#ths is what i do instead of focusing during class

[nafohcnis]

some school notebook dorys from about a month ago probably.. the first two are for the fanfic “john dory’s quick and concise guide on how to survive” by rytheoneandonly on ao3. GO READ IT. and expect more fanart for this.

#the last one can fit into the fanfic even if its not intentional… #MY FAVORITE TEENAGE MOTHER!!!! #makes me think abt that eldest daughter john dory fanart i reblogged #hruehhehje #ths fanfic is so crazy good its makes ME CRAZY!!! #be calm . anyway there’ll be more #trust!! #john dory #trolls john dory #trolls #dw trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #the last one is him writing da lyrics or whatever.. girl baby baby woman #ths is what i do instead of focusing during class #hyperfixation so bad it negatively impacts my grades #idrudis

[ghost-party]

CHAPTER 2

Previous || Masterlist || Next

Pairing: All Might x F!Reader

Rating: Mature — IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: canon divergent, grief, emotional dissociation, swearing, anxiety

A/N: Toshinori struggles with hard feelings and makes some new friends.

The next morning, Toshinori finds a Post-It note stuck to the fridge. He reads it while taking advantage of the blender he finds in one of the cabinets, making a high-protein smoothie full of sliced banana, mango, and a generous handful of spinach.

Stayed up late. Sleeping in, but I set an alarm. Or five. Text me when you’re done with class! Dinner and laser tag tonight?

He smiles and adds Dave’s number to his phone before pouring his smoothie into a tall glass. He drinks it while reviewing his class schedule, making a mental note that he should bring a gym bag with some fresh workout gear to change into for today’s Performance Lab.

From what he can tell, it’s what UA simply called “hero training,” except kicked up to a whole other level. Toshinori honestly isn’t sure what to expect. But he’s hoping he’ll have a substantial advantage, thanks to his training with Gran Torino.

And Nana.

The sudden sharp pain stops him mid-step on the way back to his room, and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He can’t think about it. He can’t. Not right now. 

With his hand clenched around his phone, he imagines taking the memories that are threatening to resurface and pushing them back down. He instead focuses on the feel of the laminate wood flooring under his bare feet, the sound of Dave’s snoring, the faint smell of waffles and maple syrup wafting over from the suite across the hall.

One deep breath. Then another. And another.

He keeps reminding himself all morning, even as he sits through the first half of Intro to Public Speaking and Relations. After going over the syllabus, the instructor sets her papers aside and smiles at the class. It’s a small room, with floor to ceiling windows and enough desks for only fifteen students.

“Let’s get some practice in today.”

Anisa Rodriguez is, surprisingly, less intimidating in person, considering she’s led the PR teams for countless highly-ranked American pros during her twenty-year career. 

She clasps her hands and leans on the podium. “Don’t panic. You’re not being graded. Think of it as giving everyone an opportunity to get to know you a little better.”

Going in alphabetical order, she recites names from her roster, and students are given the choice of joining her at the front of the room or remaining in their seats. They then share their name, where they’re from, and what they’re most looking forward to this semester.

Toshinori is thankful the professor isn’t requiring them to come up with a “fun fact.” He’s never been very good at that. He does, however, enjoy learning more about his classmates.

He’s not the only international student. In this room alone, there are two from France, one from Brazil, and another from Poland. While some of his peers speak with confidence and poise, others are clearly nervous, avoiding making eye contact and stumbling over their words. Professor Rodriguez seems unfazed, thanking each student and making sure to ask them a question about something they’ve shared.

“Last but not least, Toshinori Yagi.”

As he walks to the front of the room, a few hushed voices can be heard, murmuring too quietly for him to make out what they’re saying. He knows his height and build tend to make him stand out in a crowd, so he’s used to receiving stares and comments. But as he turns to face his classmates, he clears his mind and smiles. 

Showtime.

“My name is Toshinori Yagi. I’m a transfer student from Japan. I graduated from UA High School earlier this year. And I’m looking forward to honing my skills as a hero, as well as learning more about American culture.”

Professor Rodriguez nods approvingly and begins to ask him a question when another voice asks, sounding awestruck, “Aren’t you the guy who won the UA Sports Festival?”

Toshinori’s smile remains bright and unmoving as he meets the gaze of a student in the front row. He has a tanned, freckled face and curly brown hair shaved into an undercut. Alex Parrish, he recalls. He’s always had a knack for remembering names. “Yes, I am.”

“That’s so fucking cool.” Noticing the professor’s raised eyebrows, Alex slaps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry! I just — My friends and I have watched that for, like, years. Ever since middle school.” He leans forward, his knee nervously bouncing under his desk. “And you were amazing.”

Professor Rodriguez politely clears her throat, and Alex sinks back into his chair, mouthing another sorry. But his apology doesn’t do anything to wipe the excited grin from his face.

As Toshinori returns to his seat, the professor steps up to the podium. “Thank you, Toshinori. Now, let’s talk about your first assignment.”

When class ends, Toshinori is unsurprised to find Alex waiting just outside Auburn Hall, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He practically bounds forward and breathlessly continues where he left off. “Seriously, dude, you’re the coolest. Your quirk is like —” He punches into his palm. “— pow, but also like —” He mimes an explosion around his head. “— boom. Mind-blowing.”

Toshinori can’t help but laugh, which only makes Alex’s smile widen. “I don’t know about that. But thank you.”

The two of them begin to walk back towards the residential circle, the next ring out from the academic buildings. Much like yesterday, it’s hot and sunny, bright enough to prompt Alex to pull a pair of aviator sunglasses from the pocket of his palm tree print shorts.

“Well, consider me your biggest fan. As long as that’s not weird or anything.” Alex’s grin is wide and earnest, and Toshinori can’t help but offer him a small smile in return.

He listens to Alex’s bubbly chatter until they part ways, Alex heading in the opposite direction, towards his dorm in Tatum Hall, while Toshinori walks back to the Honors Complex. There’s no sign of Dave when he enters the suite, with the exception of some recently-washed dishes drying on the rack beside the sink.

Deciding it would be best to warm up his body before this afternoon’s Performance Lab, he changes into a workout tank and mesh shorts before jogging to the rec. The heat has already left its mark on him by the time he walks inside and checks in at the desk, sweat gleaming on his skin.

It’s as he’s doing bicep curls that he catches sight of the TV out of the corner of his eye. Filling the screen is an international news broadcast, with a headline splashed in bold lettering across the bottom: HPSC Issues Statement on Disappearances

Toshinori stops and stares, reading the closed captioning amidst the noise of weight plates being loaded onto barbells and cheerful pop music blasting from the dance studio down the hall.

In a public statement, the HPSC has assured the public that they are working with Japanese law enforcement to investigate the recent disappearances of three pro heroes in and around Tokyo. Details are currently classified, but with gang activity at an all-time high in the local area, sources close to the Commission claim that this will be a focal point of their —

Trying to push down the anxiety now clawing at his throat, Toshinori slowly places his dumbbells on the rack and pulls his phone from his pocket. The locker room is mercifully empty as the call finally connects, and he’s greeted with a heavy sigh at the other end of the line.

“I knew it was only a matter of time until you called.”

Gran Torino sounds exhausted, and Toshinori feels a twinge of guilt for calling him so early in the morning. Although it’s just past noon in California, it’s four AM in Japan. “Did I wake you?”

The older man snorts. “A little late to be asking that. But no, you didn’t.” In the background, he can hear the muffled sound of a television broadcast and the scraping of chair legs against the floor as his mentor sits down with a huff. “Been up all night, working with the police.”

“Any leads?” He’s trying not to sound desperate for information. But this is something notable. Suspicious. Most assuredly not a coincidence.

This was planned.

As if reading his mind from five-thousand miles away, Gran Torino grunts, “Nothing I can tell you.” Toshinori can practically hear the frown in his voice. “And it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Of course it is,” he immediately replies, keeping his voice low as the locker room door opens and two students walk in, their shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor as they head straight for the showers. “This sounds like —”

“Toshinori.” Gran Torino’s voice is sharp. “We’ve talked about this. You need to stay focused on your studies.”

Toshinori’s jaw tightens as his free hand curls into a fist. He forces himself to sit down on the nearest bench and take a deep breath before responding. They’ve had this argument before, each one as frustrating and fruitless as the last.

“It’s him. I know it is.” He listens as Gran Torino settles back into his chair, the way he makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “I can help if you’d just —”

“The answer is still no.” The reply is softer than Toshinori expects, and it takes him by surprise. “He knows who you are, boy. And you’re not ready for that fight. Not yet.”

Toshinori knows he’s right. He knows. But he’s resentful of it. Even when he’s in motion, moving his body, occupying his mind, he still feels like he’s standing still, doing nothing at all. The idea of having to wait months — maybe even years — to exact justice, to do what needs to be done… He hates it.

But he swallows the words he’s so tempted to say, the protests he’s voiced again and again, and simply murmurs, “I know.”

Gran Torino heaves another sigh. “We can handle things here. You need to trust me when I tell you that. For now, take it one day at a time. Don’t let your anger win. Find something to hold onto, to keep you going.”

After promising to update him on his classes later in the week, Toshinori ends the call. For a long while, he sits there, listening to the water running in the shower stalls, nearby lockers opening and closing, clothes rustling and students talking. 

It takes an enormous amount of effort to focus on all of it and keep his mind from wandering to much darker places. But he pushes the temptation down, down, down, until he can just barely feel it.

Someday, it might not be enough. He’s not sure how long he can keep avoiding the true depth of his feelings, his fury and anguish. For now, however, it’ll have to do.

From the outside, Training Center 003 looks like a typical gymnasium. But inside, there are no bleachers. Only a concrete floor and a few metal benches shoved up against the walls. In the corner, Toshinori finds a row of lockers and claims an empty one, tossing his duffel bag inside. He wasn’t sure if he should wear his old hero costume from UA, but as he looks around at his classmates, he’s glad he didn’t. Everyone’s wearing plain gym clothes — including a familiar face that nearly causes him to trip over his own feet.

You offer a friendly wave when you notice Toshinori staring at you. As he approaches, you continue stretching, pulling your left arm across your chest. When you let it drop, he can see that you’re wearing an old National Hero Academy t-shirt, paired with navy blue volleyball shorts. 

“Hey,” he says, feeling tongue-tied and nervous. But you don’t seem to notice, your smile unchanged as you look up at him.

“I was wondering if we might end up in the same lab.” The idea of you thinking about that, about him, makes his stomach twist in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant.

“Do you know who our instructor is?”

You nod, pulling your leg up behind you and grabbing your foot with your opposite hand. “Grimoire. He’s been teaching here for years. My advice? Don’t read his Rate My Professor reviews. They’ll scare the shit out of you.”

Toshinori raises his brows. “That bad?”

“Yep.”

“You’ll be fine, as long as you pay attention and do as he says,” an unfamiliar voice interjects.

Turning around, Toshinori meets the calm, steady gaze of another student. A friendly smile tugs at his lips as he lifts his hand in greeting. “I’m Marcus. My brother’s an alum, and he had Grimoire for Performance Lab all four years.”

“And he’s still alive and well?” you teasingly ask. “All of his limbs accounted for?”

Marcus laughs. “Yes and yes. He’s actually a pro working at the Spectro Agency downtown — Icequake.”

Toshinori recognizes that name from the research he did prior to coming here. Knowing that freshmen would have the opportunity to seek out internships in the spring, he read up on local agencies and well-known pros. Icequake has never topped the charts, but he’s popular, frequently landing coveted brand endorsements and ending up in splashy tabloid spreads.

Now that Toshinori thinks about it, he and Marcus do look alike. They have the same dark brown skin and hazel eyes, though Marcus is taller, with a thinner face and lankier build. Even his smile, albeit softer and more reserved, brings to mind the image of Icequake he spotted on the cover of a magazine at the airport, chiseled and beaming, lounging on a chaise beside a crystal clear pool.

Toshinori just manages to introduce himself before someone else runs over, throwing an arm around Marcus’s neck and nearly knocking him over. “This is who I was telling you about!” Alex gushes, wildly gesturing in Toshinori’s direction.

“Thanks, but I figured that out for myself,” Marcus patiently replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he shrugs out of his friend’s excited grip. Glancing at Toshinori, he says, “You’ll have to forgive Alex. He’s a menace.”

Alex simply crosses his arms and huffs. “Don’t be mean. You love me. Why else would you have put up with me since the third grade, huh?” He’s traded his palm tree shorts for hot pink track pants, and he’s wearing a too-big cutoff tank with Greek letters emblazoned across the chest. Phi Delta… Toshinori thinks for a moment. Isn’t that —

“Let’s get started.”

It’s unnerving how the quiet, rasping voice somehow manages to silence the ongoing conversations, the ten students assembled turning in near-unison, wide-eyed, to look at the man who seemingly appeared out of thin air.

Nearly as tall as Toshinori and rail thin, Grimoire lives up to his eerie name. His pale skin is remarkably smooth, making it difficult to guess his age. But with high cheekbones and a dark, penetrating gaze, it’s easy to feel transfixed.

He’s wearing his hero costume, a simple, black full-body suit that’s a perfect match to his hair, which is slicked back into a tight knot and threaded with the sparsest hints of gray.

“A clarification before we begin,” he says, each word crisp and precise. “To think of this class as ‘training’ would be a naïve oversimplification.” Neatly crossing his arms across his chest, he explains, “Your ‘training’ is over. Here, you will push yourselves to your limits. Confront your limitations.” Toshinori swears the instructor’s eyes linger on him for a few seconds before he continues, “Learn what it truly means to be a hero.”

Alex mumbles something under his breath, prompting Marcus to elbow him in the stomach. Luckily for both of them, Grimoire has turned his attention to a small tablet clasped in one of his hands. But for the life of him, Toshinori has no idea where it came from.

“When I call your name, sophomores first, then freshmen, introduce yourself to the class. Include your hero name, explain your quirk, and then execute a brief demonstration.”

He looks around at the students, seeming unbothered by the handful of nervous expressions. “Should you require a specific environment, tell me.”

Toshinori isn’t sure what he means by that until the first student introduces herself. Madeline Reynolds, also known as Magmatic, with a quirk called Core Coercion. She requests a volcanic environment, and to his shock, with a few quick taps on his screen, Grimoire changes the arena.

The cement seems to shift and mold itself, almost like sentient clay, until a large area of the floor resembles a stretch of rocky earth, much like that of a volcano. Madeline makes a pulling gesture with her splayed hands, and the ground cracks open, allowing her to pull thick, steaming strands of magma into the air, winding them together with expert precision, like ribbons on a maypole.

Toshinori’s confusion must be clear on his face, because he jumps a little when Marcus speaks just beside him, keeping his voice low. “The training grounds are designed with malleable nanotech. It’s still a prototype, developed in the support labs. But it can mimic most anything, to the point where it looks and feels real.”

“So, is that actually hot, like real magma?” Toshinori murmurs, watching as Madeline concludes her demonstration. The floor shifts once more, returning to what looks like plain, ordinary concrete.

“It can be. Depends on what the instructor programs.” Marcus steps away as Grimoire turns back to the group, calling the next student’s name.

Two more students introduce themselves before Alex’s name is called. Toshinori didn’t realize he was a sophomore, but it explains how he’s already an initiated fraternity brother.

“I’m Alex Parrish. Hero name, Flashpoint. Same as my quirk.” His grin is wide and easy as he holds out his hands, palms up. “I can stockpile momentive energy and then use it in bursts.”

In the blink of an eye, there’s a loud, echoing crack that makes Toshinori instinctively wince. But then he blinks and sees that Alex now stands in the opposite corner of the training arena, waving cheerily. 

Another crack, followed by another and another, each one signaling his movement to a different part of the vast room, his body moving much too fast to be seen. Finally, he returns to his starting point and then gives a cheeky bow. Marcus slow claps while Grimoire purses his lips. But the instructor remains silent.

Marcus is the final sophomore to step forward, and he radiates calm confidence as he says, “My name is Marcus Walsh. My hero name is Oceanus, and my quirk is called Hydro Blade.”

Alex loudly whistles, and Toshinori tries and fails to conceal his smile. Beside him, however, you’re openly grinning.

When Grimoire clears his throat, Marcus continues, “I can use moisture in the air to create shapes out of water.” Lifting his hands, he moves them in a way that’s reminiscent of a sculptor molding a slab of clay. And as he does, a shape begins to form.

By the time he’s finished, he’s holding a very large sword made entirely of water. The blade is almost ridiculously large, but from the way Marcus handles it with ease, the weight doesn’t seem proportionate to the dimensions.

“Such a fucking nerd, with that Final Fantasy-ass shit,” Alex whispers. But his profanities are overflowing with pride, like a parent bragging about their child’s achievements.

With a simple flourish and only the slightest splash of water, the blade vanishes, and Marcus rejoins the group. Toshinori offers him a thumbs up, and he’s quick to smile back and mouth thanks.

Grimoire begins to call freshmen to join him up front and introduce themselves, and with every passing minute, Toshinori feels himself growing more anxious. It’s always been tricky to talk about his quirk, because… well… he can’t.

One of the first tenets Nana instilled in him after passing on One for All was that no one could know about it — or at least only a select few, like Gran Torino. Secrecy was imperative, not only because of All for One’s all-seeing presence, his operatives seeming to lurk in even the most unexpected places.

But it was also due to the fact that no other quirk functioned in the same way, capable of being passed from one person to another. Revealing the nature of One for All could compromise both the quirk and the user, making them a prime target for scientific experimentation and study.

At UA, Toshinori had managed to keep his secret, attributing his incredible strength, speed, and stamina to a basic power quirk. But the Institute required him to be more forthcoming while completing his enrollment paperwork. He only hoped that Grimoire wouldn’t be discerning enough to see right through his lie.

Two students remain, you and Toshinori, and your name is called before his. You step forward with an easy, self-assured stride. But he catches sight of your hand trembling just before you clasp it behind your back.

After repeating your name for the class, you force a smile to your face and say, “My hero name is Solar Flare. And my quirk is called Sunburst.”

You turn and murmur something to Grimoire, who bends at the waist to listen and then nods. After selecting something on his tablet, the room changes, this time in a very simple way. At the far end, three targets emerge from a section of the floor, round with traditional bullseyes marking them.

Aligning yourself with the middle target, you raise one hand, palm facing out, aim, and then —

Toshinori gasps.

He’s seen plenty of emitter quirks over the years. A former classmate and aspiring rival had an especially impressive flame quirk that nearly prevented Toshinori from making it to the first place podium at the last UA sports festival.

But he’s never seen one quite like yours.

Light radiates down your arm, growing progressively brighter until it reaches your hand and then bursts out in a wide arc. You twist your wrist at the last second, almost pinching your fingers together, and it seems to mold the light, changing its size so that it perfectly slices through the center target. It creates a clean x-shaped cut, the edges still glowing with heat.

Turning back to the class, you explain, “I can radiate solar energy and produce targeted blasts by focusing it through my arms and hands.” Lifting your hand, Toshinori can see that the skin is unbroken, completely unaffected by the heat.

In quick succession, you send a straight shot of piercing light, not unlike a bullet, through the center of the left target. And the one on the right, you engulf continuously, white hot energy connecting both you and the target until its metal base melts and the canvas cover is reduced to nothing but ash.

“But if I overuse my quirk or push myself too hard, I quickly overheat.” Toshinori can already see a faint glimmer of sweat on your brow. He wonders what might happen if you used your quirk while wearing a long sleeved shirt. Would it catch fire? Can you focus your solar energy in other parts of your body? When you overheat, how do you go about lowering your body temperature?

It’s fascinating. And he knows he’s doing a poor job of concealing his awe when you notice his lingering gaze, do a small double-take, your eyes wide, and then proceed to look flustered as you walk back towards him.

Before he can figure out what to say, his name is called. Forcing his mind to empty itself of all other thoughts, he strides to the front of the group and turns on the familiar, comfortable charm he’s so used to wrapping around himself.

“My name is Toshinori Yagi. My hero name is All Might.” His heart beats loud in his ears as he continues, “And my quirk is a simple power quirk.”

Grimoire raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question the evasive answer. “Provide us with a demonstration, Mr. Yagi.”

Toshinori nods, trying to think of the best method for fulfilling the instructor’s request. Seeming to sense his hesitation, Grimoire waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t concern yourself with damage to the facility. I’ll handle it.”

Even with that reassurance, Toshinori decides it will be best to restrain himself, only revealing a glimpse of his full power. He walks to the center of the room, bends down, pressing his chest nearly to his knees, and then launches himself into the air at a remarkable speed.

He can distantly hear Alex whooping below, and when he glances at you, he sees that you’re transfixed, waiting to see what he does next.

Flipping in midair, he plants his feet on the domed roof and immediately pushes off, plummeting down with his arm outstretched, hand curled into a fist. It takes only a second for him to connect with the arena floor, and the pavement erupts with the force of his punch.

Fear spikes through him when he sees the debris go flying, and he’s halfway into a lunge when he notices the chunks of nanotech-infused concrete aren’t actually landing. In fact, they’re vanishing into a seamless ring of nearly-invisible portals surrounding the point where he landed.

Grimoire lowers his hand once the worst has passed and simply says, “Thank you, Mr. Yagi.”

Alex is practically bouncing up and down as Toshinori walks back to the group, and even Marcus looks impressed. It’s your bright smile, though, that makes him feel warm all over, along with the way you place your hand on his arm, stretch onto your tiptoes, and whisper, “That was amazing.”

Not good. Not great. Amazing.

He’s not sure why the distinction has him feeling so pleased and prideful, nearly distracted enough to miss the instructor’s next words.

“Much of your success as a pro hero depends  not only on  your individual skills, but also your ability to work cohesively with others, as a team.” The class is silent as Grimoire examines the group with a critical eye. “With this in mind, you’ll be paired with a fellow student. I think I’ve seen enough of your quirks and your mannerisms —” His gaze lingers on Alex, who suddenly stares down at his sneakers with renewed interest. “— to feel confident in partnering you. Mid-semester, you’ll be paired with someone else, giving you an opportunity to challenge yourself in a different way.”

