks up and sees Cole standing there. "Can I help you?" T asks confused.

"How are you today, loser?" he asks with a bright grin and comes closer so T has to look up at him.

Taron looks around shortly to see if he knows someone there, so he could get away from him. "I'm actually fine, how about you, asshole?"

Cole raises his eyebrows. "Did you just call me asshole?!"

"Maybe." T says and swallows. It wasn't exactly easy to stick with what he said before and it definitely wasn't normal for him to talk like that to a bully.

Cole pushes him against the lockers and wraps his hand around his neck. "Who do you think you are, huh?" he hisses at him through gritted teeth and comes closer to him.

"Probably not who you think I am." Taron says and the grip around his neck gets tighter. But suddenly he can breathe again, and Cole gets pulled back quickly, away from him.

Rich looks at Cole angrily. "What do you think you're doing?"

"He called me an asshole."

"Because you are an asshole." Rich says annoyed and looks at T who watches them both nervously.

"Are you defending this loser now? You're choosing him over me?" Cole takes a step closer to him and grins madly. "Oh now I know what's going on, he's just your type, am I right?" Richard clenches his jaw remaining silent. "Now I've got you. Careful, Richard. Otherwise, the whole school will know of your little secret."

Taron’s eyes widen in shock as Richard grabs Cole by his shirt and slams him against the lockers, shoving him up a bit. "Don't you dare." he presses out and his grip gets tighter. "If you ever annoy Taron in any way again, I'll let the coach kick you off the football team. And what are you worth without that, huh?" Cole just laughs weakly and looks into Richards harsh and dark blue eyes. Rich lets go off him and shoots him a glare. "And now fuck off!"

Richard turns around and walks away quickly. Taron follows him. "Hey, Rich." But his mate just pushes the door open and steps outside inhaling the fresh air. Taron watches as Rich leans against the wall and takes a few deep breaths. "Hey, are you okay?"

"No." Rich says and looks at him with a weak grin. "I’ve never threatened someone before. And-." he stops himself and looks down at the floor.

Taron recognizes his shaking hands and frowns. Where was the self-confident Richard he knew? "What did he mean with this secret?"

Rich looks up with a pained look in his face. "I-All I can say is that I don't want him to reveal it before I do it myself. I don't wanna talk about it right now."

T sees the insecurity in his eyes and nods. "That's okay. You can still tell me later if you want to."

"Maybe."

This evening, T lies down in bed and looks up at the ceiling thinking about his day. Richard standing up for him and protecting him today, made his stomach full of butterflies. No one has ever done that before for him.

But things don’t go as well as they started. Rich doesn’t attend school the next day, and when he comes back, he avoids T, canceling their classes. Taron is clearly hurt because of it and thinks about all the possible things he could have done wrong. But he can't come up with anything, which is even worse.

Them not being together all the time draws Cole’s attention. And so Taron finds himself in the bathroom, getting pushed against the wall. The door opens as he gets a brutal punch to his face, straight onto his eye. Taron groans and tries to see clearly again, when he sees Rich stepping in and looking at him shocked. Only a second later Richard pushed Cole outside and walks towards T.

"Hey, are you okay? Can you see anything?" Rich asks worriedly and watches Taron closely.

"Why? Am I suddenly important enough to talk to again?" Taron says pissed and walks over to the sink, turning on the cold water.

"Taron-."

"No, I'm serious. What is that? Do you like protecting me from the bad guys and rescuing me?" T gets mad now but Rich can hear the hurt in his voice. "Does that make you feel like a good guy?"

"I'm not that type of guy, Taron." Richard speaks firmly and steps closer to him.

"You’ve been avoiding me the whole damn week, canceled our tutoring sessions and didn't say a damn word to me. And now you come in here, rescuing me from the bad guy." Taron shakes his head and puts some cold water onto his burning eye.

"I'm sorry, Taron." Rich admits and stares down at the floor now.

"What the fuck is going on? Why are you avoiding me?"

"Because I'm falling in love with you and he realized it. And I don't want him to tell everyone that I like guys, because it's none of their fucking business." Rich bursts out suddenly and bites his lower lip immediately.

Taron looks up and turns around to face him surprised. "I-I didn't expect that."

"What? That I'm into guys?" Rich asks annoyed and folds his arms in front of his chest.

"No. That you are in love with me. I mean, why should you?" he asks utterly confused. Richard Madden, the whole school's crush, was in love with him?

"Jesus Christ, T, is there a reason I shouldn't?" Rich asks and rolls his eyes.

"Ehm." T points at himself and raises his eyebrows.

"I-god, mate," Richard growls and rubs his face chuckling. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have told you."

Taron shrugs his shoulders and smirks at him. "It's okay, I - I'm in love myself you know?"

"Oh okay." Rich says and his hopes sink rapidly hearing this.

"My crush has these beautiful blue eyes and dark curls. He is stunningly pretty and the captain of our school team." Taron says and sees how soft Richard’s eyes get. "Let me think, he's an amazing friend, a bit crazy sometimes but in a good way. He always has my back, and he is my favorite person." Taron smiles shyly and looks down on the floor before looking back up again. "You may know him." T scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Maybe you can tell him that there is nothing wrong with falling in love with boys, and that I'm just the same."

"I'll tell him he can trust you with his secrets." Rich says smirking.

"Yeah, that would be a start." Taron answers smirking and looks down at his feet again.

The next day Taron turns up at school with a black eye, bruises covering the skin where Cole punched him. He's wearing sunglasses to cover it up, but Rich recognizes it immediately.

"My mum will kill me if she sees it. She'll think I got in a fight." Taron groans annoyed walking down the way towards school.

"Just tell her what happened. It wasn't your fault." Rich says and shrugs his shoulders.

"No." T says firmly and shakes his head furiously. "I don't want her to be worried about me."

"Maybe you could stay with me overnight and we'll see how it looks tomorrow." Rich suggests and T nods slowly.

And so Taron finds himself next to Rich in his bed that evening. They lie there in a comfortable silence and look up at the ceiling until Rich turns towards him. "Did you mean what you said yesterday? About being in love with me?"

Taron turns to his side and nods. "Yeah." he sinks into Richards deep blue eyes and bites his lower lip. "Even though I still don't know why you fell in love with me."

Rich frowns a bit and watches Taron closely. "T, I know you're not the most self-confident person but be honest with yourself. You're an amazing, smart, and sweet guy. You're the most understanding person I know, and it makes me feel safe around you. And I adore your beautiful eyes and that cute smile of yours." he says and frowns when he sees tears in Taron’s eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. I just start crying when people are nice to me." T admits and blushes, avoiding Richards look.

"You're such a softie, it's unreal." Rich giggles and comes closer to him.

Taron gets a bit anxious again having Richard that close to him and his thoughts are racing. This was the first time that someone he loved, loved him back. He grabs his hand hesitantly under the cover and looks up as Rich interlocks their fingers.

Richard’s other hand carefully strokes over Taron’s bruised eye. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it's fine." T says and watches him as he strokes down his cheek. "You saved me before anything else could have happened."

"I'll always protect you, bub." Rich says as his thumb strokes over his cheek.

"I know." Taron says and can't stop himself from staring at Richard’s full lips. He looks up again shyly and sees that Richard is looking at his lips. "Why don't you kiss me?" Taron asks and his voice is shaking a bit.

"Because I'm afraid of fucking this up," Rich admits and both smirk a bit. "But I'd love to if you want it."

"Go on then." T says and comes closer to him.

Rich grabs his neck, softly, and closes his eyes, pressing his lips onto Taron’s gently. He feels Tarons hand on his cheek, cupping his face lovingly. They share a few soft and shy kisses before they stop and open their eyes again. "I could get used to this." he whispers.

"Me too." T whispers back and fondles over his cheek.

Richard wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. He places a kiss into Tarons hair and fondles over it. Taron feels safe in his arms and falls asleep fast in the warmth of Richard's embrace.

The next morning Richards alarm blasts through the room and both of them wake up groaning. Rich slams his hand onto it, turning it off, and turns back to T who's cuddled into the pillow. Rich strokes over his cheek and watches him worried. "Well, you can still see that someone punched you in the face."

"Shit," T mumbles and avoids Richard’s look. "I can't show her that. She'll be worried forever."

"Listen, today is Friday. You could stay over the weekend and we'll blame it on the exam next week." Rich says and fondles over his cheek.

"What will your parents think?" Taron giggles.

"They don't care as long as I pass the exam, I guess," Rich says and shrugs his shoulders. He wraps his arm around Taron and pulls him close. "And I'd love to have you here." he says and leans down, planting a kiss on Taron’s lips who's blushing a bit.

"Fine, I'll call my mum. But I'll have to get some clothes and stuff for the weekend." Taron says and cuddles into Richard.

"You can have some of mine today." he says and Taron nods.

Back in school, Taron does get some looks when he's wearing Richard’s jacket with the school logo and his name on it. Rich next to him is wearing a dark green jumper and black jeans, looking absolutely stunning in Taron’s eyes.

Wearing that jacket gives T a new kind of immunity against Cole and the other guys that loved to make fun of him. Richard’s mother covered his eye with some makeup so no one would notice.

Taron decided to watch Richard’s training while he did his homework. Sitting around alone in Richards house wasn't an option for him. Afterward, on their way home, Rich grabs his hand and squeezes it softly. "So, we're going to your mum’s place now?" Taron asks when he sees that Rich takes another way.

"Not directly, but yes. I wanna talk to you about something." Richard says and walks into the park.

"Okay?" T follows him and they walk the route around the little lake in the middle of the park.

"I know all of this is happening very fast, but I wanted to ask you something." Rich smiles at him and his heart warms up seeing him in his jacket. "I- Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

Taron stops walking and looks at Rich surprised. "Really?"

Rich stops as well and steps in front of him. "Yeah. I love you, T. And I know it's all happening very fast, and if you need more time that's okay. If you don't want to at all that's okay too."

"You just have to know, I've never been in a relationship before." Taron admits and watches him observantly.

But Rich just shrugs his shoulders. "Me neither. I guess we'll figure it out."

"Shut up!" Taron giggles. "Richard Madden, the guy the entire school is crushing on, hasn't been in a relationship before?"

"I haven't." Rich says again and looks down at the slightly smaller boy in front of him.

"I'm a lucky guy then? being your first." Taron says smiling.

Richard puts his hands on T’s waists. "Is that a yes?" he asks with a soft smile.

"Yes." T says and cups his face. He stands up on his toes and kisses him lovingly.

The next week Taron is with Richard every day, studying and the closer they get to the exam the more nervous Richard gets.

Today is the last day to study before the exam and Rich has a complete blackout. He sinks down at the table with his head and stops completely.

"Rich, come on," Taron says and rubs his back lovingly. "It isn't that bad."

"I forgot everything. I can't do this tomorrow." Rich says and Taron can hear how hopeless he sounds. "God I'm so fucking stupid, my mum is right, I'm a lost cause." Rich gets up and feels tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

"Richard, you're not. Let's just continue later, okay?" Taron tries to calm him and gets up as well.

"No. It makes no sense anyways." Richard says and bites his lower lip as a tear rolls down his face. He sits down on his bed and buries his face in his hands, leaning forward and bracing himself on his knees with his elbows.

Taron gets up and walks over to him. He sits down next to him and starts rubbing his back smoothly. "Listen, you're frustrated and can't concentrate. I get it. But giving up is not an option, not the day before the exam."

"Taron, I can't focus on this shit, and no matter how hard I try, I don't know how to solve these problems anymore." he sits up straight again, tears in his eyes and down his cheeks.

"Oh come here," Taron says and pulls him into a strong hug. Richard cuddles into him, searching the comfort of his boyfriend. "We're gonna take a break now, maybe get some fresh air and then we'll continue, okay?"

"Okay." Rich mumbles and closes his eyes, enjoying being near Taron.

"We won't freak out on the day before. You worked hard and studied a lot and it'll be okay." Taron says and places a kiss on his soft curls. "You're gonna do great, love."

Rich nods and lies down pulling T with him. He rolls on top of him and kisses him softly, before resting his head on his chest and cuddling into him. "I love you, T."

"I love you too, Rich." he says and fondles over the back of his head gently.

A week later, Richard had passed his exam. They told their parents about their relationship, and Richard's team won the big game.

Taron can't hide a grin thinking back to the evening of the game.

Rich picked him up happily and gave him the biggest kiss ever. T smiled happily and stood up on his toes when Rich let him down again. "I thought you wanted to keep this relationship between us?" he said as he wrapped his arms around Richard’s neck.

"I wanted to," Rich said and shrugged his shoulders. He pressed his forehead against Taron’s. "But I love you and you are bloody amazing. I don't care what people think of it, because you're my boyfriend." Rich bopped his nose. "Aand I love you."

"I love you too." Taron said and watched him adoringly.

"I'm proud of being yours, and I'm not afraid to show it." Richard stated and smiled at his beautiful boyfriend.

"You're so cute." Taron mumbled and kissed him again cupping his face this time.

@taron-eggmcmuffin @anxiety-at-the-classroom @naptitimadderton @maddertonmyheart @madderton-obsessed @sarahegerton96 @primaba11erina @multicoloredchicken

#taron egerton #Richard Madden #madderton #taron egerton fic #richard madden fic #madderton fic #high school #fluff #taron egerton fluff #richard madden fluff #madderton fluff #bullies #protection #tutoring #first kiss #friends to lovers

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ceruleanmusings · 4 years

Text

bike built for two | scott x tessa

Because I couldn’t come up with a better title. Anyway! A little gift for @isaaclahys because apparently it’s super easy for me to write when I’m not agonizing writing my own ships. Somehow after sharing my writing woes with you and creating a writing plan, this idea smacked me upside the head and I had to bang it out while I have the inspiration. So have Scott and Tessa being all cute on a nice bike ride! (Also tagging @sgtbuckyybarnes for a few Perrie mentions.)

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The heavy thud of a helmet dropping onto the table jerked Tessa out of her advanced placement biology haze, yanking her out of the riveting world of enzymes. Her fisted hand, which had previously been acting as a pseudo pillow on her cheek, landed on the table as she jerked upright, startled. Eyes wide, lips parting in a ready effort to apologize to the librarian, her panicked disposition eased at the sight of Scott’s lopsided smile.

“What’re you doing here?” Tessa asked, leaning back in her chair, arms stretched above her head. She sighed at the cracks and pops that ran up her stretched spine. Geeze, how long had she been sitting in that chair?

“Liam said you were studying and may need a ride home,” he explained, drumming his fingers on the crown of the helmet. What once used to be stark white was now mottled with dirt smears and cracks.

She froze midway through a yawn, her face sticking mid-contort with her tongue sticking out. His smile pulled back further on the side and he pushed a laugh through his nose. A burning flush crept up her neck and she leaned forward, settling her chair back on four legs. “Did he?” she mumbled, reaching for her phone. She noticed the little blue light blinking in the top left corner and then remembered. Her phone was on silent. She always silences her phone when she’s studying AP Bio. Because even though she needed the class it could still kiss her ass.

Swiping the screen with her thumb, she unlocked it and read the message Liam had sent an hour and a half ago, judging by the time stamp:

Nvm got a ride home frm Mase Don’t study 2 hard I’m sndin Scott if u don’t hve a ride

Tessa’s eyelid twitched, whether it was at the sight of Liam’s horrendous texting shortcuts or from the weight of studying for so long smacking into her, she didn’t know. Letting out a long breath, she rubbed at her eyes and then turned a smile up at Scott. “I appreciate it. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Oh, uhm, I kind of didn’t.” At her probing gaze, Scott rubbed the back of his neck. The thick denim material of his favorite riding jacket strained beneath his flexing arm. Tessa’s eyes traced the curve of the bulge a few seconds too long. “I kind of had detention.”

“You?” Her head tilted to the side. “All the teachers love you. What did you do?”

“I kind of fell asleep in English class.” His smile, so sheepish, pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and Tessa had a flash of wondering what that lip would feel like between her teeth. With a good shake of her head and a plastered on smile she forced that thought away, hoping beyond hope that her increased heartbeat didn’t

“Yeah, well, you get a werewolf pass due to your extracurriculars.”

