#thought process for English class. I had to be heavily trained into thinking that way and often my first instinct is to not engage with the

[deathsmallcaps]

Replying to tags but then I ran out of room and I think i was if not cooking then at least microwaving

#dude when I was in 6th grade I read #the veldt #and at the time it disgusted and genuinely scared me because I was #just so surprised that people - children! - could be raised to be so heartless #idk if I read it for the first time as a 23 year old it would scare me so much #but goddamn

#I think we're both people who are *at least* good at literacy but we're both a little too STEMmy #to look at it the way some English teachers want us to? #like they want people to go from 'damn that's fucked up → what themes are the authors trying to explore here → what about the world #made them think of that and perhaps what are they trying to get us to consider and think about and perhaps change' #obviously not all writing is a fable with a moral at the end #but a lot of good writing has some sort of central belief that it wants the reader to consider

#(I struggle in creating that with my fiction ugh and I think a lot of booktok books do too and it bugs me that we have that connection)

#but anyway #I think you and I'd first reactions are like #’that's horrible → how can we prevent that specific problem from occurring again' #like take the lottery. my (and maybe your?) first reaction is like 'that's horrible → they should ban the lottery' #but the English teacher is going to want us to think 'oh gee okay so this is a commentary on traditions. why would this tradition be started #/necessary? does the lottery reflect the overall morals and sensibilities of the overall society (aka fond of the death penalty etc). #what sort of tradition might this mirror today? connecting to historical events and the fact that the person stoned and the author were #women. aka the gender commonly stoned for witchcraft in New England #do you think that's related?' etc etc etc wrapped in metaphors and shit. and tbh that's how I learned a lot of my religious and political #philosophy as well as history. I really like Thomas swift's 'a modest proposal' (satire) for that reason.

but that was NOT my initial #thought process for English class. I had to be heavily trained into thinking that way and often my first instinct is to not engage with the #metaphor an just go straight to the logic/sensible answer. blah blah blah. I really respect lit and history teachers as a profession but boy #do I not want to teach it because I would be so slack on writing the kinds of questions that would get the kids to engage with the meta. #once I got a piece I got it but it was a struggle every damn time. because I had to get over my feelings of well why didn't they just not #do that'

the biggest one I can think of is 'song of Solomon' by Toni Morrison. I think my senior AP English teacher wanted us to really #consider authors and characters of color (he was white but it was 2018-2019 aka Trump era) so he taught us othello and TM. othello is a #little easier to understand because iago is just being a little bitch about a Black foreigner getting a promotion and a hot wife and no longer being able to convince himself that he was better than Othello

But TM’s main character Milkman? Unlikeable, spoiled little shit who doesn’t give a damn that he’s the 1 percent of his marginalized community and he’s frittering his privileges away so hard that it literally induces suicidal and murderous tendencies into the people around him. Among other things.

It took me foreverrrrrr to engage with the text beyond GOD I HATE THIS GUY but once I was able to examine his psychology and the mean flip side of ‘if you want to fly, you have to get rid of earthly attachments’, which he does at the end of the story.

Was it a chore? Absolutely. But have I ever forgotten the story or the literary tools it gave me? No.

Maybe I’m just speaking for myself in this longass response - you and I usually talk animals and men not books 😅 - but yeah every English class is full of these annoying stories that are meant to rattle one’s brain and I REALLY avoid rattling lmao. Tbqh again I respect lot classes but I’m glad they’re over lmao

But anyways I listened to Levar Burton’s podcast ‘Levar Burton Reads’ from start to finish, and he once read (as a three parter) Toni Morrison’s Recitatif. It’s the story of two girls, one Black one white, who grew up around and with and against each other during the mid 1900s.

I didn’t know what the story was getting at, aside from the surface ideas of the American Civil Rights Movement and privilege and stuff. But LB usually asked questions or briefly mentioned the author’s main idea at the end. And when he did? HOLY FUCK.

If you ever decide to listen to it (I’ve never gotten my hands to a print copy so idk if they usually have some sort of author’s note at the end to ask the reader this question)(I love LB’s voice he’s a pleasure to listen to if you listen to Recitatif) please @ me and tell me if it also blew your mind and made you consider how you viewed the POV character of the story.

Because it blew my mind and made me really consider why I assumed things about the pov character. Im not going to say anything further because I feel like I’m spoiling the point but yeah.

Anyways again this could be just me but I’ve always had trouble moving on from the straight solution mindset. When I was 12 I was in a model UN and I was told to write a report about Togo and its healthcare issues. I took this to mean that I had to research the common issues there (such as unclean water and mosquito bite diseases) and then come up with solutions.

It was incredibly embarrassing to do all that and then hear every other group explain their countries healthcare issues and WHY (historically, monetarily, etc) their countries struggled with such things. And my ass went up there and talked about affordable mosquito deterrent changes to water sources and cheap water cleaning services.

I didn’t realize it then but like. It perfectly exemplified my lack of instinct to subtextually interact with instructions and prompts.

And the thing is. May the universe bless and boost the fucking lit teachers out there because my poor students are entering math class with lit skills 6 grades under where they should be and are genuinely unable to interact with straightforward STEM instructions. My college had every ed major take a ‘teaching literacy’ class and sure I passed but the thing is. I’m not really the person that’s supposed to catch these kids on that subject. I’m supposed to be a secondary math teacher. So a lot of the advice in that class simply wasn’t applicable and I wish it was!!! I’d be happy to help in that subject but also I WAS TRAINED TO BE A MATH TEACHER. AND MOST LITERACY AND LANGUAGE DIFFICULTY COURSES ARE NOT DESIGNED WITH STEM IN MIND. (Which is why I want to learn enough Spanish that I can teach kids learning English math as well because that’s an area that doesn’t get a lot of crossover and a lot of kids fall through).

Well this turned into a ramble goodnight lmao. I’d say this was a decently microwaved thought track lol

[luke-r-gillespie]

May 15 - Guest lecture, Musashi univ. / Activity with Musashi U students

Freewriting

I woke up this morning at 7:30 to get ready for breakfast. After waiting till 8 to make sure there was no pop-quiz for the day, I headed downstairs for my classic Hotel Edoya breakfast of rice, turkey, broccoli, and two dumplings. After breakfast, I attended our morning class meeting before leaving for Musashi University. After thirty minutes by train and two transfers, we were in Nerima, Tokyo. After walking to Musashi from the station, we were introduced to the professor whose class we would be sitting in on for the day. After a quick tour of the school, we attended class with his usual students were we discussed the concept of a utopia. The class discussion was brief but interesting. For the duration of the period, we went outside where we were encouraged to speak with the other students in the class from Musashi University. I really enjoyed speaking with the students from Musashi, they were extremely kind and it was a great opportunity for me to practice my Japanese while they could practice their English.

After the period concluded, I exchanged social media handles with a number of the students that I had gotten to speak with before heading off with them for some lunch on campus. I ate at one of the food trucks available on campus and it was both affordable and delicious (it honestly put the UF dining hall food to shame.) After getting to speak with them some more, it was time for us to leave Musashi but hopefully we will keep in touch!

Our next stop for the day was Tokyo station where we would be meeting up with students from another university so they could give us a tour of the area.

Unfortunately, the tour guide assigned to Griffin and I knew less about Tokyo than we did! It was alright though, Ryo was a really nice guy and he was happy to practice his English as we walked around Tokyo station and some surrounding areas. While walking around Tokyo station we saw all sorts of stores, and unfortunately a man who appeared deceased being taken away by paramedics outside the station (thoughts and prayers). After our eventful "tour" I returned to Hotel Edoya to get ready to go thrifting and get dinner with Zachary.