He rattles off names, and students move closer to one another, reintroducing themselves to their partner and talking quietly. Toshinori is initially surprised when Alex and Marcus are paired together. He had expected Grimoire to separate them, since they’re close friends and already proved that they have a penchant for distraction. But when he considers how complementary their personalities are, the way Marcus seems to ground his much more exuberant friend, he thinks he understands the logic behind the decision.

And then he’s partnered with you — something else he didn’t expect. When he turns to look at you, he’s reassured by the pleased expression on your face, the way you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet with apparent excitement.

Grimoire’s face remains unchanged as a ripple appears in the air to the right of his hand. He reaches through the small portal, depositing his tablet elsewhere, and suddenly Toshinori recalls his prior research. The instructor’s quirk, Liminal Gates, allows him to open portals between his location and another that’s familiar to him — in this case, probably his office. He does wonder, though, where he might have deposited the rubble from Toshinori’s explosive demonstration.

“That’s all for today. But don’t become accustomed to class ending so early. I intend to use our remaining sessions together as productively as possible. With that in mind, don’t be late, and don’t waste my time.” He waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll discuss hero costumes on Thursday.”

And with that, class is dismissed. Most of the students make a break for the doors, as if they had been held hostage for the last hour. But Toshinori is content to walk beside you at a leisurely pace as you chat with Marcus, having realized you’re both in the same sociolinguistics class.

Noticing Alex’s shirt again as he joins him on his left, Toshinori finally asks, “You’re in Phi Delta?”

Alex’s whole face lights up as they step outside. “Yeah! It’s a blast, man.” He jerks his thumb at Marcus, who’s deep in conversation with you about an assigned reading on language attrition. “I even convinced him to pledge last year. The guys are all super cool, and it’s, like, the chillest frat on campus, hands down.”

“Don’t forget about Tau Kappa,” Marcus smoothly interjects before returning his attention to you, and Alex snaps his fingers.

“Oh, yeah. They take it literally, though. Most of them have ice quirks.” He snickers. “They tried to recruit Marcus because of his super famous big brother, but we snagged him instead. He can’t freeze shit anyway.”

The four of you are walking back in the direction of the dorms, occasionally passing other students on their way to one of the training grounds. It’s mid-afternoon, and the heat of the day is still thick and present, clinging to Toshinori like a second skin.

“My roommate, David Shield, mentioned Phi Delta.” He hesitates for a moment before adding, “He said I should consider pledging.”

If he thought Alex was thrilled before, this is something else entirely. “Yes!” he shouts, startling you and Marcus enough to stop you in your tracks. Alex turns to his friend and grabs his shoulders. “We’ve got a pledge.”

Toshinori holds up his hands, trying to interject. “I’m still thinking about —”

“And it’s fucking All Might!” Alex pumps his fist while doing a little dance that draws the attention — and barely-concealed laughter — of a group of girls carrying tennis rackets. “UA High sports festival phenom!”

“You really don’t need to —”

His protests are drowned out by a stream of endless chatter as Alex proceeds to go into planning overdrive. “Okay, okay, so we’re going to have to bring him to the house, and we better clean up. I’m talking actual vacuuming. Last time I was over there, Ahmad had his shit all over the place, something about a new prosthetic he’s working on. And Ciaran better have moved his freaky little plants out of the fridge, I don’t know how many times I have to tell him — Did you know one bit me when I was grabbing coffee creamer the other morning? Fucking rude.”

Toshinori gives up on trying to catch Alex’s attention just as you appear beside him, asking with amusement, “So, are you really going to pledge?”

He takes a moment to think about it, Alex’s enthusiasm aside. Dave did tell him it would be a good way to make more friends. And so far, he has no reason not to trust him — or Alex and Marcus, for that matter. More than anyone else on campus, they’ve gone out of their way to talk to him and make him feel welcome.

And so have you. Admittedly, it’s not as if you’ve had a long conversation as of yet. But the way you speak to him, like it doesn’t even matter that you’re relative strangers, like you’re already comfortable around him, like you trust him… It means a lot. More than he can fully explain.

It’s the same with Dave, who called him Toshi and invited him to laser tag. Alex, an endearing combination of fanboy and friend. Even Marcus, with his relaxed openness and helpful nature.

Realizing that you’re still waiting for an answer, Toshinori smiles — one that feels easier and more genuine than his others, nothing forced or practiced — and says, with a confidence he didn’t expect, “Yeah… I am.”

#my hero academia #mha #bnha #all might x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori x reader #mybigbangacademia

[infini-tree]

damage control

Summary: Monster fighting is dangerous work.

(Alternatively: Three times Krupp doesn't care or does anything when the boys get hurt*, and the one time he does.)

A/N: * The second part is more on the emotional hurt side of things, but it still counts.

Woe, drabbles put into one fic due to their similar theming be upon ye. They’re all in chronological order that range from the day after the canonical events of the movie, to mid/late game Sticky Notes.

The last 1/4th was part of a different drabble, but that messed with the flow of the story I wanted to tell there. So instead of throwing that part out, I just put it in a separate fic and retooled it for a compilation-style fic. One day, you might get the rest of the fic the last 1/4 was made for, but today is not that day. Also there's a brief mention/implication of blood in the last 1/4. 

Long story short, one of the boys gets an injury that draws a bit of blood. Its fine.

——————————–

In retrospect, Benjamin should have figured out the whole… thing with the other guy much quicker. 

In fairness, between making sure the semester was still on schedule after George and Harold’s pranks (and their subsequent separation), ferris wheel-induced destruction of school property, and his first date with Edith, he had assumed the lapses in his memory were from stress.

A part of him still wondered how they got that tiger.

At the earliest, it should have been on that first date. He remembered thinking it was a disaster. Not that he could remember much of it. They had just gotten their orders and then… noise. Glimpses of radioactive-green blurs. 

And suddenly, he had his arm draped over her shoulders for support as he stared down the front door of his house. He was too out of it to be flustered about the whole affair to notice anything outside of the lingering smell of Edith’s perfume that smelled suspiciously like soup.

After a bit of fumbling on both their parts, she deposited him gently on his bed. Edith was looking out the window, slivers of pale orange from the streetlights filtering through his blinds.

“Wild week, huh?” She turned around, not expecting an answer. Between his head swimming in and out of consciousness, he was sure he missed something– he remembered her lips moving, but what little of his attention not devoted to trying to sleep or the pain preventing him from said sleep was singularly focused on her eyes.

Sleep, thankfully, was starting to win out. There was a soft rustle of fabric and then he felt his own blanket on top of him for once. “I’ll see myself out. Get some rest.”

The day after wasn’t much better– exhaustion settled deep in his bones as it replaced the now-dwindling pain. At least there was coffee in the teacher’s lounge for that, so it was business as usual. And by that he meant that George and Harold had been sent to his office, both for sleeping in. It was only after the third or fourth time did both teachers get fed up and sent them up to his office. 

“I have half a mind you’re doing this on purpose.”

George rubbed an eye with the back of his fist with a yawn. 

“At least sit up straight when I’m talking to you–” The jab in particular was towards Harold, who had been teetering to the side at a dangerous angle. “Honestly, I don’t care if you had an all night horror movie marathon–”

“We didn’t. Harold’s last syllable was punctuated with a yawn.

“-- Like I said, I don't care either way.” He waved a hand dismissively, ignoring the fatigue pulsing behind his eyes. “But sleeping during class time is prohibited and any further disruptions like this are grounds for suspension.”

They blinked up at him, but didn’t do much else. The principal didn’t know whether their sedate responses so far were more aggravating than their usual tomfoolery.

George’s unobscured eye stared up at him with a look he couldn’t place. It quickly shifted to something more wry. “You look worse than we do and you’re still running the school– what’s your excuse?”

Harold snickered quietly. He gave a sly glance towards the other boy in acknowledgement of an inside joke.

“Detention, both of you.”

No, their usual is much more annoying, he thought at the time. 

——————————–

“Ugh, come on– quit being such a big baby about it!”

Now that Krupp had gotten wise as to how they switched him over to Captain Underpants, the entire process of trying to switch him over had gotten much too long for either of their liking. Every time they had to come find him, he set up some sort of counter to the sound of snapped fingers. Soundproofing the office, playing old-timey music at ludicrous volumes, the works.

Right now, he had taken to using industrial-grade earplugs.

“Most people would kill to be a superhero, you know,” George continued. “Captain Underpants has super strength so it really wouldn’t be hurting you that much, anyway.”

“George!”

“What? It’s not like he can hear!” The last word was pointed spitefully towards the principal.

Said principal continued his boring paperwork. While he wouldn’t be able to hear the monster terrorizing the kids outside, let alone them slamming the door open earlier, but the tremors through the floor were another thing. Besides, he at least knew that he could see them from his periphery if that smirk had anything to say about it. 

“No, look!” Harold threw the curtains open to show the scene below them. 

The ground below had suddenly erupted to reveal a set of craning necks and sharp beaks attached to bulbous heads. The Muck-Raking Vultures would not be satisfied until it’s brought everyone down to its muddy level. A few unfortunate kids were entrenched in the surrounding earth that was now under the bird’s control. All its heads let out a haughty laugh as the kids cried out and tried to struggle.

Righteous anger mingled with concern for his fellow kid and fear. It was bad enough for Krupp to make every kid feel powerless on a normal school day, but withholding the only thing that could save them was beyond– beyond stupid, George managed to think up. Beyond petty!

Krupp had rolled over to the filing cabinet, conveniently turning his back towards the window. Despite the cacophony of noise outside, the shuffling of folders and metal clangs flooded their ears.

“Hey, man, are you doing…” Whatever Harold was about to say lodged in his throat as George loosened his tie. “Oh boy.”

It’s been a while since he had deployed the Tie. There had been no reason dire enough for it. He thought for a moment before tying one end of the Tie in a knot, and tied it again for good measure. 

“On my signal, you snap your fingers, alright?” George gave a loose experimental swing. His expression shifted to something determined as he found whatever he was testing for.

Here’s the thing about those industrial-grade earplugs: there’s a thin plastic cord that connects both of them. According to his dad, it was to make sure you knew where both of them were at all times. One earplug is just as useful as none in his line of work.

George fastened his grip on his Tie, quietly circling around Krupp’s desk. He was still busy trying to look busy. Just as he was about to turn the corner of the desk, he whipped the Tie forward. Krupp jolted back at the last second.

“What was that supposed to accomplish,exactly?” His mouth split open in a mocking grin.

The other thing his dad mentioned? They also have a good chance of being caught in things if the wearer wasn’t careful. 

The Tie had managed to hit in the space between the cord. The knot acted like the head of a mace: as a counterweight, it spun around the cords to entangle it. With a quick yank to the Tie, the earplugs practically flew out.

Krupp yelled as he tried to reach out for the earplugs now sailing over his desk, but it was too late for that. Harold was at the ready with a snap.

——————————–

The cafeteria is brimming with the sound of kids shooting the breeze. Though, Harold’s been around long enough that it’s not as bright as a result of Krupp milling around the food serving area. Three guesses as to why he’s there, the first two don’t count.

He makes his way to the vending machines next to Krupp and coughs. “You’re holding up the line.”

While Edith manages to look a little ashamed, the principal jumps back like a current ran through him. “What?”

In the periphery of Harold’s vision he could see some of the kids at the nearest table move further away than they already had. But not so far as to be out of hearing range. No one’s looking at them directly, but he could tell they were expecting something.

“Kids are avoiding coming here to get their lunch because you’re here,” he pointed out bluntly.

In response, Krupp props an arm over a cleared portion of the counter. “At least some kids here have taste.”

Despite the context, the lunch lady lets out a surprised little laugh. Harold couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Like-liking.

Instead of hearing them trill and coo for the next bit, his attention shifts to something much more interesting. Like this vending machine. It's one of the few additions to the school that wasn’t a net negative for him and the other kids. 

(Though, he’s convinced it's only here because something twisted Krupp’s arm.)

“Awfully quiet.” The statement comes out like an accusation. 

He couldn’t help but shoot him a look. The lunch lady was long gone and moved to the far end of the serving station, either out of guilt or to give them privacy. He isn’t sure which. 

The vending machine clangs, depositing Harold’s soda. “Gotta be more specific than that.”

“When it's this quiet,” he tries again. “It's usually because you two are planning something.” 

A few kids flinch at his tone. He knows this is him softballing, so fine— he’ll play.

“George is sick.” Harold sees how his expression darkens, and he adds, “He got it over the weekend, it doesn’t have to do with Edith’s food.”

Krupp still has that look on his face, so clearly it wasn’t what he was looking for. And he didn’t feel like telling him specifics. He doesn’t need to know it's the flu. He doesn’t need to know it might have had something to do with the monster over the weekend. 

“Ah.” He manages. Just as astutely he adds, “Hm.”

The student body writhes. They don’t know what to do with a Krupp that isn’t yelling, or a Harold that isn’t actively provoking him, or a George that isn’t there. 

Neither does Harold, to be honest. And he doubts Krupp knows, either.

“He’ll be getting a mountain of make-up assignments once he’s back. Ribble isn’t exactly known for her grace periods.” With the way Krupp’s voice lowered, he wasn’t sure he was talking to himself or continuing whatever this conversation turned into. 

None of them know where any of them stood lately. The sidestepping was honestly kind of annoying. It reminds Harold of his house, half a decade ago. 

His attention shifts to the soda can in his hand. It's cold enough to hurt holding it, so he starts tossing it from one hand to the other. “None of the teachers are.”

He hears one of the kids squawk out a laugh before it's muffled. He’s not sure whether the kid covered their own mouth, or someone else did.

Krupp’s mouth splits open to show his teeth and the kids eavesdropping flinch back. This close, Harold can see that it veers closer to wince than intimidating grimace. “Of course.”

The boy doesn’t provide an answer to that. He’s still too busy trying to figure out the principal’s angle here, and without George to ping-pong ideas with, he was more frustrated than anything.

His receiving hand fumbles the catch. It grazes past his fingers and falls to the ground. Between the tosses and sudden impact, its contents spill into a small fizzy explosion.

Thatwas more than enough to break whatever fearful lull the other kids were under moments ago. Laughter bubbles out of the direction of their impromptu audience.

It also breaks whatever train of thought Krupphad up to this point as he stares at the bubbly mess pooling underneath his shoes. “Lunch detention.”

“It’s already lunch,” Harold shot back.

“Don’t care—” he pointed to the lunch doors. “Go.”

And then that off moment was forgotten by the kids nearby.

——————————–

The leftover feeling of having to do something do something do something thrums under Krupp’s skin long after the disorientation of switching in fades. Experiencing emotions that aren’t you own will never be a thing he’ll get used to, but this particular emotion is.

It's a little worrying considering that it's anger. 

Working backwards, he could figure out why. There were scratches on Harold’s arms, and while George looked fine his pinched expression and the way he had one of his legs propped on his knee said otherwise. In their short walk to the office he had thought he was walking strangely— not quite limping, but angling his body so he was hiding one leg behind him.

For, he amends in his head. Angry for. Not angry at.

The office is relatively clean for now. While it wasn’t hit during the most recent monster fight, there was still evidence of aftershocks. At least the glass from the shattered picture frames were out of the way and he was properly clothed now. The boys look up at the suitcase he slammed on his desk with various levels of uncertainty.

“What happened to the old suitcase?” Harold asked.

“I was meaning to get a new one with more compartments.”

George gave a curious noise as he pulled out a large bottle of rubbing alcohol and managed to catch a glimpse of the compartment’s contents. “Man, did you pack a whole hospital in that thing? That thing’s got more supplies than the nurse’s office here.”

“Figured I needed it one of these days, considering-- you know.” He lets the statement hang in the air for a moment. The boys chorus an agreeing noise, but left it at that.

He diverts his focus towards grabbing a pack of cotton pads, quickly smudging some alcohol on one of it. As soon as he starts circling the desk towards them do they push themselves into the back of the chair. 

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing with–” George points at the bit of cotton in his hand. “-- that.”

“I thought the supplies were for you,” Harold adds, just as hastily.

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “I’ll feel it in the morning, but no skin’s been broken— unlike you.”

The boys give a silent glance towards each other. Their expressions pinch.

“They’re just surface level,” Harold waves him off. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

Krupp looks them over and simply raises a brow. If he didn’t know any better, he would have chalked the injuries up to rough-housing. Which, technically, was true, if he discounted what they were rough-housing against.

“I don’t think the other guy will forgive me if I let you leave this room like that.”

The boys suddenly take an interest in the floor tiles under them. Do something,the feeling under his skin thrums.

“More importantly,” he said in a much lower voice. “I don’t want your parents calling me to complain about child endangerment.I won’t hear the end of it from the school board if word gets out.”

That,at least, eases them in a weird way– if only for the familiarity of the routine.

“You worry about grown-up things too much.” Despite that, Harold reluctantly showed off the fresh scrapes on his arms. 

“Do we get candy at the end of this?” George smirks, though his brows still remained pinched.

Krupp blotted the scratches before slapping a pair of band-aids on the smaller of the scratches. “You don’t get detention for the day for that locker gum prank you pulled, how about that?”

Harold rolled his eyes, his hand picking at the skin around one of the band-aids as he slapped an extra-large band-aid pad on the other one. George, on the other hand, had turned away from him.

“Welp since you’re done, we better get out of your hair then.” He waved a hand. “Or, scalp. I guess. C’mon, Harold.”

“Now hold it, bub–” He pointed a finger at him. “Your turn.”

He looked over his shoulder with an irritated glare. With a sarcastic flourish, he shows off his arms and even rolls up his already short sleeves to prove a point. Save for the bits of bubblegum-stuck rubble and dust that still clung on his skin, there wasn’t anything he could see.

“What about your legs?”

“Ugh.” He slid back to sitting properly and gestured to them incredulously. They were similarly dirty from the recent fight, but they weren’t hurt as far as he could tell. 

At least, as far as he could tell with the unobscured leg. He still hasn’t moved them. 

“George,” Krupp warned.

Harold gave a nervous glance. As much as the other boy refused to budge on the subject, his conviction crumbles at the sight of his friend.

“Ugh, fine!” He uncrossed his legs. The knee that had been supporting his other leg was smeared in red.

The roiling feeling he felt when he first swapped in, comes back in full force at the sight. Pull it together. He gritted his teeth as he focused on something else.

George was looking straight up at the ceiling. What looked like a case of childish rebellion clearly wasn’t that on closer inspection: somehow, he had gotten even more tense.

“I don’t like–” He stops himself, and instead says, “Just get it over with already.”

Krupp drops whatever lecture he was about to spit automatically. He’s never seen George freak out like this— which was saying something, considering everything else before was just as harrowing.

“Get the gauze.”

It takes Harold a moment to realize that he’s talking to him.

“Both of them. It's in the big inside pocket—” The boy scrambles to the principal’s desk without hesitation and comes back in record time. “Just put them on the chair, it’s fine.”

The boy opts to circle around the chairs to be at George’s side. He places a hand on his shoulder, and a bit of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders.

Speaking of which.

Upon closer inspection, it looks a lot worse than it actually is. The leg on top of the wound just made a mess of it by unintentionally rubbing it all over his knee.

The next few minutes happen in silence, save for the occasional hiss from George. He cleans up the wound with cotton-soaked rubbing alcohol before wrapping it tight with gauze. 

“Done.” Krupp takes a few steps back, rounding back towards his desk. “It's not the nicest job, but I’m not the school nurse for a reason.”

George hazards to look down. The knee in question is wrapped tight, with the ends of the gauze wrapped in a farmer’s loop. He pokes at it and only winces a little bit.

“Huh,” he mumbles.

While the both of them whisper between each other, Krupp rummages around his desk drawers until he finds the forms he was looking for. Ignoring how dusty the page on top was, he sets to write and check off the necessary boxes.

The murmuring stops just as he was finished with it and the boys were now at the edge of his desk.

“What’re you doing?” George gives the pen he was holding the stink-eye.

Harold tilts his head. “Accident Report,” he reads aloud.

“Just to keep things above board.” The principal sighs before handing it off to them. “I’m going to have to call your parents because of this–”

“Our parents are going to flip!”

“Hold on–” Harold squinted at the sheet. “What do you mean ‘injury was caused by playground incident’?”

“It means what it means,” Krupp replies. “I can’t exactly say you two were fighting gum monsters. Knowing most parents they’ll probably want to take you home, or talk to you before I send you off to class, so stay here for the next ten minutes.”

When self-loathing got old, his pragmatism bled in and thought of the logistics of… everything, really. Someone had to, and it wasn’t going to be the other guy, least of all the boys themselves. Though a part of him suspects that the other guy is considering it now.

The thrum, thankfully, quiets.

Harold opens his mouth. Closes it. “That’s… surprisingly cool of you,” he says in disbelief– both with the situation and the words coming out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well, don’t mention it.” He flashes a grimace. “Ever.”

“Done,” George agrees immediately.

“I don’t think anyone would believe us anyway!”

“Our parents are still going to flip out, though.”

The principal swivels back towards the file cabinet to pull up their parents’ contact info, letting the two of them take their usual seat. It was the pragmatic thing, letting them calm down from all that.

#mellsian fanfics #captain underpants #sticky notes au

[twstinginthewind]

Ho ho ho!!

Hey @spadecentral !! I'm your @twstedsecretsanta Secret Santa this year! It's a pleasure to meet you, and I hope you enjoy this story, Have a very, very Merry Christmas!

You'll Be Doing All Right With Your Christmas of White,

But I'll Have an Ace-Deuce Christmas

Deuce Spade drummed his fingers against the edge of the worn wooden desk. It was strange, he thought; it was so much harder for him to focus in the quiet of the empty apartment than it was in the cheery, lively halls of Heartslabyul. And he had been looking forward to the peace and quiet of home so that he could catch up during the winter break, too. Deuce sighed, and looked back at the schoolbook in front of him. The dense blocks of text remained absolutely impenetrable, no matter how many times he tried to reread them. He groaned and pushed his hair back from his forehead. Deuce didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was bored. One hundred percent, grade-A, professional-grade, mega-sized, industrial-strength bored.