“Not from Mr. Brady. Anyway…I came to see if you were still here. I called your name a couple times. Guess you didn’t hear me. Ap Bio’s rough, huh?”

“Yeah but…” she shrugged, “if I want to be anything like my dad, I need to take the class.”

Scott nodded. “I get it.”

And she knew he did. Wanting to become a veterinarian himself wasn’t an easy feat. She wasn’t as surprised as Kira and Lydia were when he first dropped into the seat next to her on the first day of classes. They even spoke about it when picking classes last semester, before the school year ended. He’d been going back and forth about it for ages, whether to stay on the normal science track or take the risk and try for the advanced placement. He didn’t feel like he was fit for it, smart for it, right for it. Tessa had no problems telling him all the ways he was wrong. It took her two hours by phone and she missed her nightly skype call with Perrie to do it but it was worth it. It was worth Perrie’s (exaggerated) wrath of being slighted to see the pride in his eye when he managed an A-minus on their first test. Scott didn’t have enough faith in himself; if she needed to slap him with a good dose of faith, so be it.

“So.” He tapped an uneven beat on his helmet and then picked it up, spinning it between his fingers. “Ready to go?”

“Home. Right, yes!” Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and quelled another yawn. Huh, maybe he came at the right time. “Just let me stop by my locker first.”

“No problem. Take your time.”

Tessa gathered up her books and, standing, nestled them into the crook of her elbow. She quickly glanced around the table, ensuring that she snatched up the candy bar wrapper that she left behind before the librarian saw it. (She was a total stickler for the rules, no eating or drinking being the biggest one. She apparently didn’t care when they were all biting their nails as exams came around.) As she lifted her backpack off the back of the chair her hair fell into her face. She blew it away a couple of times, grumbling as she lifted her strap up to her shoulder.

Fingers brushed against her cheek. She froze, a stirring kicking around in her stomach as she followed the fingers up to a palm and then down the denim-clad arm up to Scott’s smiling face. A shiver rolled down her spine at his gentle touch, as he pushed her hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Her quick choice of a half-updo that morning came with more benefits than just appearing put together at the last minute, apparently.

“Thanks,” she said, managing a smile.

Scott shrugged a shoulder. “No problem.”

No problem. As if he were helping out a friend. Of course. Because that’s what they were. Just friends.

They walked shoulder to shoulder out of the library and through the different levels of the school until they reached the bank of senior lockers. Tessa quickly spun the dial on her metallic red lock to Liam’s numbers—09 for his lacrosse number, 27 for the day he was born, and 02 for being the second favorite child in the family—and threw her books in. She could deal without AP Bio for one night. She could only hope Ms. Finch didn’t throw a pop quiz at them.

Unzipping her bag, she swapped out a few of her notebooks, double checked she had her calculator for math, crossed off the day on her mini magnetic calendar hanging amongst the pictures of her and her friends, grabbed the jacket she’d borrowed from Lydia, making a mental note to clean it and bring it back the next day, and shoved it unceremoniously into her bag. (Another note: get out the wrinkles before Lydia stabs you with a heel). When she turned, Scott’s eyebrows lifted.

“Ready?” he asked, spinning his keys around his finger.

She nodded. “Ready.”

Except what she wasn’t ready for was approaching the lone motorcycle in the parking lot and suddenly remembering that—duh!—it was what he’d taken today and she’d have to get on it. Her fingers tightened against the strap of her bag and her lips pressed together. How the entire existence of his helmet wasn’t a clue to her made her mentally slap herself and tell herself that maybe Perrie was right and she did need a break from studying. How could she miss that?

Scott loved that bike. He kept it clean and kept up with the oil change and the maintenance and made sure to get the inspection done as early as possible. Even if a little bug got smashed on the number plate at the front he’d be sure it was gone before his next trip. As if sensing her growing apprehension Scott flashed a smile at her over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’m a safe driver.”

“Great.”

It wasn’t him she was worried about; it was everyone else. Everyone else and their blind spots. Everyone else and their blind spots and the sheer statistics of motorcycle accidents that her father had drilled into her head ever since she brought up the idea of following in his medical footsteps. Because she needed to see the reality of the world, he’d said. Needed to know what happens when people play games in traffic, he said. Needed to really get what could happen when no one was paying attention, he said.

She saw it, she knew it, she got it. And it’s why she’d avoided getting on that thing ever since the moment Scott walked away from Crowe’s Nest Cycles with keys in his tight fist. Since then, as far as she knew, only Isaac and Kira got rides on it. Hell, if Stiles wouldn’t sit on it she wouldn’t either (hey, he had to be right about something sometime.)

But then Scott flashed that smile at her and she felt her resolve crumbling. Scott wouldn’t let her get hurt, she told herself as she watched him lift the bike seat to bring out another helmet. This one was red. She’d seen Kira in it before. Her mouth twisted for a brief moment at the thought and then pushed it away. They were good. They were friends. No sense in getting bent out of shape. Before you get bent up being flung over the handlebars! her mind screamed. She batted that away.

“You have a jacket right? That one from your locker?” Scott asked her. She nodded. “You might want to put that on. Just in case. Not that I don’t like your shirt.” He nodded towards her scoop neck tie-dye tee; an afternoon diy stress reliever she made with Perrie, Kira, and Mel. Hers was the only one that ended up looking like an actual tie dye shirt compared to their blotted creations. “But, I mean, it looks a lot better when you don’t have road rash.”

She nodded but couldn’t unlock her elbows from being pinned to her sides as she stared at the green bike. Statistics flashed through her mind. Did you know motorcyclists face more injuries and fatalities than cars? Did you know motorcycles make up 14% of all traffic deaths? Did you know in 42% of all fatal car accidents the vehicle was turning left when a biker was overtaking? Sheesh, if her father wanted to scare her away from something, he really knew how to make a lasting impression.

“Hey.” The tender tone to Scott’s words made her blink and then suck in a breath. He stood so close; she could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin. She could smell the distinct spicy scent of his body wash wafting off him, crashing over her. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?” He grasped her elbows and gave them a squeeze. “I’ll drive slow.”

His thumbs rubbing over the joints of her elbows—or the lateral condyle as her bio book said—and that was it. She came undone. “Okay,” she said, nodding, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat.

“Okay,” he repeated. He stepped away and she almost made a noise at the lack of heat near her. Get a grip, Dunbar. This isn’t friend behavior! She turned away from him, ducking her head to wiggle the jacket out of her backpack. She zipped it back up and put it on. It was a little thick for April but it would do on short notice. He held out the spare helmet to her and she took it, briefly look at her reflection in the visor and pulled it down over her head.

The cushioned inside squeezed her face but after a few seconds it grew comfortable. Scott stepped forward and adjusted the strap and then wiggled her head, making sure it fit properly. When he was satisfied, he gave a thumbs up which she mimicked. He slid his helmet over his head with ease, keeping the visor open as he went back to the bike. He stuck the keys in the ignition, swung his leg over the bike, settled on, turned it on, lifted the kickstand, and—

Tessa jumped when the motorcycle roared to life, easing into a settled purr a few seconds later. He pulled on some gloves and then turned to Tessa. “Okay,” he called out over the noise, “you’re going to get on the back. Your feet go here; keep them there. Don’t take them off unless I’m stopped. Don’t touch the exhaust pipe or muffler, you’ll get burned. It gets pretty hot.”

I bet it does, she thought, her eyes roaming Scott from head to toe. It was one thing seeing him ride around on the bike it was another to…experience that up close. The air of danger that came of him in waves and called out to her, dare her to get closer.

“…and lean when I lean. Got it?”

“Oh, yeah! Got it!” Tessa blinked and shook her head and approached the vibrating bike. She eyed where he said to put her feet and, after taking a breath, mounted. It wasn’t too graceful, she felt like a dog lifting their leg for a moment, but managed to settle on and scooted forward until she was comfortable enough in the seat. The vibrating metal beneath her matched the vibrating in her heart as her knees rested on either side of his thighs.

“You’re gonna need to hold on,” Scott called out.

Hold on. Right. Easy enough. She breathed out, breathed in, and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his midsection, pressing into his back. She thanked god for having the helmet on to cover the bright blush that pooled into her cheeks as she felt his stomach expand and contract with every breath.

Reaching down, Scott patted her crossed arms and then lowered his visor with a snap. “Here we go!” He said and, with a twist of the throttle, he hit the gas.

A little shriek escaped her throat as they gained speed in what felt like the space of a blink, feeling the pull of drag on her body. She held on tighter, the thought of how is this slow? raced through her mind as he pulled out of the school parking lot and took off down the street.

Beacon Hills by motorcycle may as well be a different world than Beacon Hills by car. Being out on the road, wind and scenery rushing by them, her heart thumping beneath the roar of the engine. It was…exhilarating, actually. Nothing around but the road and the lush green trees and the jewel toned sky and the boy with a soft heart. A grin split her face and she rested against his back, tense muscles relaxing.

It wasn’t until they finally came across a red light, the same one she, Lydia, and Allison stopped at the night of the deer accident, that reality came back to her. She tapped him on the shoulder and Scott’s helmeted head turned sideways. “I don’t live this way!” she called to him.

“I know,” he called back. “I’m taking the long way. You doin’ okay?”

Doing okay? She was…she was…hmm. She was with Scott, riding around the empty streets on the edge of Beacon Hills, not being peeled off the ground. And he was taking the long way. To make her more comfortable or just to spend extra time with her, either way, it was sweet, and she was going to recount every minute to Perrie for sure.

In short: she was awesome.

“So, uh…since we’re taking the long way…do you think we could make a pitstop?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Any place in particular?”

“Ruby’s?” Her stomach growled at the thought of going to the city’s teen hangout, a diner in downtown Beacon Hills that had the best shakes and burgers to offer. “My treat.”

He shook his head. “My mom wouldn’t let me take you home and eat with you without offering my share. My treat.”

“Fine.” Tessa’s hidden smile magnified her words. “Then I get the tip.”

“Deal.”

The light turned green and Scott surged forward. This time Tessa let out a little laugh, the noise being carried away by the wind as she held on a little tighter.

#teen wolf #scott mccall #scott x oc #teen wolf oc #oc: tessa dunbar #my writings #fics for friends #also i have tessa referring to her stepfather as her straight up father #like in a he's not my stepfather he's my dad sort of way #idk their relationship so please correct me if i'm wrong

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adhd-sorcha · 4 years

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Im trying to get into the medical field and I have a super hard time with adhd. Any advice for getting through all that schooling?

I am soooo sorry I took so long to answer this (good thing you didn’t go on anon!). I have no excuse, I’m just like this.

Before I get into anything, I just want to say that I was only diagnosed a few months ago, so I didn’t go through school consciously coming up with ADHD-busting strategies and there were definitely mysterious difficulties that I’m only now understanding but at the time I never managed to sort (*shakes fist at essay based subjects/exams*). I will tell you what I think were my accidental ADHD-helping techniques though! One other thing, I have predominantly inattentive ADHD ( or formerly ADD) so if you or anyone else are looking for tips on how to stay seated for extended periods or anything like that, I’m afraid I’m no help there. Sorry!! Also, since I don’t know what stage you’re at school-wise, I’ll include things that I found useful in secondary school too, in case it’s useful.

So, in no particular order! (this may get long...)

- Diary, diary, diary: In the schools (primary and secondary) here in Ireland you get given a diary at the start of the year. At the end of every class, the teacher writes up the homework and we copy it into our diaries. Great system!! The diary is only for school so it never needs to leave your school bag, so it should be hard enough to forget. I used to only write short notes, eg. Maths: pg 20, part a-e or something like that. It makes it easy to look through at the end of the day when collecting your books to bring home. I used to look at one line, put those books in my bag, then look at the next line. One at a time. And I often double-checked. It made me slower to get ready to leave than everyone else, but hey! I remembered my stuff! I got myself a diary for college when I moved on. They are soooo helpful. And it’s so satisfying to tick things off as you do them!!

- Have ONE school bag: Might sound weird, but I know people who, in college, just bring whatever handbag matches their outfit that day. No! You’re going to forget to transfer something over. With one bag, you can keep your school diary and pens and student card and things like that in it. They will always be in there. No need to go moving them around, they’ll only get lost if you do that. It just helps to limit the things that you have to remember to bring with you, if your bag is already kind of packed as a default.

- Take advantage of desk/locker space: Keep spare items at your desk/in your locker so that even if you forget to put them in your bag, you’re still covered. Things that I’ve kept at desks/in lockers include: spare pair of glasses, hair ties for labs, spare writing paper (so it doesn’t matter if you forgot your copy!), pens/highlighters/pencils, socks (it rains a lot here, probably not the most relevant...). Absolutely anything that you think you may be likely to forget and is safe to leave at school just keep a spare one already there! (maybe don’t leave valuables...)

- Set your timetable as your lockscreen/homescreen: I’ve never done this one personally. I kept my timetable in my diary. I find it easier to read. But, I know a few people who used to make out their timetable in Word or something and set that as the lockscreen on their phone. People tend to keep their phones somewhere that’s easy to reach, so it shouldn’t conflict too much with executive dysfunction or anything like that.

- Routine: Having a set routine can really help with getting homework done. It becomes a habit and so a certain amount becomes automatic. I used to do mine as soon as I got home from school/college. And I had a set time for when to start my work at the weekends.

- Bring the lecture slides to lectures: I assume this will vary by college, but our lecturers used to post their lecture slides to the class site before the lecture so you could bring them to class. You could either bring the pdf on a tablet/laptop or print them off. (If you’re using a tablet/laptop you can always download the notes when you get there so it’s okay if you forgot to do it before class!). I found these helpful because I only had to make note of the extra information that the lecturer said out loud or I could just highlight important words, thereby limiting the amount I actually had to write. When I just had blank paper, I was always trying to write everything for some reason and just became lost...

- Make study notes that suit you! I remember being shown in school how to make notes when studying. But I found the standard neat lines, black/blue pen that teachers wanted didn’t work for me. They were boring to look at so they were boring to use. So I made them interesting! I used lots of colourful pens, sticky notes just to create little ‘boxes’, scribbled in the margins, drew labelled diagrams instead of putting some things into words. People would actually ask from time to time how I studied from them XD Study notes are one of those things that we’re taught how to do, but there really isn’t a one size fits all approach to it, so don’t be afraid to do different things with your notes. I used mind maps to study history in school! Here’s an example of my 3rd year pharmacology notes (believe it or not there isn’t any colour-coding XD I just went with what was fun!).

- Have a study buddy: This seriously helped me when I moved from school to college. The two girls I became friends with in first year were so much better at organising study and assignment work between lectures than I was. They’d just automatically go to the library to get stuff done between lectures so I went with them and just worked on whatever they were working on. Having them around kept me on track. We did this informally (by which I mean I’ve only recently come to realise that copying their behaviour is why I got through my first two years so well, they have no idea that that’s what I was doing XD), but you could always formalise something like this with someone. There is no shame in needing someone to help you organise your study or needing someone around to work on assignments together. You don’t have to do education on your own.

- Have multiple study places: I know study advice normally says have one dedicated location for study, but that gets so boring. I might be able to study at my desk in my room this month but then it gets boring and I can’t study. So, I have multiple dedicated locations for study. My desk at my room, the main college library, library on a different campus. People with ADHD like novelty, so sometimes I find having a change in study scenery can help focus on work!

- ASK FOR HELP: To be fair, this is one I still struggle with myself. But honestly, so many problems can be solved so easily if you just tell someone about them. Can’t remember when that exam is happening? Ask. Don’t know how to make that application/do that assignment? Ask. What did those instructions even mean? Ask. Forget where that office is? Ask. So many educators, particularly at third level, genuinely want their students to do well, but they can’t help if they don’t know you need it. I know for myself I don’t want people to know how disorganised or confused I get so I put off asking questions, but the sooner you ask, the sooner the problem gets fixed!