Academic Reflection

Futurism is defined as the study of events and trends relating to the future with intent to anticipate aspects of it. The professor who led our class at Musashi University today discussed the concept of a Utopia with us and had us reflect on our own thoughts relating to the matter. Something that stood out to me in the video that he shared with us was how Utopia translates to both good place and no place. To me, this feels like a way of saying that a utopia is an unachievable goal but one worth striving for regardless. In a society where everyone is an individual and has free will, I do not see a utopia as a realistic possibility because everyone's "perfect society" would be different. It was really interesting to hear the thoughts and opinions of the Musashi University students on the concept of Utopia because they understood in a way totally different than me. Some of them viewed utopia as an achievable ideal while some viewed it as a purely theoretical concept. This difference of opinion connects to one of the three tenants of futurism discussed in our reading for the day, any useful ideas about the future should appear ridiculous. While I did not feel that anyone's beliefs were inherently ridiculous, they varied heavily from my own. I think that this variety of thought processes could lead to effective developments for achieving a "preferred future."

[demonslayedher]

Hey!! Hope you are doing well and having fun with the Sword research!!

So, in the Mugen Train Drama CD when Kyojuro is talking to Senjuro about Ruka he mentions that her favorite play is the “Hagoromo Play”. I only looked up the synopsis on Wikipedia but it feels like this play wasn’t put in the script randomly. The way it talks about the mantle, passage of night and the dance Hagoromo performs sounds a lot like things that could make Ruka associate it with Demon Slaying even though she isn’t a slayer. What are your thoughts on the play and it’s narrative commentary if there is any?

Take care of yourself! I always enjoy seeing your research and art! ❤️

Thanks! I am done with overwhelming humbling sword research... for now. <3 Let's dive back into some Noh instead! First, some considerations regarding Ruka being a fan: this is not entertainment for the masses. In fact, it's so high brow that it's something it's to be appreciated rather for its spiritual messages, usually of the strictly straight-and-narrow style of moralistic teaching. While its sibling theater form, Kyogen, has the same goes of moralistic teaching through theater, Kyogen was meant to appeal to the tastes of the masses while Noh was considered something more suitable for the dignified samurai class. Rather than focus so heavily on content, it is written a way that encompasses pauses or open spaces, called 間 (ma). You could think of this as the use of white space in a graphic design, which serves to draw focus the content; it gives the eyes a break to better process the message. In Noh, this is reflective sections of the movement and sound. Following a Noh drama seriously is almost like a guided meditation, and we know from Mugen Ressha's Taisho Secrets that Ruka was very experienced with hardcore meditation. She probably had a deep appreciation for the physical and spiritual self-discipline Noh performance requires. Sort of an aside, in the Kimetsu Academy AU it seems she stays busy as a calligraphy teacher, which is a testament to her own self-discipline.

While the first fanbook states that Kyojuro's hobbies are appreciating Noh, Kabuki, and Sumo (the latter two of which can be much more elating) and it's nice to think he picked up some of this from Ruka's influence, I have to wonder whether Shinjuro watched Noh with Ruka because he was also brought up with an appreciation for highbrow theater, or if he was a simp and accompanied her even if he was bored. It'd be fun to say both, but I lean more toward the former.

As for this particular play, "Hagoromo" being her favorite, I think it wasn't chosen so much for why Ruka personally would had appreciated it, but because of how it can symbolize Ruka and Shinjuro's relationship.

The basic idea is that a fisherman finds the heavenly garment (hagoromo) of a heavenly maiden, and it turns out she was bathing nearby and cannot return to heaven without her robe. He initially refuses to give it to her, but she eventually gets it back and leaves him. In describing it this way, I have described many, many, many different versions of the same "Swan Maiden"-esque story, but we'll get to more of the details of Noh version momentarily. I'd like to pause here to say my first thought was "Oh, it's like Ruka being confined to heaven and Shinjuro on earth being unable to reunite with her, and they have two sons like in that one Zhinü and Niulang version," but it's worth nothing that my first thought skipped many, many in-between thoughts. Scholars have often pointed out the similarities between Hagoromo stories and various versions of the Cowherd & Weaving Maiden legend, which has Chinese origins but unique iterations across East Asia. Although the similarities, and therefore the dramatic "tragically separated lovers" influence, are part of why I feel Ufotable chose to mention this Noh play, we'll focus on the Noh play content.

You can watch an 18 minute edit of the play here. Unfortunately, there are no English captions available for the insightful Japanese commentary. Sigh.

To break it down in more detail, in this version of the story, a fisherman named Hakuryo finds the beautiful garment and means to take it home as a treasure, and then the heavenly maiden (Tennyo) tells him to give it back, for without it she cannot return to heaven. He's like, 'oh, well if it's this much of a treasure, than I really can't part with it, because after all, I am but a wretched fisherman' and then she nearly crumbles with grief. He feels bad about it and decides to give it back, which makes her filled with joy.

However, he can't give it back without a condition. He agrees to give it back if she'll show him her renowned dance. She agrees, on the condition that she be given her robes first. He turns sour again, saying that he'll never see the dance if he does that, because she'll leave as soon as he gives it back to her. She chides him for this attitude, saying how there is no such thing as deceit in the heavens. Seeing the error of his ways is his big spiritual enlightenment in this drama, he humbly returns the hagoromo to her, and then she performs a wondrous dance and disappears by ascending Mt. Fuji and faded into the mist.

Some common themes between this version and other Hagoromo stories is that even if he is not a fisherman, the man who takes the garment is typically of a low status. This makes me think of how Shinjuro saw himself as wretched and worthless. What's also a common theme is that the man always makes an attempt to keep the garment, thereby keeping the heavenly maiden bound to earth--in many versions, as his wife. This makes me think of how desperately Shinjuro wanted to keep Ruka bound to earth too. In the end, the heavenly maiden often does manage to reattain her robes, such as finding where her husband hid it, and she very suddenly returns to heaven. Predictably, this makes me think of Ruka's death.

What sticks out in this Noh version is how the encounter is a positive experience for both the fisherman and for the Tennyo. While many Noh drama are sobering reminders of the fragility of life and human morality, in this one, the Tennyo is very honestly joyful about recovering her stolen robe, and Hakuryo is honestly moved and changed for the better by the experience, even if it did reveal his character faults along the way. To Shinjuro, Ruka was like a heavenly maiden who was wise and had all the influence on the goodness in their childrens' personalities, and he also fell to shameful lows before a spiritual turnaround in his own character.

Sure, Ruka may have appreciated the beauty that came out through the self-discipline of the Tennyo's dance enough to want to watch it multiple times, but in the long, long run, I think the story would have had a deeper impact on Shinjuro.

[captainsolare]

Solsooool!! Congrats on 300!!you deserve it and much much more!! ❤️💜 For your event, you know I have to ask for sero, you write him so well! Sero + journal maybe?? And thank you in advance!! ❤️💜❤️

A/N: Hello hello lovely!! I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you like it! 

A/N: I’ve come to the conclusion I can’t write short things, I have too much to say. Also woah this is the last post from the 300 event, thanks so much for your support y'all <3

Sero + Journal

The lunchroom was loud, Sero sat with his normal group, thoughts miles away. “Why do we have to do this stupid assignment anyways?” Denki lamented, sighing heavily as he slumped forward onto the table. “Hey, don’t knock my rice off the table, electricity for brains.” Bakugo threatened, grabbing his bowl as the table tipped unevenly. Sero zoned back into the conversation when suddenly a question was directed towards him.

“What was the question?” He asked, blinking. Kirishima smiled, “No worries man. Mina just asked what you wrote for the journal assignment.”

Sero hummed thoughtfully. The assignment prompt was ‘What would your ideal future look like?’ He knew he should probably say a generic answer, like ‘seeing a world where heroes wouldn’t be necessary or wanting to be a top hero, but for some reason, all of his thoughts led him down a path towards you. He didn’t know you very well, you were in a different hero course class, but you seemed kind and smart, and with a face like that? Goodness, he was hooked.

His daydreaming was interrupted by Mina’s finger poking his cheek; blinking to settle back to reality he was met with his friends’ smiling faces. “Uh oh I know that look,” Denki said teasingly. Mina nodded, smirking, “Uh-huh, our little tape boy is in love.”

Love? The word felt strange in his brain and set his cheeks on fire. “What?! No way.” he protested, hands raised defensively. Mina smiled and exchanged a knowing glance with Denki, “I bet we already know who it is!” “We do?” Denki asked, face scrunching in confusion.