Deuce scooted the desk chair back, and spun it around so he could face the rest of the apartment. He and his mother had started to decorate the place for Christmas earlier that day, and they had even gotten as far as starting to assemble their artificial tree, but she had been called into work to cover an extra shift before they had had a chance to finish it. She had told Deuce, as he finished putting the pieces together, that he could decorate it while she was gone. He said he would as she stepped out the door. But Deuce took a long, hard look at the boxes of ornaments that they had collected over the years. Some handmade, some store-bought, some gifted; there were a lot, each with different fond memories attached. It was suddenly too much to handle. Overwhelmed, Deuce decided to try and study, instead.

He looked over his shoulder at the desk. Well. That plan hadn’t been going very well at all, had it? Deuce slowly spun the chair back towards the desk, guiltily reaching for the book.

*BUZZ!*

His phone rattled across the surface of the desk, pulsing with its not-so-silent ring. He picked it up before it could shake its way off the surface, and grinned. It was Ace, with a video call! He tapped the screen to accept it.

“Hello?”

Ace’s face was crowded close to his camera, and filled Deuce’s screen. “LOOSEY-DEUCEY, WHAT IS UP??” he crowed. Ace pulled back the camera a bit, revealing a fluffy red-and-white Santa hat perched on his head. “I’m finally being released from the Trappola Family Holiday Photo sesh! Mom ‘n Dad wanted to get one with us all around the tree this year. And like every other year, it takes forever and a WEEK to get something Mom’s happy with.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Whatchu doing?”

“Not much,” Deuce admitted, leaning back in the desk chair. “Studying, or at least trying to.” He shrugged. “It’s quiet here tonight, so I thought I’d try to keep up with classes.”

Ace made a sour face. “Studying. Ugh! You are aware we’re on break, right? Can’t keep up with classes that ain’t in session. Honor student wannabe.” He rolled his eyes, smirking. “Well, while you were hitting the unnecessary books, I was gettin’ our Christmas tree to look as cool as possible. Check this out.” Ace reached for the phone, and Deuce’s screen went from his friend’s face to a shot of a glittering, brightly lit tree. Ace’s voice went on. “I got to add some new stuff this year, so, look, look.” The camera got closer to the tree, focusing in on certain branches. “I made some ornaments out of mini playing cards, did a couple paper stars, and, I’m proud of this. Look!” The view panned over to a very familiar paint-splashed rose. “I used some of the pins from my dorm uniform, too. Temporarily, of course. There ain’t a bit of this tree that I didn’t make look cool!” The screen flipped back over to Ace, looking smug.

“It really is great,” Deuce mumbled. He guiltily side-eyed the tree he had abandoned in favor of staring blankly at his history textbook, then back at the phone. “You did good, Ace.”

“I did AWESOME, you mean.” Ace all but patted himself on the back, making Deuce chuckle. “Now show me yours!”

“Excuse me?” Deuce straightened up.

“Your tree, genius. I wanna see!!”

“Oh.” He stayed still for a moment. “It’s, uh. A work in progress.”

Ace blinked. “You’re not done with it yet?? Then why are you studying?”

Deuce leaned his chin into his hand, elbow propped on the desk. “I dunno. I guess it seemed like too much to do on my own?”

“So work on it with your mom, dude.”

“She’s at work. They called her in for a long shift at, like. The last minute.” Deuce shrugged. “We were gonna do it tonight, too. She kinda asked if I’d take care of it, but….” His voice trailed off.

“But?” Ace needled him.

“You know,” muttered Deuce.

“You need help with it.” Ace looked at his watch, and nodded. “Okay. When’s your ma gettin’ back?”

“Midnight, why?”

“It’s six-thirty now. I’m maybe twenty minutes from you, I think?”

Deuce shook his head. “Maybe? But—”

Ace cut him off. “But, nothin’. I’ll have my bro drop me off, we’ll bang this tree out before your mom gets back, easy-peasy. And this’ll get me outta the house so I don’t get roped into wrapping presents. It’s a win all around, Deuce.”

Deuce was going to protest, but he was suddenly struck with a realization. He actually wanted Ace to be there; he didn’t want to be alone. Besides, his mother had trusted him to decorate the tree. Surely she’d be all right with him getting a hand from a friend, right? “Yeah. You’re right, Ace. Let’s do this!!”

“Of course I’m right. Duh. HEY, BRO! You wanna get out for a bit? I need a ride to—” Ace abruptly cut off the call, leaving Deuce staring at his phone lock screen. A photo of him, smiling, with Ace’s arm slung over his shoulder stared back at him. The screen went blank, and he put the phone down.

Twenty minutes, huh? He stood up and shoved his books into his school bag. All right. He could at least get started with the lights before Ace got there. He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, dusted his hands off on his jeans, and picked up the box.

Twenty-six and a half minutes later, Deuce was only halfway through untangling a strand of twinkling lights when a loud pounding on his door made him jump. “The cavalry’s arrived!” shouted Ace, slightly muffled through the door. “Lemme in!”

“Gimme a second,” Deuce groaned. “On my way.” He bundled the twisting wire up and put it onto his couch, silently hoping it wouldn’t tangle itself up worse for the moment he had to put it down.

He opened the door, and Ace stood there, still decked out in his Santa hat and a bright red sweater. He lifted a pair of tall foam cups in greeting. “I made my bro go through the Casa de Caffeine drive-thru; they got this awesome caramel apple hot cocoa this year, and I figured it’d fuel us.” He grinned. “Now show me where I can work my magic.”

“It’s right inside, c’mon in!” Deuce took one of the proffered cups, and gestured inside. “Welcome to my place. It ain’t much, but—”

“It’s home, right?” Ace stepped inside, kicking off his clunky sneakers. He had on mismatched socks; one black one with a holly pattern, and one green-and-white plaid. Ace looked around, and sighed comfortably. “Nah, it’s cool here. It feels like your space, know what I mean? Friendly-like.”

Deuce shrugged, self-consciously. “It’s all right,” he muttered, but he started to smile despite himself. “Thanks for the cocoa, by the way. I was trying to work with the lights….” He lifted the tangle of green wire and tiny bulbs. “They’re kind of stubborn.”

“Like I said. Everything here’s just like you,” Ace scoffed, taking a sip from his cocoa. “Awright. Hand those off to me. I’ll get this out of the giant knot. Why don’t you start opening up the ornaments, so we can see what we’re workin’ with?”

“Har har.” Deuce gave the lights one last half-hearted tug before handing them over. “All right. I’ll line everything up on the desk, I guess. There’s a certain order that Mom puts some of them up, so I’ll keep those to one side.”

Ace rolled his eyes. “A certain order? Geez. Your mom ain’t like Riddle, is she? It Must Be This Way Due To the Rules?”

“No!” Deuce made a face. “Nah, Mom’s real easy-going with stuff like that, actually. She’s just… some of these are emotional, you know? I guess it’s easier to explain as we go.”

“Okay.” Ace had already made his way through half of the tangle, much to Deuce’s surprise. “I know a lot of the ones we use every year have got stories behind ‘em, too. Like the glass squirrel, or the teddy bear ones for me and my bro, or the pickle—”

“A pickle?” Deuce laughed. “Like. An actual brined cucumber? That’s weird.”

“It’s not weird!” Ace put his hands on his hips, lights dangling around his feet. “And it’s plastic, not an actual pickle. That’d be nasty. Whoever finishes the tree puts it on last thing Christmas Eve night, and then on Christmas morning, the first person who finds it gets a special extra present. Usually candy or somethin’. You never heard of that?”

“Nope. It’s new to me. Our last one’s the silver spider.” Deuce held up a little box, grinning. “The spider and then the tinsel ‘cobwebs’. Mom always says she brings good luck for the coming year, and makes sure that your tree is always beautiful, even when things seem bleak.”

“Never heard of that, but okay.” Ace triumphantly held up the untangled strand of lights. “Anyway, your genius buddy has solved this problem. You wanna do the grunt work and put ‘em on?”

“The grunt work, huh?” Deuce took the lights and started feeding the string between the branches.

“Yyyyyyyup.” Ace strolled over to the desk, and picked up a little glass teapot ornament. He turned it over in his hands. “One of us has to be the brawn, and I already called brains. This one’s really cute. Is it one of the special ones?”

Deuce craned his neck to see, then straightened up. “Hey, be careful with that! That was Grandpa’s!”

Ace carefully set the tiny teapot down and took a step back, his hands up in the air. “I wasn’t gonna mess with it, Deuce. Geez.” He pouted. “I guess it was more special than I thought.”

“Sorry.” Deuce picked up the ornament, red-faced. “I just get a little protective. We don’t have an awful lot to remember him by. This little teapot’s from when he was a kid, and he treasured it. So, we’re keeping it safe for him.” He looked up, his expression a little pinched. “I kinda get emotional, I guess. Stuff like this gets to me.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to do this alone?” Ace asked, softly. Deuce nodded, and Ace put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “I got news for ya, bud. You’re not gonna have to worry about being alone, all right? Not as long as I’m around.” He paused, then winked. “But don’t let anyone know I said that. Trappolas don’t get soft like that, right? Now. Let’s get this tree looking great.”

Deuce sniffed, and smiled back at him. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” They started to put up the ornaments in relative silence. After a few minutes, Deuce spoke up. “Thanks, Ace. I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too.” Ace hung a bright blue butterfly on the tree, and stepped back to admire it. “It’s looking real good.”

“Yeah. We’re a good team.” Deuce placed a red rosebud next to it, and stood by his friend. “Merry Christmas, Ace.”

“Merry Christmas, Deuce.”

#merry christmas! this was a pleasure to work on #twsted secret santa 2022 #spadecentral #twst secret santa 2022 #twisted wonderland fic #deuce spade #ace trappola #story

[accio-productivity]

Hi, my school had been going on and now finally, my summer break has started (apologies for no post). I did not want that horrible schedule again when school reopens so, like every other person I searched for tips on time management, but this time I thought to take a deep dive into the topic for this blog and here comes

#time management

Now let us understand time management by questioning!

WHAT exactly is time management?

 Many people tend to think that it is just about managing time with popular methods like Pomodoro (which it is). It is the art of scheduling and coordinating tasks, so that, productivity is maximised and we can complete tonne tasks in limited time.

 We all have different priorities, workloads and focus periods. Time management is managing workload by prioritising tasks within one's capacity. Yes, it is about maximising productivity but, it is more about making the schedule easy to follow.

WHY is time management important?

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by the work you have to do? If yes, then time management is for you!

HOW to manage time? / Tips for time management

Here are multiple tips for different categories of people!

For people with a low attention span

Have you ruined your attention span by scrolling or are you someone thinking last time I could easily sit for 2hrs and now I can't even study for 20mins?

Then, the Pomodoro method is the best for you. Some of you might be offended by the Pomodoro method but the truth is, it is best for people with low attention span.

It is focusing for 25 min with 5 min break. But I would not recommend you to take that 5min break because chances are that you will scroll for the next 2hrs.

Instead of the actual Pomodoro technique, try the edited one.

Check how long can you study for. For e.g., you can study for 30min and after 30 min either you go on your phone or start daydreaming. Now you know your focus period so you have to study in these small batches and after 30min instead of a phone break go and do something else like you can clean your space, make coffee/get a snack for the next session or just listen to 2-3 fav songs.

Let us say you took this kind of break of 10min, then go back for further sessions until your task is completed or you have completed at least 2hr of focus time. Now you can take any kind of break you want but have some control over your nerves. Also, after a week increase your focus time by 10min and slowly you will be able to focus for longer periods.

For people with decent/good focus time

Are you someone who can focus for a decent time but want to have a smooth long study session? Then, you should practice the flowtime technique. 

It is studying until you complete a task. For e.g., you have many things to do, out of which you chose to read a chapter or complete a lecture. Then you start and work until the work is completed or you are mentally exhausted, at the same time satisfied for progress.

HOW TO SCHEDULE TIME

So, you know what kind of person you are and now the main problem comes. You have made your to-do list. You know how you are going to study but you don't have the time. We have school, tuition and many other responsibilities, that the day ends and we are not able to do anything.

Here are Tips to schedule your day,

Edit your to-do list. More specifically, you know your attention span, and the time you have for studies and thus you should make the task list accordingly. Why do you have to make a list imagining the best-case scenario? Instead, determine the number of things you can complete in a day and then edit your to-do by prioritising the important tasks.

Bring the time out. This tip is very essential because here you have to make study time during the busy day. Do you have a gap between school and tuition or between any evening classes and dinner? If yes then use this time effectively. If the time is around 2hrs relax for an hour but then study in the next. There are many such gaps you may find in your day. Whether you study in them or not utilize them.

Next, if are you a morning/night person then you can get a longer session here. If you say you are somewhere in the morning-night person then test your current mood of morning/night. Also, try multiple routines and then stick to the most convenient one.

EXCEPTIONS

Some of you with good attention spans might want to practise flowtime but the problem is that the gaps which are there during the day are so small to practice flowtime. For e.g., you got a 30min time to study and you have to read a lesson and then break the task, in this case, decide the subtopic of the lesson you will be reading.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you found it helpful.

P.S. I made an Instagram account, Follow me - https://www.instagram.com/accio_productivity/?next=%2F

#time management #study tips #studygram #student #study blog #studyblr

[redigostudio]

What is Redígo?

Hi there! My first post on Tumblr! Here’s who I am and what I’m doing here:

My name’s David, I’m a teacher and a game designer, and I’ve just recently published “Redígo: the ready-to-go roleplaying game”. It’s a game that uses hand signs instead of dice and plain old creativity and memory instead of pen and paper. You can even ditch the tabletop and play it on a walk, in the car, while having a picnic, even during class! Wherever you are, this game can transport you to another world just. like. that. (and to be fair, you can play it with dice too, if you prefer.)

You might be surprised to know, given how simple and easy to learn it is, that I’ve been developing it for the last 10 years or so. That’s about the time that I had the idea of using roleplaying to help my students learn English and develop their writing skills instead of forcing them to learn with textbooks written by other people. I found that this technique makes them invest in their story (and therefore, in themselves) to become better communicators, more creative thinkers, and even happier people.

I developed my game by learning from other roleplaying games and slowly cutting away everything that seemed to get in the way of my students joyful learning (and sometimes adding things back in when I’d cut out too much). The Redígo system is the result, and now it’s time to share it with the world!

You can find it in PDF form here:

And on the web too:

You can even read a review of the game by the amazing TTRPGkids.com here:

As for the personal stuff: I was born in the US, but I’ve spent the last two decades living in Asia, mostly in China, but since before the pandemic my wife and two sons have been living in India, where I’ve been going full time with online classes and homeschooling my kids. I have to admit I don’t really understand the US anymore aside from what I read in the news (which doesn’t really make sense), but I’m always learning! It’s a dream to be living free of the restrictions of typical education systems, using Redígo to help kids learn.

Always open to questions! Feel free to ask me anything. 😊

#ttrpg community #ttrpg stuff #tabletop

[iamthenightcolormeblack]

My Experience with Jane Austen Part 2: Reading the Books

In part one I laid out which books I read, which ones were my favorites and least favorites, and the adaptations I've seen. Now I'd like to talk about my reading experience.

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert, just a casual reader sharing some observations, feel free to correct me if I get some details wrong. Out of the books I’ve read I’m most familiar with Pride and Prejudice.

Let's face it. Reading Austen can be challenging and I understand why some people dislike Austen.

It's easy to perceive her novels as "boring" because on a surface level, not much happens. The characters are well-off people (in the upper half of society) who spend their time at home or traveling between social calls and it's easy to dismiss their conflicts as "first world issues." Settings are often indoors, reflecting how "confined and unvarying" the lives of the rich (especially women) were. The plots often move forward through dialogue or conversations rather than big dramatic events. The focus on marriage can also make the stories feel like antiquated relics of the past and can be hard to relate to.

The writing style is also different. There isn't much dialogue at times because Austen slips in lots of very subtle commentary or prefers to describe a character's external appearance or characteristics. Often big events like proposals are described briefly after they happen rather than during, which can make the story feel rather "dry." The books are narrated in third person and sometimes there is unreliable narration (Pride and Prejudice) where we get characters' multiple points of view, but all narrated in the third person as to give each one credibility and prove that it's hard to trust others. Austen's writing style means that readers have to fill in the blanks with their imagination. For example, she doesn't give exact physical descriptions of her characters, often relying on general characteristics like "tall," "handsome," or "amiable." In my previous reviews of Pride and Prejudice adaptations, I explored that intentional ambiguity as a big reason why the character of Mr. Darcy is alluring--because the reader forms a personal connection with the character by sketching his portrait alongside Elizabeth. The characters (their physical appearance and some of their motivations) are purposely mysterious and while it gives the reader lots of opportunities for engaging with the text, without historical/literary context for "filling in the blanks" it's easy to see the characters as stiff mannequins in strange clothing rather than human beings.

Austen as a romance writer: Her romances don't always match up with our perception of what a romance should be. Some people start Austen expecting intense emotions and outbursts of passion but become disappointed when presented with formal courting and stately dances instead. Emotions are often veiled behind dialogue and for a first-time reader it can be challenging to see a romance developing. Most of the time readers have to rely on the clues given by Austen (descriptions of characters "blushing," looking "pale," or losing their composure) to detect the stirrings of love, but on a first reading it's difficult to do so when one's trying to figure out the plot and the characters. Finally, the dialogue can't always be taken literally; lots of people, including me, were disturbed when Mr. Knightley said he loved Emma since she was 13, but it was actually a joke made in response to something she said.

Her books are products of their time, and I sure am not an expert in Regency era economics or social norms. Sometimes the implications of certain actions can be lost on a reader if they don't know about the social norms of the time (I had no idea that Darcy following Elizabeth around, alone, on her favorite walk at Rosings was a sign of his love for her). Differences in social class are also very subtle and while one can generalize the characters as all "well-off" people, they are separated by many levels of hierarchy and their ideas about social position and status affect how they interact with others outside of their station. Darcy looks down upon those whom he perceives to be below him, and while Emma wants to make an advantageous match for Harriet, Harriet's lower social position means that Emma's schemes are not likely to work.

Because of the unique quirks within the novels, the reader is required to go beyond the surface level of plot and appearance and read between the lines to understand character motivations and actions. Without historical context (Regency era society having little social mobility, women having few legal rights and needing to make good marriages to secure material comfort) or literary context (the Enlightenment, 18th century Gothic novels referred to in Northanger Abbey, the birth of the novel, early Romantic writers just to name a bit) reading between the lines is nearly impossible.

So why do we read Austen? Below are my personal reasons.

The novels feature female heroines that have dignity and self-respect. It's significant that the stories focus on women who are trying to live according to their own values and speaking their own minds rather than acquiescing to societal dictates. Elizabeth Bennet is revolutionary in part because she wants a marriage based on mutual admiration and respect between two partners who know each other well, rather than an economic arrangement for a home. One could go on forever about how Austen is a feminist, but, the characters don't act like modern day feminists--they are still people of their time. However, it's easy to assume "feminist" heroines have to have "aggressive" characteristics (rebelling, fighting, defiance) in order to be labeled as "feminist." Importantly, Austen's women are allowed to be vulnerable (they cry or struggle with their emotions) without that being a shameful thing. We also see different types of personalities celebrated: Jane Bennet, who is kind to everyone, is seen in a positive light rather than shamed for seeing good in everyone. Anne Elliot, who is regarded as "old," becomes more beautiful as she gets older and has a second chance of love. Emma Woodhouse is spoiled yet confident and assertive and "not likely to be well-loved" (paraphrase of Austen's commentary on Emma). Fanny Price is a shy person but still achieves her happy ending. Her heroines are real people who have flaws and get opportunities to learn and grow so that they can make their aspirations reality.

A unique take on the universal conflict of humans versus society: Austen's characters are bound by social norms of etiquette as well as a value system that idolizes wealth and connections above all else. Persuasion is a great story in part because it focuses on how Anne Elliot learns to follow her heart and avoid being "persuaded" by others (and by society) to follow a path that will not make her happy. She's had to live with the regret of following the well-intentioned but harmful advice of others (Austen notes that Lady Russell values social connections too highly) over her own feelings and judgment, nearly losing her chance to be with Wentworth. The romances are significant in that they reinforce the dignity and self-respect of the female heroines. To a certain extent, Austen's stories are realistic in that marriage is necessary for material well-being in a patriarchal society that provides few ways for women to provide for themselves. But most importantly, she also sees marriage as a means of affirming self-respect and dignity of the women. It's one of the few parts of their lives over which they have any control because they get to choose whom they marry (for the most part, unless the marriage is arranged). Their wish to marry for love is revolutionary because they dare to aspire for something more than wealth. They want their future partners to be their equals, someone who they can love and respect (or be totally honest with them) and who will provide the same in return. This line from Emma (the 2020 movie adaptation) sums it up: "I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Fame I do not want. Fortune I do not want. Consequence I do not want."

The difference between outward appearances and inner character is a fascinating theme that appears in several Austen novels, most notably Pride and Prejudice, where Wickham and Darcy are foils of each other ("one has got all the goodness, the other all the appearance of it"). A lot of the villains in Austen's novels are those who deceive others about their motivations or lie for their own advantage. A common trait these villains all have is that they have a charming outward appearance that masks their true natures; they don't look ugly nor are they unpleasant (ex. Wickham having great social skills, Willoughby following the trope of the knight rescuing Marianne as the damsel in distress but leaving behind many broken hearts, Mr. Elliott being charming and knowing exactly what to say and how to act but actually a swindler). In contrast, the "good" characters are honest, even at the cost of social displeasure, use manners/etiquette to show respect rather than deceive people, and act selflessly to prove their worth (actions speak louder than words). It can be summed up this way: "don't judge a book by its cover."

Psychology: Austen very effectively described hindsight bias when sarcastically commenting on how the village of Meryton turned on Wickham after the elopement with Lydia, when previously they regarded him as an "angel of light." She also understands how easy it is to manipulate peoples' minds through confirmation bias (Wickham telling Elizabeth all the dirt about Darcy, which she eagerly takes because she hates Darcy so much). She also knows that emotions can override people's judgment: "angry people are not always wise." It's fun seeing how her people are social animals who make flawed judgments based on first impressions/emotions.

The secondary characters: Mr. Collins the clergyman is the most famous and he's so funny because of his arrogance in spite of his low social position (he keeps worshiping Lady Catherine instead of respecting God). Another great one is Sir Walter Elliott, a nobleman who is vain and constantly checks himself in the mirror (the most obvious social criticism). Also Austen understood how women insult each other: through passive aggression (ex. Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst talking negatively about Elizabeth behind her back). Austen's female bullies use their talent and "good breeding" to intimidate or shame others.