- If you need to do something differently, do it differently: Before I started my leave I was starting to realise that my having ADHD meant that I would have to do things differently to my neurotypical labmates. I was going to need to write more reminders of basic things for myself and stick them all over my bench. I was probably going to generate data more slowly than them because time management and organisation is difficult for me. I was going to need to have a detailed protocol next to me at all times instead of knowing the procedure off by heart like the rest of them. The neurotypical way is not the only way. Doing something differently does not make it wrong.

- Be kind to yourself: The education system is tough enough on it’s own, but those of us with ADHD have some extra obstacles in our way. There really is no point in comparing yourself to someone who doesn’t have ADHD (or similar problems) and berating yourself for not getting as much done as them or doing something slower etc etc. Don’t let ADHD limit you by any means, just remember that the route to success looks different for different people.

I think I’ll stop it here. This is getting quite long! Like I said, I’m newly diagnosed so there are things that I’m still struggling with myself (time-management is a big one!! I am 100% unqualified to give people advice on that one!!) and the things that I have done well have been more lucky accident than anything else. I hope these are somewhat helpful? Feel free to ask anymore questions though! And I wish you the best of luck with getting into medicine!!

#asks #tips #neurodivergent academia #adhd #actually adhd

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faulty-writes · 4 years

Text

Warning: Blood Mention. Slight Self Esteem Issues. Slight Manga Spoilers.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Tenya Iida x Hitoshi Shinsou

[ Alright. This is yet another weekly prompt from @bnhabookclub this sfw prompt is Space/Galaxy AU. Once more I decided to use one of my favorite rare ships. ]

[ Tenya Iida is a student in class 2-A, training to become a defender of the universe. Much like the various other defenders or ‘heroes’ of his world, all willing to lay down their lives to protect the innocent. Hitoshi Shinsou is a recently transferred student into class 2-A, trying to catch up to the fellow students and prove his worth. However, it’s quite difficult for him to focus when the one he admires is in the same class. After a training exercise doesn’t go as expected, Hitoshi seems disappointed in himself. But Tenya offers him some advice and a little something special to motivate him. ]

U.A. High Academy, a high privileged educational facility that caters to shaping young students into model adults. There were several fields of study that one can be placed into. The Technologies Department, dedicated to the craft of developing new technology to aid the brave heroes of the universe and the knowledge of how to effectively make repairs to various agency ships that were responsible for taking care of distress calls.

There was the Fighter Pilot Division, exclusively reserved for those that were willing to put their lives at risk for missions that required stealth and power. Though it had been nearly a century since the last war took place which left Earth uninhabitable. The survivors of the aftermath used their combined quirk skills and knowledge to devise a plan that would be able to start a new civilization within the Milky Way Galaxy.

Though it was a mystery how quirks would be affected in this new zero gravity set up. But with each passing generation, the quirk users seemed to grow stronger. Grasping their abilities at a younger age than their previous predecessors and as civilization came to rise, another set of government-issued rules came into play. Separating regular civilian quirk users from those that would be the start of the universe's defense system.

A new licensing system came to be which also separated those deemed as heroes. You could be a cadet, which was the modern-day sidekick. A Lieutenant, someone who carried the ability to be a leader and teach the younger generation how to properly use their quirks. Lieutenant's, much like heroes can defend against evil as they too possess a license allowing them to do so. Still, heroes, or defenders as some called them. Stood high above the rest and were praised for their bravery and dedication.

Such heroes were made in the Cadet Division, where select students train their quirks under the supervision of a lieutenant, to hopefully one day become a defender of the universe alongside the many great heroes already present. U.A. High Academy also had a General Studies department, usually reserved for students who couldn’t pass the entrance exam or showed a lack of motivation for the various departments available to them.

Hitoshi Shinsou happened to be one of those students, but he longed to be a cadet. Despite the fact, his jealousy had originally blinded him, made him believe his quirk was useless compared to the lavish ones the students in the Cadet Division displayed. He had gone to Lieutenant Aizawa who took him under his wing and trained him to use his binding scarf as well as teach him some defense moves.

Encouraged him to explore the limitations and extensions of his quirk. In a way, Hitoshi felt as though he owed the man. But as he came to find out, there were many others that believed in him. Especially after he had successfully passed the exam to get into the Cadet Division, thinking back to it. He was nervous when he stood among the students of class 1-A and 1-B, but they all seemed friendly.

But one student, in particular, caught his eye, yet he could never find the courage to talk to them. He could barely even look at them without feeling butterflies, despite the countless times he reminded himself of his goal. Tenya Iida was slowly capturing his heart. His transfer to the Cadet Division would take place at the beginning of his second year and though he knew it’d take a lot of hard work to catch up to the rest of the students, he’d do whatever it took to prove himself.

He wanted to be a cadet, he wanted to be seen as a hero one day and he wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. The remainder of his first year was hell, every day he found himself growing impatient. Eager to start a new chapter of his life, he had kept in contact with a few students from class 1-A. Midoriya was one of them and he managed to get some information about Tenya through him.

He learned that Tenya’s reason for wanting to become a cadet was because of his admiration for his brother, who unfortunately was a recently retired Lieutenant who had an agency called Team Idaten. Hitoshi, though he was normally seen as a monotone individual, felt saddened when he learned that. Yet admired the fact that even with such a misfortune.

Tenya continued on, willing to become the next Ingenium as his brother wanted. He wondered if Tenya knew anything about him though, he could only imagine how the other felt about him. Especially after he declared war on class 1-A right before the Sport’s Festival. But, he knew such a fear couldn’t keep him at bay. On the first day of his second year, he walked into Class 2-A and watched as several familiar faces turned to look in his direction.

One of which was Midoriya, who smiled and waved at him. “Shinsou!” he called, “Over here!” the boy cringed, he hated attention and that was certainly something you got when someone else shouted your name across the room. However, his eyes widened when he noticed that Tenya was sitting among Midoriya’s little group and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly ducked his head, dammit.

He clenched his jaw before shyly walking over, despite the fact his shoes were the only thing staring back at him before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He gasped and lifted his head. However, his voice caught in his throat when he saw Tenya Iida standing in front of him. His shoulders broad and a gentle smile on his face, his glasses were halfway down the bridge of his nose.

But he reached his hand up to push them back into place which made Hitoshi swallow, God the sight of Tenya made his mouth go dry. “Hello!” he bellowed before retracting his hand from Hitoshi’s shoulder, but he almost missed that strong touch. Still, Tenya placed his hand on his chest and continued to speak. “As class president, I would like to welcome you to Class 2-A. I am quite aware that you may have a difficult time catching up to the fellow students as they have more experience,” Hitoshi glanced to the side and his fists tightened, yeah.

He didn’t need to be reminded of that, of course, they had more training. They had better quirks and combat skills he couldn’t possibly hope to match...yet. “However, if you need any help. Training or otherwise, please do not hesitate to ask me. As class president, I have a duty to my fellow students and I shall not rest knowing one of them is struggling.” he finished before dropping his hand and Hitoshi hoped his blush wasn’t noticeable.

Tenya had a way with words and he found himself smiling. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice was scratchy and rough. But Tenya returned his smile, which sent Hitoshi’s heart sky-rocketing faster than the escape pods of a ship. However, when Lieutenant Aizawa walked in. His hair down in its usual fashion and his tired expression seemed to be a permanent accessory.

His eyes scanned the classroom, Aizawa was the man that taught him the very limited skills he knew and he was a little nervous to see what further training the man had laid out for him. “Take your seats.” Hitoshi swallowed and hesitantly walked over to his desk. Hanging his backpack on the provided desk hook before facing forward, his hands curled in his lap.

He couldn’t help the nervous feeling that continued to consume him, he wondered if every potential cadet felt this way. Still, mornings were reserved for normal classes such as English, which was usually first period. This followed by Math, History, and so on. When afternoon came, it switched to cadet training where you’d slip into your cadet uniform. Some were modified to withstand the user’s quirk, but they were all standard and painted with the U.A. Academy colors which consisted of blue and white.

They also had the U.A. Academy logo and the name of the cadet was displayed on the right side. They were skin tight and allowed for easy movement, which was useful during combat. The students were then guided to the training grounds which were distanced away from the school for safety reasons. There were various training scenarios, replicas of cities and such. But it seemed like Lieutenant Aizawa wanted to keep things simple today and brought his cadets to what looked like a warehouse filled with various metal scraps and empty barrels.

It looked similar to the training ground Hitoshi had set foot on last year when he had passed the test to get into the cadet course. He looked at Aizawa, his eyes slit in suspicion. He wondered if the man did this on purpose, though it was often hard to figure out the puzzle Aizawa left behind. But one thing was for certain, he almost always had a plan with everything he did.

“Today’s training exercise will improve your evasive and defensive skills. If any of you are brave enough to go head to head with your opponent, you have permission to do so. However, I have paired each of you with someone that is your opposite. Someone that I believe will help improve the skills you are lacking.” Yeah, that was Aizawa alright. Somehow it felt as though he enjoyed torturing his students, but as a Lieutenant.

He took pride in watching his students grow, even if they failed along the way. The fact that U.A. Academy pumped out so many famous heroes, was one of the reasons they pushed their students so far. “Mm…” Hitoshi groaned under his breath, “Of course you’d do this.” he said as he crossed his arms, though his words caught Midoriya’s attention. “Uh…” the boy began to speak, catching Hitoshi’s attention.

“What,” he said as he turned to look at the green-haired boy, though he might have seemed intimidating because of his tone. Midoriya took a step back but kept his eyes locked with Hitoshi’s. “Are...you okay?” he asked and Hitoshi only sighed in reply. “Yeah...I’m fine,” he said before looking over at Aizawa, his fingers curled into the fabric of his uniform. Though it was clear he was lying, in fact, he felt a little insecure about how he would perform and who he’d be up against.

“Hm?” he turned his head when he heard another class approach, “Oh no,” he muttered as he watched the cadets of class 1-B approach. “Late again,” Aizawa commented and Sekjiro Kan growled in return. “Shut it, my students are here. Start the training exercise and witness the victory that my class will bring,” he replied which caused Aizawa to roll his eyes. “Fine,” he said before pulling out a piece of paper, it was scribbled with the students he had chosen to go head to head.

“Alright, first match up. Shinsou vs Momona.” he felt his stomach drop to the floor, out of all the people Aizawa could have chosen, why Momona? The blond was annoying, conceited and his quirk was...well maybe he had no right to say given his limited quirk usage. “Ah yes! How wondrous!” Momona declared, spinning on his feet, one hand to his chest and the other raised high in the air. He then lowered his hands, directing his attention to Hitoshi.

A chuckle sounded in his throat before he pointed his finger at the purple-haired boy, “I hope you’re ready to taste defeat! After all, class 1-A is just that. A bunch of losers,” Hitoshi raised his eyebrow while Kirishima practically hissed and pounced on Monoma. “What’s the big deal!? You’re always insulting our class! Fact is, we’re the only ones who have actually had a taste of what it’s like to defend the universe, to be true cadets, and face down the villains that are scattered across the galaxy! What the hell have you done?!” he questioned as he tried to claw the blond but Iida and Midoriya restrained him.

Monoma scuffed and stepped back, “How rude…” he said, taking note that Kirishima left some rips in his uniform. “He assaulted me!” he exclaimed as he pointed a finger at the angry red-head who was currently fighting to break free of the ones holding him back. “Oh shut it! Like you didn’t deserve that!” Kirishima cried back before Lieutenant Aizawa came over and restrained the students, though he didn’t bother using his Erasure.

Instead, he used his custom made scarf, and wrapped the students up as if they were mummy’s. “Quiet down,” he said, speaking as calmly as ever, though Hitoshi’s lips were already sealed closed. But his eyes drifted over to Iida, who was currently scolding Kirishima. Somehow it made him smile, Iida was always so professional and strict about following rules and trying to steer people onto the right path. It was admirable in a word.

“Control your student, he’s causing problems,” Aizawa informed Kan who scoffed and crossed his arms. “My students don’t cause problems,” he replied, making Aizawa roll his eyes once more. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just get this started.” he said as he looked at his paper once more, “Like I said, Shinsou and Momona. Take your positions on opposite ends, on my mark you’ll begin. Understood?” Hitoshi broke his glance away from Iida and turned to look at his teacher.

“Yeah,” he said before reaching down to place his mask over his nose, his scarf was laying contently around his shoulders. He looked over to Monoma as they made their way to the metal landscape. “I do hope you’re ready to lose.” the blond commented making Hitoshi roll his eyes, he didn’t believe bickering got anything done. However, he did try and use that tactic against Midoriya, but that was only to get the others mind under his control.

It wasn’t because he thought he was better than someone else or simply to start drama. He kept quiet and took his position on the opposite side of the training ground. He felt a little uncomfortable being surrounded by metal scraps and uncovered wires. But regardless, he decided to take cover behind an old air vent. He was crouched down, waiting until Aizawa gave the signal. In the meantime, he thought of possible strategies that he could use to counter Monoma.

His quirk was copy, but it was highly unlikely he could actually copy Hitoshi’s quirk. But Monoma’s skills in combat were pretty good and possibly outmatched his own. That’s what worried him the most, he was still learning how to use his scarf as well. So that put him at a disadvantage but like every great cadet and hero. He’d have to work with what he got and when Aizawa gave the signal.

Hitoshi decided that going head to head with Monoma would be the best option. Take out the enemy as soon as possible, but it was a little tricky jumping over the various obstacles and avoiding the metal scraps so he wouldn’t trip. Monoma seemed to have a similar idea, however when he came into view. Hitoshi noticed the smirk he wore and got his scarf ready, maybe if he could wrap him up. Disable him in some way so he could get an advantage in battle.

However, as soon as he got his scarf ready. Monoma jumped onto the side of a nearby building which had Hitoshi stopping in his tracks. His eyes were wide as he watched the fellow cadet make his way to another rooftop. He clenched his jaw and quickly used his scarf, sending it flying in Monoma’s direction. However, the boy turned and ran. Hitoshi quickly pulled his scarf, making easy work of wrapping around one of Monoma’s ankles.

“Oh my, you don’t think this will actually stop me. Has class 1-A sunk that low? Perhaps you need more training.” Monoma smirked before grabbing a piece of the scarf, Hitoshi firmly planted his feet into the ground. Knowing what was about to happen, “Tug of war? Don’t mind if I do.” he chuckled before pulling and Hitoshi quickly learned the boy wasn’t holding back. His feet scraped across the ground and he wrapped the scarf around his hands, trying to keep himself steady as he used his own strength to pull back.

Hoping to send Monoma flying toward him, but instead, the boy smirked once more. Hitoshi should have seen it coming when Monoma released his hold on the scarf. It sent him flying back, stumbling over his feet. He let out a cry when he tripped over a metal scrap, it cut into the back of his ankle. He clenched his teeth, trying his best to ignore the pain. But Monoma jumped from the roof, determined to pin Hitoshi to the ground.

“Damn it.” he hissed and crossed his arms as he noticed the boy reel his fist back. Hitoshi effectively blocked it, but he could feel the pain radiate down his arm. More than likely Monoma’s punch would leave a bruise. He cried out when he finally hit the ground, Monoma straddled himself on top of Hitoshi and continued to land hits. “Get off,” Hitoshi growled, reaching up to grab Monoma’s wrists.

“Oh, do my ears deceive me? Is that a student from class 1-A begging?” he questioned, before breaking Hitoshi’s hold. Before he could properly react, he felt the sting of Monoma’s fist against his cheek. His head violently turned and his mask flew off, revealing a dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth. He growled and turned back to look at Monoma. Once more grabbing his wrists, but his hands trembled and unlike before, there was a certain fire in his eye.

His face twisted with anger and somehow it scared Monoma. “What’s this?” he questioned before Hitoshi squirmed underneath him and brought his leg up, kicking Monoma square in the jaw. He watched as a small amount of blood splattered and a whimper left Monoma’s mouth, though it was mumbled by the blond’s hands. Hitoshi then used his scarf, effectively wrapping the thick cloth around Monoma’s waist and arms.