“Look! There’s Y/N now!” Mina exclaimed. Sero couldn’t help it, he perked up like an excited puppy eyes scanning the crowd for you. His face settled into a pout when you were nowhere to be found, and his friends began to laugh. “Dude you should have seen your face!” Denki teased, socking his arm lightly. Sero’s cheeks were warm from embarrassment. Kirishima raised up a halting hand, “Hey now, let’s not tease the guy too much. I think it’s manly to be in love.” Bakugo grunted his disinterest, and the group returned to other topics of conversation.

Soon the bell rang, signaling the long walk back to class. Sero was quiet as he walked, trailing a few steps behind his friends; running through a mental checklist of what he’d need for the next class he panicked as he realized he left his journal back in the locker room this morning. He quickly pivoted, yelling to Denki that he’d be right back and to cover for him.

Little did he know you were in the same predicament, you rushed to the locker room, retrieving the all-important journal from your own locker. As you exited into the hallway, not really paying attention to your surroundings, you bumped into something warm. Your notebooks and whoever’s you’d bumped into landed on a heap on the floor. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry (YLN/)(Sero)!” You and Sero said at the same time.

You both scrambled to the floor to grab the notebooks, managing to knock heads in the process. “Geez, I’m really batting a thousand today, huh?” Sero joked, handing you the notebook he presumed to be yours.

Before you could answer the bell rang and you met each other’s panicked eyes. “Sorry, gotta go!” You exclaimed, rushing off to your class. Sero lingered a few moments longer, hand burning from where you’d accidentally brushed his.

He rushed back to the classroom, notebook in hand. “Sorry I’m late, Present Mic.” Mic nodded, not pausing from his lecture. Once Sero sat down, Mic set his piece of chalk down. “Alright! Now that everyone is here, we’re going to swap journals with the person next to us and edit their journal entries for the most recent assignment.” Sero’s heart sank, but he turned to Midoriya and begrudgingly handed his journal over. At least he probably won’t make fun of me.

Midoriya’s cheeks were warm from embarrassment, “I wish I had known we were going to peer-edit these. Mine’s a little embarrassing.” Sero chuckled, feeling a bit better about the situation, “It can’t be any more embarrassing than mine.” Midoriya smiled and they each turned the pages open to find the most recent journal entries.

Sero was digging out a red pencil from his bag when he heard Midoriya’s shaky voice coming from next to him. “Uh Sero?” He turned, head cocked in confusion, “Yeah? Is something wrong?” Midoriya bit his lip, wondering how exactly to tell him this, “Well, uh, it looks like this notebook isn’t yours.” Hanta blinked, how was that possible? He had definitely picked up his own notebook in the hallway, right?

He was certain his face was as red as Kirishima’s hair as he took the notebook from Midoriya with trembling hands. As he peered at the handwriting that was most definitely not his, the facts cemented in his brain. In the hallway, he must have given you, the person he wrote an embarrassing journal entry about for an English assignment, the journal he wrote it in. Sero sank in his chair, resting his head in his hands. It was certain, his life, and reputation as being a sort of cool guy were over.

As the day crept on, he dreaded going to the training grounds this afternoon; you’d surely be there and he wasn’t sure he could look you in the face, not after you’d read that journal entry he wrote. In the locker room, he pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering what exactly he had done for fate to curse him like this. “What’s wrong man? You’ve been acting weird all day?” Denki asked, shirt half on. Sero sighed, shoulders heavy with defeat. “I accidentally ran into Y/N after I went to grab my notebook earlier and in the mix of rushing to class and getting up off the floor, we ended up swapping notebooks.”

Denki blinked, “Wait, your English notebook? Why would that be a big deal?” Sero shook his head, his best friend could be so perceptive, but so dumb sometimes. His cheeks warmed as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, I-- uh… I sort of included Y/N in my journal entry.” Denki couldn’t help the sound that erupted from his throat. “You what?!” His laughter echoed on the tile walls and Sero felt his cheeks grow hotter. “I know it was stupid okay? You don’t have to make fun of me.” Denki’s laughter immediately stopped, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Honestly, I think it’ll be okay. The worst that could happen is you never speak again right?” Sero fixed him with a dark look. Denki put his hands up defensively, “Sorry, I’m not the best at making people feel better.”

The minutes ticked by during training, your class would be here soon to take over the gym and he could feel his stress levels rise from the very thought of it. Your voice echoed from the doorway, saying his name, and he would have run for Denki and Kirishima not held him in place.

Your cheeks were on fire as you made your way over to the dark-haired boy. “Hey, Sero, can we... talk?”

He swallowed thickly, “Uh, yeah sure. Let me grab my bag.” He darted over to the corner to grab his things and walked outside with you. “So, what’s up?” He asked, kicking himself for the question as soon as it left his mouth. You knelt down to rummage through your bag and pulled out a familiar-looking notebook. He did the same, and you traded notebooks without a word. He began to leave but your voice stopped him.

“Sero?” He stopped in his tracks, heart pounding in his ears. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, “About your journal entry… I’m flattered but--” Ah, there it was, the dreaded but. “There’s no need to finish,” He stopped you, a sad smile on his face, “I know you don’t feel the same way.” You gave him a look and he blinked, confused.

“I was going to say, before you interrupted me, that I’m flattered but I don’t know what I want for the future yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want for next Saturday.”

“Oh really?”Now he was even more confused, what was that supposed to mean? “What do you want Saturday?” You smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “For you to pick me up from the dorm at 7 PM sharp and take me out for dinner.” His eyes widened as the realization set in, and he settled into a comfortable smile. “Perfect, I can’t wait!”

His friends came tumbling out of the gym onto the ground in front of you as you tugged the door open to rejoin your class. You and Sero burst out laughing, a mixture of embarrassment and humor. As his friends teased him about this new development, Sero could have sworn he heard Bakugo say, “All according to plan.”

[ohshit-itsyagorl]

Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 2!  Part 1

Thank you so much for the feedback on AO3. If you want to read the story there, you can find it here.

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Michelle couldn’t meet Peter’s eyes the next day. Not after last night. Not after she had hung up the phone, climbed into bed, and finished what she had started when Peter caught her moaning. When she had touched her heat, and it had felt different than when she just cleaned down there showering, when it had felt better.

And then when her hand had found her soulmark and stroked it, and her orgasm had wracked her body, ricocheting through her in hot blades of pleasure. She had never really done anything like that before, never felt the need to, and as she had collapsed on her bed, she had wondered how--how had she not.

But worst of all, when she had whispered Peter as she came undone, still touching her mark.

She felt dirty. Trapped between two people: a soulmate she didn’t want and an off-limits best friend she did.

Peter kept looking at her during Biology, too. The fact that they were lab partners didn’t make matters any easier. Nor did it help that he was practically a furnace sitting next to her. And it was mid-winter and the classroom was very cold, and she so wanted to lean into that heat.

Their teacher cleared his throat. “Alright, class. We’re going to start the fetal pig dissection today. Now, we’ve been preparing for this for about a week, so I won’t be walking you through every step of the process. Got it?” The class nodded. “Great. Pigs are in the corner, one per table group, and please try to keep the joking around to a minimum.”

Peter looked over and started to say something but Michelle was already gone. When she got back he had his binder out on the table and a pencil in his hand. He started to open his mouth again—

“Don’t,” Michelle said. “It’s not something I want to talk about.” She loosed a breath and looked up. His eyes floored her, warm and brown and so, so deep.

Maybe someday she would look back on this with him and laugh. Laugh about her stupid crush. Without thinking her hand came to rest over her soulmark. Thankfully this could be passed off as a hand to the heart, and not… what it really was.

Peter’s eyes dropped to her chest, then flicked back up to meet her eyes. He licked his lips. Michelle followed the movement, then mentally cursed herself.

“So, what should we name our pig?” Peter asked. Michelle just gave him an unimpressed look. “What? It needs a name.” He looked at her pleadingly.

Michelle sighed. “Fine. What do you want to name,” she examined the pig, “him?”

Peter grinned. “Iron Man.”

She scoffed. “Absolutely not. We are not naming this poor pig after Iron Man. He’s basically an ego on wheels.” Peter looked like he was about to argue. “Look, if you really want to name our dead pig-child after an avenger, let’s name him Spider-Man. Or even better: Spider-Pig.”