The romance (no explanation needed): "You pierce my soul. I am half-agony, half-hope. I have loved none but you." I love how the couples learn about each other through many spirited conversations and become slowly fascinated with each other until they realize they are in love and then have a conflict between formality and their growing passion...or they fall back in love with each other...or they are friends who slowly realize that they are more than friends...okay I'll stop talking nonsense I've been trying so hard to be semi-scholarly

Tags: @talkaustentome @austengivesmeserotonin @austengeek @princesssarisa @appleinducedsleep @colonelfitzwilliams

#jane austen #pride and prejudice #sense and sensibility #northanger abbey #emma #mansfield park #persuasion #lady susan #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #mr bingley #colonel brandon #edward ferrars #elinor dashwood #marianne dashwood #fanny price #edmund bertram #emma woodhouse #mr knightley #catherine morland #henry tilney #anne elliot #captain wentworth #classic literature #in this essay i will #worth reading

[international-kpopfan]

It's always been you - Ko Shinwon (F)

Summary | Your friendship with Shinwon is something that you would never change for a thing in the world, but what if feelings are getting involved?.

Genre | fluff, high school, non-idol boyfriend.

Warnings | none.

Pairing | femxreader x Ko Shinwon

WC | around 2.4k

Note | Requested by anon.

Note | I will be on holiday from the 12th of January till the 1st of February. I won't post anything during these days, but I will of course try to write as much as possible for you guys in my notebook. Please be patient if you have any requests.

Note | thinking about a part two?. Let me know if you want a part two (this will probably contain smut)

Original request |  hi! could i request something with shinwon of pentagon? something fluffy, like a slowburn friends-lovers? if theres smut at the end its ok too but i'm not picky :o

Masterlist / Request Rules / Upcoming

Requests open!

*

Shinwon will do anything for you, whether it's 3 AM or 4 PM when you need him, he's there. You met him when your parents decided to move to South Korea and enroll you in a Korean high school. There was only one problem, you didn't speak a word of Korean. The first days were hell, nobody spoke to you, partly because the language was a problem, but also because you looked different from others. You didn't belong to the Korean stereotype. For a few days, you were mostly on your own, trying to understand every word that the teachers said and find yourself a place in Korean society. A new house, a new city, new culture. Everything was different from home.

The moment Shinwon walked into class after a few days off due to a death in his family, his eyes were on you. The young lady at the back of the class, sitting quietly leafing through her book with an annoyed expression on her face. His best friend slapped him on the shoulder and gave him an update on who the new student was.

Shinwon had his full attention on you. You on the other hand were too focused to understand a single symbol written on the board. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes fixed on the board and your tongue sticking out beyond your lips. Shinwon had to and would talk to you no matter what.

Most students thought it was weird. One of the hottest guys in school who took an interest in just one of the least popular ladies, as if they'd landed in fanfiction on Wattpad. Shinwon was careful on his first attempt to talk to you. His English was not at all what it should have been, if only he had paid more attention in class instead of making paper airplanes and then tossing them at his best friend. It could have helped him so much right now.

Sitting on one of the picnic benches outside in the square you scribbled something in your notebook, sometimes they were drawings, and sometimes you wrote a simple story about a bird that just flew over. Suddenly the book was snatched from your hands, your hands actively trying to get the book back from whoever had the guts to pull it out of your hands, but as soon as you saw his face you lowered your hands.

Shinwon flipped through the booklet, the occasional nod, and an approving hum as if it were a project for an exam. In his best English, he commented that he liked it. A smile appeared on your face, the first in a few days and you slowly took the book back from his hands.

''I'm Shinwon, nice to meet you''.

''I'm Y/N, nice to meet you too''.

*

"Where the hell are you with your thoughts?". Shinwon throws his bag down on one of the tables in the room and then takes a seat in the chair in front of you. His English has improved and, to your surprise, your Korean has gone faster than you expected. Those three evenings a week have paid off.

"Zac Efron," you mutter and Shinwon rolls his eyes. "Sure, like you're ever going to meet that guy." Meanwhile, several students enter the room. Over the past few years, as your Korean got better, more and more social contacts came. Likewise at school. Not everyone was talking to you, but no one was ignoring you either. Shinwon turns leans over the back of the chair and prepares to speak as the teacher slams the door shut. A wink is all you need to know that he has plans.

The friendship between you and Shinwon has grown in recent years, from not being able to communicate with each other to learn each other's language by studying to completely trusting each other about two years later.

A lot has happened in those two years. Shinwon is still the popular dude, you the less popular lady. You often got the idea that when you hang out with Shinwon, you are automatically popular, and often it is. Shinwon on the other hand is the most chill guy you can have in your group of friends. He doesn't care if he's seen as popular, because popularity doesn't define you as a person.

"Psst..." You are startled by Shinwon tapping your arm. "Lesson is over." Surprised but still deep in thought, you grab your things and put them in your bag.

"Let me guess, Zac Efron?". Woo, one of Shinwon's best friends, yells from the doorway, laughing.

"Shut up," you mutter as you pass him into the hallway. Shinwon follows but stops when Woo grabs him by the arm.

"You better get that Zac dude out of her head."

Shinwon chuckles as he wraps an arm around his best friend. "Don't worry, I can handle Zac."

*

''How many pizzas did you order?''. With some great surprise, you drop the five pizza boxes on the table. Shinwon gets up from the couch with a grin on his face. "What, I'm hungry." You open the boxes of pizza while Shinwon stands behind you. He leans over your shoulder, one arm close to your lower back as he takes a slice from the box. The way he grabs a simple pizza slice is new. Normally he takes one of the boxes from your hands before you close the door at all.

"Yummy," he mumbles with a mouth full and leans against the table, his eyes on you. A smile appears on your face when you see how much he enjoys food.

''Better for your life that it's nice because I don't like to spend money on your addictions''.

You are both sitting on the couch in the meantime, each with a box on your lap. Shinwon's is almost empty, yours is still half full with delicious pizza slices.

Shinwon casts his gaze on you. The past few years have been nothing but great for him. He got to know you, improved his English, you became best friends and graduated together and then both went on to study different directions. He the entertainment, you in law enforcement.

Many things have changed, but there is one thing that will never change until he has the guts to do something about it himself. He's seen plenty of guys hanging around you over the years, but none came close enough to the ideal son-in-law to come home with.

Despite being the popular guy, his attention has always been on you. From the moment he stepped into the room and set his eyes on you, it was clear to him. The butterflies that happily fluttered around again after a few months of being single, said enough.

*

Shinwon's behavior has changed, that's for sure. The moment he's alone with you, it's like a completely different Shinwon is there. Shy, observant, careful in his actions, and above all, he withheld from touch. Hugs were shorter. And the usual kiss on your forehead when he said goodbye he completely dropped.

It makes you insecure somehow. Why?. No idea. You're his best friend, yet the actions that seemed so normal in years past now seem abnormal.

You drop onto the bed, legs and arms spread like a starfish while closing your eyes. Lots of thoughts running through your head. You turn on your side, facing the wall of polaroid photos from past years. Parties, graduations, dinners, and much more. Shinwon is in almost every photo, even the one from Valentine's Day. A smile appears on your face when you think back to the last school year. Shinwon arrived at school with a balloon, you thinking he had his attention on another lady but no, the balloon came your way. Several students watched the whole view with their mouths open, while you took the balloon uncertainly with a feeling of nervousness. Shinwon assured everyone that it was purely amicable, that best friends can love each other even though there is no intimate relationship. Hearing those words made your heart clench. It hurt to hear, but you didn't know any better. You were best friends and that was it. You don't remember when the butterflies started fooling around in your stomach, you don't even remember the moment you fell in love with him. Maybe it gradually changed from friendship feelings to actual feelings, without even noticing it. What you do know is that you don't want to lose him, even it means that you need to push those feelings away.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, leaving a wet spot on your pillow. Why does it hurt so much?.

*

Shinwon parks his car in the university parking lot, he sends you a quick message that he's there and waits patiently until he hears the door open.

"Hey, thanks for picking me up." Shinwon winks and starts the engine as soon as you are safe and sound in the seat.

His behavior, according to you, is still the same. He does the things he's always done, but a little differently. Still no forehead kiss, he will hug you but it feels very distant and he has been very distant the last few days?.

"I have a date tonight," Shinwon says, keeping his eyes on the road. His voice is flat. There is no emotion in it at all and thinking about him being with another woman tonight brings the same feeling again. A stab in your heart.

"Oh, great!. What are you going to do?". You ask with fake enthusiasm. Shinwon runs a hand through his hair as you stop at the traffic light.

"Eating out, she can choose the restaurant. I'll pick her up at 7 o'clock." The same voice again, flat as can be. You lean your head against the car window and sigh. Your gaze falls on his clothes, a small chuckle escapes your lips.

"I hope you're going to wear something different than this." Shinwon quickly glances at his clothes. What's wrong with jeans, a shirt, and sneakers?. "She'll just have to accept me as I am," he mumbles, a little irritation audible in his voice.

"Okay okay, clear. It's your date." Even though you try to be there for him, be happy for him and support him in everything he does, it changes your mood.

"I hope she's the one you're looking for, if not?. You know where to find me'', you blurted out as you get out of the car, with a light blush on your cheeks. You never expected that you would dare to say this. A smile appears on Shinwon's face, the first in the entire car ride. A smile you've never seen from him before.

"You'll hear from me," he calls after you and he quickly drives off, on his way to his date.

*

Shinwon knew the moment he saw his date walk through the door that he had made a big mistake. This was not what he wanted. His date was a beautiful woman, nothing could be further from the truth. But not the woman he expected. Woo, his best friend, thought it was about time Shinwon started dating. With the reason to get you out of his mind as long as he was too scared to do anything. One of Woo's colleagues thought Shinwon was a handsome man, and Woo didn't have to think twice about pairing the two together. Shinwon didn't know anything, not what she looked like, what she was like, and who she was.

It didn't sit well with him. It's not easy for him either. Having feelings for your best friend is often the worst thing that can happen to a friendship. At least that's what he read on the internet after he researched on google. He wants so badly to be more than that, but he knows full well that it is one-sided. You see him as your best friend, and nothing more. He should have known. A blind date would help him to change his mind, but this doesn't help either.

"Sorry, I have to go," he mumbles and puts some money down for the bill, grabs his coat, and storms out of the restaurant. He can't take it anymore.

*

Several loud bangs startle you from the series that has been watching for the past few hours, to avoid being busy with Shinwon as much as possible. You rush towards the hall where you take the door off the lock and open it. The very man you tried to fight out of your mind is breathless with one hand leaning against the door frame. "What the hell happened?".

Without saying a word he walks into your apartment, you close the door behind you and follow him. He stands with both hands on his sides in the middle of the living room, shaking his head and turning around.

"Sorry, I have to do this."

He walks up to you, takes your face in both hands, and presses his lips to yours. Eyes as big as the china saucers in your grandmother's closet, hands clenched in fists and your body that can't move in any way, that's how you react to the man who, after all these years, finally kisses you.

Shinwon lets go, a little unsure of how you're going to react, but the frozen attitude your body had taken doesn't give him a straight answer.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles and prepares to disappear from your apartment as quickly as possible.

''For what?. For the fact that it took you years?. Or for the fact that you seriously think I'll agree to just one kiss?".

You are amazed that you can speak at all, your body is slowly thawing from shock, your heart is pumping like crazy and a small blush forms on your cheeks. And you wonder where the confidence comes from. Maybe you are just sick and tired of not being honest about your feelings.

Shinwon chuckles uncertainly, not knowing what to do in this situation.

"So this means that..."

You don't let him finish, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his lips.

"It means we were both wimps." Shinwon smiles and without any warning, he grabs your body and lifts you up. Automatically you close your legs around his waist, his hands move from your lower back to your butt.

"Then these wimps should make sure that doesn't happen again," he jokes as he presses a kiss to your lips and makes his way to your bedroom.

*

Copyright © 2022 International-kpopfan. All rights reserved.

Don’t repost without permission.

#pentagon fluff #pentagon scenarios #pentagon imagines #pentagon #ptg scenarios #ptg imagines #ptg fluff #ptg x reader #hui #hongseok #yanan #shinwon #shinwon imagines #shinwon x reader #kino #yuto #yuto horigome #jinho #yeoone #wooseok

[wordsnstuff]

Guide To Writing Historical Fiction

PLEASE REBLOG | Tumblr suppresses posts with links :/

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

Finding Credible Sources

This can be a major struggle, especially for those who don’t possess a lot of skill in writing research papers or writing informative works. I could write an entire article on this subject alone, but instead I’ve decided to link a few helpful articles that can help you identify credible sources. A good rule of thumb is to pay attention to how recent the information is, who wrote it (what are their credentials), and who/which organization published the information. If you’re unsure of whether one or all of these things indicates a lack of credibility, cross-reference against other material, and always keep the list of sources you’ve used handy for future reference.

Familiarity vs. Accuracy

The ultimate goal of writing historical fiction is creating an immersive experience for the reader, which takes place during a period in time they didn’t live through, or in a location they didn’t experience during that time. It’s about immersion, and it’s important that you don’t sacrifice that experience in an effort to make the material as factual as possible. You are an artist, and you have the room to pick and choose where accuracy is necessary, and where familiarity can supplement it.

Write For Your Reader

When choosing which information to include in your writing, you need to keep the reader at the forefront of your mind. What do they need to know? What can be omitted in the interest of individual interpretation? Where does specificity take away from the excitement of a moment in the story. There should never be a scene that is completely focused on unpacking the research you’ve done on the time period. You do the research and learn the information to aide in your ability to tell an immersive story, and you edit include information sporadicly with the intention of keeping the worldly aspects fresh in their mind. Each piece of information is a reminder to the reader’s imagination of where and when they are. It’s not about teaching them anything. That’s why it’s fiction.

Authenticity vs. Accessibility

A lot of historical fiction works become problematic when the author prioritizes factual accuracy over accessibility to the everyday reader. The majority of readers come for the taste of another time or another culture, or both. If they wanted to read a history paper, they would. If they wanted to read a 120 page report on 16th century Japan, they would. Keep this in mind. Accessibility is a deal breaker for most readers. If they can’t see the story through the information, they’ll put your story down, because they want what’s been advertised.

Differentiating Between Classes

Class is one of those things that, when imagining what it’s like to research for historical fiction, you forget to consider. In most cases, the experience of lower classes or the middle class were not documented or recorded in the past because it wasn’t considered worth remembering. Be mindful of who your characters are, because if you’re writing about a time period that predates modern methods of recording life and events, you may struggle to find information on anyone other than royalty and the general upper-class.

Common Struggles

~ Being a detail-oriented writer who struggles with efficiency… Here’s the thing. Write down the questions you come up with while writing, put a signifier in your draft, and then move on. Continue writing, because in all reality, it’s not worth your time to squeeze all of that minuscule detail into a first or second draft. Get the actual story done with a solid foundation of information about the relevant subjects, and then when you’re confident in your current draft, move onto the little things.

~ How far should I go when taking artistic liberties?… Make the time period and the location familiar and make the characters fit logically into it. Beyond that, nitpicking is not your responsibility. It’s historical fiction. Unless you’re wildly misrepresenting a serious issue or an important detail, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t take liberties where you see fit. It’s one thing to decide tomatoes did exist in Italy during the 14th century and another to erase a minority struggle in your historical fiction story. It’s fairly simple.

~ Speech patterns and vernacular of different time periods… Speech patterns are difficult to smoothly incorporate into text anyhow, but if it’s relevant to your plot, there are a lot of resources on speech during different time periods and the dialects in various areas of the world. The vernacular of languages are more important to research, especially for dialogue, but this is also something you can hire an specialized editor to work with you on. I would use texts of the time period as a jumping-off point, translated into their original version but in whatever language you speak, and then compare patterns you see between them.

~ Portraying historical figures… This is subjective, and whether the figure is dead or alive is also important to consider. Unless they’re an integral character in your story, my best advice would be to portray them with the enduring attitude of the majority, such as neutrality for a figure like John F. Kennedy, or negativity for figures like Adolf Hitler. This is highly subjective to your story and their role in it.

~ Depicting more recent time periods… If you have no experience with that time period and the events within it, and you have the option of asking someone you know, I recommend doing so. However, take bias and perspective into account when incorporating the information you glean into your story. Try to depict them with more nostalgia than stereotype.

Other Resources

Resources For Writing Royalty

Commentary on Social Issues In Writing

Describing Setting

Resources For Worldbuilding

Resources For Describing Physical Things

Things To Know About Your Real-Life Setting

Guide To Political World Building

Tips on Introducing Political Backstory

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : High Middle Ages & Renaissance

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1600s

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1700s

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1800s

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1900-1939

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1940-1969

Resources For Writing (Global) Period Pieces : 1970-1999

Writing Other Eras

World Building In Historical Fiction

Historically Accurate Dialogue

Accuracy vs Relatability

Guide To Writing Historical Fiction

–

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[lizbotw]

How about same characters but instead you have an SO who’s in love with thunderstorms? Like the louder the thunder, the more amazed you’ll be. Also definitely the type to dance in the rain 🌧 (Todoroki, Hawks, and I believe it was Bakugo?)

Todoroki, Hawks, and Bakugou With a S/O That Loves Thunderstorms

that dancing in the rain idea was AMAZING and then that got me thinking about what other cute things they would do in the rain! ahhh i loved this idea! ♡ i hope you enjoy it and once again i went a little overboard in some areas so this is more like another headcanon and scenario hybrid lmao :’)

Todoroki Shouto

Shouto had been doing a lot of research lately about how to be the best boyfriend for you. People often told him he didn’t come off as the most caring type, or that his responses to certain things could be interpreted as chilly and disinterested.

And he was very much interested in you, so he was trying his best make sure you knew that.

The day it started raining not long after you two had started dating he felt so prepared. He had read all about this.

Step One: Make sure he had an umbrella that was large enough for the two of you to fit under. Nothing was more romantic than holding hands in the rain while remaining dry.

Step Two: Carry you over large puddles. Soggy socks were not fun, but being in the strong arms of your boyfriend apparently was.

Step Three: Perfect opportunity to invite you over and he would be a fool not to take the chance. Provide warm clothes for you to change out of, a fluffy blanket for you two to cuddle under, and soothe your fears as the storm picked up in ferocity outside.

Seemed simple enough.

After class, he cornered you before you could go outside to head home. “(Y/N), let’s walk together.” It sounded more like a statement than a request, but way he swung an oversized umbrella at his side and moved to undo the tie that kept the fabric in place already told you you didn’t have much say in the matter.

On an unrelated note, the appearance of such an umbrella had you wondering where on earth he had gotten such a thing. It was clearly too big for something he would use regularly.

(The answer was that he had stolen from Endeavor that morning, the coat closet afterwards left with nothing but smaller, more normal sized umbrellas that probably wouldn’t do much for someone as large as his father. Not that he cared. He had even hummed a little tune as he left the house, barely sparing any thoughts for how his dad would be absolutely drenched before he even walked two blocks.)

Shouto’s attempts at serenading you with an umbrella were cute, but just caused you to tilt your head in confusion, a mischievous smile on your face. “We can walk together, but why do you need that?” You gestured to the umbrella.

“Well, don’t you want to stay dr-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before you skipped out of the door. He tried to reach out to grab you back but you were too quick, slipping just out of range within seconds. He didn’t even have time to finish opening the umbrella and just ran after you, very much concerned at how he was already failing at Step One.

Luckily he was able to catch up with you when you stopped a few moments later, but the only reason you had even done so was not because you were waiting for him, but because you were busy admiring how the rain ran down the leaves of the trees flanking the pathway to the school. “Isn’t it beautiful, Shouto?” You commented without even turning around. You could tell he was there from his raggedy breaths.

“(Y/N)! Don’t worry, I have an umbrella. No need to worry about the rain.” He was still focused on his plan and was now struggling to open the umbrella all while pushing his dripping bangs out of his eyes.

Hearing that, you did turn around burst out laughing at how he would switch between tugging at the umbrella handle and angrily carding his fingers through his hair while huffing at the strands that refused to stay out of his face. You placed a hand on his arm, but when he still didn’t pay attention to you, you spoke. “Shouto, stop.” Your tone was soothing, even as you still wore a smile and were giggling at his predicament, and he immediately looked over at you, eyes scanning over how drenched you were as well.

That sent him into a whole new frenzy as he got ready to pull off his uniform jacket for you and you had to stop him all over again. You had to explain that you didn’t mind getting a little wet from the storm and in fact you actually liked it. He felt like you were just trying to make him feel better about the whole thing, but eventually he seemed to believe you and gave up on the umbrella idea.

Since you guys had just been standing there, having an entire discussion about whether or not the water falling from the sky was any cause for concern, you were both absolutely soaked. There wasn’t really any point in trying to stay dry now, so you convinced Shouto to allow you to drag him around the city to see the wonder of rain that most people completely missed or just straight up ignored because they were so busy keeping their head down and their feet moving as they shuffled to some place dry.

Sheltering under trees and shop awnings as you walked through the area, you guys avoided becoming chilled to the bone, or getting soaked enough for concern. Your fingers were firmly interlaced with Shouto’s as you dashed around the area, pulling him behind you as the rain blurred the city lights into indistinguishable neons and your heart thumped wildly in your chest as you almost slipped on the slick ground several times (Shouto’s arm always shot out to catch you, but you just laughed at his concern as you regained your footing easily on your own and pulled him around another corner).

The city park was completely empty by the time you guys got there and you wasted no time in heading to the lake in the heart of it to watch how the water fell on the surface before becoming a part of the rest of the body of water.

The whole time during your little adventure, Shouto had been watching you closely. At first it was out of concern to make sure that you weren’t pretending to enjoy this just for his sake, multicolored eyes searching to make sure you didn’t need anything from him, but slowly it morphed into him admiring you as he always did. The way your eyes were as wild as your slicked down hair that flew behind you and the way your laughter was ignited with a fire hotter than any he could ever produce.