He growled and wiggled against the restraints. Narrowing his eyes at Hitoshi who still remained beneath him, “Y-You hit me!” he said, there were lines of blood dripping from his mouth and Hitoshi could only assume he had accidentally bitten his lip when the kick happened. Not that he cared that much if this was a life or deathmatch with a villain. Obviously, Hitoshi would be the victor, however, he heard footsteps coming.

“Alright...that’s enough.” his eyes widened at the sound of Aizawa’s voice and he quickly retracted his scarf, it laid loosely around his neck once more. Monoma scoffed and finally stood up, Hitoshi quickly followed, despite his ankle still bleeding. But as usual, he tried to put on a brave face. Especially in front of his lieutenant, he looked at Aizawa. His eyes were narrowed and obviously he was angry, Hitoshi couldn’t help but feel as though that anger was directed at him. Still, he was taken off guard when Aizawa stepped in front of Monoma and looked at the damage.

Monoma’s jaw was darkening in color, more than likely the signs of a bruise forming and blood still dripped from his lip. Hitoshi felt a lump form in his throat when Aizawa turned his glance at him, damn those eyes were intimidating. “I trained you to become a worthy cadet, the point of this training exercise was to practice your skills. I guess you’re the winner.” Aizawa said though Hitoshi felt anything but.

He growled and began limping, as he got closer to the group of students. He could hear their muttered comments, his quirk depicted him as a villain but now, would his actions be the cause of their impression of him? He growled softly, hanging his head low. However, there was one student who seemed rather concerned for him and reached out to grab his shoulder. “Pardon,” Hitoshi’s eyes widened as he immediately recognized the voice and slowly turned to see Tenya, a gentle smile was on his face but his eyes held a serious expression.

Normally the sight of him would cause Hitoshi’s heart to race but now, it was only weighed down by a small sense of guilt. Still, those butterflies filled his stomach all the same. “Yeah?” he replied, looking up at the other who reached up to adjust his glasses. “Forgive me if this seems rather imposing, but dear classmate. Are you feeling well? That display was rather...interesting.” Tenya said, his free hand moving this way and that as he spoke.

It almost made Hitoshi chuckle, but he forced himself to keep quiet. Tenya saw everything he did on the training ground, great. He had almost forgotten that cameras were everywhere and were often used to study the students and keep track of their improvement. Still, to know the one he favored saw his...display. It was disheartening and Hitoshi looked toward the ground, staring at his own shoes.

Tenya noticed this, a clear sign that his fellow student wasn’t comfortable enough to talk about the incident or perhaps he didn’t trust Tenya enough. In that sense, he couldn’t blame the other. After all, connections were formed on trust and he didn’t know Hitoshi enough to call him anything more than what he was. Just a classmate, though Tenya did notice those odd glances Hitoshi gave him and the way he’d look away when Tenya noticed he was staring.

It seemed as though he had caught the other's interest somehow, but what form of interest was still up in the air. Still, Hitoshi was a rather unforgettable individual. One who had single-handedly scared the cadets of class 1-A when he declared war on them. Yet, Tenya couldn’t stand to see one of his classmates looking so disappointed and reached one hand out. Delicately placing his fingers beneath Hitoshi’s chin and tilted his head up. He partly expected Hitoshi to fight it.

But he didn’t, he had already made a fool of himself. So why should he fight anything? Still, the dull expression in his eye was evident enough to show Tenya he wasn’t interested in anything at the moment. But Tenya wouldn’t give up, even if Hitoshi didn’t listen. He had to say and do what he felt as though a true hero would. One day he would be a brave lieutenant like his brother and in that sense, he couldn’t let anyone down and he wouldn’t rest knowing that someone was unhappy.

“Forgive me, perhaps this is quite out of line for me to say. But...violence at times is the only answer. You felt as though you were being threatened and despite the exercise being merely a form of training. I believe at that moment, you felt as though it were real and applied the skills you knew to break yourself of Monoma’s hold.” Hitoshi grumbled, despite the fact his cheeks were warm. Tenya was touching him and his hand felt so strong and yet gentle.

Could he ever be lucky enough one day to be able to hold that hand? Still, he may have a point. At that moment, when Monoma had him pinned down. He felt like a trapped animal, willing to claw and bite his way free. Was that sad? He glanced away a moment, taking a deep breath before he reached to take hold of Tenya’s wrist. He pushed it away which confused Tenya, though what more did he expect?

Perhaps a more...physical approach was necessary to get his point across and with that in mind, his expression grew cross. Though even so, it didn’t seem to phase Hitoshi. “Iida, I appreciate-” he gasped when he felt Tenya cup his face and much like before, tilted it just so. Hitoshi felt a lump form in his throat as he stared into those soft eyes, they were a hypnotizing color. “I see my words hold little effect, perhaps you will listen to this.” Hitoshi watched as a smile came to Tenya’s face before he leaned close.

“I-Iida?” Hitoshi questioned, feeling his heart race in his chest. He was more than certain what Tenya was going to do and closed his eyes, ready to feel those lips he had been dreaming of. He could feel the heat of Tenya’s breath, but unlike he expected. The touch of those feather lips didn’t come which caused Hitoshi to open his eyes, “Hm?” Tenya, though he wasn’t normally known for teasing, leaned up to press a kiss to Hitoshi’s forehead.

As soon as he felt those warm lips touch his skin, his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed pink. When Tenya pulled away, he took note of Hitoshi’s expression and almost chuckled. Though he knew that would be rude as he didn’t believe in laughing at other's expense. Still, it was quite amusing. He removed his hands before leaning close to Hitoshi’s ear. “A compromise, perhaps motivation. Perform your best next time and my lips…” he reached up to press his thumb against Hitoshi’s bottom lip.

“Will touch yours,” he smirked before stepping away, but Hitoshi was shocked. Tenya...said he’d kiss him if he did better? He swallowed and hesitantly looked at the other, “Are we in agreement?” Tenya asked as he held his hand out, waiting for Hitoshi to shake it. Though he only stared at that offered hand, part of him wondered if Tenya was lying, or if he believed that this means of a kiss would truly motivate him. Either way, Hitoshi didn’t have anything to lose.

He’d still have to put his all into training to catch up with the other students, but even so. It was almost as if Tenya was cheering him on, after all, he was the only student that cared enough to try and speak to Hitoshi after what had happened. He took a deep breath and finally grabbed Tenya’s hand. “Deal,” he said with a nod, which seemed to make Tenya happy.

“Very well, I look forward to your future performance,” he said before returning to the fellow cadets, Hitoshi watched the one he admired walk away before he reached up to touch his forehead. A smile came, he’d get that kiss next time. But for now, he’d have to find Recovery Girl. His ankle needed some healing.

#shiiida #shinsou x iida #bnha bookclub #iida x shinsou #tenya x hitoshi

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evilrubberducke · 5 years

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Read You Like a Book

A fluff filled IzuMina story about dorks and dates. Not too much to say besides that. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: In the midst of a lovely date, Mina discovers that Izuku might just be paying more attention to her than she ever realized.

Also on AO3!

“Midoriiiiiii, you lied to me!” Mina whined as she took in the building before her.

The Csilla Book Emporium was the largest bookstore she’d ever seen, spanning nearly a block in length and several stories in height, all filled to the brim with books of every sort. Supposedly they had every book under the sun, and if you couldn’t find it on their shelves they would have it sent there in just a few days. Under normal circumstances, Mina would have been happy to spend the afternoon there with Izuku.

It was the sign out front, proudly advertising their “First day of summer textbook/workbook sale!” that gave her pause.

“I didn’t lie!” He protested, though he seemed to be having trouble keeping eye contact with her. “I told you I wanted to take you somewhere fun. This is fun!”

“It’s schoolwork Midori.” she put on her best pout, a technique which had improved dramatically since they had started dating. He was a sucker for a good pout, and if you used puppy dog eyes as well, it was a surefire way to get what you wanted.

“I know, but if we get it done now, we won’t have to worry about it later.” He was holding surprisingly firm under her gaze, only shifting a little bit as he spoke.

She held out for a long moment, but eventually she was the one that cracked first. “Fiiiiine. But I’m holding you to your word. You’re taking me out somewhere fun after this.”

He smiled at that. “Ok. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

She shook her head. “Nuh uh. You don’t get out of it that easy. I came here to be wooed, only to be bait and switched. You’ve got to earn your way back into my good graces, and that starts with coming up with somewhere nice to take me.”

At that, Izuku began to resemble the boy she remembered from their first year at UA. The ball of perpetually frightened energy who couldn’t keep himself from muttering about Heroes every few minutes. She’d almost forgotten how cute he could be when he was off balance like this. These days he seemed like he could take anyone on without even flinching, and the smile he always wore reminded her enough of All Might that she had started to give Todoroki’s crackpot theories some real consideration.

His muttering now a soothing background noise, Mina pulled her boyfriend into the bookstore.

---

The pair had headed straight into the workbook section, competing with several other students for precious space and even more precious deals.

Izuku proved surprisingly adept at claiming space among the crowd. He didn’t really fight for space so much as slip through the gaps between people, pulling Mina along behind him. When she asked he claimed he had learned from watching his mother navigate sales at the grocery store which he would only describe as ‘cut throat’.

She could tell he was taking their task seriously, as he didn’t even notice the amount of attention they were getting from the other patrons. The crowd had quickly clocked the presence of UA students, and from there it was only a quick jump to recognizing UA’s rising power couple.

Mina was a little embarrassed by the whole situation. Some enterprising reporter (read nosey snitch) had snuck into the back halls during their second sports festival. They had caught a picture of her and Izuku cuddling between matches, and ran a story about ‘Love Blooming on the Battlefield’. With her and Izuku both placing in the top five for the festival, people had quickly started to call them a power couple, and comparing them to UA’s previous big three.

It was odd to think that she now possessed a following. Sure, it was a select following but it was still a strange experience. She’d even had someone come up and ask for her autograph the other day. It really made the fact that she was a hero feel real to her.

At least they were being left alone. There were whispers, and more than a few intrigued looks thrown their way, but no one tried to disturb them. Mina wasn’t sure if it was due to respect for their status, not wanting to miss a workbook they were looking for, or if they were intimidated by Izuku’s intense focus as he hunted for whatever it was he was searching for.

No matter the reason, Mina took the opportunity to browse with Izuku. Much as she was loath to admit it, having the extra books would be useful for their studying, something she knew Izuku would manage to corral her into at some point this summer. Resigned to her fate, she rolled up her sleeves and got to searching.

---

It still amazed her how astute Izuku could be. Every workbook he grabbed was for a subject she was struggling with, or had scored poorly on in their last exam. She hadn't even discussed the exam with him, too disappointed in her own performance. Sure, a C was better than she had been doing at the start of the year, some would even call it a great improvement. It just didn’t feel like one when compared to the rest of the class. With three perfect scores, one by Izuku himself, and several more As, it just left her feeling like she was falling behind with every step.

She’d tried he best, she really had. But in the end the concepts refused to stick in her head no matter how much she studied.

She sighed as she hefted a math workbook up and glared at the cover. It was so frustrating to be praised for her excellent combat skills, only to be lambasted week after week over something she just couldn’t seem to master.

She looked up as Izuku squeezed her hand absentmindedly, while he debated the value of two texts of his own. Even so deep in his own head, his muttering going full bore, a part of him was still making sure she was okay.

It warmed her heart in a way she couldn't even begin to describe. She returned the squeeze and cuddled closer to him. It was hard to be sad with his warmth leaking into her.

---

“I-I’m sorry it’s not much.” Izuku apologized. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

They were in a cafe just off Mustafu’s main shopping street. It was a cozy place, run by a small family who were more concerned with making sure their customers were satisfied than with making a profit. Entering the business felt like stepping into the home of a long lost relative. A few patrons waited in line, and more were seated at tables around the cafe, but it didn’t seem crowded in the slightest.

“It’s perfect Midori.” Mina said.

It really was too. Mina had heard about this place from Uraraka a few weeks ago. Apparently the pink cheeked girl had stumbled across it during one of her patrols with Ryuku. Since then, she had been singing the praises of the cafe, calling it a hidden gem of Mustafu.

Mina was inclined to agree. The menu was smaller than most of the popular cafes that she had been to, but it felt like it was curated rather than limited. Each of them had a cute name, and a small little blurb about how it could help your mood. Ever since she had heard Uraraka mention it, she had wanted to come here.

She just didn’t remember telling Izuku about it.

“But...how did you know I wanted to come here?” She asked, confused.

“You were talking about how you wanted to go here with Uraraka the other day, weren’t you?” It was more of a question than an answer.

She cast her mind back to the conversation in question. They’d been chatting in the common room, taking a break from homework to have a quick snack. Izuku had been there of course, he’d been helping her study since before they had even started officially dating, but she was sure he hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been in one of his muttering fits, focused on creating a new super move.

Now that she thought about it, this wasn’t the first time he’d known something about her without her having to state it. For instance, the time he’d shown up with flowers for her mother’s birthday even though she’d only told Toru about it. Or when he’d switched to buying her cherry sparkling water instead of lemon when she got tired of the flavor.

But it wasn’t for everything. When they were planning a surprise party for Todoroki, Izuku had come close to forgetting about it, despite being there for the planning meeting.

And then it hit her. The thread connecting his random fact acquisition was her. It was like some part of his mind was paying attention to what she was saying, or even just thinking about, despite the other 90% being occupied.

It was only just a theory, but now she wanted to test it.

“Midori, do you know what my favorite movie is?”

The sudden shift in topic seemed to take him by surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Umm, The Princess Bride, right?”

It was absolutely right. She considered it a guilty pleasure, and most definitely hadn’t watched it with anyone from UA. After all, she had a reputation as the dorm’s number one horror buff to maintain.

It was...odd to realize that he knew her so well without even seeming to try. She knew plenty of stuff about her boyfriend of course, but it was different with Izuku. He wore his heart on his sleeve in so many ways. It was easy to tell what he liked, from his favorite hero to his favorite foods. Even his more subtle tastes were obvious when you looked, though not everyone seemed to be able to take the hints. Just a few weeks before, Kirishima had dragged Izuku to a raunchy comedy with the rest of the guys in the class. She wasn’t sure exactly what he saw, but Izuku had looked vaguely traumatized by the experience.

He was easy to please, always happy to help or to listen to her talk, completely able to entertain himself if she left him alone, and an all around sweety. He would be the most low maintenance boyfriend in the world, if it weren’t for his insistence on self sacrifice.

She was pulled from her musings when they reached the front of the line. She had already made her choice when she had first seen the menu, but Izuku had waffled for a while. When he finally chose his drink, it was all she could do to hold back a snort. The woman who took their order seemed surprised, but after looking him over, she nodded once and punched the request in.

The “Little Hero” was clearly meant for children, a chocolaty affair with a generous helping of whipped cream on the top. When Izuku finally laid eyes on his drink, his brow scrunched up in confusion, and Mina finally lost it, cackling softly at her boyfriend’s misstep.

Izuku did his best imitation of a strawberry while he meekly accepted his drink and made a beeline for the table they had picked out and Mina followed him, still recovering from her bout of mirth.

The seats they had managed to get were hidden slightly from the rest of the cafe by a large potted plant. Mina appreciated the bit of privacy that it afforded them. She didn’t really care about being watched, but she did enjoy having a bit more alone time with her boyfriend.

“Enjoying your drink?” She teased as he took a tentative sip. The barista had really gone all out, adding chocolate shavings as well as sprinkles and a stick of cinnamon to the top of what Mina was sure was an unhealthy amount of whipped cream. Her own drink was fairly simple by comparison. An Iced coffee with some cinnamon to give it some extra flavoring, with a small heart drawn in the cream for her, which was a nice little touch.

“It...it’s pretty good.” Izuku said timidly, eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of him.

“Apparently!” She said with a chuckle. When he lifted his head up to look at her, she could see that a bit of whipped cream had lodged itself at the end of his nose. Combined with the confused and slightly embarrassed look on his face, it made for an insanely cute picture. Mina was half tempted to whip out her phone to commemorate the moment, but decided against it.

Instead she reached across the table and deftly wiped the offending spot away. Then on a whim, she took a moment to run her thumb along his cheek.