Peter cleared his throat and laughed nervously. “Why, uh, why him? Why not, like, Captain America or Hawkeye or someone—anyone—else?”

“He protects Queens, Peter,” Michelle explained. “It makes the most sense. Besides, have you seen his suit? Super cool.”

Peter puffed his chest out a little. Weird.

With that step out of the way, they continued with the dissection, cutting a slit down the center of Spider-Pig’s stomach, careful not to puncture any of the organs. They made small talk between trying to locate the different parts of the pig’s digestive system. Little things: how May had been, what kind of stuff Michelle had been drawing (though she only told him part of that), MJ’s stupid landlord problems (they had been having issues with the heating). It was nice talking to him, pretending last night didn’t happen.

The end of the period came too fast, the bell startling Michelle so she jumped. Peter chuckled a bit, and she punched him lightly in the arm, smiling a little herself, too.

English and art passed by quickly, and before she knew it, she was standing in the lunch line waiting for her food.

When she reached their usual table, Betty looked up and said, “Happy Birthday, MJ!” Then, more conspiratorially, “You got your soulmark, right? What is it?”

Michelle rolled her eyes. This girl was never going catch a hint, was she? But MJ just shrugged. “Yeah, I got it, but I won’t tell you what or where.”

Betty pouted, and MJ saw Ned’s eyes trained on her lips. Honestly, could he be any more obvious? Betty didn’t notice, though, instead saying, “Oh, c’mon, M, just tell us.”

MJ glared and shook her head. Conversation over.

Peter coughed from behind her, and she stiffened, slowly turning around to face him.

“You’ll still make fun of my mark with me come August even if you won’t tell me about yours, though, right?” He asked.

Michelle was about to say no, but he just looked so hopeful—a bit like a lost puppy, if she was being honest. So she shrugged, and nodded.

“Ooh,” Cindy exclaimed, “Maybe your soulmate is Peter, MJ.”

Michelle scoffed. Not fucking likely. She and Peter were best friends, nothing more. “Don’t be gross, Cindy. He’s my best friend. He’s like a brother to me.” That last part wasn’t true, but they didn’t need to know that. Especially not Peter, who was blushing and spluttering more than she was.

“Shame,” Betty sighed. “You two would be cute together.”

Michelle flipped her off. Peter coughed loudly to her right, looking like the world’s most uncomfortable teenager. Ned opened his mouth, and Peter elbowed him in the side, his expression going from embarrassed to murderous.

“L-lets, just drop it, Betty. Clearly neither of us is interested,” Peter added.

Ouch, that hurt a little.

                      —————————————————————

That night was spent with Peter and Ned furiously trying to memorize the digestive system of a pig for the pop quiz their teacher had hinted at heavily that morning in class.

“That’s the gallbladder, right?” MJ asked, furrowing her brow.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” said Peter, leaning over her shoulder. His breath tickled her ear and she bit her lip, trying with all her might not to shiver at the way he made her nerves stand on end. “I think it’s actually that little thing right there. Don’t quote me on that, though.” He grinned at her, then quickly looked away.

They went on like that for a few hours, slowly making their way through the mountain of homework they had been assigned.

MJ’s phone rang suddenly, making them all jump. “Crap,” she said, blindly reaching into her waistband. She managed to pull out her phone to see that her mom was calling her. “Sorry, guys, I’ve got to take this.”

“No Problem, M. Take your time,” Ned responded, giving her a small smile. Peter nodded in agreement, and Michelle stepped away into the Parker’s sitting room. She raised her phone to her ear: “Hey, Mom. What’s up?” She asked.

“Hi, Honey. The heating went out at the apartment, so I’m at the hospital—Nothing’s wrong, so don’t freak out! The doctors just didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be in such a cold house because of—well, you know.”

“Yeah, Mom. I can talk to the landlord about it tomorrow morning. As long as you don’t need anything from the house—if you do, I can run home now and bring it to you—”

“No, M. I’ll be fine for tonight. And, Honey?” Her mom said.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“I don’t want you going home tonight, okay? It’s below freezing and I don’t want you catching a chill.”

“But, Mom,” MJ started.

“No buts, Michelle. Ask if you, Peter and Ned can have a sleepover or something. I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her mom hung up. No room for argument.

Michelle swore under her breath, then turned to go back into Peter’s room. They looked up as she came in, curious expressions on their faces. “Hey, guys,” she said, “the heating in my apartment went out. Is it possible for me to stay here for the night? We—we could maybe have a sleepover?”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good with me. Ned?” Peter asked, looking at his best friend.

“I can’t, sorry. I need to look after my little sister tonight.”

“Ok. Pete, are you sure this is okay?”

“Of course. Besides, your mom is right: it’s too cold outside to not have heating.” Michelle briefly wondered how he knew about her mom’s worries as she hadn’t voiced this particular part of their conversation, but she put it out of her mind. She had more important things to worry about, like how she was spending the night alone with Peter less than twenty four hours after she had gotten herself off to the thought of him. She fought back a blush and nodded at Peter to hide her growing discomfort. May would be back soon, anyway. It wasn’t like they would be alone alone.

MJ sat down and pulled her binder toward herself again. The rest of their work was for separate classes, so they couldn’t really work together, but it was still nice to have study buddies to keep her on track.

Soon enough, though, Ned had to leave. After the initial conversion, Ned had explained that his parents were going out for a little alone time, and he needed to make sure his younger sister got to bed at a reasonable time. He did this with much complaint, now that he knew his two best friends were going to have a sleepover together.

Honestly, if MJ was being honest, she was kind of excited about getting a little alone time with Peter. The whole day had been a little awkward, and she just wanted everything to go back to normal.

“Movie?” Peter asked. He started to get up and move to the sitting room.

“Yeah, sure. We could just stick with Star Wars tonight, though.”

Peter grinned at her and her heart did a somersault. Damn those perfect teeth. Michelle followed him out of the room.

They ended up watching Empire Strikes Back as they were both in agreement it was the best Star Wars film. They joked throughout the movie, and Peter, ever the dramatic, acted out his hand being chopped off when the time came.

Soon, though, the movie came to an end. Michelle looked at the time: 11:00. They had school tomorrow and she didn’t want to be a zombie, so, “We should probably get to bed.”

Peter nodded. He got up from the couch and made his way back to his room. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

This time it was MJ’s turn to nod, and she followed him into his bedroom. Peter quickly closed the door to the bathroom and Michelle heard the shower turn on. She pulled out her book and started to read.

Peter wasn’t in the shower for very long, Michelle had only read about fifteen pages when he exited the bathroom. She looked up. And froze.

Peter was wearing his boxers.

Only his boxers.

And she had been right the other night: Peter had abs. And pecs and biceps and every other defined muscle that, put together, made him sexy as hell. Her eyes trailed down his toned stomach to the defined v that led down past the waistband of his boxers. Fuck her, she was going to jump him right where he stood.

“What are you wearing?” She croaked, breath catching in her throat.

Peter looked down at himself, then back at her. “This is what I wear to sleep. I get too hot in anything more.” He grinned at her slyly. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can—”

“No!” MJ interrupted. “I mean, no. It’s fine. Wear whatever makes you comfortable.” Then she realized something: “Um, actually, speaking of sleepwear, I don’t have anything to, you know…”

“Oh—oh, yeah. Here,” he said, ruffling through some drawers and pulling out a shirt and a pair of sweats and tossing them to her. “You can use these.”

Michelle quietly accepted the clothes, trying hard to keep her eyes trained on his face, and moved to the steamy bathroom. She didn’t have any shampoo or conditioner with her, but she figured Peter wouldn’t mind if she borrowed some of his. It definitely wouldn’t be very good for her curls but she was willing to take the risk. She really needed a shower. She hadn’t showered the previous night after her… activities, and she felt pretty disgusting just thinking about sleeping in the same room as him when the sweat that had dried on her skin had been from touching herself with his name on her lips.