Your steps always seemed sure despite your occasional stumbles, and even now when you were still by the lake, you seemed content yet still thinking about the next big thing you wanted to do.

You had crouched down by the water, but all of a sudden you stood up and turned to him. He thought that he had been caught staring at you and embarrassment flooded through him. His cheeks felt hot and he forgot that that was because he had just been running after you.

But you didn’t seem to have noticed the staring or even care. Instead, you stepped closer to him and grabbed a hold of the collar of his shirt, tugging him down while you tilted your face up and suddenly your lips were smashed together and his hands automatically went to your waist. Your shirt was clinging to you before, but now seemed to latch onto his as well as the rain poured down on both of you, pushing you closer and closer together.

You weren’t sure how or when it happened, but the next thing you new, he had pressed you up against the trunk of a park tree as his lips moved against yours as though they had a mind of their own.

It wasn’t until he heard the distant roll of thunder that he pulled back, about to tell you that you should both head home until he saw the newly sparked crazed look in your eye at the sound of the storm worsening. He immediately invited you over to stay with him, deciding that he should probably continue to supervise your rain time pursuits.

You happily agreed because it was Shouto for crying out loud, and managed to pull him back down to continue what you had just been up to.

That is, until another roll of thunder had him completely pulling away and saying that you guys should really start going as he picked up the umbrella he had dropped in the midst of the kiss. You decided that you should be momentarily mad at the rain for ruining your make out session, but eventually you went back to loving it as Shouto slipped his hand back into yours. Thank you, rain.

When you guys came across a giant puddle on the road during the walk to his house, he reached over to hoist you into your arms, but you were already in the middle of a jump, landing in the puddle with a slash that he just barely avoided.

He stared at you open mouthed as you grinned back at him.

“But... but your socks... they’ll get soggy,” he stammered out.

You waved off his concerns. “That’s not important right now, Shouto. We’re almost to your house, aren’t we? I can just change there.” And then you were skipping off again and he was back to trying to catch up. So much for Step Two.

Step Three was also decidedly failed when you did accept the warm clothes he provided you to change into so you didn’t get sick, but did not want to share a blanket with him on the couch because you were glued to his window and getting more exciting with each passing second as the storm raged outside, animatedly calling him over to join you. You also most definitely did not need any soothing words.

Shouto decided he didn’t mind any of that though or how none of the advice online seemed to apply to you. Wrapping the blanket around your shoulders as he slid in next to you on the window seat to watch the rain drops racing down the window panes (ignoring his phone pinging from somewhere in his room—no doubt his father who was surely sorely missing his umbrella now that the rain had turned into an absolute downpour), he pressed a kiss to your temple as you melted into his touch and he used his quirk to warm you. This was perfect for him and he knew that by the time the next rainy day of your relationship rolled around, he would be even more prepared than he was today.

Both of you also may or may not have had to call out from school for the next few days as you two were home bound with coughs and sniffles that racked your body. A pair of agonizing colds in exchange for an afternoon of fun—not a bad exchange you both decided.

Takami Keigo (Hawks)

You had called him one day after work, asking him if he could pick you up. The sunny morning had turned into a rainy afternoon, and now that you were ready to head home you were faced with the challenges brought from not watching the morning weather forecast for one day and subsequently being sorely under prepared.

Keigo was out on hero duties when you let him know the problem, so he decided to have a little fun when it came to bringing you home. Rather than drive you to your place or call you a taxi, he decided he was going to fly you there. What? You can’t blame him for wanting you to grip tightly to his shoulders as he carries you in his strong arms high above the skyscrapers.

This wasn’t how you planned to spend your time after work, and as you buried your face in his chest as he soared to the skies, you questioned your decisions.

He made sure to use his feathers to keep you dry, and once you were sure you weren’t going to fall to your doom, you allowed yourself to peek out from where your face had been tucked in, in awe at being closer to the rain clouds now.

You wanted to reach your hand out to fee the cool rain, but then you remembered the reason it was so important for you to stay dry. Truth be told, you were fine with getting a little wet and just toughing it out until you could get home and change into warmer clothes, but today you had important documents you needed to get home in one piece and that meant any small drop of water could completely mess them up. Not that Keigo knew that. He just assumed you wanted to be out of the rain like any other person. You two hadn’t spent many rainy days together, and those that you had had only been a light patter—nothing like the loud thunderstorms that truly piqued your interest.

Once he dropped you off at your apartment building, Keigo let you know he had a few more hero related things to finish off but promised to come check on you afterwards since he couldn’t walk you inside right now. A hug, goodbye kiss, and small thank you were all you managed before he had to go, even though it was very clear he wanted to stay longer.

When you walked inside the building, you greeted the woman at the front desk and made small talk about the weather outside to which she replied in amazement that you seemed completely dry. To that you just chuckled, mentally thanking your boyfriend for getting you home safely. After that, you rode the elevator up to your apartment and once you were inside, you made sure to take the precious documents out of the bag you had been cradling to your chest out of fear of anything happening to them and place them in a very safe and dry location that you knew you wouldn’t forget about. Hopefully.

But with those out of your mind, you could finally relax, and set about taking a hot shower and changing into more comfortable clothes. Sure, you hadn’t gotten wet, but this had become a routine for you on rainy days so you felt compelled to still complete it. As you went through the steps, the sound of thunder outside made you feel safe and secure, and your heart leapt with excitement every time you heard a new roll of it in the distance.

You decided to make a cup of tea and sit by the window to watch the storm outside. Nothing better than some alone time on a rainy day for you.

You were so caught up in counting the seconds between each crack of thunder that you barely even heard Keigo when he came in through the door, having quickly wrapped up his hero work, changed into casual clothes, and flew back over to your apartment and let himself in within record time. “Hey, babe, do you have any more of those-,” he started saying, but then you shrieked and whirled around, very much confused at what was going on.

He looked startled for a second before he burst out laughing as you slowly realized it was just your boyfriend, embarrassment creeping across your features as you hid your face in shame.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face, oh my god,” he barley managed to get out as he doubled over in laughter.

You just huffed and crossed your arms. “Shut up. You almost made me spill my scalding hot tea all over me.” You decided to throw a little bit of overdramatic descriptions in there for good measure in exchange for the heart attack he had almost given you.

Keigo was still quietly chuckling as he walked over to you. He shook his head in amusement at your pouting and gave you a kiss on your forehead. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and you could feel his lips curving up into a smile against your temple. He pulled away to sit down next to you, leaning back on the pillows propped against the wall with his hands behind his head. “What were you so busy looking at anyway? You didn’t even reply to my text earlier.”

“You texted? My phone is charging, so I didn’t see it.” You turned back to stare out the window as you two fell into a comfortable back and forth conversation as you always did.

“But I told you I was coming.” His teasing, lighthearted tone was insufferably endearing, and you hid a smile as you took a sip from your cup.

“Yeah, well I told you many times before to knock first.” You did your best to mimic his tone and stole a glance at his face to see his reaction. His offended expression was hilarious, but you decided to put him out of his misery and answer his earlier question, letting him know that you were actually so caught up watching the rain that you hadn’t heard him come in before.

Keigo’s eyes lit up and his mouth quirked into a mischievous smirk. “Babe, if you wanted to see the rain up close, you should’ve just told me.” He got up from the window seat and tugged on your arm to pull you with him.

“Wait, wait, hold on, you’re going to make me spill this all over myself again.” You shook off hand and stood up on your own, walking over to your kitchen counter to place down the cup of tea safely.

He trailed after you and gave you a hug from behind once you finally placed it down. “Now?”

You turned around in his arms and kissed the tip of his nose. “Now.”

He smiled, gave you a proper kiss on your lips, and slipped his hand in yours to pull you along. You realized he was heading towards the door and grabbed a sweater you had draped over a chair as you passed by it.

He released your hand as he moved to open the door and you took that chance to slip the sweater on. He laced your fingers back together soon after.

Any questions you posed about what he was doing or where you were going were just met with a knowing smirk as he looked back at you following him, or he’d simply vaguely say, “You’ll see.” Eventually you gave up and just enjoyed the warmth of his hands in yours.

He took you to the elevator and up to the highest floor of your apartment building, and then you two took the small staircase up to the roof.

When he pushed open the door to the roof, you could clearly see how the rain had picked up from earlier, and you wondered what he was planning.

Keigo expanded his wings and wrapped one around you as he pulled you to his side and moved to take a step outside.

“Kei-”

He cut you off. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”

You bit your lip and nodded, matching your steps to his long strides as he stepped outside. You flinched, expecting to feel the cool rain pelting down on you, but when you looked up, you remembered that his feathers were protecting the two of you from getting wet.

You tentatively reached a hand out to feel the rain just as you had wanted to do earlier, shivering at the feeling of the water slipping between your fingers.

He led you to the edge of the roof and you two stopped at the edge. He beckoned for you to sit down, and some of his feathers fluttered to the ground so you wouldn’t one have to sit on the wet concrete.

Soon you two were situated, sitting together and sides pressed together, his arm around your shoulder as you balled your hands against his chest, head leaning on him. His wings and feathers kept you two from becoming soaked, allowing you a better view of the storm than you ever could’ve gotten from your tiny apartment window.

The air was crisp and the feeling of the wind blowing light bits of water at you felt refreshing and enthralling. The sound of the thunder was clear whenever it rang out and the lightning was bright as it flashed across the sky. It was all so breathtaking.

You and Keigo fell into a comfortable conversation as you two sat there, legs swinging over the edge. Surrounded on all sides by the harsh weather yet protected by your loving boyfriend made the whole thing seem surreal.

You knew that you two definitely had to do this again and you knew Keigo would have no objections if you asked him. Up close, the storm reignited a fire in you and reminded you why you had fallen in love with such a type of weather in the first place.

Keigo gave you small kisses throughout your time on the roof, and at one point lifted your chin up so he could press a long kiss to your lips, tilting his head towards yours and causing his shaggy hair to tickle your forehead as you ran your tongue over his lips, biting them lightly.

When you two eventually went back inside, he had to shake the water off of his wings, and you stood a little bit away, putting your hands up to protect yourself from the flying water and giggling as he tried to dried them off.

Once he was satisfied enough and his feathers weren’t dripping anymore, he walked over to you, opening his mouth to say something, but before he could you grabbed his hair and tip toed up to kiss him, a silent thank you for such an amazing experience.

Although he was surprised at first, Keigo wasted no time in reciprocating it, pushing you against the the wall as his hands found your hips.

Looks like you two were going to be spending some more time in the rooftop stairwell before you could even get back to your apartment—not that either of you were complaining.

Bakugou Katsuki

The first time he catches you staring out the window wistfully as rain pelts down outside when you’re staying over at his house, he doesn’t think much of it, but then half an hour passes and you’re still stuck there and he begins to think it’s a little weird how your attention seems so focused on whatever it is you’re looking at, and actually comes up behind you to see what the hell is so interesting outside. Except there’s nothing out of the ordinary besides the rain.

You were so enamored by the lighting flashes that you didn’t even noticed him leaning over your shoulder to peer out of the window. Since it doesn’t seem that he disturbed your trance, Katsuki just gives you a puzzled expression and goes back to slumping down in his bean bag chair, except this time he doesn’t go back to flipping through the comic he was reading, instead choosing to continue to watch you closely.

It turns into him admiring the way the gloomy lighting outside casts shadows on your face, while the bright light of his bedroom shines on your hair. He’s full on resting his chin in the palm of his hand and staring at you happily—allowing himself a moment of vulnerability since you weren’t paying attention anyway—when you suddenly jump up from your seat right after another crack of thunder. The sudden noise and movement catches him off guard, and as you run past him and out his bedroom door, his nearly toppled out of the bean bag chair, having been leaning in a less than stable position as he watched you before.

‘What the fuck?,’ is all he can think to himself as he stares through the bedroom door you left ajar and out into the hallway you had disappeared down. Katsuki just shakes his head in disapproval and picks up the comic book he had discarded on the ground, thumbing through the pages to find his place again. He didn’t have enough energy to deal with whatever the fuck you were up to this time.

That is, until he hears the distant squeak of shoes and the sound of the back door to his house opening and slamming shut. He immediately scrambles to the window overlooking his backyard and catches sight of you just as you exit the house and step out into the rain.

Okay... maybe you had a good reason to? Like maybe you forgot something outside? But no. Instead, he sees you twirling around and holding out your open palms to the water droplets.

Completely sure you had lost your mind, Katsuki tore himself away from the window and bizarre sight below it, and thundered down the steps of his house, skidding to a stop in front of the back door and wrenching it open. The deafening sound of rain hit his ears, hammering against the awning of his back porch.

As you splash around in the puddles outside, he could now make out the rain boots and flimsy raincoat you had tugged on right before heading outside. You seemed perfectly content in that getup alone, no umbrella in sight.

“(Y/N)???” Katsuki called out from the doorway where he still stood. At first he wasn’t sure if you would even hear him over the rain, but then you whirled around, eyes darting about as you tried to place the sound—glancing up at the bedroom window at first since you still thought he was in his room—until they finally landed on him right in front of you and your eyes lit up.

You gave him a small wave with a bright smile and made a gesture for him to come out and join you.

He shook his head no at your request because you had to be crazy to go out in this kind of weather. “Come back inside,” he yelled out again. It was a command that gave you no option to refuse, yet somehow you did, shaking your head no at him, just as he had done to you, and playfully sticking your tongue out at his flabbergasted reaction before you turned back to spinning around under the falling water.

Katsuki could not tolerate you getting sick and then having to deal with your whining as he was forced to nurse you back to health, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He turned back inside and pulled out his own pair of rain boots and an umbrella from the coat closet and steeled himself to step outside.

He immediately wanted to go back in where it was nice and warm, the house cozy compared to the nightmare (to him) of outside, but he pressed onward and walked up to you. Except when he attempted to grab your arm to drag you back in, you took the fact that he was outside as an invitation to include him in your rainy day adventures.

“You know, Kat, now that we’re both out here, don’t you think we should celebrate?”

The teasing tone in your voice already clued him in that you were about to do something questionable, but when you tugged him towards you and he almost tripped over his own two feet, he wondered what in the world you meant. You used the momentum from his stumbling to pulled him closer you, until you were both under the umbrella he was holding, one of your hands gripping his shoulder and your other still on his forearm. You stared up at him with a dopey grin.

He had grabbed onto your hip to catch his balance before and now that you were all but pressed into his chest, his arm automatically snaked around your waist to pull you closer, hand resting on your lower back.

Katsuki shifted the umbrella in his grip and rain droplets bounced off the edges. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked wearily, eyeing you suspiciously because you were unpredictable and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted you to elaborate on your so called “amazing plan.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t you be more romantic for once?”

“What’s romantic about this?”

You looked personally offended that that. “Everything! We’re literally sharing an umbrella outside-”

“Yeah, because you forced me come out here-“

“Stop interrupting me. Anyway, take a look at the position we’re in, Mr. I’m-So-Smart.”

“What the fuck do you-” Katsuki stopped talking as he fully took in the meaning behind your words. The way you two were standing, the way your hands rested on such specific parts of each other, it almost looked like... “What? Are you about to bust out ballroom dancing right now?”

The amused look on his face melted away into one of horror as you enthusiastically nodded, seeming very much serious about this. “We don’t have to ballroom dance if you want—you might step on my toes anyway—but wouldn’t it be fun to dance in the rain together? This is the type of thing movies always show!”

He didn’t even have time to be offended at you insinuating he would be a bad dancing partner and instead scrunched his face up as he tried to imagine how in the world this could be fun.

He also didn’t even have the chance to speak before you were already attacking all possible arguments against this that he could make.

“I know that look on your face and I just wanted to let you know that no you’re not getting out of this.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“I’ll go back inside if you agree.”

Katsuki’s lips quirked up into an amused smirk again. “What’s stopping me from just carrying you back inside right now?”

You laughed and he suddenly had the feeling that you were one step ahead of him still and had a plan for all of this. Oh no. “That’s a good question. I’d like to see you try though.” You stepped back and pulled him with you. The slick ground had him almost tripping again at the sudden movement and he had to make sure he didn’t crash into you and send you two toppling to the ground—it wouldn’t be very fun to clean up the mud that would surely cake both of your clothes.

The weather worked in your favor though—when had it not since this stupid storm started?—and you managed to get him to do a sloppy version of a couples dance—something you wouldn’t have been able to do normally due to his stronger physique, although now he was powerless—tugging him after you as you twirled around in his backyard, him slipping as he tried not to fall on the ground and holding onto you for dear life. Yes, very romantic.

You accidentally knocked the umbrella out of his hand at some point and while you barely noticed, he sure did. Within seconds his hair was heavy with water and his clothes were sticking to him. The umbrella hadn’t been doing much because your raincoat had already gotten the front of his shirt wet, and the way you were pulling him around had the umbrella shaking water on him anyway. Plus the slight wind in the air had been pelting the rain against him even from under the umbrella. Still, the umbrella was his last resort to keep from becoming totally soaked.

He grumbled and cursed under his breath, and that caught your attention.

You took one look at the hair plastered against his forehead and the umbrella now rolling around on the ground, being blown about by the wind, and burst out laughing—the hood of your oversized jacket keeping your hair safe while the rest of you was nice and cozy, a sharp contrast to his current state. He narrowed his eyes at that. Oh, it’s on.

Since he was soaked to the bone now and had nothing left to lose, he decided it was about time he took the lead here. He pulled you closer to his chest and now you were the one stumbling, your laughter cut off as you looked up to him in confusion. “Kat, what-”

“You said you wanted to dance, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you want to take it back now, babe. I was just getting started.” There was a new twinkle in his eye and as soon as you noticed it you broke out into a smile, meeting his eyes to accept his challenge.

Katsuki was surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly because he was so good at everything) adept at dancing, twirling you around and pulling you back to his chest with ease, and you decided that later you would make fun of him and ask if he had taken dance lessons. And no, he didn’t step on your toes, although you did step on his and he made sure to point it out every time.

He dipped you down at the end of all of it, both of you breathing heavily. You studied his face, grinned, and then leaned up to kiss him. He tightened his grip to make sure he didn’t drop you, thunder sounding in the distance.

You guys splashed in the puddles for a while longer—it took him a little while to agree, but it didn’t take much convincing after just a few moments because he had already given up on resisting at that point, plus you had challenged him to see who could make the biggest splash and he obviously couldn’t turn down that—but eventually you agreed with him that you two should head inside.

He had to stand by the doorway because he was soaked and he didn’t want to get water inside, while you simply stripped off your raincoat, nice and dry underneath, and happily skipped off to grab him a towel to dry off with.

Soon you two were all dry and in warm clothes once again, cuddled up on his bed near the window.

You showed him how to count the seconds in between a lightning strike and the sounding of thunder in order to calculate how many miles away the lightning was. You two ended up argued over the exact number of seconds more than once until you were both petty enough to grab your phones, set a timer, and settle the dispute once and for all.

“So, what was stopping you?” You turned to him to ask later.

He gave you a quizzical looked and pulled you closer to him, adjusting the blanket wrapped around you both. “What do you mean?”

“What was stopping you from just carrying me back inside before? You wouldn’t be shivering right now if you just did that, you know.” You reached up a hand to twirl a strand of his spiky hair around your fingers, turning his earlier words against him.

He tried to bat your hand away, but when you just kept putting it back, he leaned into your touch. “You looked happy,” he mumbled, looking away, “and you’re... kind of cute when you’re like that or whatever.”

“What’s that? I don’t think I heard you clearly, Kat,” you purred, teasing lilt in your voice.

Katsuki gave you a grumpy look. “I’m not repeating myself, fuck off.” And then he kissed your cheek and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply.

You continued to watch the storm outside as you moved to stroke his back, his lips lightly pressing against your neck at irregular intervals as he kept his head there. It was warm and comfortable in his bed, and having him pressed against you made that rainy day all the better.

Katsuki ended up slightly sick from spending so much time outside wearing barely anything more than a few thin pieces of clothing that were clearly not made to handle the rain, and although he wasn’t in terrible condition, you still had to deal with his whining and agree to his demands for more blankets, pillows, and snacks that he all claimed he couldn’t get himself. Now you were the one who had to nurse him back to health in the days that followed. What a turn of events.

You pretended to be grumpy when you entered his room and tossed the extra pillow he had asked for in his face, but as he floundered as it landed on him—jolting him out of him resting quietly with his eyes closed—you couldn’t help but smile widely, despite you trying to bite it back down.

Once Katsuki got the pillow off his face, he turned to give you an angry glare, he noticed your smile and his resolve immediately melted away. He turned his attention back to the pillow and slipped it under his head, arranging it a bit before laying down on it, hands behind his head and eyes closing again. “...Thank you, babe... I love you,” he said, somewhat mumbling it out because you always liked to tease him whenever he was all lovey dovey. A smile made it’s way to his face again as he thought about that day out in the rain and how happy you had looked. Next time he would be more prepared for your rainy day adventures so you better be ready.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #takami keigo #todoroki shouto #todoroki #i was supposed to post this an hour ago but n e ways #IT'S BEEN RAINING HERE SO MUCH #and it was legit just storming #i give up #i am COLD and it is SUMMER #save me #yum need me a todoroki irl #dancing in the rain is such a good idea bless up #except i wrote it very awkwardly so nvm #KAJSHDKJS

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ @theastroooooworld​ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝oi oi oi nikki ♡! i hope you are well as always. can i have hc's for Tanaka, Ushijima and Bokuto (separately) ? how would they behave with their childhood best friend who supports them since their beginning in volleyball but with whom they gradually fall in love ? thanks !!je t'aime tant, prends soin de toi et des tiens 🧡🌅❞ ─➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝my dearest cam,  forgive me for the terrible, terrible sense of never being on time but i’ve heard this letter comes at the right time (hopefully this letter will help a tiny bit while you’re healing.) je t’aime fort fort, prends soin de toi (et de ton tibia et de tes cervicales) et des tiens! sealed with a magic kiss to blow your pain away,  nikki.❞

──➤ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 : Tanaka, Bokuto and Ushijima gradually fall in love with their childhood best friend. ─➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of a nose bleeding.