Izuku relaxed into her touch, his eyes closing as he sighed in contentment.

Mina felt her heart skip a beat. She was sure in that moment that she was the luckiest girl in the world. Izuku was beyond strong, incredibly smart, and so dedicated she was sure he would crawl through hell on bloody hands and knees if it meant saving someone in trouble. And here he was, melting like putty in her hands simply because he enjoyed being around her.

It made her feel truly special.

They didn’t get any studying done that day, much to Izuku’s chagrin. Instead, they spent the day wandering Mustafu to see if they could find any other hidden gems like the cafe. It wasn’t a productive day, but it was a pleasant one. A day spent in easy company was just what the pair had needed after the stress of UA. And at the end of the day, they were both perfectly content to fall asleep in the arms of the one person in the world who could read them like a book.

#izumina #mha #my hero academia #mina ashido #fluff #midoriya izuku #slice of life #fanfiction #dekumina #minadeku #mha fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction

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eabhaalynn · 5 years

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Your Local A-Level Survival Guide

If you’re reading this, I’m sorry.

It probably means you’re doing a-levels. That is… unfortunate.

Everyone has a different experience of their a-level years. For me, they were the most enjoyable two years of my school career. I found some of the best friends in the world and honestly learned so much, both in and out of school. However even I have to say that the exams were the WORST. There were too many tears, tantrums and existential crisis’ to count.

And yet, I survived them. And I have so many friends who survived them too. And if I can get through them in one piece, anyone can.

So; here’s a little advice on how to survive the stresses of sixth form, both in school and out, and maybe even get a few a-levels along the way. I’ve split them into revision tips, school life and social life because this post is a fairly hefty read. (sorry again!)

STU(DYING)

1. Make notes as you go along.

You will LOVE yourself for this in June. A-Level content isn’t anything close to GCSE content, and you simply will not have time to start writing notes and learn them all around exam time.

Try to keep within a day of your class with your own notes and if you fall behind during the week, try to get caught up that weekend.

Find a note-taking style that fits how you learn. I personally realised in my upper sixth year – just a tiny bit late - that I loved making and learning off of summary posters. Trying out different ways of note taking will do no harm.

2. Ask if you need help

Your teachers and friends are all on your side. You are not a burden for asking them to explain an idea to you again, or to reword something. Your teachers are literally being paid to help you, and your mates are in exactly the same position you are. Ask them for help if you need it, because a-levels really are very hard – and they only get harder if you try to go it alone.

3. Find somewhere you can bare to study in

In school, if you have a choice of study rooms, spend your free time in ones you like – okay, maybe tolerate – being in. At GCSE we only had one study and I hated it, but at A-Level I had the choice of two, with a definite favourite, and it really makes the difference.

Make friends with your study supervisors, they have the power to make or break your a-level years.

At home, study where you’re comfortable. But not too comfortable. Your leavers hoodie will become your wearable hug over study leave and I also highly recommend investing in comfy tracksuit bottoms. You get used to looking like a tent most of the time

My favourite places to study were the public library and various coffee shops around the town I studied in. They were less strict than school, but still required more discipline than trying to study in my bedroom. Just try not to develop a caffeine dependency over the next two years because I certainly did.

4. Don’t compare yourself to others.

You are not your friends. You are different people, you probably have different ways of making your tea, and you almost certainly will have different ways of studying.

I remember around repeat season seeing my friend sit and do a booklet of twelve past papers all day. To her credit, she did them all. I, on the other hand, did a total of one past paper over three repeat exams. We put the same hours in. We got the same grades in the end.

Other peoples work doesn't invalidate your own. Everyone is working with their own skills and capabilities.

5. Repeat everything you need to.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with repeating modules in upper sixth. There’s also absolutely nothing wrong with repeating upper or lower sixth.

The extended exam period (seven (!!) weeks) is awful; it is genuinely very difficult to avoid burnout, but your understanding of modules is so much better second time around and repeats almost always pay off.

You will meet a whole new group of friends through repeating modules, purely because it is so difficult that you have no choice but to cling on to the people that are going through it with you

6. Don’t do an unnecessary hard one

All A-Levels are hard. Some a-levels (chemistry and biology for me, also twitter tells me further maths) are very hard. Unless your Uni course requires those traditional, exceptionally hard subjects, don’t do them.

Pick your subjects around your interests, because your whole life is going to revolve around them for two years. Two years of interesting impossible exams beat two years of boring impossible exams any day.

No matter how much you love that fourth subject, don’t take it – and don’t keep it on – unless you absolutely have to. Your grades may suffer, your already limited free time will suffer, and there are very few cases where you will ever need it. I loved AS History with every fibre of my being, but for my course I didn’t need four subjects past AS and so it would have been unsustainable and unnecessary to keep on yet another academically challenging subject

7. Make use of the resources available to you.

Ask your older friends for their notes, borrow and buy textbooks, read relevant articles online.

My school was especially good for this, if you like making notes on a certain kind of paper (like A3 or squared for example) ask your teachers to get you some.

Use the free printing credits your school gives you! The internet is full of additional notes and papers and worksheets that are free and quite literally a click away.

SKOOL LIFE

1. You are the most important

No a-level is more important than you and your wellbeing. Take care of your mental and physical health throughout your studies. Nothing in this world is more important than that.

If you are suffering, tell someone! A-Levels can feel so lonely and sixth form can be a very high-pressure environment, but every adult in your school has a duty of care over you, and there is always someone to help you through it all; be it a friend, family member, teacher or youth worker.

2. Be nice!

- Schools are inherently toxic environments. Everyone is loaded with hormones and there are few things in this world scarier than a building full of stressed teenagers.Be nice to everyone you come across, no one loves a levels and most will really struggle through them. You only ever know a tiny bit of what is going on in someones life, so do try not to make anyone’s life any harder.

3. Take every opportunity that comes to you

- Take part in any extra curricular you can. You probably will learn more from them than you do in class, and you get the chance to make friends with people you’d never come across otherwise. I did debate, public speaking and the rotary award during my sixth form, and they all helped me so much to develop the soft skills and time management that eventually got me into my degree.

4. Set aside time for careers/admin

- It might not be a-level important, but you’ll find yourself with a lot of sorting out of your life to do throughout sixth form – especially if you’re applying to medicine or similar courses that require multi-step application processes.

5. There’s no right or wrong way to do sixth form

- A-Levels aren’t a one-way street. You may have to change subjects, you may have to take time out, you may end up sitting your courses at two different schools, over one or two or three years, and that is all okay. No matter what way you do it, you’re doing alright.

6. UCAS will ruin your life.

- UCAS is the sixth form version of the wee guy on the bus who would pick on you incessantly, and even though he was never that important, he’d always be there and never do anything worthwhile for your life.

- It’s not the worst thing in the world, but it is another thing to worry about, when you really don’t need it to be.

- Try to keep on top of it and get your application over with early. The emails from track will keep giving you the fear forever, even after you’ve had 3 straight up rejections, missed an offer, declined two different offers and confirmed your place.

SOCIAL LIFE (trust me it does exist)

1. Balance is everything

It is not normal to have your life be so centred around one place as much as it is during a-levels. As well as this, being 16 – 18 is literally the best time to be alive and make memories in your whole life. Spend lots of time on schoolwork, but not all of it.

2. You’re not going out too much

You work so unbelievably hard all week. You do deserve to go out sometimes.

My upper sixth was framed by panicking and feeling wracked with guilt every time I left my house or went on any night out. This is no way to feel There is more to life than a-levels and upper sixth is the last time in your life where all your school mates will be all together all the time. Make the most of it! (Just, also make notes)

3. Take a day off

Like literally, take a day off a week

I took Sundays off schoolwork in upper sixth, when I usually worked in the afternoon, had the morning to myself and the evening as a time to rest. This will keep you sane.

4. Make time for the friends you don’t see everyday

You won’t have a lot of free time, but if you make a conscious effort to see your far away friends every couple of weeks it always gives you something to look forward to.

5. Don’t give in to peer pressure

I promise it is so much fun to go out and not drink excessively. Don’t do hard drugs, don’t drink more than you can handle, especially not over term time. It’s just not worth it. Showing up to school hungover is not a good look, or any fun at all – no matter what your mates say. A-Levels are a stressful enough two years without losing all this extra time to hangovers and come downs.

6. Make good habits

If you have a spare evening during the week, go for a walk. Take the bus and walk one day a week instead of driving. Maybe even join a gym. As well as a distraction, exercise and a generally healthy lifestyle will get your endorphins flowing and you will notice a huge difference to your stress levels within a few weeks.

You’re going to need comfort food – trust me on that one. But if you’re going to substitute a healthy lunch for a chicken box and squashies, at least have a banana for breakfast. And never skip breakfast, it will make you a hangry, hanxious, horrible person.

Congratulations! You made it to the end. I really hope you’ve found at least some of this advice helpful, and that you get through sixth form with all of your sanity intact.

(I’d like to thank Julia Anusiak, Alexandra Rosbotham, Aoife Donaghy, Maeve Denver, Gabrielle Carland, Caitriona Fitzpatrick, Grace Craig and Jack Worrall for their contributions to this blog post)

#study #a level chemistry #a level #a level exams #study tips

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gb-fics · 5 years

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GB Academy (Act 1)

Golden Bomber Fanfiction.

Note: Please read beforehand!

This story is somewhat different from what I usually write and it's moreover something I swore myself to never do - set at a highschool xD Anyway, some of you might know about the Glamorous Butterfly campaign Golden Bomber is doing with Jex. It's more or less promoting sexual health and using condoms, whatever :D Now, during the last years the members of GB appeared at those events as their female alter-ego highschool students. This year, it was changed and they appear as their male alter ego highschool students.

I will put the link to the official website here, so you can check out their current versions, if you scroll down the page, you will also find some of photos of their female versions. If you don't know what I'm even talking about, just take a look at the website first, please xD

http://gb-lovekatsu.com/

Now, I saw some very cute fanarts and comic strips done by Japanese fans with the pairings used in this fanfic and I felt the need to write about it. I'm not sure if people even want to read about female characters and straight romance, but technically, all the characters are still Golden Bomber, so whatever. Just so you know beforehand and don't feel cheated xD

I think it should be obvious, but I'm putting down a list again, so you have an overview over the who's who :D Kiryuuin Shou - also: Shoko Kyan Yutaka - also: Yutako Utahiroba Jun - also: Junko sensei (school nurse) Darvish Kenji - also: Tarumi (It makes more sense in Japanese, haha)

I divided the story into 4 chapters and will post them all at once, I hope you will manage to navigate through it :D Each character gets 4 point-of-view parts; some of you might notice that I used the structure of Gay Drama as orientation.

If you are still up for reading this stupid stuff, go ahead and enjoy :D Otherwise, stay with me anyway, there will also be regular stories ... soon (^-^)

* * *

Her name was Shoko. She was 17 years old. Today, she was nervous to go to class, because of the text message she had received last night.

“So, what did it say?”, Yutako insisted. She was standing in front of her with her legs apart and arms akimbo.

Shoko had the feeling that her best friend never just asked for things. She insisted to know them. Everything about her voice and body posture was frightening. Shoko wished she had that kind of confidence.

Avoiding Yutako’s gaze, she looked down on her feet, dangling them in the air while sitting on the daybed. Actually, they weren’t supposed to stay at the infirmary, but the nurse had taken a likening to them and allowed them to keep her company before class or during lunch breaks.

“Nothing, really. He just wanted to know what we had to do for math class today.”

“Mmh.” Yutako gave a thoughtful hum. It was pretty obvious she wasn’t content with the answer, but then Yutako never seemed content with anything. Least of all, if it had been said or done by a man.

“Couldn’t he have asked one of his friends from the baseball team or something? Why message you?”

Shoko shrugged and felt her cheeks heating up. She knew what Yutako was implying, although she had tried hard not to think about it all night.

“He just seems to like our cute Shoko”, Tarumi chimed in and jumped onto the daybed next to Shoko. The bed gave a protesting squeak. Tarumi was always like that. Making fun of everything and joking about things that Shoko did not even dare to say out loud. Sometimes she got annoyed with her friend for that. Sometimes, Shoko wished she could be a little sillier herself. Life seemed easier that way.

“I don’t trust that guy!”, Yutako said.

Next to her, Tarumi suppressed a yawn. Shoko was tired, too. She had hardly slept at night. The handsomest guy in class had messaged her. Her, of all people.

“Don’t listen to her”, Tarumi said. “Yutako trusts no one. I think he seems to be a nice guy.”

“Don’t listen to her”, Yutako corrected. “Tarumi likes everyone. That guy is a troublemaker.”

“Aren’t you friends with him?”, Shoko asked, now looking up to scan for her friend’s expression.

Yutako let her arms drop to her side. She seemed softer as she turned her face away now.

“We’re not friends”, she said in a normal tone of voice. Compared to her usual way of speaking, she was almost whispering. “We just talk sometimes. I’m just annoyed with the way you act around him. You just blush and stammer >Kyan< and then you don’t get out another word. It’s embarrassing to watch.”

She was speaking harsher again.

Shoko felt herself blush once again. She hated how fast her cheeks coloured and how hot and uncomfortable she felt. It was true that she was making a fool of herself whenever Yutaka was around. But he was handsome and kind and charming and funny and she wasn’t used to get attention from a guy like him. Sure, for Yutako it was all different. She was self-confident and just approached the guys she liked. She had had many boyfriends already, although most of them had probably been scared into dating her. For Shoko, it was new and unfamiliar and she didn’t know what to do about it.

“I can’t help it”, Shoko defended herself weakly.

The clicking of heels announced Junko sensei coming over. She pulled the white curtain aside to give them a stern look.

“Strong, independent women like you shouldn’t chat about boys all the time. Your life doesn’t resolve around male attention”, she scolded them. She usually did it in a joking tone, but like she really meant it anyway.

Her hair was always on point, her skirt always a little too short and her heels always a little too high. She believed in hard work, good education and female independency – in mind and body. Shoko admired her immensely.

“She is right”, Shoko agreed, mostly to drive Yutako’s attention to something else. “Are you prepared for exams already?”

Tarumi gave a loud groan.

“I’m going to fail English class for sure. All those vocabularies and all the reading. Who has time to read that much?” She threw up her hands in despair.

Shoko chuckled. She had read the books on the table, but she didn’t feel confident enough to offer her help. With most text, she had not even understood half of it.

“You could ask Jun for help”, she suggested. “He’s the class representative and seems very reliable. Also, he’s pretty smart and reads a lot, right?”

“Ah, he’s cute, isn’t he?”, Tarumi sighed and picked up one of her long pigtails to play with it.

“See!”, Yutako shouted and pointed at Tarumi as if she was accusing her of a crime. “She likes everyone! You can’t trust her judgement at all!”

Shoko laughed. She couldn’t deny that Yutako was right. Tarumi changed her crushes quickly.

“Wouldn’t that be fun?”, Tarumi asked and put her arm around Shoko’s shoulder. “We could go on a double date, you, me, Jun and Yutaka. We’d go to karaoke and have dinner afterwards.”

“Oi, what about me?!”, Yutako shouted, shoving against Tarumi’s shoulder.

“Ah, I thought there is no one you like”, Shoko teased her friend. “Or is there?”

Yutako crossed the arms in front of her chest.

“The boys in our class are all stupid. They only care about baseball and touching your boobs. I don’t want to go out with any of them.”

“What about Kenji?”, Tarumi suggested. “The three of them are always together. It would be perfect, three of them, three of us. And Kenji is really handsome. Also, he seems very nice.”

“Tarumi!”, Yutako and Shoko exclaimed simultaneously.

Shoko burst out laughing while Yutako shook her head in annoyance.

Tarumi pulled her arm back from Shoko’s shoulder and shrugged.

“We’ll just hook them up once while we are dating Yutaka and Jun. I should really ask him to help me with English lessons.”

“You won’t be learning anything, if you are just swooning over him”, Shoko teased.

“Right?”, Tarumi agreed. “Maybe I should ask the little nerd instead. He looks smart.”