She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down her shoulders and then the rest of her body. Her mark started to tingle as the water ran over it. Shit. MJ looked up at the ceiling. If there was a god, he had a fucked sense of humor. Her legs started to shake as heat pooled in her core. “Fuck,” she moaned quietly, sinking to the floor. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. She grabbed at her mark, trying the stop the water from hitting it, but it only made it worse, sending hot blades of pleasure down her body.

Her legs spasmed beneath her, completely out of her control, and she let out a small cry. She managed to claw her way up the wall and grab the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, before sinking back to the floor. Pantene. For some reason that just seemed so Peter. She laughed a little to herself, but it turned into a low, throaty moan when she felt another wave of heat fly through her body.

She uncapped the bottle and squeezed the shampoo into her hand. Looking at the gooey, white substance, her mouth started to water. She licked her lips. What was going on with her? What was wrong with her mark? Why was it doing this to her?

She started to slowly massage the shampoo into her head. It felt really good. Too good. Her mark burned, her nipples were so hard its was starting to hurt and she just wanted Peter to barge in and help her finish.

She did her best to ignore it, rinsing out the shampoo and adding conditioner to her ends, then tying her hair up in a topknot with the hair tie on her wrist.

She had to wash her body next. Fuck. She started with her arms. Then her legs, though she didn’t get all the way up her thighs before she moved to her back.

Then, after her stomach, she moved her soapy hands down to the apex of her thighs and quickly tried to clean the slick from between her legs. It felt so good, and she could tell that it wasn’t just shower water collecting on the rest of her body now. By the time she finished, she was leaning against the wall panting and shaking.

She poured more body wash into her hands and moved them to her breasts. She had to bite back a scream when her hand came into contact with the small spider. It was like she was touching herself down there, except ten times stronger. She slowly rubbed the soap into her breasts, tears streaming down her face and hips bucking wildly. It was too much. She had never felt anything like this before. She thought the vibration in her body was going to kill her.

She thought about Peter and his abs, thought about running her hands along his chest.

“Peter,” she moaned softly, and a wave of pleasure cascaded over her as she climaxed. “Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter,” she chanted, thinking of that mussed up wet hair he had walked out with after his shower. She blacked out for a second, caught up in the pleasure so much that her vision stopped working.

Michelle collapsed against the wall, mumbling incoherently. Her orgasm last night had been nowhere near as strong. Something was definitely wrong with her, she decided. That was not normal.

She quickly rinsed off the rest of the soap and the conditioner in her hair, and turned the water off, grabbing the spare towel hanging next to the shower and furiously drying herself off.

Michelle pulled the sweats up her legs. She was about the same height as Peter, but he was a lot more muscular. God, when did he start working out?

Needless to say, when she pulled the t-shirt over her head it was huge on her. And it smelled like him, too. She felt her nipples start to harden again. How could she possibly still be horny after the orgasm she just had. She hated her body. She hated her stupid soulmark. She hated that she let herself think about her best friend inappropriately.

Michelle walked out of the bathroom. “Hey, Peter?” He looked up. “Do you mind letting me borrow another one of your t-shirts? I need to plop my hair,” she said.

“Yeah—yeah, of course,” he said. He sounded a little flustered as he got up and walked back to his dresser, opening the middle drawer and pulling out an I survived NYC shirt and handing it to her.

Michelle leaned over, shaking out her hair and wrapping it up in the shirt. When she stood back up, she found Peter staring a her, and she realized her shirt had ridden up to expose her stomach and the way his sweats hung low on her hips. She cleared her throat, and his eyes snapped back to her face, cheeks glowing pink. Honestly, teenage boys would literally jump anything.

When they were younger and Peter still had a bunk bed, MJ would sleep on the top, Ned on the bottom, and Peter on the floor with an assortment of blankets and pillows, but now he had a full.

Peter eyed the bed suspiciously. “I can take the floor, M,” he said.

MJ scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Parker. There’s plenty of room on the bed for two people. I’m sleeping on the left, you can have the right.”

“But I always sleep on the left,” he protested.

“I don’t care. You can take the right.”

Peter looked rather uncomfortable at that, but he didn’t argue. Smart boy.

Michelle pulled back the covers and climbed into Peter’s bed. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. She kept reminding herself that they were two best friends having a sleepover. Nothing more.

When her head hit the pillow she realized just how tired she was. Last night she was up until midnight with Peter waiting for her mark. Then, after they had hung up, she stayed up thinking of him. Today had been long, too. Not to mention what had just happened in her best friend’s shower (ugh).

Needless to say, she was exhausted, and so, it seemed, was Peter, whose breathing turned heavy almost immediately after he closed his eyes. But not before he let out a final, “Happy Birthday, M.”

MJ buried her nose in her pillow and took a deep breath. Her eyes shot open. Fuck, it smelled like him. Now she wished she had just let him take his side of the damn bed. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Quicker than she ever could have expected, she drifted off.

Part 3

[princess-orihime-inoue]

Heartbeat for who?

Videl is curious about the new student in her class, there is just something weird about him. But the more she investigates, the more she gets confused about who he really is.

What is Son Gohan hiding from them?

Type: One-shot

Status: Completed

---

“Through the exchange of resources the two countries united into an alliance that to this day stands,” Son Gohan read aloud to the classroom. He paused and looked over to the professor smiling in awe.

“That was beautiful Gohan,” the teacher praised with a nod and quickly added with excitement, “your English is absolutely fluent.”

Gohan bowed and took a seat, trying to ignore the hard glare from the girl sitting in his row. He didn’t know why but ever since he transferred a week ago, he has been getting followed by his classmate. If he let his guard down he was afraid she would discover that he was not normal.

He glanced over to the city’s strongest female, Videl Satan, and was surprised when their eyes met. She furrowed her eyebrows and narrowed her azure gaze with curiosity. Gohan looked away and swallowed nervously, hoping she wasn’t too suspicious of him.

He isn’t normal, Videl thought with annoyance.

Gohan is at the top of the school in academics after only a week, and he also possessed incredible abilities in jumping. During one of their baseball games he jumped effortlessly into the sky, only adding fuel to her suspicions. Not to mention it just didn’t make sense how he lived so far away and always managed to get to school on time. How does he do it?

Ever-since he showed up there has also been reports of crimes getting solved by an in-human hero, it just makes sense that he is the cause. But how can a skinny guy like him fly and be so immensely strong?

“It’s a trick,” she mumbled under her breath as she bit the bottom of her pen in thought. She was definitely going to uncover his secrets, and reveal his true colors.

Just you wait Gohan, I’m going to find out. She promised silently, as her attention shifted back to the chapter they were reading.

---

“Gohan is kind of cute, don’t you think?” Erasa asked as she pointed over at the boy having trouble in cooking class. He was in the process of making banana nut muffins, but was failing miserably.

Videl couldn’t help but frown, “Cute?”

Erasa nodded and giggled as he took out a tray of burnt muffins from the oven, “Yeah, not to mention he is like super smart.”

“He’s a total nerd,” Sharpner rolled his eyes and set down his tray of muffins proudly on the counter. “Gohan is obviously not Videl’s type, right?” He turned toward her and was expecting a remark that would support his claim.

But Videl was still staring at Gohan, the frown on her face slowly softening as she watched him blow on his steaming burnt baking failure. He had been so focused on reading and following the instructions on the cooking book that he had disregarded the amount of time. It was frustrating at the start, but she couldn’t help but smile at the effort he put.

“Videl?” Sharpner repeated, feeling oddly defeated.

She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to face Sharpner, “Huh?”

Erasa smirked and giggled, “What’s wrong Videl? He just said that Gohan is not your type.”

“Of course he isn’t, he’s far from my ideal guy,” Videl didn’t need to hesitate, after all she preferred guys that were stronger than her or her father. The only reason she was looking at Gohan, was because he may have connections with that Great Saiyaman that showed up a few days ago.

“Alert! Level 6 Danger in Region 4, near the Takashi Jewelry store!”

Her watch suddenly turned red and showed her the coordinates of the crime, it seemed the criminals were in possession of guns and are on the run through the city in a yellow automobile. Without waiting for more information she took off her apron and started to make her way to the nearest exit, “I’ll be back Mr. Cranberry!”