──➤ Tanaka Ryuunosuke sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Despite his flamboyant sense of worship for Kiyoko, Tanaka does not know how to handle emotions, romantic ones, that is. Sure, he (alongside with Nishinoya) are willing to kiss each centimeter of concrete blessed by Kiyoko’s footsteps, but despite his burning passion, Tanaka is rendered into a stuttering mess when the attention is focused on him.

He has hidden and sometimes projected his blooming crushes for other people onto proves of love for Kiyoko, and in that sense, knowing he could solely focus his attention on her brought him a sense of security because he is so scared of the unknown, especially romantically-wise.

Hence why, whenever he would find himself appreciating someone who wasn’t Kiyoko a bit too much to his own liking, he would bury that feeling deep down and instead transform these hushed sentiments into demonstrations of love for his one and only goddess. 

However.

Sometimes, feelings tend to be a bit stronger when they are mixed with nostalgia, that is, childhood nostalgia. Truth be told, you, Tanaka and Noya were always found together... And often in the worst scenarios (just like that one time you and Ryuu were waiting for Nishinoya and you had to help Tanaka contain all the blood leaking from his nose at the sight of the bombshell accompanying Nishinoya’s grandfather.) 

Surely enough, Tanaka had always seen you like the equivalent of Nishinoya, meaning that he would confess every little secret locked in the back of his mind, even those including Kiyoko. 

Your presence was comforting, and he always considered you extra fuel to animate his fire whenever you would watch him during practice (and you were the first to throw an empty bottle straight to his head whenever he would throw his shirt off after scoring an impressive bottle.)

But in a very, very dramatic way, Kiyoko found herself become gradually set free of Tanaka’s romantic antics and devotion which led her to question the cause of all of this— despite her dislike for any kind of grandiose display of devotion, the fact Tanaka had started to stop giving her attention was a huge red flag regarding his state.

She hesitated to go talk to Nishinoya, but she was expecting to be met with no serious answer, and instead, just watch him drool during several minutes. 

She, thus, went to the next best person who would be able to comprehend this sudden switch in attitude: you, and your lifelong experience regarding Tanaka.

You were undoubtedly quizzical, but things took another turn when Tanaka himself showed up around the corner of the gym, and an uncharacteristic blush crept on his cheeks, Kiyoko took it as a clue to leave you alone.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Ryuu? Are you sick or anything? You haven’t been, you know, following Ki—“

“I like you a whole lot. A lot. Like, a lot.” He confessed, his body was rigid but his eyes testified of all the love he had for you.

You couldn’t help but allow a soft giggle to break free from your lips, “does that mean you’re going to be worshipping me now?”

And as soon as the words died on your lips, his dropped on one knee, and delicately reached for your hand which he enveloped with his palms and soon smothered with love-infused pecks. “Anything for you, my beautiful divinity. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were kids, now I got to worship you everyday, the sunshine of my life.”

──➤ Bokuto Koutarou sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Before Akaashi came in the picture, you’ve always been his pilar, his rock, his pivot, his safe person. Bokuto soon learned to identify you as the person he could go to if anything were to happen.

You knew firsthand how to handle his emo mode since you were kids, and as a child, Bokuto would make himself appear look sad on purpose just so you could focus your attention on him and smoother him with love and kind touches.

Years later, this side of his personality never faded away, but never did your calming antics, nor did you stop always keeping an eye out on him during practice.

Bokuto expressively asked you to be the manager of the team, he said it was to “give you the best seats in the house to admire the way of the ace”, but truthfully, you were the fuel to the fire burning like an inexorable inferno within him.

You and Akaashi completed one another perfectly to find a balance for Bokuto, but at times, when Bokuto would find himself being overwhelmed by sad thoughts on the court, Akaashi would always suggest him to look at you, sitting on the benches.

It had become a ritual, each time Bokuto felt nervous or tortured by his own emotions, his shining golden orbs would find your frame, and a smile on your end was enough to make him feel at peace again. And that, ever since Bokuto started playing volleyball.

One day, during training, Bokuto had ententered a severe streak of shots, and each time the ball slammed the ground loudly in victory, his eyes darted on your form to study your reaction. He started doing anything to impress you since that day, even the silliest things like carry all the water bottles for you until (inevitably) tripping on the ground.

But striking for your attention and validation over and over again also meant that his emo modes were going to be even more intense too.

As his palm slapped the surface of the ball into a diagonal strike, his body shifted in a straight position, thus transforming the shot into a straight line.

The whines of protest were already leaving his lips, and soon enough his entire body language testified of how his emotions got the best of him: his shoulders were slumped, the tips of his hair faced down, his brows were weakly furrowed. It was a crisis situation.

“Agaaaashehhh! Can you get me Y/N, pleaaaase? I feel like I’m gonna melt and freeze at the same time.” Bokuto pleaded, his golden orbs were glossy under the gathering of the salty pearls in the corner of his eyes.

Without wasting more time, Akaashi jogged to you, and quickly explained the situation with a hint of worry in his tone which was unsual for him.

Your palm brushed Bokuto’s back in a soothing manner, only to find yourself prisoner of his embrace as his forelimbs found shelter on the small of your back, the tip of his nose nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Y/NNNN, I can’t even do diagonal shots anymore... It’s, like, my body goes for diagonal but I keep on hitting straight lines, I feel so dumb and useless...” His words were accompanied by whines of discontent, clearly indicating that this emo situation was more alarming than the others.

Your palm rubbed invisible shapes on his back in a soothing manner, humming at his confessions, “I can’t do anything right, can’t hit diagonal shots, can’t be a good captain, can’t even confess to you that I’ve loved you since day one.”

An angel passed.

“Kou, did— were you serious?”

“Does that mean you don’t like me? ‘S fine, I swear.” He now had his state focused on you, eyes as glossy as ever, and it took you all the strength in the world not to soothe his pain away by smothering him with kisses.

“I like you too, Kou, as big as the sky.” You offered him a genuine smile, your palms having moved to cup his palms while your thumbs were brushing the skin of his cheeks.

The tips of his hair immediately quirked up, and his signature grin throned once more amongst his facial features : “Wooooah! As big as the sky? That’s so big, sunshine! Guess what? I love you as big as the court!”

Another giggle found its way past your lips, soon quieted by the way your planted a peck on his cheek, “That’s a lot, Kou, more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

And as Bokuto cradles you in his embraces, he excitedly stares at Akaashi who has a hint of a smile on his face, jumping a bit over the excitement.

“Kou, I know you’re happy and all but it’s hard to keep up with your hug if you’re jumping all over the place.”

“My bad, sunshine, you just make me so happy, ya know?”

──➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Now, I have already stated that Ushijima is not emotionless, rather he decides whether or not something or someone is worthy of the reveal of his emotions. And only three things fit on this list: Tendou, volleyball and yourself.

You actually met Ushijima as a child at an art discovery class for children. Ushijima had isolated himself from the rest of the children because the remarks of his mother were still ringing loud and clear in his head, but when you approached him and complimented how unique of an approach his left hand offered, he was over the moon (not that he showed it though.)

Much like Bokuto, Toshi is the kind of person to associate someone as his safe person, someone he can go to if needed, or at least feel their presence for reassurance. Needless to say, you are this person to Wakatoshi, always have been since the first doodles you’ve shared together.

In his case, Tendou actually pushed you to be the manager of the team, remarking that your presence would probably motivate Ushijima even more and make him more grounded if he had someone to hold on to during games.

To this day, you’ve always stayed late after practice and watched over Wakatoshi, spike after spike, serve after serve, until his fingers were bleeding and the moonshine outshone the neons of the gym.

You always carried medical tape with you, because you knew he was always bound to push behind his limits, only because he knew that you’d always be there for him, which happened to be true.

Now, now. Wakatoshi does know what feelings are, he knows how to recognize them kinesthetisically and tends to do mental notes of how people manifest their own emotions. Thus, he starts to notice the way his stomach creates knots whenever you’re in the same vicinity.

After training, Tendou finds him reading ads in the latest Jump edition, but Ushijima is quick to interrogate him : “Ah, an ad for plant medicine. Do you reckon this would help my stomach ache, Tendou?”

Tendou blinks once, then twice “Mhm, ‘depends on what kind of stomach ache we’re talking about here, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“It‘s odd. It’s not so much painful but it always happens when Y/N is near me.”

Tendou wipes an inexistent tear away in a dramatic manner, “Toshi-kun, you’re not sick at all, you’re in love.”

Since this sudden realization, Wakatoshi tends to avoid you because he believes that despite the sweet nature of this feeling, this stomach ache is taking a bit too much space to his liking.

He realizes soon, however, that the longer he waits, the worse it becomes.

After practice, and in an ever so natural manner, Ushijima grabs your wrist, and sends a glare to the rest of the team in order to silently tell them to leave the gym now that practice is over.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for taking some of your time so suddenly, I hope I did not startle you.” His grip on your wrist fades away slowly, and you offer him a hint of a smile.

“Don’t worry, Toshi, you’re all good.”

“I requested your presence because it seems I have developed feelings for you.”

A vivid blush colors the apples of your cheeks, your mouth is set agape for a few agonizing seconds: “You think or you know?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, and there’s a hint of disappointment in himself at the lack of retrospection on his end.

“Well, let me help you then.” Your palm is now enveloping his cheek in a loving hold, whilst your lips plant a lingering kiss on his opposite cheek, leaving Wakatoshi at loss for words.

“I, um, I’m positive now. I truly have feelings for you.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #bokuto x reader #ushijima x reader #tanaka x reader #haikyuu bokuto x reader #bokuto hcs #bokuto fluff #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto #haikyuu bokuto #hq ushijima #ushijima hcs #ushijima #ushijima fluff #wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu wakatoshi #hq tanaka #tanaka x you #tanaka headcanons #tanaka ryuunosuke

[caught-in-the-filter]

Coming to Class

Summary: As soon as the semester ends, some mutual feelings are revealed, and mutual feeling ensues.

A/N: This started as a few messages written directly in the CSMM Discord chat and was only supposed to be a minific there to encourage other people to write Professor Killian fics.

I should've known better than to copy and paste them into a doc "just to save what I'd written," because I have as little restraint with writing these two doing each other as Killian usually has in my fics.

Anyway, shout-out to all the lovely people on said Discord, without whom I'd never write any of this, and thank you to @kmomof4​ for betaing this for me.

Rated: E; Words: 2432; AO3

——

The only thing hotter than the sweltering classroom with a long-broken air conditioner was the man handing out the last grades of the semester. An A graced the top right corner of Emma’s paper, “Very Good” written in his handwriting beneath it, and all she wanted was a nice F after class with the same praise spilling from his lips.

Emma took her time putting her books back into her bag for the last time as the other students hurriedly filed out of the room before she slowly approached him, not at all intimidated by the way he casually leaned back against his desk, his arms indecisive as to whether they wanted to cross in front of him or help support his weight.

“Professor Jones, I—” she started, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, an action which she knew he always watched.

“Have been waiting for this, for the semester to end?” He rocked forward onto his feet, and she became suddenly very aware of their proximity and privacy.

“I’d never want your class to end, professor,” she said quickly, hoping he knew she was anything but bored during his lectures, always captivated for a number of reasons.

“Oh?” He stepped forward, guiding her back toward the table behind her and smiling when she gasped as her legs bumped the edge. He lifted the end of the strand of hair she’d moved and twirled it around his finger. “But there’s so much I could teach you now that it’s over.” His face was impossibly close to hers, his breath searing her lips as they opened and hesitated. “Other, more enjoyable things. If you’d like.”

Desire flooded her, swirling through her mind and rushing right to her core.

“Yes, please,” she said weakly with a slight shift in her stance at the sudden dampness between her legs. “I’m always eager to learn new things.” Emma draped her arms over his shoulders and smirked with feigned confidence as she added, “Though I think you’ll find I’m already pretty well educated in this particular subject.”

“Then we’ll just have to put your knowledge to the test, love.”

Emma yelped as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto the table. He shushed her with his finger on her lips, advising her that the neighboring classrooms may not be so empty, but groaned himself as she sucked the tip into her mouth.

“Hush yourself, professor,” she teased, threading her fingers in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Oh so innocently swinging her legs, she coaxed his apart and nudged the stiff, sensitive flesh between them with each outward stretch.

“Gods,” he gritted. Stilling her with his hands firmly gripping her waist, he pulled her forward, balancing her on the edge of the table with his knee between her legs. “Bloody minx, you’ll be the death of me,” he said as he eased down the zipper of her jeans. “These fucking tight things have teased me for far too long.” He slipped his hand beneath the denim, half expecting to find her bare beneath them, rubbing his fingers along the already wet strip of material covering his goal as she bucked into his hand. “You know exactly what you’re doing every time you bend further than necessary to reach for your bag, or you make a point to swagger past my desk and sway your fucking perfect ass as you walk out the door.”

“I th—fuck,” Emma panted as he moved her panties aside and sank two fingers inside her, “I think about that desk a lot, professor.” She clenched her fists in his hair and tugged as she threw her own head back on a poorly stifled moan before leaning forward and resting her forehead on his chest while she struggled to catch her breath as he continued to take it away. Her hands eventually released their hold on his dark locks and slipped lower, and she unbuttoned his shirt to expose more of his skin as she confessed, “I think about hiding beneath it and sucking you off while you teach.” Shoving the material off his shoulders, she caught a bead of his sweat with her tongue and licked a stripe up his neck before whispering into his ear as she cupped his erection through his trousers, “I think about you fucking me on top of it while everyone watches.”

“Fuck, Swan,” he growled, removing his hand from her despite her protesting whine and pressing it to her back as he tucked his other arm beneath her and carried her to the desk in question, her ankles locking behind his back until he lay her down on the wooden surface. “We’ve no audience, darling, but I can certainly make the other portion of your thought come to fruition.”

His thumbs hooked under the hem of her top and slid it up her body. His teeth dragged against her skin as he closely followed the material with his mouth until it lay atop the swell of her breasts. Emma’s eyes fluttered closed as he unclasped her bra and lifted it out of his way. He sealed his lips around her nipple as his hands passed over the expanse of her stomach and tugged her jeans down to her knees. As he coaxed her legs apart with his own, he lowered the zipper on his trousers and freed his stiff cock from its confines, giving it a few short strokes to sooth his own ache before his fingers returned to her dripping core.

“These,” he muttered against her soft flesh as he kneaded her breast and worked a mark into the side of the other, his other hand steadily pumping between her legs, “are perfect. You,” he said as his mouth wandered, expanding its area of exploration down to her navel and back up to her collarbone, “are perfect.”

Emma’s brow furrowed as she chased his hand with her hips, her jaw falling open loosely as she focused on the pleasure his fingers alone were giving her. If she’d opened her eyes, she would have seen his smile, soft and satisfied despite the burning desire flickering behind his gaze as he watched her react to his skilled touch.

“Every inch of you is delicious, Emma,” he mumbled into her skin, sending an eager shiver up her spine.

Another, stronger tremble coursed through her whole body as he curled his fingers inside her and found the spot that left her shaking in front of him, hitting it relentlessly as his tongue teased every other sensitive place he could find. He muffled her gasp with a kiss as his thumb rubbed her clit with gentle passes, pressing his smile to her lips as she squirmed beneath him, the peaks of her breasts brushing against his chest with every movement.

“I think you’re ready for me, love.”

His words barely registered with her, but when she arched into his hand, he slipped his fingers out of her and spread her entrance with them as he slowly replaced them with his cock, allowing her to adjust to his size as he filled her so completely and took her breath away.

“Gods, Emma,” he sighed, resting his forehead on hers for a moment as he began to move with gentle, languid thrusts. “So fucking tight.” As her arousal coated his cock, it became easier to move within her. He gripped her sides to steady her as she writhed and whimpered with every smooth slide. “I’ve wanted to feel you since the very first day of the semester,” he confessed, gradually increasing the pace as he snapped his hips with purpose. “Now that I finally can, I don’t know how I managed to restrain myself.” He licked a stripe up the side of her neck and pulled her earlobe between his teeth. 

“Why didn’t you?” Emma asked, panting through the question as she rocked to meet his thrusts, “Feel me then?” She scrambled for something to hold, trailing her fingertips along his arms before digging half moons into his flesh with her nails like the way his zipper bit into her skin each time he filled her. “I wanted it, too.”

“Bad form,” he sighed before kissing his way back to her breasts. “But as of today, you’re no longer my student.” He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t decide where he wanted his mouth to be. Dragging his teeth up the column of her throat, he continued, “Your grades have been submitted. You’re no longer under my care. There’s no line to cross now.” Tugging her bottom lip with a bite, he growled, “And I must say, I much prefer you under my body than under my wing.” Slanting his mouth against hers, his tongue plunged inside, making her dizzy as it thrust in time with his cock.

His mouth soon became too preoccupied to speak as the taste of her skin consumed him. Emma’s tongue swept across her bottom lip and retreated on a moan as her professor hungrily nipped and sucked at her pulse point. Her hand shot up to encourage him as his scruff teased the hollow of her throat, but the overwhelming combination of sensations as he fucked her had her head spinning, and the growing tension low in her belly as she arched her back made it difficult to take any sort of hold of him. Her thumb grazed his jaw as her nails gently scraped against the side of his neck before she reached down instead to grip the edge of the desk.

Emma brought one hand between them, needing just a little more and determined to have it, but his fingers met hers there to tend to her clit himself. He let her guide his hand, circling and rubbing and soothing with the pressure and rhythm she liked, and soon she let him take over alone as she leaned forward just enough to reach around him and slip her hands beneath his trousers to clutch at his ass.

“Please, professor,” she moaned and pulled him ever closer, locking her ankles behind his knees as she desperately clung to him, her jeans pulling taut around his legs.

“Tell me what you need, love,” he said softly, the echoing slap of his skin against hers louder than his voice.

“I need you to come, professor,” Emma panted, writhing in his arms. “I need you to come inside me and make me come with you.”

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming into her with purpose as his thumb continued its endless assault of her clit. “Emma, are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” she breathed, rocking faster. “I promise, please.”

“Gods, you’re amazing,” he sighed against her cheek. As her hands slid up his spine to dig her fingers into his shoulders, he lifted her off the desk and bounced her on his cock as he thrust upward to meet her. “Let go, darling,” he guided, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth before muffling her moans with a passionate kiss as she shuddered in his arms.

Emma held on tightly around his neck as her legs kicked out with a mind of their own and she suddenly lost their support, relying on him to keep her from falling as her orgasm overcame her. She couldn’t care less if any passersby in the hall got a show, should they decide to peek through the slats of the mostly-closed blinds in the interior windows. If she were being honest, the risk only made everything hotter.

“Come with me, professor,” she whispered pleadingly as she quaked in his embrace.

With a groan, he lay her back onto the desk again and squeezed her hips as her muscles squeezed his length, pounding into her with abandon. Emma was sure he’d bite a hole through his lip with the way his jaw clenched on it as he stopped himself from crying out. After one, two, three more deep thrusts, his hips stuttered to a halt and his cock pulsed inside her as he filled her with his warm release, her walls fluttering around him as she came down from her own high.

“That was—”

“Fucking hot?” Emma finished his sentence as they both breathed heavily. As her professor reluctantly stepped backward, Emma teasingly gripped his cock in her hand as it slipped from her core, drawing forth a hiss as she worked it and thumbed at the sensitive tip, feeling it already hardening again beneath her touch. “Though that was hardly a test of my knowledge. But I’m more than happy that you provided the answers for me this time.”

“This time?” He questioned, hesitating a moment before he caught her wrist and stilled her hand. He smirked in soft amusement as she practically pouted at him.

“What,” she asked, “are we really done after only one class?” Getting to her feet, Emma pulled up her panties followed by her jeans, catching their combined releases as it dripped onto the material. “Is this not a full course?” She guided his hand to her breast. “I was hoping for a whole new semester with you.”

He wrapped his other arm around her and lowered his hand to the curve of her ass, pulling her tightly against himself as he challenged, “Only that long, love?” His scruff brushed her cheek as he growled in her ear, “We’re far from finished with your lessons, darling, but my next class should be filing in soon. And as tempting as your other fantasy may be, I’d also like to keep my job.” After he helped her right her bra and smooth down her top, he tucked his fingers under her chin and brushed his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip as he continued, “But I will certainly enjoy assessing this pretty mouth of yours very soon.”

“Mmmm,” Emma smiled, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss, only parting from him when the sounds of footsteps and idle chatter echoed through the halls as they began to fill with students and faculty alike.

“Meet me in my office tonight,” he instructed quietly, quickly righting himself in his own trousers and buttoning his shirt before anyone could realize what they’d just done. “Special hours, just for you, and we’ll review for that oral exam, yeah?”

“I’ll be there,” Emma assured him, retrieving her backpack and stepping backward toward the door. “Thank you, Professor Jones.”

He gave her a nod as he returned to his place behind his desk, resting his palms on the surface.

“Miss Swan.”

——

A/N: Yes, I know what I've done by ending it there.

Yes, K has already told me I need to write more chapters of it.

No, I don't make any promises, but yes, I left it open on purpose just in case inspiration strikes again.

——

Tag list ❤️:

@anothersworld​ @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @klynn-stormz @kmomof4  @laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert

#captain swan #cs smut #professor/student #professor!killian #student!emma #college au #both are consenting adults and the semester has ended #cs ff #smut #pwp #coming to class #kayla writes #my writing

[rainbowoverdragon]

Thoughts on Ryo

This is an analysis of Zane Truesdale/Ryo Marufuji, focusing on his mindset as well as his relationships with other people. As I am basing this off the original Japanese version for standardization, all names likewise are their sub counterparts.

When Sho obtains a rare and powerful card from his brother, he believes he has it made. After this, Sho finds the courage to confront his bully in a duel. So after he draws Power Bond, Sho thinks he has it made. He gloats to the bully, insulting him, making outlandish claims out of the arrogant belief that he can't lose. Before he can use it, Sho is interrupted by the very person who gifted him that card. "You aren't worthy to use that card yet. Until you have what it takes to be called a duelist, I declare that card off-limits.'' Devastated by this statement, Sho proceeded to view himself as incapable of dueling for years; unworthy of Power Bond. It’s an establishing character moment for both Marufuji brothers, setting Ryo up as an impossible standard to reach in Sho’s eyes. However, for Ryo, his intentions are revealed to be more well-intentioned than Sho is led to believe. In episode 8, Sho realizes that Ryo wished for Sho to treat his own power with respect: towards both his opponent and his high-risk high-reward cards. This constant cycle of good intentions and misplaced words leads to a negative feedback loop between the brothers that seems impossible to resolve. Ryo struggles to convey his own observations to others in a way that doesn’t come off as condescending. Sho cannot take things past face value, and places his brother upon a pedestal that he cannot surpass. After all, how can you beat perfection itself?