“It’s probably just the glasses”, Yutako said.

Shoko wanted to protest, but had to laugh instead.

“True, he can’t be that smart. I’m sure he doesn’t even know the differences between men and women”, Tarumi joked.

“You are being mean”, Shoko interrupted them half-heartedly. She didn’t like that mean streak in her friends. Their comments always made her laugh anyway, though. “I’m sure he knows the difference.”

“Yeah, he looks like he watches lot of porn”, Yutako said and gained another round of laughter with it.

“There is nothing wrong with young people watching porn to educate themselves”, Junko sensei interrupted them. Over the laughter, they hadn’t heard her heels this time.

“Sensei, I don’t think he is watching it for the educational effect”, Tarumi said and Shoko punched lightly against her arm to make her shut up. Her silliness sometimes resulted in not knowing when to better stay silent.

“You should be on your way to class anyway”, Junko sensei said.

Shoko checked her watch. She was right. Class was about to start in four minutes. But once she entered the classroom, she would have to see Yutaka. She didn’t know how to act around him. Was it any different, after they had chatted last night? Of course, it had only been a few messages about class, but still. Would he say something to her? Would she manage to reply?

Shoko winced.

“Come on”, Yutako said sternly and took hold of her hand to pull Shoko from the daybed. “No excuses. Just try not to faint when he looks at you, okay?”

Shoko allowed her friend to pull her towards the door. Her hand felt warm and soothing. Yutako wasn’t frightened of anything. By her side, Shoko usually felt a little bit braver. But when she thought of Yutaka’s face, her heart still picked up pace.

* * *

His name was Kyan Yutaka. He was 16 years old. Today, he didn’t feel like himself, because he couldn’t stop thinking of a girl at all.

Usually, the girls came and went for him. It was easy to charm and even easier to disappoint them. But this time, he felt like maybe he didn’t want to be a disappointment for once.

“You coming for baseball training today?”, Kenji asked.

“Sure”, Yutaka mumbled, his eyes still fixed on the door to the classroom.

She was late today. Four minutes, until class was supposed to start.

“I might be a little late today”, Kenji announced. “I had a pain in my ankle lately and wanted to drop by at the infirmary to have it checked.”

Now Yutaka did turn his gaze to look at Kenji shortly. Underneath the white paint he wore his usual, innocent smile.

“You should be careful not to hurt yourself too often”, he warned.

His best friend’s behaviour had started to worry him lately. Still, he couldn’t blame him for constantly making up excuses to go to the infirmary. The nurse was hot, especially in her short, black skirts. But sooner or later someone would notice and it would lead Kenji into trouble. Unfortunately, Yutaka was too busy with his own worries to really bother at the moment.

The door to the classroom swung open and there she was. Right behind her best friend, clinging to her hand tightly. She had the habit of hiding behind Yutako as if she was scared of the world. Or maybe it was Yutako, drowning out everything else. She was loud and pretty and very straight-forward. For a long time, Yutaka had only seen her, when he looked at the group.

But then he had noticed Shoko and he wondered how he could have overlooked her for so long. She was sweet and shy and a little clumsy. Her short black hair was cute and the way she blushed, the way she laughed when Tarumi was fooling around again noisily and the way she looked to the ground when she was feeling awkward. Yutaka wanted her to look at him and he wanted to hear what she had to say when no one else was around to interrupt her and he wanted to put his arm around her, so she would feel safe and look less scared.

Shoko looked up and noticed him staring. Instead of feeling caught, Yutaka took his change and gave her a wide grin.

Hesitantly, she smiled back, before she blushed again and walked over to her table.

“You are still chasing after Shoko?”, teased Jun, who had obviously caught Yutaka staring as well. “How come you haven’t asked her out yet? You usually don’t waste that much time.”

Yutaka shrugged, trying to look indifferent.

“You know it’s impossible to get her away from Yutako. That woman is scaring me to death. She’ll never let Shoko go out with me alone.”

Kenji snorted.

“Yeah, your only chance is a double date.”

“Why don’t you ask her out then? We could go together”, Yutaka suggested, trying not to sound too eager.

He wasn’t desperately in love with Shoko. He was Kyan Yutaka. Women were desperately in love with him. He was just curious, because Shoko was different from the girls he had dated so far. She didn’t open up to people easily. Getting her to like him was a real challenge.

“No way.” Kenji shook his head. “I’m scared of Yutako. Also, she would never agree to go out with me.”

“Yes, it’s a kind of Taming of The Screw situation”, Jun agreed.

“A what?”, Kenji asked, furrowing his brow. Yutaka didn’t have a clue either.

“Taming of The … We had to … for English class … never mind.” Jun sighed and shook his head.

“Then you ask her”, Yutaka suggested.

“She’d eat me alive before I could even ask”, Jun protested.

Yutaka looked over to the group again. This time, it was him who caught Shoko staring. A warm feeling drippled through his chest. She had been watching him. Obviously, his message last night had been a good idea.

He winked at her.

This time, Shoko gave an embarrassed grin, showing her uneven teeth. Even those were cute, Yutaka thought. She turned her head away again.

“Isn’t there any guy whom Yutako doesn’t hate?”, Yutaka asked, scanning the classroom again.

His eyes fell onto his direct neighbour. As always, he was sitting hunched over, a book in hands. Yutaka wasn’t sure if he was actually reading in those, or if he just carried them around to hide behind them, so he didn’t have to interact with the world.

“Hey, Shou”, he said and clapped him on the shoulder.

In spite of the warning, Shou flinched when Yutaka touched him. He turned around and straightened his glasses in a nervous gesture.

“What?”, he asked.

Yutaka didn’t understand why he sounded so suspicious. They weren’t close friends, but he sometimes hung out with them anyway. Although he usually seemed to prefer the company of books and video games to actual human begins, group projects didn’t do themselves and two or three times he had actually joined Yutaka, Kenji and Jun at karaoke. He was a surprisingly good singer.

“You and Yutako get along well, don’t you? I really want to go out with Shoko, but Yutako will never leave her alone with me, so I’m looking for someone to join us on a double date. She has a weakness for you, doesn’t she?”

Shou looked at him irritated.

“She doesn’t”, he said.

“Ah, but wasn’t there this thing in middle school?” Yutaka looked back to Kenji and Jun for support, who both nodded eagerly. “Yutako beat up those older kids who were bullying you, didn’t she?”

Shou shrugged. His whole body moved awkwardly with the simple motion. It seemed as if he didn’t have a single grain of grace inside of him. Yutaka pitied him somehow, but he could also understand why he had been bullied. Something in him seemed to call out for it, although it had grown better during the last years.

“She didn’t beat them up. She just punched that one guy. But not because she likes me. It was simply kindness.”

Yutaka gave a low hum and studied Shou again closely. The thought that pretty, lively Yutako would favour him, seemed not very likely indeed.

“Still, if you asked her out, she would probably say yes. Just out of pity.”

Shou furrowed his brow.

Yutaka wondered if he had said anything wrong. He hadn’t meant it in a hurtful way. He had just stated the obvious. Yutako was proud enough to turn down the captain of the baseball team and the class representative without batting an eye. But she wouldn’t be cruel enough to crush poor Shou’s already lacking self-confidence.

“I don’t want her to go out with me, because she pities me”, Shou said. “Anyway, what is this about, that you need someone for a double date? You should just ask Shoko to go out with you, instead of scheming something. She is an independent human being who can make her own decisions. To go out with her, you need no one’s approval but hers.”

For a moment, no one said a word. Then Yutaka, Kenji and Jun burst out laughing at once.

“Man”, Yutaka said, clapping Shou’s shoulder once more. “You really have no clue about women.”

* * *

Her name was Yutako. She was 16 years old. Today, she needed a smoke badly. She had been trying to quit lately, but she felt stressed and like she needed the relieve of nicotine urgently.

The door to the roof of the school stood ajar, although students weren’t supposed to come up here.

Shoko and Tarumi would be waiting for her at the infirmary, but she would be with them after just one cigarette.

She pulled the package out from the pocket of the grey sweater she wore over her school uniform. It was crumpled and only contained three last cigarettes.

“Fuck”, she swore, realizing she had forgotten her lighter.

“Need fire?”, a voice interrupted her.

Yutako turned around, not surprised to find her classmate leaning against the railing of the roof. Since the door had been open, she had assumed he would be up here. For a long time, it had been their secret meeting spot.

“Yeah”, she confirmed, trotting over.

She had to admit that she could understand Shoko’s crush on him all too well. Yutaka was handsome with his dark hair usually worn in a bun, so his pierced ears were exposed. He had a charming smile and radiated just the right mixture of danger and good humour. She hadn’t been indifferent to it herself, for a while.

“Haven’t seen you around here lately, sweetie”, Yutaka observed, holding up a green lighter with the picture of a cartoon character on it.

“Oi, gimme that, jerk”, Yutako said, extending her hand for the lighter.

Yutaka shook his head with a grin and waved her closer. She sighed, pretending to be annoyed, though she had to admit she missed flirting with him sometimes. Putting the cigarette between her lips, she leaned forward, allowing Yutaka to light it for her. He was standing very close and she was glad when she could finally step away again.

“So, what’s up? Have you been avoiding me?”, Yutaka joked.

“Nah”, Yutako said and inhaled gravely. “Shoko is being a pain in the ass, because she wants me to quit, so I thought I’d give it a try.” She blew out the smoke through her mouth.

“Well, if it was Shoko who asked me, I’d consider quitting, too”, Yutaka said. His front teeth were slightly crooked, but somehow that made his open smile even more charming.

“You should leave her alone”, Yutako scolded. Suddenly, Yutaka’s smile didn’t seem charming any longer. She was just annoyed with it.

“Be careful, cutie. People might think you are jealous”, Yutaka said.

Yutako snorted, looking out onto the schoolyard beneath them. It was a sunny day, but still kind of chilly. She liked the feeling of the sun on her face, though.

“She is just very shy and inexperienced. Someone needs to watch out for her”, she said.

She thought of Shoko. Of sweet, innocent Shoko, who had blushed this morning at the sheer mention of the word porn. A wave of affection rushed through her. She would not allow the world to break Shoko. She would not allow a lightheaded guy like Yutaka to hurt her. She would keep her save from reality. Yutako would stand between Shoko and the world forever.

“I still think I will ask her out on a date today”, Yutaka said, stubbing out his cigarette on top of the metal railing. The ashes remained, leaving a dirty stain.

Yutako felt angry. She didn’t understand why he had to provoke her like that. And she didn’t understand why the thought of Shoko going out with him upset her so much. It was impossible she was feeling jealous. She didn’t care for Yutaka at all, like she didn’t care for any guy lately. He was nice and funny, but in a way that was boring and predictable. It felt as if anything he had to say to her, she had heard a million times before already. Since a while, all the conversations with guys felt like that. They had nothing new to tell her, nothing was ever surprising or interesting about them.

“I’m not allowing that”, she said.

Yutaka threw back his head and laughed. His laughter sounded rehearsed.

“What are you laughing at?”, she inquired loudly.

Yutaka shook his head.

“You make it sound as if I was pure evil trying to spoil your dear friend.”

Yutako shrugged, slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden. She had nothing to justify her objections.

“Shoko is a good girl. She shouldn’t hang out with troublemakers like you.”

“A troublemaker?”, Yutaka repeated teasingly. “Some people say that about you, too, you know? Sneaking up to the roof to smoke, skipping classes.”

Yutako flicked her tongue. They had skipped classes together a couple of times. Everyone had gossiped how it was only a matter of time until they would hook up. For a while, Yutako had believed it was only a matter of time, too.

Maybe it was that. Even if she didn’t like Yutaka, they had a lot in common. Their temper was the same. It would make sense if he liked Yutako. But Shoko? What did he see in a shy girl like her? Was it that what guys wanted, in the end? Something Yutako could never live up to? A quiet, blushing girl who looked up to them like Shoko looked up to Yutaka?

She was jealous, Yutako realized, but it had nothing to do with Yutaka. It was a more general jealousy and the fear of being left behind. She liked the way it was. Her not being interested in anyone and Shoko by her side, looking up to her, holding her hand, not replacing her with some dude with a handsome smile. She didn’t want Shoko to become popular, because she didn’t know where that would leave her. She wouldn’t know which direction to head into, if Shoko wasn’t there to follow.

“Just leave her alone”, she repeated and stubbed out her cigarette on the railing just like Yutaka had done before.

“I will just ask her anyway”, Yutaka insisted. “Shoko is an independent human being who can make her own decisions. To go out with her, I need no one’s approval but hers.”

Surprised Yutako looked up. It wasn’t what she had expected him to say. It sounded more mature than something a guy from her class would say. It sounded like something Junko sensei would tell them, in one of her raging fits.

“Who said that?”, she asked.

“I say that”, Yutaka replied.

Yutako scanned him throughout. For the first time in a long while, she felt something like a spark of interest. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough credit. Maybe he wasn’t just a stupid, boring guy like all the others.

“I …”, she started, but was interrupted, when the door to the roof banged against the wall loudly.

“Yutako, I have been looking for you everywhere!”, Shoko shouted. “You promised to quit smoking. If Junko sensei finds out, she is going to be so mad.”

“Nah.” Yutako gave a dismissive wave with her entire arm. “I’ll just tell her it is my decision what to do with my body and then she’ll start lecturing us about a woman’s right in modern society until she has completely forgotten what we were talking about to begin with.”

Only now did Shoko’s eyes fall onto Yutaka standing next to her. It happened what was supposed to happen. Her eyes widened and her cheeks changed colour.

“Oh, hi, Ky … Kyan “, she stammered and turned her eyes to the ground.

Yutako groaned.

“Shoko”, Yutaka said, brushing back a lock of dark hair from his face. The gesture looked rehearsed, too. “Thanks again for helping me out yesterday. I would have been lost without you.”

“Sure.” Shoko nodded violently, addressing her answer to the ground instead of speaking to Yutaka’s face.

Yutako felt uncomfortable just watching her. She wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her. She wanted to tell her not to make it so easy for Yutaka. She wanted her best friend back, who seemed to vanish in Yutaka’s presence entirely and left behind only a hesitant smile and silence.

“I’m sure you would have survived. You never do math homework anyway”, Yutako said harshly.

It had been meant to discredit Yutaka, but he just laughed it off.

“That’s true, unfortunately”, he admitted. “But I’m trying to better myself, now that exams are drawing near.”

His eyes were fixed on Shoko.

Yutako wanted to jump in front of her and expend her arms to shield her. She wasn’t sure, though, if it was to protect Shoko from his gaze, or so that all eyes would be on herself.

“We should look for Tarumi, come on”, she said instead and took hold of Shoko’s arm.

She didn’t protest as Yutako led her over to the door.

“See you at class”, Yutaka shouted after them as if he needed to remind them that there was absolutely no way of avoiding him.

Yutako felt angry at his impudence and she felt angry at Shoko’s sheepishness. She was angry at herself, too, for letting it get to her so much. Nowadays, no one seemed to make any sense anymore.

* * *

His name was Darvish Kenji. He was 19 years old. Today, it was his ankle that troubled him.

“Sensei”, he called out from the door. “Do you have a moment?”

Junko swung around in her swivel chair. She sat with her long legs in the nylon tights crossed, giving him an intriguing look over her glasses. Kenji loved that look of hers. It was supposed to seem stern, but she could never hide the spark of humour behind her eyes, that told all too clearly, she was just making fun of him.

“So, Kenji, what is it today? Caught a cold? Broke a bone? A strange birthmark you need me to check?”

Kenji cursed himself inwardly for not having come up with the birthmark-trope himself. It would have given him the opportunity to show off the best parts of his body. Surely, Junko couldn’t remain indifferent to those.

“It’s my ankle”, he said and made a big show of limping over to the daybed. “It hurts when I tread.”

“Is that so”, Junko mused and pointed the black pen she was holding over to the bed. “Sit down and I’ll have a look at it.”

Kenji sat down, dangling his legs from the daybed and stripping off his shoes.

Junko got up from her desk and walked over to him.