“Of course, please be careful Videl,” was the last thing she heard as she ran down the hallway and turned sharply to the left. She took out her capsule and pressed it as soon as she reached outside, jumping into the driver seat of her helicopter.

It took seconds for her watch to send the coordinates to the helicopter’s GPS, and she was on her way to search for a speeding yellow car. The city was enveloped in a dark cloud, the air had a tint of warning of a storm and she hoped it wouldn’t start to rain heavily.

After five minutes she located the target around 10th street. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to be forced to shoot you,” she warned through the speaker, hoping that these jerks would stop before causing anymore harm on the citizens. But they replied with a few dirty cuss words and aimed at her. “So rude, well you guys asked for it.”

She aimed at one of the wheels and watched as the car spun out of control and collided against a light-post, “That was easy.” Videl parked near the crash and walked over to the three guys trying to retrieve the bags full of jewelry. One of them noticed her and threatened to beat her up if she took another step toward them. Which she replied back with a smile and a step forward.

He came toward her with a clenched fist, and she avoided it with ease. They must be new here if they think they stand a chance against Hercules's daughter, she raised her leg and kicked him back into the car, knocking him out instantly.

“Anyone else?” She grinned as the two guys came running toward her in a flash.

They were surprisingly good at fighting, but she held her own in power and skills. With a swift uppercut she got one of them falling to the floor doubling over in pain. Videl barely had time to dodge an incoming punch from the last guy as she took off one of her gloves, because it was too tight. She took a step back and tried out her eagle kick, she was instantly happy with the result of her training because he flew back.

“That was pretty eas--” she was cut off by a loud honk.

The headlights froze her in her tracks, and she couldn’t think as the car came racing toward her. Her eyes shut in their own accord and she waited for the impact with her heart pounding with fear. The sound of a crash met her ears and yet she felt no pain.

“Need help?”

The sudden deep voice made her jump in surprise, her eyes fluttered open to a cloaked figure...this was the third time they had met. And yet again he had come to her rescue. He lifted the car with one hand on the hood and threw it over his shoulder like it was nothing. The Great Saiyaman smiled as if what he did was...normal.

How is that even possible? 

She thought as she searched his face, but it was useless it was hidden behind that stupid helmet. He always defied logic and did things that were impossible to the human eye, flying to save her when she fell from the cliff with the bus of citizens, saving her from the falling water tank while she was trying to put out the fire, and even during the bank robbery yesterday.

“Why?” She blurted out.

“Excuse me…?” The Great Saiyaman seemed confused.

Videl tightened the grip on her shirt and raised her head, watching as the rain fell around them. “Why do you keep saving me? I don’t even know you and you keep getting in the way,” she couldn’t help the crack in her voice, and was thankful that her tears were drowned in the rain. “It’s frustrating, you show up out of nowhere and save the day while hiding behind a stupid helmet!”

She was shocked at her own outburst and fell to the floor from the weakness in her legs. But she couldn’t keep bottling up her emotions of self-worth and disappointment. From all the times he had constantly saved her, she felt like she was losing at some invisible battle with herself and her pride. She never needed anybody's help until he showed up out of nowhere...

The Great Saiyaman was silent as he looked at her small form on the floor, she was completely drenched to the skin with scratches and cuts. He didn’t know why but he didn’t want to see her getting hurt, Videl may be capable of protecting herself. But he felt anxious whenever he saw her in trouble.

When he saw the car going straight at her he didn’t even think when he stopped it, all he could picture was Videl’s pale face in danger.

It took everything inside of him to stop from sprinting toward her and embracing her, it was weird he had never felt like this with anyone before. Sure she was very hot-headed and stubborn, but he couldn’t help but think highly of her…and also worry about her.

“Do I need a reason to save someone in trouble?” Was all he could manage to say.

Videl felt the warm trail of tears on her cheeks and nodded, she never needed a reason to save the people of this town. Yet she wanted to hear more from him, something that even she didn’t comprehend.

“Can you stand?” He asked with worry as he knelt down and offered his hand.

She blinked away the tears and bit her quivering lower lip, as she stretched her hand out and placed it in his open palm. Even though he was wearing a glove and it was wet, she felt the warmness seeping out into her skin.

Behind them though one of the thieves had taken out their gun in an effort to shoot her, his eyes were bloodshot and full of fury at being embarrassed by a little girl. “You f*cking little b*tch, take this,” the man yelled as he pressed the trigger.

Gohan felt the threat and heard the sound of the thief firing toward his classmate and without hesitation reacted. “Videl!” He pulled her into his arms and shielded her from the bullet, aiming a quick blast toward the guy with the gun. As expected he had put a little bit of energy to knock down the thief, and was relieved when he saw the gun fall from his hands.

“Are you alright, Videl?”

His voice was soft and she nodded against his embrace, feeling her hands tighten on his outfit. Everything had happened so fast that she was trying to calm down from the sound of it all. The bullet had bounced off his back like nothing to her surprise, he really is a wonder to behold.

“Thank you...Great Saiyaman,” Videl muttered as she reluctantly leaned away from him. The sound of the police came around the corner and soon enough the criminals were surrounded.

“I better go,” he turned feeling flustered for holding her for too long, he was lucky that she couldn’t see his expression under the helmet. “See you later, Videl!”

She smiled at the familiar voice, for a moment she thought about someone.

“See you later, Great Saiyaman.”

---

“Videl, I have to confess something,” The Great Saiyaman swallowed nervously as he took a step toward her, the wind blowing his cape behind him like a sea of red. It felt like they were in a movie, everything around her was moving in a slow pace. The sun was setting just behind him and it looked like his tall form was being enveloped by a warm glow.

She raised her brow and crossed her arms over her chest, “Confess what? That you are a criminal? Or that you are a complete faker that relies on tricking people?”

He shook his head and smiled, “No, it’s something that I lied about.”

Lied? She just knew that he was lying to her. “What is it?”

Within the blink of an eye he decreased the distance between them in a flash and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his hard chest. “W-what the?! What do you think you’re doing?” She felt her face burn and placed her palms against his chest to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“The reason I always came to your rescue is because…” his voice trailed off as he leaned forward, Videl felt hypnotized by his lips as they parted, “...because I love you.”

Her eyes closed as their lips met, her body melting into his warm embrace. Something warm fluttered in her stomach, and made her whole body feel light as a feather. Without realizing it she was kissing him back, wanting more of his sweet taste.

When her eyes fluttered open she found herself looking at Gohan, he was gazing at her with a gentle glow in his dark eyes.

“Gohan…?”

“Videl I have always--” His voice drowned in the sound of a familiar alarm.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Her hand reached out to silence the alarm clock and she sat up from her bed in a flash. Videl had awoken feeling her face burn at the dream she had, there was just no way that she was interested in Gohan. Or that he was the Great Saiyaman.

Maybe you want him to be, her consciousness whispered.

“Ugh, no way!”

It must have been because Erasa had been talking about him all day yesterday and putting strange ideas in her head. Not because she was romantically interested in that weak guy.

“There’s just no way my heart is beating because of Gohan,” she denied with a huff of anger.

---

The Satan Gym was full with the usual members, all of them training their best to become as strong as the world champion.

Near the treadmills Videl was doing cardio, her legs running as fast as she could. Sweat dripping down her forehead as she checked her heartbeat, which was still maintaining the same rhythm. She was trying not to feel agitated with last night’s dream.

Videl didn’t even want to think about him.

“I asked Gohan out on a date today after school,” Erasa smiled as she leaned against the treadmill.

Videl suddenly lost her footing and grabbed the bars to balance herself. Her heartbeat had accelerated at the mention of Gohan’s name and the monitor started to beep at the sudden increase.

Erasa and Sharpner looked over at her in confusion.

“Take it easy Videl,” Erasa commented with a worried shake of her head.

Sharpner nodded in agreement, “She’s right, I think you should rest you look really flustered.”

“You’re wrong,” Videl protested as she continued to jog, yet the heart monitor didn’t lie. Her chest felt like it was pounding at the thought of a certain mysterious boy in her class. “There’s no way I like Gohan,” she whispered to herself, hoping that maybe if she repeated that statement it would come true.