During his years in Duel Academy, Ryo is the embodiment of perfection. He is the opposite of his brother, never missing a single mark in any area. Everyone constantly refers to Ryo as “perfect”, from his teachers to his peers to even the Kaiser himself. He even soundly beats Judai in the first duel they have together, a feat seen as impossible by the audience. But it’s this very idea of perfection that haunts Ryo, as he believes that perfection implies stagnation. If Ryo has perfect scores in class, there is no way to improve them. If he reached the peak of his potential in one duel, that means it’s all downhill from there. His greatest fears are confirmed when he loses to Edo in the Pro Leagues, starting a chain of losses that ruins his career beyond repair. Ryo is perfect. He is so perfect, that during his school years he never truly struggled against an opponent (Aside from Judai in Episodes 51-52 however he maintained the advantage for the majority of the duel). In fact, he suffered from the opposite problem. As Ryo is too powerful, he’d purposely hold back until his peers could unleash their trump cards against him. Only then did he defeat them with just enough power to avoid humiliation. His first loss wasn’t only his first loss, it was the first time Ryo found himself in a disadvantaged position. His inexperience with failure led to him associating the mere act of struggle with the idea of loss. Ryo’s inability to move past this is his own self-fulfilling prophecy. Being afraid of failure makes people play to not lose. Playing to not lose instead of playing to win causes chokes, which results in losses. Unable to break from this cycle, Ryo is abandoned by his sponsors. Which is why the idea of Underground Duels, a place where he can start over and regain his bearings is so enticing. At least, until they reveal the condition.

And at first, Ryo despises the Underground. He appeals to be released, he states it’s not what dueling is, it’s nothing like he could ever imagine. And how could it be? Ryo’s life is on the line, and for no good reason. The shock collars are there to make things fun for the audience, not for any other benefit! In his duel with Sho, who says that 'this isn't dueling', Ryo even admits he thought the same thing. It spits on the very concept of respecting your opponent. The collars humiliate you, egging you on to forget about the other person. And in general, is amoral (as well as a human rights violation). Underground Duels are almost always life or death, because nobody fights harder than people who are convinced they are going to die. And Ryo is convinced that if he duels the way that he always has, if he clings into his morals, he will die. His opponent, Mad Dog, purposely created a deck to counter him. So why should he respect him? Why should he not aim to win? Why can’t he aim to survive? After crawling from hell, nothing is the same for the Kaiser. Because every duel is another reminder that he survived. He is unable to see any match he takes for fun, every duel to him is life or death. In the real world, there are people who lose and wither away, and people who win and thrive. And by god, he wants to feel alive. He spent so long losing, something utterly unthinkable for the Kaiser of Duel Academy. Ryo was undefeated before, now he truly wishes to not experience it again. If forcing himself to feel that every fight of his is to the death, literally or mentally, then so be it. He continues dueling in the Underground, continues to utilize the shock collars he once despised. No matter what cost, health or mind, Ryo requires victory.

When Ryo is told that his health is failing from his shock collars, he doesn’t seek medical attention. Because to Ryo, being alive is more important than living. He transformed into Hell Kaiser achieved the great power that comes from becoming a monster, at the cost of self-destruction. He flirted with death, and finally has to pay the price. And he doesn’t care. As long as Ryo obtains what he wishes, he is happy. And what the Hell Kaiser wants more than anything else, is one last duel to surpass all others. Ryo would rather reach the limit of his capabilities, and die meeting them than waste away quietly to be forgotten forever. Thus he seeks Yubel, the strongest monster spirit in the Universe. If he meets an opponent of his caliber and 'shines' during the mattle, then he’d have nothing to fear in death. But he does. After entering his long-awaited match, Ryo admits to not wanting to die. He wants to live, he wants to leave a mark that can never be forgotten. Yet he doesn’t want to die. Ryo has achieved everything he wanted, shown the strongest he has been or will ever be. Before he duels Yubel, he comes to a revelation. At first, Ryo wished to fight the strongest being to win. He doesn't care anymore. Ryo is dying, win or lose the result is the same. Since he turned Hell Kaiser, Ryo only respected victory. The joy he obtained by knowing he survived another duel is utterly meaningless against Yubel. What happiness does he obtain knowing he survived….when he isn’t going to live to begin with? He understands that the duel itself is what makes Ryo feel alive, doing the most with what remaining time he has with his life. As Ryo tells Judai, his death is the end of the road for people who glorify power. And thus it’s no surprise that Ryo is taken out by the card he is associated with most: Power Bond. A card that lets you receive unthinkable amounts of power, at the price of self-destruction.

Out of all the people who save Judai from himself, the Kaiser’s impact is one of the most apparent. It takes someone who knows the suffering someone else goes through to achieve empathy, especially in Judai's case. Judai struggles with sympathy, as shown with his interactions with Sho in Seasons 1-3. Whenever Sho asks for help with his confidence, Judai gives him the helpful advice of "Don't be anxious!" Judai cannot comprehend being insecure with one's capabilities, thus he cannot help Sho directly. In contrast, Judai is more receptive to empathy. Manjoume's crisis in Season 1 revolved around the pressure others placed upon him to succeed. Judai deeply understands his strife, and helps him fight for himself. This is why Misawa's speech about accountability fails to help Judai utilize Polymerization. Misawa has no fundamental basis to understand Judai's feelings. In contrast, Kaiser's duel with Yubel awakens Judai's character growth. Ryo is Judai's cautionary tale, a warning of self-fulfilling prophecies. During the Graduation Duel, Ryo tells Judai that he possesses infinite potential compared to himself. This rings true in watching Ryo's belief of his own lack of capability to change, resulting in his inability to change because he destroyed himself beyond repair. In contrast, Judai has not fallen to this path. Watching Ryo's descent as well as his late realization means everything to Judai: especially someone so responsive to empathy. This is because they are mirrors of each other, to the point their character’s arcs are entirely parallel to one another. Both are idolized for the power they hold over others, both of them experience the loss of the pedestal they once stood upon. Both achieve the sharpest fall from grace (against an opponent with ‘Mad’ in their title), which leads to them glorifying their own power and abusing it against others. Despite their friends trying to help them, it is ultimately up to themselves to self-actualize their shortcomings. However it is Ryo, who thinks he cannot change, who succumbs upon his own revelation. And it is Ryo, who always believed in Judai’s infinite potential even in the Graduation Duel, who changes Judai’s path. Without Ryo, Judai would be unable to utilize his power responsibly. Because Judai now knows what happens to people who push themselves too far, just like how he used to. Power is not something to be afraid of or abused, but to use responsibly.

The Hell Kaiser doesn’t entirely work for others; he even states he fought Yubel out of selfish motivations. However, Ryo is also constantly associated with lighthouses. To the people that mean the most to him, Ryo is a light that tries to guide others to safety. However lighthouses are far away from the people they try to save, and thus it takes the initiative of others to help themselves after seeing the light from afar. This is shown by Ryo’s relationships with the people he’s closest to remaining fundamentally the same from his own side: regardless of his actual guidance being positive or negative. Ryo’s actions and intentions around Sho remain the same across both his younger self and Hell Kaiser: each time trying to guide Sho to become the best version of himself. "Until you have what it takes to be called a duelist, I declare that card off-limits."", is the devastating statement Ryo told Sho as kids. But Ryo believed his brother needed to understand true power in respect, guiding Sho away from arrogance and towards the light of good. His brother's weakness required defending. This concept is twisted on its head once Ryo becomes Hell Kaiser, who only views power or meaning in victory. Thus he employs the same tactic, because Ryo does not see the difference between restricting Power Bond to teach respect, and having Sho experience the same pain he did to ditch it.

Both Ryo and Hell Kaiser sing the same song. Ryo intends on ‘protecting’ his weaker brother by teaching him right from wrong. Both times, Sho and Ryo misunderstand each other. At first, Sho doesn’t comprehend the real reason why Ryo forbade Power Bond. The second time, Ryo doesn’t understand how Sho can cling to his own beliefs of respect even if he loses because of it. However, the one time Ryo’s words connect is when he saves Sho in season 3. And even then, it’s an admission of distance between the two. Ryo sees Sho’s pain inflicted by Judai far outweighs what Ryo had done to Sho. Thus Ryo advises Sho to follow Judai, since it’s what his heart truly desired all along. He then leaves, to force Sho into walking his own path. Ryo cannot spell out Sho's wishes any more than he does. And if Sho is alone, then he is forced to swim instead of sink.

Ryo’s association with lighthouses in canon directly correlates to Fubuki. As much as Fubuki is associated with darkness, Ryo is quite literally the light that shines through to him. When Fubuki was overtaken by Darkness in the first arc, we later find out that Ryo regrets being unable to find Fubuki no matter how much information and effort he scrounged up. Fubuki then replies that the mere act of trying saved him, as he could see Ryo’s feelings in spite of the darkness that consumed him. To Fubuki, Ryo is the lighthouse that guides people through the darkness. And when Fubuki is overtaken by the Darkness in an attempt to save Ryo from it, Ryo’s feelings once again vanquishes Fubuki from the dark. However, instead of the Kaiser saving Fubuki, Hell Kaiser explicitly protects him from Darkness. Because the two are friends, even after everything Ryo’s been through. This leads Fubuki to a revelation that no one else understands: Hell Kaiser is not fundamentally different from Ryo. Fubuki realizes that even as Hell Kaiser, Ryo respected Fubuki. Why else would he save him from Darkness? Indeed, every interaction of Ryo’s major interpersonal relationships are fundamentally the same. It’s simply his worldview that shifted. As much as Ryo wishes to respect others, he doesn’t think he can in a world where everyone must take advantage of their life to the fullest extent.

And Ryo, who cannot change because he thinks he cannot change, stayed as he was until it was far too late to be saved.

#yugioh #ygo #yugioh gx #ygo gx #ryo marufuji #zane truesdale #gx

[yel-halansu]

Pre-Reform Vulcan isn't what you think it is

So I've seen a lot of confusion in the fandom regarding Vulcan history, which is a shame because it's really detailed and interesting! I've compiled this summary of the main eras and events in Vulcan history which I hope you will find informative and useful (just as a note, all dates will be given in standard Earth years and centuries for clarity). Let's begin!

THE TIME OF THE BEGINNING

Life was seeded in Vulcan by a preserver race around 6 million years ago, which explains the similarities with other kinds of humanoid life in the galaxy. Evolution took its natural course, and by 600,000 BCE, a humanoid species had developed from a feline ancestor.

Proto-Vulcan humanoids were a peaceful people with an aptitude for logic. They lived mostly in the plains and kept away from mountain areas due to the danger posed by volcanic eruptions. They learnt to use fire early, and the abundance of metals made for a short Stone Age as they quickly developed rudimentary metallurgy and agricultural techniques. They soon started to domesticate animals and developed other basic technologies such as weaving. During this time period, strong solar flares and increased volcanic activity desertified the planet. The lack of resources such as water and fertile land that ensued would mark Vulcan history for thousands of years to come.

THE AGE OF ANTIQUITY

By 2,700 BCE, society was organized around tribal lines in clans that banded together for protection. Most tribes were nomadic, crossing the desert in search of water and following the migrating herds of the animals they hunted. It is theorized that groups were female-dominated, with the clan matriarchs overseeing most aspects of life.

Around that time, however, settlements had also started to develop across the territory, mostly near the shorelines of the small seas of Vulcan and by protective rock formations near oases, in order to utilise these precious resources and guard them from outsiders. These settlements eventually developed into fortified city-states. Conflicts over water and arable land became common as the cities fought to monopolise them, and technological development quickly stagnated as they fought for survival, ushering in a dark age. Political intrigue and violence were rife, with the warlords of the city-states securing alliances through arranged marriages and concocting elaborate plots of betrayal.

It is also thought that it was around this period of time that Vulcans as a species started to develop psychionic abilities, with members of the population who displayed these abilities being highly sought after and respected. As early as 2,500 BCE, some isolated Vulcans appear to have began to mentally train themselves to suppress their emotions, noticing that doing so resulted in a heightened control of their telepathic abilities.

The Age of Antiquity lasted thousands of years, but due to the uncontrolled destruction of the environment during the wars that were about to ensue, little archaeological evidence remains of it. Most accounts about this period are now shrouded in legend.

THE AGE OF EXPANSION

Eventually, an arms race began as the Vulcan city-states, locked in constant skirmishes, rushed to overpower their neighbours and defend their scarce resources. Technological advancement, which had up to that point been slow, quickly sped up and focused on weaponry, until Vulcans came to create weapons of mass destruction such as atomic and neutron bombs. The wars that ensued ravaged the surface of the planet, permanently distorting a region of its magnetic field, and leading to frequent energy discharges in the red sands.

By the 9th century BCE, Vulcans were capable of space travel, though they did not yet possess warp capability. Legend states that the first spacecraft was built by the warlord D'Vir in 855 BCE. At the time not many species were warp-capable, and so the Vulcans did not come into contact with other civilizations. They quickly landed on Vulcan's sister planet, T'Khut, and started mining it for resources.

Wars were now worsened due to the shifting balances of power caused by the destabilizing factors of the discovery of new off-world territories to colonise and the new incoming resources taken from T'Khut, the nearby asteroid belts, and other neighbouring planets. The wars in Vulcan continued for centuries.

SUDOC'S HEGEMONY

The landscape suffered greatly, and the Vulcans came close to extinction just around the 3rd century CE. It was around this time that a warlord called Sudoc took power in the city of Jaleyl by assassinating the previous ruler. His psichionic abilities were renowned and he used this power to control his followers through mind-melds and telepathic torture. He cultivated a close circle of ardent brainwashed followers. He quickly became very popular in Jaleyl by appealing to the majority of the populace with propaganda techniques, and began to expand his kingdom quickly and violently. Initially, other neighbouring city-states resisted, but Sudoc fought them mercilessly and invaded them. He is said to have slaughtered entire cities except for a single survivor, who would then be sent to the next town with the following message: “Your rulers are responsible. They would rather see you dead than out of their control.” This would cause neighbouring city-states to either surrender or be torn apart by internal conflict, as the leaders would be overthrown by their fearful citizens. For over a century, Sudoc's armies advanced across the planet.

THE TIME OF AWAKENING

Surak was born to a general in Shi'Kahr just as the city was entering in conflict with Sudoc's expanding kingdom. As a well-off youth, he was spared the horrors of the war and was not drafted into the army as most common citizens were. Instead, he spent his youth reading, studying and discussing philosophy with his friends at the sumptuous feasts of the upper class. The turning point in his life came when his entire family was assassinated by Sudoc's agents. Surak was spared as he was at a party that evening. Many other influential families were killed in this coordinated attack, including that of Surak's closest friend, Senet. Senet was consumed by rage, and immediately joined the front lines of the army, wishing to get his revenge on Sudoc. He was promptly killed.

This event changed Surak permanently, and he began to write. He theorised that all the problems of the Vulcan people stemmed from their excess of emotion. He started to develop his discipline of logic, which he believed was the only thing that could temper emotion and allow Vulcan society to develop past the horrible struggles of war. Many of his former friends deserted him during this time, but others stayed as he developed a close circle of faithful followers. Surak surrounded himself with masters of all disciplines, such as law, calligraphy and mathematics, who would in time go on to apply his principles of logic into these disciplines.

Surak faced great opposition at the beginning, as he was perceived by the population of Shi'Kahr as a spoiled kid who knew little of the horrors of the war. Sensing their apprehension, Surak and his followers started crossing the enemy lines and teaching their philosophy of peace among the armies of Sudoc. Many warriors began to desert the army, and propagated his teachings in turn as they travelled through the desert, fleeing the conflict.

From that point on, Surak's teachings gained popularity and sparked unrest in many of the territories of Sudoc's kingdom, which soon rebelled against the warlord. By this time, Sudoc had grown old, and in 331 CE, he died in a telepathic accident during melding session with his inner circle. His empire collapsed quickly after that and the war came to an abrupt end. The Vulcan people were still fractured into various groups while Surak spread his message, but in the vacuum left by Sudoc, many more Vulcans found comfort and hope in Surak's teachings.

THE SUNDERING

Even though Surak's teachings were extremely popular, not all Vulcans felt inclined to follow them. A group of Sudoc's most ardent supporters, led by a warrior named Tellus, found themselves increasingly disturbed by the new philosophy that was sweeping the planet. They would come to be called the "those who marched beneath the Raptor's wings". After attempting to start a new war against the followers of Surak, they saw themselves forced to leave the planet.

In 369 CE, hundreds of thousands of Tellus' followers took to space in the rudimentary crafts available at the time, looking for a new planet to call their homeworld. They would eventually arrive to a distant planet named Romulus and their culture would develop to become the Romulans we know today. It is a mystery how they managed to survive in space and travel that far a distance in non-warp ships, and it has been suggested that they may have accidentally entered a wormhole or been aided by some poweful interstellar entity.

With the exodus of the proto-Romulans, Vulcan was left mostly unified in thought and belief. However, Surak always considered the societal rift responsible for the Sundering to be one of his greatest failures. Surak died of radiation poisoning on Mount Seleya in 481. Selok, one of his disciples, took to the task of building a new system of government that would align with the new philosophy of pacifism and planetary unification, emotional supression and logic.

THE GOLDEN AGE

With a renewed spirit of unity and cooperation, Vulcans ushered in a new age of technological development. Within the space of a few years, Vulcans mapped the geothermic activity of their planet to contain its destructive force and harness its power, and used this new energy source to construct desalinisation plants and supply water to the cities and the cropfields. For the first time in Vulcan history, resources were plentiful and the constant threat of famine was erradicated. Science progressed quickly, with the Vulcan Science Academy being founded in 399 CE. Psichionic techniques also developped faster under the discipline of logic, and by the 6th century they had become cemented in the population as the new techiniques of meditation and self-control developed in their mainstream culture.

THE ROMULAN WAR

The Golden Age came to an abrupt end in 1270, when mysterious spacecrafts entered Vulcan aerospace and attacked their planet. These were, in fact, the Romulans, who has returned to their homeworld with the intention of conquering it. Both civilizations lacked warp drive capability at the time, and it is theorised that the Romulans were using an unstable wormhole to travel between the two worlds when permitted. Because of this, the timing of the incursions was unpredictable, and sometimes long periods of time would pass between attacks. The war lasted around 100 years in total. Romulan strategy dictated that their vessels must self-destruct rather than being captured, and because of this, the Vulcans never understood who was attacking them or why. However, they defended themselves with tenacity and avoided being conquered, until the wormhole closed permanently, putting a stop to the war.

SPACE EXPLORATION

The Romulan war drove technological advancements in many fields, including aeronautics, and after many years of avoiding space travel, the Vulcans took to the stars once again. Initially motivated by the potential discovery of their enemies in the recent war, they developed warp-drive capable starships. However, as they were still weary of other civilizations due the recent conflict, they avoided first contact with other races, preferring studying them from afar until they had gathered sufficient data to judge whether they posed a threat. First contact with Earth took place on 2063, and by that point they had already had encounters with the Tellarites and the Andorians, among others.

THE REFORMATION

Relations between Vulcan and Andoria were always tense, and by the 22nd century they had reached a boiling point when the Andorians sacked the Vulcan monastery of P'Jem, believing it to be an undercover spying operation. In the political fallout that ensued, the Vulcan High Council came under the control of Administrator V'Las, an undercover Romulan agent who was working to instigate the Vulcan invasion of Andoria.

In 2137, a Vulcan named Syrran created the Syrrannite movement, with the goal of returning Vulcan to the true path of pacifism and logic laid out by Surak. The increased militarism of the Vulcan High Council did not go unnoticed, and the Syrranites stood in stark oposition. The Council, weary of their influence, commenced a long campaign of persecution and slander against them.

In 2154, V'Las attempted to bomb the Terran Embassy in Shi'Kahr and blame the Syrranite movement, now led by T'Pau. However, his plans were foiled when T'Pau uncovered the Kir'Shara, an ancient artifact containing some writings of Surak that had been lost for centuries.

As a result of this discovery, the government of Vulcan was reformed and restored to a less militaristic democratic government in 2155. T'Pau stood for election and was elected as First Minister, and during her term she became one of the most influential Vulcan politicians of all time.

THE FEDERATION

The Federation was founded in 2161, with First Minister T'Pau as one of the signatories. Vulcan was proposed as capital, but the more conservative elements of government rejected the idea as it seemed culturally dangerous. Instead, Earth became the capital, though Vulcan remained a core member in spite of the warnings from conservative Vulcans that too much involvement in the affairs of other worlds was illogical and could be contrary to the philosophies of autonomy and peace that guide Surakian thought. In 2241, T'Pau refused a seat at the Federation Council, the only person to ever do so, and Suvok volunteered in her stead. This reticence to become overly involved in offworld affairs extended to Starfleet, as many saw the paramilitary organisation as having the potential to become violent. While enlisting in Starfleet was not forbidden, and many Vulcans did indeed choose this career path, it was mostly frowned upon in Vulcan society.

Though the majority of Vulcans support the Federation, the growing influence of Terra and other alien worlds in the affairs of Vulcan crystallised the radicalisation of more xenophobic elements of society, such as the Logic Extremists. During the 23rd century, this terrorist group bombed the Vulcan Learning Center to kill young Spock and Michael, the children of the mixed family of Ambassador Sarek. In the following years, they went on to sabotage several diplomatic missions until they were disbanded. In 2370, the Vulcan Isolationist Movement, the spiritual successor to the Logic Extremists, was discovered and also disbanded.

And these are the main periods in Vulcan history so far! In spite of their rapid advances in technology, Vulcan remains respectful of its traditions, ever logical and reserved, ever holding the violence that plagued it for centuries as a reminder of the past they wish to distance themselves from and the bright future that lays ahead.

Sources: VLI: Planet Vulcan History, The Way of Kolinahr: The Vulcans, Memory Alpha, Memory Beta.