Kenji couldn’t keep his eyes of her legs, when she moved. Everything about her motions was smooth. He loved the clicking of her heels, which made her legs look even better and the long strand of fair hair falling over her shoulder onto her white coat. He adored her full lips that always seemed to hold back a smirk and the smell of her sweet perfume.

Junko was different from the girls in his class. She was a woman.

Kenji couldn’t understand Yutaka’s excitement over shy Shoko, who seemed so uncomfortable with her own body. Even Yutako’s stubbornness reminded him only of a child stamping their foot.

What he was looking for was a mature woman, with a strong mind and the ability to use her body just the way she wanted to use it.

Every movement of Junko and every click of her heels hit the target like a deathly blow.

She pulled up another chair and sat down in front of Kenji. Almost playfully, she padded her knee. Kenji followed her silent request and put his foot onto it. He had decided, that it would be his right ankle hurting.

“What kind of pain is it?”, Junko asked, rolling up Kenji’s pants with practiced motions. His whole body turned hot when her fingers brushed against his bare calf. It was exciting to be this close to her.

“The horrible kind”, Kenji said. “Almost unbearable.”

Junko’s fingers felt his ankle now. Her grip was firm and sure. Kenji tried not to think of all the other things these hands could do to him.

“Is it sharp? Dull? More of a stinging? Or a nagging?” She was looking down on Kenji’s foot, not into his face.

“Sharp”, Kenji lied. “Piercing.”

“I see”, Junko said and looked up to him. Her gaze behind the glasses was less amused than usual. “Kenji? You are going to die.”

Kenji pulled back his foot from her grip and pressed his hand to his heart.

“Really, sensei?”, he asked. “Is it that severe?”

Junko pushed back her chair and nodded gravely.

“I’m sorry you to tell you this. It’s a very serious case of simulating. The chances for survival are zero.”

Kenji let his shoulders drop and watched Junko walk over to her desk again. From behind, he loved to see her walk even more. She bent over to note down something in his record. She kept it on her desk at all times. Kenji loved to see her bending over, too.

“I have to file in that you were here to have your ankle checked”, she said without turning around. Her voice was always even, a little sing-songing. “You’ve been here eleven times already this month. You should take care or there will be someone asking questions soon.”

“I just want to see you”, Kenji said. He cleared his throat, because he sounded hoarse all of a sudden. Junko knew how he felt about her. He had expressed it clearly time and time again.

Now she did turn around to him. She was smiling, but it was a distant smile.

“As much as I appreciate your company, Kenji, we should both know our place.”

“Sensei”, Kenji said, getting up and hastily slipping into his shoes again. “Junko”, he added.

“Ah”, Junko sighed and brushed back the single lock of hair over her shoulder.

Kenji stepped towards her, putting his hand onto her shoulder. Junko did not back off, but met his gaze evenly.

“I adore you, Junko”, he said. “I want you. I know you feel attracted to me, too. I can tell.”

Junko lowered her eyes now, but not to avoid his. She let them trail over his body throughout, before returning to his face again.

“You might be handsome”, she said. “But not irresistible. You are still a boy, Kenji.”

He pulled back his hand, suddenly feeling frustrated. It was true, that he loved that maturity about her, but it also meant he would never win an argument with her. It was impossible to surprise or trick her into a concession. She knew her stand all too well.

“Is that what you tell those girls constantly hanging out around you? I thought you teach them to be self-confident about the things they want. I want you.”

Junko turned her back towards him, sorting through the records on her desk. The gesture was entirely dismissive. She didn’t care about his arguments enough to even look at him. Kenji’s chest felt tight and painful.

“Of course, I support a mature approach to love and sexuality. But this is different.”

“How?”, Kenji asked. His voice sounded high and begging. He sounded like the boy Junko still saw in him. It made it all the more frustrating to know that she was partly right.

“If one of the girls told me they wanted to enter a healthy, sexual relationship with a boy their age, I would fully support them and tell them to stay safe. If they considered entering the same relationship with a 34-year-old man, I would find the guy and chop off his balls personally. That’s how it’s different.”

Kenji exhaled gravely.

“I know what I want”, he repeated.

Junko turned around again and waved at the door. Even the movement of her hands seemed elegant somehow.

“Right now, you should want to be at baseball training”, she said.

Kenji knew he had lost the argument. Once again.

* * *

His name was Utahiroba Jun. He was 16 years old. Today, he wanted to prove that he was a good class representative.

“Tarumi!”, he called out, hurrying through the corridor. He would be late for baseball training, but he was usually just spending it on the substitute’s bench anyway. Kenji and Yutaka were the stars of the team. Jun was just there.

The girl with the long, black pigtails turned around.

“Eh, Jun!”, she exclaimed, beaming at him. She had a cute smile, Jun thought. “What is it?”

“I heard that you have problems with the upcoming English exam”, he said, slightly out of breath from running after her.

Tarumi pulled at the retaining strap of her backpack. She made a face as if she wanted to break down in tears.

“Yes!”, she whined, still keeping on her silly expression. “I don’t understand a thing!”

“I could help you with learning, if you want to”, Jun offered. “I’m used to it. Kenji failed class two times already and he is still not doing his homework, so I’m used to helping out in the last minute.”

“That is so kind of you, Jun!” Tarumi was beaming again. She clapped her hands. Happiness seemed to radiate out from her. Jun wondered where that change had come from so suddenly.

“It’s not a problem, really”, he said. “I’m the class representative after all. It’s my duty to help everyone as best as I can.”

“You are so responsible, it’s amazing”, Tarumi mused cheerfully. “I wish I was more like that. I wouldn’t have troubles studying last minute so much then.”

Jun smiled at her. He didn’t really know how to act around her. Tarumi was cute and so full of energy. He wasn’t good with women like Yutaka was good with women. He never found the right words.

“So, just write to me, when you are free. We can meet on the weekend to study together”, he offered.

“Yes”, Tarumi said and flexed her knees a little, so that Jun was afraid she would just jump of the floor any moment.

“But”, she added as if on second thought. “Who told you I needed help anyway?”

“It was Shoko”, Jun said. “She suggested I’d offer my help.”

Suggesting was a nice word of putting it. If Jun was being honest, he didn’t just offer his help, because it was his duty as a class representative. In fact, it wasn’t his duty at all.

He himself would probably have been too hesitant to approach Tarumi like this, but Shoko had not given him much of a choice. She had just told him in this calm voice of hers and then smiled at him.

Jun seriously wondered why his friends called Yutako scary and Shoko sweet. Shoko had a calm aura around her, that didn’t come from being shy, but from absolute determination. She knew what she wanted and she would not change her mind about it. Sure, if you crossed Yutako, she would scream at you no matter who was watching. But an hour later she would joke around with you again as if nothing had happened. If you crossed Shoko, she would smile at you innocently and tell you it was fine. But at night, she would creep in through your window and cut your throat. Jun was sure of that.

Neither of them was anything like Tarumi, who switched from utter despair to bright happiness like a hyperactive bouncy ball. Everything she felt, she carried directly to the outside without any filtering. There was nothing dishonest or insincere about her. Jun thought, it was a great quality in a person.

“That was very nice of her. She’s such a good friend”, Tarumi said.

“Apparently”, Jun replied warily. He didn’t know how to continue the conversation.

“You have baseball training now, don’t you?”, Tarumi went on.

She still sounded happy and cheerful. Obviously, she hadn’t noticed the short pause in their conversation. Other than Jun, she didn’t seem anxious at all. Jun was good at feeling anxious. Tarumi had called him responsible, but truth was rather, that Jun was pretty tense. He didn’t know how to play baseball or how to chat with pretty girls. But he knew how to organize schedules and read books. He usually stuck to the things he was good at.

“Yes, I’m running late already.”

“I can walk you to the court”, Tarumi offered.

“Thank you”, Jun mumbled, because once again he didn’t know what else to say. He directed his steps towards the staircase, Tarumi walking next to him. Her steps were bouncing indeed.

“So, you really like books and things, don’t you?”, she asked.

Jun wasn’t sure what other things she might be referring to, but then probably Tarumi didn’t know either.

“Yeah”, he just said and after a short pause added. “And you don’t?” It was a stupid question and a stupid way to keep the conversation going – Jun was painfully aware of that. Luckily, Tarumi seemed indifferent to it.

“No, I absolutely don’t. But I do like baseball”, she said.

Jun pushed open the doors that led them out onto the schoolyard with a sigh.

“Then there are already two things we don’t have in common.”

Tarumi laughed out loud.

“But you are on the baseball team!”, she protested.

“Only because Kenji and Yutaka made me join them. Kenji is the captain, so he let me in on the team without any qualification.”

“I’m sure that is not true”, Tarumi said, playing with one of her pigtails as they walked over to the court. “You are qualified for sure.”

“Yes”, Jun said dryly. “No one sits at the side-lines like I do.”

Tarumi laughed again. Jun was surprised at how easy it was to make her laugh. He had never managed to make girls laugh – at least not on purpose.

“I still think you look pretty cool, sitting at the side-lines”, Tarumi said lightly.

Jun’s throat felt dry. He didn’t know what to say. Tarumi thought he was cool? Really? It seemed like a mistake to him.

“Anyway, I have to go now. Yutako and Shoko are waiting for me, we wanted to do our homework together today. But I guess Shoko just wants to make sure we really do it. I’m looking forward to the weekend!”

With that Tarumi turned around and just dashed off. She seemed like a very happy tornado to him. Jun was looking forward to the weekend, too.

* * *

“Mmh, I don’t know”, Shoko said. She was lying on Yutako’s bed, hanging her head down the side, so she felt the blood rushing into it. “Gackt, maybe?”

“Ew”, Yutako protested, throwing a pillow at her from the other end of the bed. “You are gross.”

Shoko shrugged. It felt weird, upside down like that.

“I really like him”, she defended herself. “I’ll become friends with him, once I’m a celebrity myself.”

“And what do you want to become famous as?”, Yutako asked. Shoko couldn’t see her face, but she used her joking tone of voice. “Idol in a girl group? Top model? Porn actress?”

Shoko shot up into a sitting position. There was still too much blood in her head and she felt dizzy.

“Comedian!”, she exclaimed and made a face at Yutako that made her friend burst out laughing indeed. “See, I’m funny.”

“You are stupid”, Yutako correct her. “I myself will become a famous baseball star. Or join a rock band. Or become an astronaut. I haven’t decided yet.”

Shoko laughed.

“Very feminine jobs, as expected of you”, she pointed out.

Yutako waved it off.

“Gender norms won’t be a problem for us. Until then, Junko sensei will have torn down the patriarchy with her own two hands.”

Shoko chuckled and laid down on her back in a more relaxed position.

“I really admire her a lot”, she said. “Being a nurse like her would be amazing, too.”

“Yeah, she really changed my opinion on a lot of things”, Yutako admitted. She sounded more serious than she usually did. “I’m not saying that I thought guys were awesome before, but … Suddenly it feels like it’s not enough.”

Her tone of voice told Shoko that her friend was telling her something important, something that had been on her mind for a long time already. But Shoko didn’t really understand it nonetheless. When she thought of Yutaka, his smile was more than enough to her.

“You don’t have to be content”, she said vaguely. “That is what Junko sensei is telling us. Don’t just settle for something, but figure out what you really want.”

“I’m still figuring”, Yutako sighed.

“Junko sensei also said it’s okay to try out new things, if the old ones don’t make you happy”, Shoko said.

“Oi!”, Yutako shouted. “Are you flirting with me, Shoko?”

Shoko raised her head to wink at her best friend meaningful, before dropping back into the sheets.

“You little slut”, Yutako said and laughed. With her the jokes were always easy. Shoko wished she could be like that when talking to Yutaka. That she wouldn’t blush and stutter. That her chest wouldn’t feel so tight and her knees not so weak. That she could be herself around him, too.

Yutako shuffled over to lay down next to Shoko. Her body so close was warm and familiar. Shoko could smell the sweet chemistry of her hair-products.

“Are you judging me for liking Yutaka?”, Shoko asked. “Do you think I should be more independent and not fall for him, because he is just another one of those immature idiots?”

Yutako sighed. She was smelling a little of smoke, too. A sharp pain went to Shoko’s chest. She had been up on the roof with Yutaka today. She didn’t want to feel jealous, but she did. She felt jealous it was so easy for Yutako to talk to him. She had heard the rumours about them, too, although her friend had always denied the gossip.

“I’m not judging you”, Yutako said surprisingly gentle. She reached out and pushed back Shoko’s hair, playing with one of the short strands. Although she couldn’t really feel the touch, Shoko liked the intimacy of it. “I’m just scared you’ll leave me behind. You’ll be lovey-dovey with him and I’ll be all alone.”

“You’ll still have Tarumi”, Shoko offered and Yutako let go of her hair. She groaned.

“I will go crazy. Let’s be real, Tarumi is not the brightest one. And when she just keeps on chatting about her crushes that change every other week, I’ll choke her to death. And you won’t even be there to visit me in prison.”

Shoko chuckled and picked up one of Yutako’s hair-strands herself now, swirling it around between her fingers.

“I will visit you”, she promised. “I mean, at least on the days when Yutaka is busy.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”, Yutako exclaimed and pinched Shoko’s upper arm.

In reflex Shoko reached up to cover the place with her hand.

“Ouch!”, she said. Yutako looked at least slightly sorry.

Shoko lowered her hand again, placing it over Yutako’s breastbone instead.

“I promise, you will always be my second choice”, she whispered.

Yutako burst out laughing and rolled over to get on top of Shoko.

“Hey, stop that”, Shoko protested with a squeal, buried beneath her friend. She floundered with her legs to free herself, but Yutako had her arms around her, pressing Shoko to the bed with her full weight. Against her will, Shoko sensed her cheeks heating up again.

“Oh, you are so cute”, Yutako called out, noticing the blush. “I can see now what Yutaka likes in you.”

She pressed down her lips on Shoko’s for a short kiss.

“Don’t just do that”, Shoko complained as she pulled back. Licking her lips, she could taste Yutako’s lip gloss on them.

“Ah, I’m sure Yutaka would do even more to you. He’s a devil”, Yutako joked and placed more kisses on Shoko’s cheek.

Shoko hated it when her friend attacked her like that, but at the same time it was those random outbursts that she loved Yutako for. She felt embarrassed, but in a happy way. She still felt awkward, not being able to express her feelings as openly as Yutako did, not feeling as self-confident as her. But with Yutako, it also felt like it was alright to be that way, like it was safe with her. Sometimes Shoko wondered if that wasn’t what it was supposed to feel like and that thought was pretty confusing and made her blush even harder in her friend’s embrace.

Finally, Yutako stopped her attack, burying her face against Shoko’s neck instead. Shoko reached up and wrapped her arms around Yutako’s waist. Even through the thick sweater she could feel the outlines of her thin body clearly that way. She felt warm and soft and smelled very sweet.

Hugging her like that, Shoko felt protected and fearless. With Yutako’s arms around her, the world wasn’t frightening at all.

“I will never leave you behind”, she said quietly, because it was always easier when she couldn’t see her face. “I need you.”

“I need you, too, Shoko”, Yutako whispered back somewhere against her neck. Her breath tingled against Shoko’s skin.

“Will you let go of me now, though?”, Shoko asked after a short pause.

“No, I’ll stay here forever”, Yutako said. “I’m the ultimate cock-blocker. Get past this, Yutaka!”

Shoko laughed. The heaving of her chest was muffled by Yutako’s weight.

“Okay, but …”

The door flew open. A cold rush of air flooded in.

“You will never believe what just happened! Jun asked me out on a date!”, Tarumi shouted and Yutako sat up, rolling her eyes at Shoko before she climbed down from her.

Shoko tried not to grin at her annoyance.

“Oh, did he?”, she asked innocently.

“Yes”, Tarumi confirmed, closing the door behind herself again and sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bed. “He offered to study with me for the English exam.”

“That is not a date then”, Yutako said dryly. She didn’t seem happy about the interruption at all. “That’s a lost cause.”

Shoko shoved against her shoulder to stop her sarcasm.