[loki-in-hogwarts]

So confident part 3 : Boyfriend Material

Peter Parker x reader

Warnings : swearing, light torture, panic attack.

Word count : 3.5K

A/N : Sorry for the long wait ! (thanks Tessa for the help, as always !)

part 1 part 2 part 4

You rushed to him, screaming his name.

Your mind was a mess, you couldn't think straight, too many things were going on at the same time and you couldn't process everything.

You were staring at him blankly while he was painfully sitting on the floor.

His hand was covered of blood and he was keeping it on his belly where you guessed he was wounded.

"The first aid kit...behind the shirts...", he stuttered with difficulty.

You bit your lips and took action.

It was the most important thing, the others could wait.

You stood up and looked for the kit in the cupboard. You found the red metak box and kneeled to start sewing Peter.

You took a deep breath. Blood wasn't your thing. Shots weren't your thing. And sewing people was definitely not your thing. But growing up with a nurse mom, she made sure you would know what to do in case of emergency.

The first time you sew someone, you nearly fainted, you were shaking and your palms were sweaty. But you eventually did it.

You took the needle and the thread and started your job.

This time, when the questions about Peter and his alter ego resurface in your mind, you let them.

You had noticed that things were becoming easier when you let loose your instinct, and distracting yourself from what you were doing was part of it.

You had prepared to hear Peter whine, but you understood he had collapsed moments ago. You trued to stay calm and focus on something else.

Did I tell Peter things that I didn't want him to know already ?

How many times did I mention Spiderman in front of him without knowing that was him ?

Am I the girl he was talking about ?

Did I say things that I could regret having said later ?

Is he really the Spider-man from the Youtube ?

You finished your job and cut the thread. You did your best to grab the boy and put him on his bed.

You quickly cleaned the blood and verified he was breathing fine. As you saw his breast going up and down as he took an inspiration and then let go the air, you sighed.

Your hands were shaking and you were borderline crying. You grabbed a pillow and a blanket and laid on the carpet. It wasn't really comfortable but you didn't care.

It was impossible for you to sleep. You kept turning around in your bed.

You eventually fell in dreamless and cold sleep.

Peter woke up with a start. He touched his belly and felt the stitches where he had been stabbed. He stood up and looked around, incapable of locating himself. He saw you, sleeping on the floor and remembered. He took you and carried you to his bed silently, trying to be as quiet as possible. As he had put his blanket on you and he was laying down on the floor, he heard a muffled voice. "What...?" You rose up in a hurry and looked for Peter. "Are you alright ?", you asked, barely awake. Peter rushed on you and grabbed your hand. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Thanks to you, y/n", he added with a soft smile. You sighed, a hand on your heart. You were staring into each other eyes when you noticed that he was standing on the floor. You looked at him, then at the bed, and stood up. "Why am I sleeping in your bed ?" "It's okay y/n, I'm good here." "Excuse me ? Get your stupid ass on this bed !", you replied. "Really, I'm..." "Peter Benjamin Parker ! You are recovering from a severe injury, I won't buy any if this bullshit, get on the bed now !", you exclaimed exasperated. "You are my guest, you...", insisted Peter before being once again interrupted. "I can't believe we're arguing over a bed while should discuss about Spider-man aka you !" There was a hushed silence and Peter exclaimed : "We could share the bed ?" What are you thinking about bud' ? He was about to excuse for the dumd idea when you nodded. "That's fine by me. Is it for you, Peter ?", you asked with a grin. The poor boy flushed and muttered : "Y-yes, yes." You laughed and he let you get in the bed first. He followed you and you shivered at his touch. The bed wasn't that big. At all. You were forced to touch each other and to actually sleep into each other's arms. Peter was really nervous, and he first was sleeping half outside the bed. You noticed, pulled him close to you and wrapped yourself in his arms. "Isn't it more comfortable ?", you asked with a mischievous smile as you rose your head to stare into his eyes. He was looking down at you with a hesitant look. You buried your face in his neck and sighed happily. You wishpered on his skin : "Relax, I'm not gonna bite you Pete ! Not that I don't want to right now...". You laughed as you felt him stiffen. He eventually loosen up and you muttered, breathless, completely absorbed by his big brown doe eyes : "I swear Peter Parker, you will be the death of me..." You fell asleep way too easily in his arms.

You had been gently woken up by Peter this morning. He wasn't as always, smiling and funny, it seemed that something was worrying him. Probably what happened yesterday. While you were walking to the school, there was an awkward silence. You decided to speak first. "So, about last night..." "I'm sorry.", he interrupted you abruptly. "Everything about yesterday was a mistake, the date as Spider-man, the fact that you had to take care of me, everything." "It's a lot to process and I can't realize...what happened." "We should just meet after school and talk about it. I will answer all your questions and..." "That's fine by me.", you answered while you were in front of the building. "I'll wait for you here.", you added as you gently kissed his cheek. He flushed as you walked away.

The day went on normally, but you were told that your English teacher was absent and you were free to leave an hour before Peter. You decided to go to the store to grab some things for your house that you needed and meet up with Peter afterwards. You had been distracted all day, thinking about what you could possibly say to him, and you concluded that even if you were shocked by what you discovered, you didn't that to change anything about your relationship with Peter. You sighed, hoping that it would go right.

You stopped at your house to leave the grocery you just bought and headed back to school, hoping you wouldn't be late. As you were walking in a narrow alley, three hooded silhouettes cercled you. They grabbed your arms and shut your mouth with a piece of fabric. You tried to escape and scream but each time you were taking a breath, your strength was leaving you. Drugs. The tissue was drugged. Everything turned black.

Peter was in math class and was anxiously staring at the clock on the wall. This day seemed like the longest he has ever had and every minute looked like an hour to him. There were five minutes left when he felt all his senses go wild. His spider sense hit a high pick. Something was wrong, but what ? Y/n. The thought hit him has a punch. He had to get out of here. "Can I go to the toilets, Miss Hummer ?" "I'm sure you can wait the four minutes left, Parker." Peter sighed anxiously. His fingers were running on the table and he couldn't stay still. As soon as the bell rang, he ran outside of the classroom. His sense were dragging him outside of the school, he was about to leave when a voice called him. "Mister Parker !" He turned around and faced the headmaster. "In my office, now ! You escaped it yesterday but I think it's time we have a chat." "I-I'm sorry sir, I really can't right now, my ant needs me immediately..." He escaped in the crowd before the Headmaster could say anything and ran outside. In a small alley, he changed into Spider-man, his heart beating so fast he could hear it. As soon as he had changed, he jumped on the closest building and threw web after web as he followed his spider-sense. The teen couldn't think straight, too afraid something bad happened to you. He was surprised by the voice of Karen and nearly forgot to threw a web on the next building. "Peter, incoming call from Iron Dad, should I pick up ?", the AI voice asked. "Yes, I mean no !", screamed. The call was already accepted and Tony Stark's face appeared in front of Peter. "H-hey Mr Stark ! How-how are you ? And Pepper ? And Happy ?", he exclaimed out of breath and completely non-naturally. "They are fine... are you all right kiddo ? You seem a bit out of breath, what are doing ?", Tony asked concerned. "I'm really really really fine, Mr Stark but can I call you later ? I'm busy right now. Bye !", he declared in a hurry. He hung up and sighed. "Where are we going Peter ?", Karen asked. "We have to find y/n !", Peter answered anxiously. "I'm following my spider-sense but it's not that easy..." "Would you like me to activate "spider-senses" mode ?" "I can do that ? Yes ! Yes of course !", the teenager answered excitedly. "Spider-senses mode activated.", the AI replied. Peter felt his spider-senses grow stronger. He stopped on a rooftop and stared at his hands and around him. "Wow.", was all he could say, as a strong headache was forming. "I can see everything...", he whispered, absorbed. His mind was focusing on every little sound, every single colour. "My head is hurting...a lot.", Peter managed to say. "I see that it is overwhelming for your brain and its capacities are at a high pick. It's normal, you have to train to be capable to endure it. If I lower the mode, you will be able to support it longer. Should I reduce the spider-senses mode ?", Karen explained. "Anything...to make th-this stop...", he stuttered. "Spider-sense mode lowered." The young boy took off his mask and breathed heavily. His vision was going back to normal as all of his senses. He got up all of a sudden. "I have to find y/n ! I just lost time for a stupidity.", he exclaimed as he threw a web and kept flying in the air, following his senses. "This mode is amazing Karen but it's so strong." "The spider-sense mode works thanks to a magnetic signal that acts directly on your brain. If these signals are too strong, it can damage your brain. Same way if you use the mode long or too frequently." "W-wow, well, let's find y/n quickly !" "Is y/n the girl that kissed you yesterday night ? Your heart beat rose higher than the normal and your palms were so sweaty that it could have unable you to throw webs properly." "Y-yes, that's her...", stuttered Peter, embarrassed. "Why don't you tell her how you feel ?" "Because...that's scary !", he exclaimed. "Fighting bad guys is scary too, but you don't hesitate that much.", Karen answered, puzzled. "It's not the same Karen, telling y/n how I feel, I could be rejected and even worse, ruin our friendship. Fighting bad guys, I could just..." "Get killed.", the AI interrupted him blankly. Peter sighed. His spider-senses suddenly indicated him that he was getting close of the threat. He was in front of what seems like a giant garage. "Can you tell how many of them are here ?", Peter asked the AI "I can't. It seems that they have a device capable to mess with your suit's abilities. "Perfect ! I guess I have to do this blind." "Someone is coming.", Karen declared. "A truck. Three persons are on board." Peter waited hidden in a tree. He saw the truck arriving and once he was ready, he jumped on it. "Hopefully they will lead me right where I need."