#I always tag pre-Surak stuff as pre-reform Vulcan because that's what people are going to search #but it's technically incorrect #vulcan history #star trek vulcan #history of vulcan #history of the planet vulcan #pre-reform Vulcan #pre reform vulcan #pre-reform #pre reform #pre-Surak vulcan #pre-surak #surak #surak's life #the sundering #sundering #long post #text post #reference #vulcan technology #wars #terrorism #vulcan #vulcans

[serenityseventeen]

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Fourth Letter

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

To: Wen Junhui

From: Y/N

Jun, how are you doing lately?

I'm always wondering that now that you're gone. I want to text you or call you but it'll be awkward since before you left, we decided to break up. I want to call and hear your voice, laugh at your jokes, I miss it all.

I'm sure it's better for the both of us that we cut off contact, but how can I forget you, my first boyfriend that I'm still in love with? I think you're the first person I've ever loved so deeply like this. I know that I'm in love with you.

During the little over half a year that we dated, I learned so many things about love. It was phenomenal, beautiful, and such a good feeling.

I'm always wondering, if we weren't teens in high school, if we were adults, would our relationship be different? Would we have ended differently? Because if we were adults, maybe you wouldn't have to leave back to China. Even now, I'm wondering, in the future, can we cross paths again? Give our love another chance?

But I know that by that time, we would be completely different people and maybe not even attracted to each other anymore. Who knows, you may find someone in China that you love better than me.

If you didn't have to go, maybe we could have had a longer relationship. Why must we have to be apart when we're so in love? You're my first boyfriend ever and I can't be more grateful to you. You were the best first boyfriend I could ever ask for.

This letter to you, it's not a confession, only a little bit. I just want to write this letter to remember you, my first boyfriend, and thank you now that it would be too awkward to do it over text or call.

You're my first boyfriend and when you came into my life, it felt like someone above heard my prayers. At that time when you slipped into my life, I'll confess that I was trying to fall out of love with someone else. Thanks to you, I was able to do that.

Should we both thank Mr. Koo for pairing us up for the 2-month project? I mean, thanks to him, I was able to fall in love with someone like you.

I remember how awkward it was for both of us introverts to speak with each other. You introduced yourself and I introduced myself and then we didn't talk for like five minutes. I still remember how heavily my heart pounded while waiting for you to speak. To this day, I don't know why you giggled first, but it was attractive and cute. Maybe I'm just so madly in love with you that I find your everything to be perfect and cute.

When we began talking to each other, I was surprised at how unique you were. Trust me, Junhui, you're nothing like anyone I've met before. Out of the guys I've ever met, you're the weirdest! But that's a good thing, because of that charm, I fell even harder for you. It's your charm, Jun.

It was just your way of thinking that was unique. You were able to come up with the most unique jokes I've ever heard and your humor always cracked me up as well. I still remember that first day when we were working on the project, you drew a small sun with a smiley face at the corner of my paper. It was so cute.

Soon, I realized that most of the time during class, we were just busy joking with each other and wasting time. You shared stories about your little brother and always made me laugh somehow. Each time I laughed because of you, my heart fluttered. Each time you laughed because of me, I would feel a rush of excitement and my heart would be pounding so fast.

When you started coming over to my house to work in hopes of getting more progress, that's when our relationship progressed. It was weird to have you around at my house because we just talked so much instead of getting work done. Sometimes, the responsibility would hit me and I would remind us to get to work, in which you would chuckle and reply, “Oh right, what are we doing, fooling around?”

Every time you said something along those lines, it made me smile because you were just so cute. I was slowly drowning myself into your charms. This unique personality of yours was drawing me in.

Aside from your dorkiness, when you get to work, you work hard. Sometimes I was distracted by how you looked when you were focused.

Thank you for asking me out that day at the bus stop. I was sending you home. I know I told you it was because I felt bad for leaving you alone and it really was because I felt bad, but it was also because I wanted to be around you longer.

When we reached the empty bus stop and you waited for the bus, you told me after some hesitation, abruptly, while chuckling softly, “I like you, Y/N. Should we date?”

At that time, my heart and mind were racing, that's why I replied stupidly to your confession and said “Isn't it too fast...?”

Gosh, I was so dumb! It wasn't fast at all and the pace was actually good. We took two weeks getting to know each other, it was about time that you asked me out, right? I mean, I liked you back then too, so I hope you don't think those dates we went on captured my heart because that's not the case at all! I've liked you before your confession.

However, thanks to my dumb reply, you took me on many dates. It was my first time going on dates like that with just one other person. A date like the ones in the movies.

The first date being at the carnival that was open in town. I had so much fun there! Plus, I still have that photo of us with the face paint in my photo gallery. I don't want to delete it because it holds so many memories. Maybe someday, I'll print our couple pictures and tape them on the back of this letter. Plus, the cat ears looked so cute on us.

For the first time, I felt like I was on a real date, and it was with you. I'm grateful that I was able to participate in so many different games with you. I still have the small duck you won for me. Those games are all a total scam but you still insisted and managed to win it for me. At that moment, I felt your sincerity at the bottom of my heart.

I also remember our date at the PC cafe. Gosh, you have the weirdest taste in games, you know that!? Usually, men like playing shooter games but you and I trained a cat to fly and had multiple races. The loser would then have to get a flick on the forehead, even though we both went easy on each other. That brought me a lot of joy too even though it was simple.

For our last date, before we started dating, I just want to confess, I lied about being able to stay out late. My dad didn't figure out I was with you though. I just really wanted to see the movie so I went to watch it with you. That was the location of our first kiss together.

After the movie, I was stretching my back outside the movie theatre. I don't know what you were looking at but if you were looking at me, I'm sorry I looked so ugly while stretching. It was almost 9 PM, two hours past the time I can stay out.

I can remember the scene clearly. I was just about to tie my hair while talking about the movie when you suddenly took my face with your cold hands and kissed me with your warm lips. Your hand on my warm neck was sending chills down my spine. I still didn't know how to kiss then and just going with the flow, I found myself enjoying kissing you a lot. My heart was racing and I remember how hard I clenched onto your khaki jacket. I'm giggling now thinking about it.

I did learn how to kiss better because of you though, Jun. After we started dating, sometimes when my dad left to get us some fruit, you would sneak some kisses onto my lips in the meanwhile instead of working. You're so playful too. Playful and sweet.

Sometimes, you don't know how much you mean to me, Jun. I mean, I'm still a bit upset that you didn't tell me you were moving back to China in the middle of summer break. However, I'm glad that you told me before you moved and just didn't disappear suddenly. Because you told me, I could love you with all of my teenage heart and give you all of me. I was able to convince my father to allow me to spend more hours with you, whether it was goofing around, working hard, or just kissing and hugging. Thank you for that, because I was able to prepare myself. I loved it whenever we were just sitting, our legs crisscrossed, and my arms around your neck with your hands clasped around my waist while we kissed sweetly.

I also love your hair, Jun. It was so soft and flowy that I could ruffle it all day. Your hand too, whenever they clasped with mine, I would always feel a sense of warmth.

When the move ticked closer, I was beginning to grow more nervous. I didn't want you to leave but I knew it wasn't your choice. Did you dread the day as well?

I wonder if we could have broken that long-distance relationship curse. We loved each other after all. I thought that I would be able to handle it as long as I could still hear your voice and text you. I thought long and hard about it, wondering if a breakup was necessary. But then, without even trying, I know that we will eventually drift apart. We're still teens and it's my first time having a boyfriend, how was I supposed to know what to do?

I remember the day before you left, you told me that you loved me and that you were sorry that all you could give me was memories. I'm still believing that every word you said was genuine.

You cared for me when I was sick. I remember how you rushed to check up on me after school when you heard that I was absent because I was sick. Most of the time I was sleeping but I can still remember how gently you caressed my hair and stroked my cheeks.

You showed me unconditional love, even when I was telling you that I wasn't proud of myself. You cheered me on with your bright personality.

I'm glad I said those words too. “I love you.”

Even though we may just seem like kids to others, I truly loved you, Junhui. The day when we broke up at the airport, I did not want you to see me cry. You always told me to cry if I wanted to but I didn't want you to see me cry.

When you said “Well, I guess that's it for us. Thank you, Y/N, for being mine for a while. I love you a lot and I'll always treasure the memories we made” as you left, waving and smiling painfully, I was going to cry, but I just smiled and waved after telling you that I loved you too and that this breakup was unfortunate.

When you stopped your suitcase and ran back to me one more time to hug me, I was about to burst into tears. You said your final goodbye and then went back to your suitcase. To be honest, I wanted to hold you longer. I didn't want you to leave, I wanted to hold you back so that you could stay with me.

After you left, I ran into my dad's car and cried.

I cried a lot and my dad didn't even do anything to stop me. He knew you were my first boyfriend and having to end my relationship with you so sadly made his heart ache too I bet. I'm glad my dad let me cry though. I think he understood what I was going through.

I miss you a lot, Jun. I still think about you a lot. Sometimes I look back on the place where we worked on our project and I can almost see the scenes of us sitting there, laughing, talking, hugging, cuddling, kissing. I was really sad after you left. I'm still getting over it. I'm still remembering when I wake up some days and realize that you're not here with me anymore and that you're in a different time zone, a different country, a different place.

A month has passed since you left. I have a month of summer left to spend to move on.

I hope you're having a good time, staying healthy, being happy where you belong. I will always remember you. I don't want to forget you, Junhui. You mean a lot to me.

I miss you, Jun. I'm thankful to you too.

I love you, Jun.

If only we fell in love at a different time, perhaps in the future when we are adults, capable of our emotions, capable of thinking, capable of our own lives, capable of loving. If you didn't have to move... If you didn't have to leave... I'm sure I'd still have you beside me. Yet, I can't even tell what the present holds, who am I to assume the future?

All I can do is reminisce now. I really miss you, Jun. I'll move on soon enough. Are you trying to move on too? Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

If only we were given more time.

Yours truly,

Y/N

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

© serenityseventeen

6/20/21 - 1:03 am

a/n: I listened to ‘Silent Boarding Gate’ while making this one because that song is so beautiful and just makes me feel like I'm reminiscing about a past love that is now gone. I almost cry every time. It's such a beautiful song, guys...

#love & letter: to the thirteen boys i've loved before #seventeen kpop #seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt kpop #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #svt scenarios #문준휘 #준 #seventeen jun #junhui seventeen #moon junhui #seventeen junhui #wen junhui #jun seventeen #svt jun #jun svt #jun scenarios #jun imagines #wen junhui imagines #junhui #wen junhui scenarios #jun oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop imagine #kpop oneshots

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Yanois - Second Impressions Can Bring Misfortune

Read Part One here, or check it out on AO3!

Though their first meeting could have gone better, Illinois might be a little fond of the mystery prisoner. Let’s just hope his famous luck doesn’t run out…

Warning: There is an instance of deadnaming under the read-more. It’s accidental, but be mindful if that might cause a little upset. (I promise this doesn’t end on a bad note)

Word Count: 2,448 (sorry, it’s four hand-written pages)

-

After his encounter with the brash prisoner, Illinois found he couldn’t get the other man out of his head. It was hardly an attraction (no, shut up! It wasn’t!), but he accepted that there was a level of interest in the unknown. Perhaps it was the prisoner’s standoffish attitude, or how he seemed utterly disinterested yet keenly focused. He didn’t heckle during the lecture, so he wasn’t there for the sole purpose of causing trouble.

But the question that plagued Illinois was painfully simple: what was the prisoner’s name? He hated how badly he wanted to know. Ah, the curse of the archaeologist - insatiable curiosity! With no starting point, Illinois took inspiration from his work and fetched his laptop to start the research.

Most prisoners were from Texas, but not all. The stranger’s accent suggested he was potentially from New York, so Illinois decided to sieve through articles that made reference to a transferral to a Texan prison first. His abundance of good luck meant that it only took an hour to find a result that was most fitting. The article was several years old and discussed the outcome of a rather tragic case. The information was put to the back of his mind - Warden Murderslaughter always said to never talk about an inmate’s crime unless they bring it up first - as Illinois instead took the important information. The photograph used of the criminal was old, but it matched. Which meant… He had a name! All he had to do was wait until the next time he was set to visit Happy Trails Penitentiary.

-

As luck would have it, he merely had to wait a week. When he wasn’t travelling as part of archaeological trips, Illinois would volunteer two Saturdays a month to teach the inmates. Unlike his history lectures, these consisted of smaller groups of prisoners undertaking a short course on several points in history; which would be rounded off with each prisoner completing a short research project on something that interested them in the course. All he needed was to put his possessions in the room he used for classes, and then he would be free to find the right prisoner if he arrived earlier than usual. The inmates followed a set schedule with minor variations depending on when their work shifts were. He had been volunteering long enough to know when one of the crossover periods would take place. It would be easy to find him!

The rec yard was fruitless, as was the library. But it was upon leaving the chow hall that Illinois spotted the man of the hour. He seemed in a hurry as the prisoner dashed toward the hall.

“Ah! Can I have a moment?” Illinois called out. The tattooed man screeched to a halt, bemused once he realised who wanted his attention. Unfortunately, no one else was around, so it had to be him. 

“Sure. Fine. What?” His eyes didn’t stay on Illinois, but instead darted to the clock.

“I know this is likely a bad time, but I’d like a chance to talk. We got off on the wrong foot last time.” Even Illinois knew it didn’t go well. “Are you free after your shift?”

“U-uh…. Yeah?” Thrown by the turn of events, it appeared the bold prisoner was willing to cooperate. “I know I’d never hear the end of it if my friends heard I refused. They’s is always singing youse’s praises. ‘Sides, second chances is always a good thing, right?” He looked as though he was about to say something else, but decided against it. Regardless, Illinois was elated.

“Excellent! In that case, I’ll be in the classroom just opposite the library until seven this evening. Call by when you’re free. Even if there’s a class going on, sit in on it anyway.” The prisoner nodded and hurried past once he knew he was dismissed. Before the other disappeared into the chow hall, Illinois belatedly realised he should be more polite about this. He guessed the other might be swallowing his pride in accepting the invitation to chat, given their first meeting. The least he could do was show some manners.

“Thank you! I look forward to chatting, █████!”

Whatever progress had been made was instantly thrown aside. The prisoner froze in the doorway. Though his back was to Illinois, the archaeologist could see that the other was rigid. It wasn’t a reaction Illinois associated with hearing one’s own name…. Unless it was a name they didn’t use anymore.

“O-oh my God, I’m so sorry, I had no -” For once, Illinois found himself stammering in a frantic attempt to get an apology out. It was to no avail, as a fistful of his shirt had been grabbed and he was slammed against the wall.

“I don’t know what sorta shit game youse is playing,” the prisoner hissed, “But if youse is gonna act like youse is better than me by being such a sly bitch…. I really wanna beat the shit outta youse, but I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“Yancy! That’s enough!” The prisoner - Yancy? - dropped Illinois without hesitation and didn’t struggle when two guards rushed over and restrained him. “Bring him into th’ chow hall to calm down. I’ll speak to him in a sec. As fer you…” Yancy was led away by the guards, and it was hard to ignore how withdrawn he seemed compared to minutes earlier. With heavy guilt, Illinois pulled his attention away to finally acknowledge Warden Murderslaughter, who had been the one to stop the disaster in its tracks. His lips were pursed and his arms crossed as he shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Illinois. Out of all our volunteers, I thought you would’ve known our most important rule better than anyone else: don’t provoke th’ inmates with topics that are touchy fer ‘em.”

“But I didn’t know -” Illinois’ head turned toward the chow hall’s entrance. “I only wanted to get to know him. I didn’t mean to…”

“Who told you that name?”

“No one?” He looked back at the Warden with confusion. “I read it in an article covering the trial online.” The Warden pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.

“Son… You could’ve saved yourself a whole lotta bother if you’d thought to ask someone here, even over the phone. It isn’t like you to mess up like this.” He put an arm around Illinois’ shoulder and began guiding him toward the staff breakroom. “The name you used is correct, if you go by legal documents or the press, but it’s not the name he goes by. Everyone calls him ‘Yancy’. See, his birth name has links to pretty painful memories that I don’t think he’ll ever recover from, and he’s been striving to prove he’s a better person as ‘Yancy’. So to turn ‘round and use th’ wrong name is like a slap to the face and a surefire way for him to hate you. Now, I know you had good intentions and it was an honest mistake, but you need to be more careful. Next time you see him, give him a good, proper apology. Just know he’s probably gonna be frosty toward ya. I’ll go talk to him and check if he’s okay, let him know you didn't mean to use the wrong name.” The Warden threw a glance over his shoulder with a hint of a smile. “Yancy’s a good kid, despite how he acts sometimes. He’s been through some rough times, but his heart’s stayed in the right place. If he can have a friend outside the prison… I think it’ll do him some good. Now, get yourrself a coffee before you start classes.”

Illinois blinked, genuinely surprised to realise they had arrived. Murderslaughter gave him a hearty slap on the back of the shoulder (Illinois had learned long ago the art of hiding the wince from the strength of such actions) before making his way back to the chow hall.

---

In the chow hall, Yancy was a mess. He sat far away from anyone else who might have been there. A cup of water had been given to him, but it was used more as a stress ball rather than a drink. He didn’t know what to think. How could someone act like they wanted to be a friend, then turn around in the same breath and say something that implied the complete opposite? Why remind him of what he did long ago? The cup was put aside so he could slump across the table with a defeated groan. █████… Was that all he was ever going to be to the outside world? Would the attempts he has made to be a better person forever go unnoticed under the large, looming shadow of his crimes? Then again, prisoners like him were locked away to be forgotten about by the world.

His form tensed the moment he spotted the Warden sitting opposite him. This was it - he was going to be scolded and sent to Solitary, and probably lose other privileges on top of that. How dare Yancy lay a finger on the visitor everyone worshipped!!

But it was nothing like that. Murderslaughter checked if he was okay. They sat in silence for a few moments so Yancy could try and collect himself without anyone else approaching. Then, the Warden praised him for not completely lashing out, but then took time to explain Illinois’ side of things.

“- He’s not like the reporters or anyone else who comes to ‘visit’ you. He was a moron who didn’t ask th’ staff for your name. It seems like he wants to try an’ be friends…. But it’s fine if ya don’t wanna see him today. An’ if you’d rather go lie down instead of working, that’s fine too.

“N-no… I’d rather work. Don’t really wanna be left alone with my thoughts just yet.”

-

Yancy spent the rest of the morning washing dishes. The work wasn’t ‘busy’ enough to keep his mind distracted, but it was labour-intensive and he could work out his frustration on the crockery. By the time he finished his shift and lunch, he returned to his cell with an idea - he needed to get rid of the White Jaguar model. It had to be the source of the blame.

But just like a blasted boomerang, the clay figure kept returning to him in ridiculous manners throughout the afternoon. Yancy dropped it in the trash on the way outside, only to be tapped on the shoulder by another prisoner who thought it was dropped by mistake. Trying to gift it to anyone in the Gang had them refuse - Bam-Bam had initially accepted, but changed his mind when he held the tiny model and handed it back to Yancy with the excuse that it ‘belonged’ to him. He then hid it in the long grass in the rec yard. When no one immediately found it, he went to the bathroom, returned to his cell… And was greeted with the terrifying sight of the White Jaguar sitting on his pillow, staring at him. Overcome with frustration, he decided to simply break it. He threw it at the wall with all his might. Instead of smashing, it ricocheted off the wall and toppled his radio that had been on his bed, before landing neatly on the pillow. Yancy picked it up, he swore there was a look of smugness on the Jaguar’s face, which reminded him of… Wait.

He could simply return it to Illinois and ask him never to speak to Yancy again. It would solve two problems at once.

---

“Come in!” Illinois’ voice was upbeat as he tidied the classroom after a day of workshops. The guilt from earlier had been put aside in favour of professionalism. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all. However, that professionalism immediately slipped the moment he saw who entered.

“Yancy!” The name was blurted out with relief more than pleasantry. Whatever Illinois had been putting into his briefcase was unceremoniously dumped as he gave Yancy his full attention. “Before you say anything…. I want to apologise for this morning. I made the mistake of not checking with the staff what name you prefer to go by. It was careless of me. I know I upset you, and I am truly sorry. You don’t need to forgive me, as I know it’s something that hurt you… But I just want you to know I didn’t mean to use that name, and I’ll never use it again, Yancy.”

Yancy was dumbfounded. No one who deliberately used that name apologised. They never cared that it made him uncomfortable and upset. Emotions stung him for the second time that day, but polar opposites to the anger that had nearly consumed him in the morning.

“I-I, uh… Thanks. For apologising, I mean. Takes balls to admit youse was wrong ‘bout something. But it means a lot that, y’know, youse said sorry. So… If it’s okay with youse, we can consider it forgiven and forgotten.” Yancy looked ill at ease, but Illinois couldn’t blame him. It would be better to find a new topic to talk about before Yancy decided to swiftly dismiss himself. At that moment, Yancy adjusted his stance, drawing Illinois’ attention to his hand.

“Is that the White Jaguar model I gave you?”

Yancy blinked and looked at his hand like he didn’t know it had existed until that very moment. He opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a quick shake of his head. When he did speak again, there was the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah, uh… Had a few people asking ‘bout it, but I don’t remember shit from that talk so… Is it too late to join one of these class things you is doing?” Yancy mentally slapped himself for doing the opposite of what he had intended, but it wasn’t met with a cocky reaction. Instead, Illinois’ face lit up like the Fourth of July and invited Yancy to the desk so they could check if there was a class that would fit neatly into Yancy’s schedule. There was a hint of awkwardness between them, but Illinois was optimistic that this could be the start of a better chapter for them.

However, he did get a little ahead of himself and winked at Yancy just before the prisoner left. Yancy rolled his eyes, but the dismissive look had a trace of amusement in it as he left. Once the door closed, Illinois found himself staring at it for several long moments.

Okay… Maybe there was a bit of an attraction toward Yancy after all.

#yanois #deadname tw #illinois ahwm #ahwm yancy #yancy x illinois #writersofmark #cocky adventurer (Illinois) #dramatic prisoner (Yancy) #(I... Think I'm getting a little better at writing Illinois?)