“That’s so exciting”, she said. She wasn’t happy about the interruption either. Lately, things between her and Yutako had been difficult at times. They had needed a moment of truth to clear the air. She was glad about the interruption as well, though. So clear, the air had felt almost strange.

* * *

Her name was Tarumi. She was 17 years old. Today, she had decided that she was in love, probably.

From her seat she eyed Jun. She liked his purple hair a lot. He was sitting with Kenji and Yutaka, chatting away. Lunch break had already started, but no one had bothered to leave the classroom yet. Kenji and Yutaka were handsome, too. Tarumi had liked both of them for a while, like she had liked pretty much every guy in class for a while. But Jun was different. He was a little tense around her. Somehow, that was nice. And he wanted to meet her on the weekend. For studying, but nonetheless. They would see about how much studying they would get done.

“I told you he messaged me. After class”, Shoko said.

Tarumi returned her attention to her friends, after she hadn’t been listening to them for a while. She had expected they would head straight to the infirmary once the bell rung for the break. Tarumi was glad Junko sensei allowed them to spend their time there. She was the most impressive woman Tarumi had ever met.

But today, Shoko and Yutako made no move to leave the classroom. They were arguing.

“And you just agreed?”, Yutako asked.

There was always something frightening about her inquiries. Her voice usually sounded angry. The tone she used now was different, though. There was always humour behind her anger; a hidden laugh that might break through her shouts any time. Now, she sounded different, like she was fighting down something with her anger that wasn’t laughter for a change.

“It’s just a date”, Shoko replied. “There is nothing wrong with it.”

Hearing her talk that determined was rare, too. Tarumi had the feeling there was something going on between her friends, that she couldn’t quite grasp.

She looked over to the boys again.

Thinking about Jun seemed a lot easier than understanding Shoko and Yutako. Beneath Shoko’s shy smile and Yutako’s loud voice there always seemed to lurk something else. Feelings that weren’t voiced but that still controlled their actions. Tarumi had never been like that. She usually spoke her mind freely. It made things a lot easier.

Right now, she was pretty sure that Shoko and Yutako weren’t really arguing about the date with Yutaka on the weekend.

“I think it’s nice he asked her out. He’s cute”, she jumped in to help Shoko.

Both of them gave her a stern look that signalled clearly for her to stay out of it.

“I can’t believe you are so easy. The first handsome guy who asks you out and you are head over heels for him already”, Yutako said.

Shoko crossed the arms in front of her chest. She was still calm, but knowing her, Tarumi could tell she was angry. Yutako had hit her below the belt. Tarumi could feel her all too well. Yutako was used to the attention from guys. She didn’t understand how nice a little attention could feel sometimes. Tarumi had been able to tell by her facial expression when she talked about Jun. She was reminding Shoko of the fact that she wasn’t popular.

“I liked Yutaka before already”, Shoko confessed, her voice still quiet and even. “I’m happy he finally noticed me.”

Yutako snorted, slapping her hand flatly onto the table.

“You never even told me you liked him.”

“I couldn’t tell you”, Shoko said. Tarumi hoped she would shut up, but she could tell by the look in her eyes that she wouldn’t. She was furious. Tarumi knew what she was going to say. “Not with the way it was between you and Yutaka.”

For the first time in her life did Tarumi see Yutako speechless. There was no anger on her face and no smile. For a moment, her face was entirely expressionless as if she was so baffled, she couldn’t even decide what to feel.

“There was nothing between me and Yutaka. I told you time and time again”, she finally said.

Tarumi knew that Shoko hadn’t believed her, because she hadn’t, either.

Shoko leaned back on her chair. Tarumi wanted to say something, but she had no words to mediate.

She looked at Yutako’s face and the expression on it worried her. If she looked really closely, she could see Yutako’s lower lip trembling slightly.

“I thought at least you believed me”, Yutako said. She looked small all of her sudden.

“I know how you are with guys”, Shoko said coldly.

Yutako pushed back her chair and jumped up. She was staring down on Shoko, but it was hard to tell if she was angry or shocked.

Shoko had crossed a line. She had done the one thing a friend was not allowed to do. She had judged her.

Tarumi expected her to say something, to deliver a last blow. Yutako always had plenty of words to fire. But instead she just turned around and stormed out of the classroom. Tarumi knew why she had wanted to get away so fast. She had seen the glistening in her eyes.

“That wasn’t very nice of you”, Tarumi said.

Shoko looked straight ahead to the empty seat where Yutako had been sitting just now. Her arms were still crossed in front of her chest. She was still angry.

“She wasn’t very nice, either”, she said.

Tarumi looked over to the door. She wondered if they should go after Yutako. But then she probably needed time to calm down. Shoko needed time, too.

“You should apologize”, she added.

Shoko nodded.

Yutako didn’t understand what it meant to long for someone. She never took the time to find out. But it wasn’t her fault. Lately, she didn’t seem very happy, either.

“Maybe it was a mistake to agree to the date”, Shoko said.

“It wasn’t”, Tarumi said. Maybe Shoko felt guilty towards Yutako, or maybe she thought her friend was right and Yutaka was a bad choice. But Tarumi was certain that Shoko had a right to make her own decision on that.

“We should go look for her”, Shoko finally said with a deep breath. “You check the roof. I go to the infirmary.”

“Alright”, Tarumi agreed.

She looked over to the table where Jun had sat with his friends before. They had left the classroom already.

She hated it when her friends fought.

* * *

His name was Kiryuuin Shou. He was 17 years old. Today – like any other day – he was hiding in the library.

He didn’t hide from his classmates, because he wasn’t able to deal with them. He just preferred not to. With some good friends, life might have been easier for him. But he was fine with just getting along well with everyone without any deeper involvement. The daily conversations wore him out and nothing the others guys had to say seemed interesting enough to redeem the effort.

His female classmates wouldn’t have paid attention to him, even if he tried.

Shou stared at the letters in front of him. It was always silent in the library, even during the lunch breaks. Usually, no one else bothered to come here.

Today, something was different, though. Someone had bothered.

Shou could hear their steps somewhere behind the next shelf. He heard sniffling, too. Someone disturbed his peace with their crying. Shou didn’t like that development at all. Dealing with people’s emotions wasn’t his strong point. Crying usually meant a lot of emotions. Shou didn’t want any of those near him.

The steps came closer.

He looked up.

A female individual had stepped into his aisle.

That wasn’t good.

Shou didn’t know how to talk to women. Least of all when they were crying.

Moreover, it was a certain woman this time.

He would have known the long hair everywhere, the grey sweater and the skirt that for some reason was the shortest in class. Shou did his best not to stare at Yutako’s legs, covered by white leg warmers mostly – but not entirely. Just looking at her bare thighs made Shou’s face change colour.

He didn’t have a crush on Yutako, because he didn’t allow himself to have crushes on anyone. Crushes were for guys who were playing baseball – those guys who actually had dates. Shou wasn’t allowed to even get his hopes up.

If he had gotten his hopes up for anyone, it would have been Yutako, though.

She hadn’t turned her head, so she had not spotted Shou yet.

As quietly as possible, he grabbed for his bag on the floor.

She would never forgive him, if she realized he had seen her crying. Yutako wasn’t the kind of person who allowed others to see her being weak.

She turned her head.

Shou tried to make himself as small as possible behind the table.

It did not help.

She had seen him.

Whipping her face with the end of her sleeve, she came towards him, grabbing a chair and sitting down in front of him without any introduction.

Shou stared at her.

He couldn’t recall the last time he had been this close to her. Up close, her face was even more beautiful. She had large eyes and gorgeous lips.

Shou remembered the time she had punched that guy in middle school. Yutaka had thought it had something to do with her liking Shou, but he himself had never had any illusion about that incident. She just had a lot of passion in her and strong opinions. She would not stand by when someone was being bullied, no matter who that was. Shou liked her for saving him back then. Not because she had helped him personally, but because she was the kind of person who did stand up for others. Shou wished he would be able to even stand up for himself.

“I wasn’t crying”, Yutako said harshly. “I had something in my eye.”

Shou nodded, as if that was a perfectly normal way to start a conversation.

“It happens to me, too”, he said. “It’s dusty in here.”

Yutako stared at the book in his hands as if it had personally offended her.

“Why do you always sit here alone?”, she asked.

Her voice suggested that it wasn’t a question but an inquisition.

“I don’t really like talking to people much”, Shou said honestly.

Yutako sighed and leaned back on her chair. There wasn’t a hint on her face or in her posture that showed how vulnerable she had been only moments ago.

“I don’t like that much, either”, she admitted.

Shou snorted. He just couldn’t help it.

Yutako raised her eyebrows at him. She seemed annoyed with his reaction.

“What? You don’t believe me?”, she inquired.

Apologetic Shou shrugged. He hadn’t meant to offend her. The thought of Yutako understanding how he felt just seemed absurd to him. Yutako, of all the people.

“It’s just that you are popular. Everyone likes you.”

Yutako shook her head violently. The braids on top of her hair bounced up and down.

“Everyone calls me scary. That’s not the same as being popular”, she said.

Shou looked at his book and then into her face again. It wasn’t easy to do that. Being that close to her was still frightening and her challenging look did not help to make him feel at ease.

When they were still younger, they used to chat more often. But as they grew older and everything was about dating suddenly, Yutako had just turned to the popular guys. She had been close with Yutaka for a while. Shou wondered if that idiot even had anything interesting to say to her. But it didn’t matter. He had a handsome face and Shou did not.

“You are scary”, he said. “I mean, I’m scared of you. I’m scared to death right now. But that doesn’t mean much. I’m scared of all pretty women.”

Yutako’s gaze went from slightly annoyed to furiously piercing immediately. Shou realized what he had done wrong instantly.

“Also, women who are not pretty”, he corrected himself. “All sorts of women, basically. It wasn’t a compliment, I swear.”

The scorn vanished from Yutako’s face. She was smiling even.

“No compliment taken”, she said and nodded towards the book. Her voice was softer now than usual, less aggressive. “So, you are really reading all those books?”

“Nah, I just use them to hide my porn magazines in them”, Shou said.

Yutako chuckled. It was such a sweet sound, Shou couldn’t believe he was the one who had caused it.

She was looking at him more curiously now, as if suddenly she saw something she had overlooked so far. Shou felt uncomfortable, because he was all too aware that he had nothing interesting to offer for her to notice.

“You are funny”, Yutako finally observed.

Shou bit his lower lip.

“I had the choice between becoming very handsome or incredible funny. And I thought: Let’s go for funny, that will surely get you the girls”, he said sarcastically.

This time, Yutako laughed out for real. Her face lit up when she laughed like that, with those eyes and that smile and teeth. Shou stared at her in awe.

“Here”, he added hastily, hoping she would stay with him a little longer. He pushed the book over to her, exposing the manga that he was hiding inside.

Yutako bend forward to look at it and then raised her eyes at him in surprise. She really did look curious, now.

“You are not reading books!”, she exclaimed. “You are just reading manga the whole time?”

“Yeah”, Shou admitted with a weak grin. “Books are so long and there is so much text in them. But it makes you look smart and people are less likely to disturb you. They are scared you might talk to them intellectually.”

Yutako laughed once more.

“I love reading manga, too”, she said.

Shou eyed her critically. He didn’t want to come off as rude, but he didn’t think much of woman who just read stupid romance manga all the time. In the end, it was all about handsome guys again as if that was all they could think about.

“I have a huge collection of comedy manga. I know most people think those are for children, but I swear, I just can’t stop buying them!”

“Really?” Now it was Shou who looked at Yutako with new curiosity. He had thought her to be like everyone else, but then again there probably wasn’t such a thing as everyone.

“Absolutely”, she confirmed. “I can borrow you some. Better than talking to people, right?”

Shou nodded hesitantly. He couldn’t quite believe that she would ever talk to him again after today, but it was nice she was trying. It wasn’t her fault she would probably forget about his existence as soon as he was out of her sight. They just lived in different worlds entirely.

“Right”, he said. There was a small pause.

“Can I … What were you so upset about, when you came in?”, he finally asked. He wasn’t sure if it was alright to ask, but he assumed she needed someone to talk to. Probably, she would not tell him anyway.

Yutako shrugged. It looked funny in her big sweater, he noted.

“I had a fight with Shoko, that’s all.”

Shou felt his spirits sinking instantly. Of course, it was probably about that guy Yutaka. He had had his eyes on Shoko lately and everyone knew the rumours about him and Yutako. Naturally, he was the type she would like. He was the type that all the girls liked.

“What do you think of Yutaka?”, Yutako asked as if she had read his thoughts.

“He’s an idiot”, Shou said, before he could think better of it. He was an idiot for stealing Yutako’s attention away, although he was boring and immature and probably didn’t care for her favourite sort of manga at all.

“Right?”, Yutako said. She blew out a strand of hair from her face. “I’ve been telling Shoko again and again, but she won’t listen.”

Shou realized he had misinterpreted the situation.

“He’s not a bad guy, though”, he added.

Even if personally, he didn’t like Yutaka much, he had never been unfriendly towards him and it was obvious that his intentions with Shoko were sincere.

Yutako sighed, putting her elbow on the table and her chin onto her closed fist.

“I know”, she admitted.

Shou studied her face closely. It wasn’t easy to find the right words, not knowing the full situation. But he knew he was supposed to say something.

“Just because you feel that way, doesn’t mean it must be the same for Shoko”, he said carefully, waiting for Yutako to explode on him. Instead she looked at him attentively as if she really cared for what he had to say.

“You always seem to be very sure of your opinions. That can make it frightening to admit insecurities to you”, he carried on.

He didn’t know Shoko all that well, but he was sure that in her position, he would have been scared to speak to Yutako openly about liking someone she did not approve of. He almost pitied Shoko. Having a best friend like that couldn’t be easy. There was always a lot of pressure about everything.

“You think I should apologize?”, Yutako made sure.

Shou turned down his eyes, because meeting her gaze for too long was irritating and he felt himself starting to blush.

“Not everyone is as self-confident as you”, he said. “She probably needs your support, even if you don’t approve of her decisions.”

Yutako sighed heavily and sat up straight again.

“You are pretty smart, Shou”, she admitted. “Even if you don’t read books.”

Shou chuckled. He realized she would leave now. It was startling they had had such a long conversation to begin with.

She pushed back her chair and squinted her eyes at him as if considering something.

“Do you like me?”, she asked out of the blue.

Now, Shou was blushing for sure. His cheeks felt hot. There didn’t seem to be a correct answer to that.

“I think you are amazing”, he said. It sounded almost like a question.

“Okay.” Yutako nodded. Her voice was louder again. She wasn’t thoughtful or hesitant anymore. She was back to being absolutely sure of herself.

Shou had no idea what she meant with “okay”.

“What?”, he asked.

“I’m free on the weekend”, she said. “Saturday. I’ll come to your place to hang out. Your parents don’t mind you having girls over, do they?”

Shou stared at her. He felt paralyzed. Yutako, at his place? Wanting to spend time with him? Talking to him? Being close to him over a long period of time? He would probably die of a heart-attack.

“My parents wouldn’t believe me having a woman over to begin with”, he replied. “Even if they heard us talk, they’d probably assume I’m talking to myself in disguised voices. They think I’m a little weird in the head anyway.”

Yutako laughed. Her teeth were showing again.

“Alright then”, she announced. “You are different from the other guys. I’ll give it a try. I’ll come over and you can talk about baseball and touch my boobs or whatever.”

Things were happening too fast. In the morning, Shou had still deemed it impossible Yutako would even talk to him voluntary.

“I don’t like baseball”, he said weakly.

Yutako tilted her head.

“Actually, I like baseball”, she said thoughtfully. Then she shrugged and got up. “But you know, we can also just skip that part.”

Since Shou couldn’t think of an intelligent reply anyway, Yutako just turned around and walked out of the library, her back straight, her step confident.

Shou wondered what had just happened to him. He also wondered if Yutako really meant what she had just told him. Knowing her – she probably did.

#Golden bomber #Kiryuuin Shou #Kyan Yutaka #utahiroba jun #Darvish Kenji #fanfiction #fanfic #GB Academy

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