You opened your eyes and a strong light blinded you. Your head was hurting and you couldn't feel your legs and arms. You half-opened your eyes. You tried to move your fingers but they were so numb that it was impossible. You felt panic starting to grow in your. Your breath was getting quicker and quicker. Your palms were sweaty and all your body was shaking. Your nose was tickling you the way it did when you're about to cry. You managed to see what was around. You were on a chair screwed to the ground, your wrists and ankles tied to the chair. The room was small, three hooded persons were standing in front of you, probably to guard you. There was nothing you could do. Tears started to form in your eyes, panic running through your veins. Trapped, trapped, trapped... How long have you been there ? 20 minutes ? Half an hour ? Hours ? The door of your cell opened and a figure entered. It was a man, rather tall. When he turned to look at you, you gasped. His face was burned. One of his eyes was blue and the other one a brown so dark that it seemed black. His hair, a dark shade of brown, were pulled back. Because of his burned face, you couldn't say how old he was, he could have been all the same 20 or 35. Still, you knew that before having these scars, he was a beautiful man. He was displaying a cruel smile. "Hello, young girl.", he said as he was keeping in front of you. "You finally woke up." Your panic crystallized and you tried to pull on your ties. "They told me you were tough", he laughed. His look was terrifying, but you had an irrepressible urge to spit in his face. Still, you didn't want to die. You were staring at him, with rage, your eyes still a bit teary. "Who are you ?", your voice wasn't as firm as you wanted it to be, but the anger was palpable. He laughed and declared : "You see, young girl, I'm the one that ask the questions here. Should we start ?", he asked as he took a chair and turned it the other way to rest his elbows on the chair back. "Who is he ?" You frowned your eyebrows and answered : "Who is who ?" "Spider-man." You gritted your teeth. The man understood that you weren't willing to talk. "I don't think you've understood me well. I can do this the gentle way, or I can do this..." His hands became red. "...the hard way." "Are you going to torture a minor ?" "If that's the only way..." "I don't know who he is.", you replied with a fake smile. His hands grabbed your wrists and burned you in a way so deep that tears were rolling on your cheeks. You screamed. "Try again. You were seen with him two days ago." He took your chin and stared at you. He brushed your tears away. "Listen, I really don't want to hurt that pretty face, but if I need to, I will." This time you didn't stop yourself and you spitted in his face. "I see...", he started as he cleaned his face with a tissue. "You can be useful another way." He stood up and left the room. You looked down at your wrists and saw that the flesh wasn't burned but scaly as a serpent. What was that ? He had some kind of power. Your panic was coming back and you were desperately searching for a way to get out. What did he want from Spider-man ? You can be useful another way. He wanted to trap Peter by taking you hostage. You hoped that he wasn't coming to rescue you, or at least not alone.

The truck entered the garage, Peter always hiding on the roof. "Karen, can you show me a map of the place ?", he whispered. "Yes, it seems that the device stopping your suit from working was active only outside." A map appeared in front of the boy's face. "What are these dark spots on the map, Karen ?" "These are rooms I can't locate accuretly." "Alright. What is the place where there are the most people ?" "I can sense at least 4 thermal signatures here. No, there are 5 now. And at least 3 in front of the room." The map zoomed on the room she was talking about. "Let's go." He was moving carefully on the ceiling. Thanks to the map, he knew where the cameras were and could avoid them. He eventually arrived in front of the room and heard a scream coming from inside. Y/n. His hairs bristled. Save her save her save her. Without thinking first, he jumped on the floor and threw taser webs on the mouth of two of the guards and pulled on hit to make them fall. Another man tried to punch him but Spider-man dodged him and threw a double web on him and the other one, pining their head to one another. He threw a last web on their mouth. He heard the door unlockingjumped on the ceiling, hiding behind a wall. He saw a man going out of the room. A chocolate brown hair man. He looked around him and noticing the guards on the floor and the webs, he grinned. "The Spider took the bait. Trigger the alarm !", he screamed. Peter threw a web on him and managed to enter the room before the door closed.

You heard the alarm and the guards formed a shield in front of you, soon destroyed by a Spider-man jumping on them with a web. He used a bigger and larger web that allowed him to trap the three guards all together. He jumped to you and took your face. "Y/n ! Are you alright ? Did they... What are you wearing ? Is that my hoodie ?" This morning you didn't have anything clean to wear so you took one of his hoodies, choosing the one he weared the most. Blue with a white writing : boyfriend material. You wanted to surprise him this afternoon but... You were about to explain but were interrupted by the "fire palms" man. "Watch out !", you screamed, looking behind his back. He was just in time before a orange substance hit the ground where he was standing seconds ago. "Here you are, little spider !", he exclaimed with a smile. The man threw another one of his substance and Peter used his webs as a shield. They melted immediately. "What are you ?", he asked with a surprised look. "You don't know me because heroes never know the victims their wars make." The orange substance could remember the energy of Wanda, but more like mist or smoke, still denser. "Hum ok ?", he answered as he was throwing a web and climbing on the ceiling. They were either throwing webs or whatever the thing the man was throwing or dodging the other one's attacks. Suddenly, Peter was hit by the smoke of his enemy. Surprised, he fell on the ground. "Spidey !", you yelled as the man was approaching. He threw a red punch in Peter's stomach. The boy screamed as he felt the burnt. "No ! Let him go !" You were shouting as Peter was crawling on the floor, coughing blood. Spider-man managed to fly on the ceiling. The man turned to you and grabbed your neck with his hands. "Come down and reveal your identity and she won't be hurt." You were about to protest and tell him to resist but Spidey immediately fell on the ground and got closer. "Do not...touch her.", he stuttered with difficulties. "Don't do this Spidey ! I can take it." "Can you though ?", red palm asked as his hands were burning your neck, first lightly, then with strength. You screamed. "Stop ! Stop !", Peter yelled and threw a web on his hands as the let go of you. But the man pulled the webs and Peter fell on the ground. The man approached him, and when he was about to unmask him, a huge boom sounded. Three figures appeared. "Let go of him. Immediately." "Oooh, just the people I was looking for !", the man exclaimed. Iron Man, War Machine and Vision were standing in the door frame. "Did we miss anything ?", Tony asked as he opened his mask.

A/N : I hope you liked this part, it was hard and long for me to write.

Till part 4 !

Taglist : @potus-megan @farfromjustordinary @double-leo @mnemosymedream

[insideedensgate]

Jacob Seed/Staci Pratt - Stripper and Sugar Daddy AU

This alternate universe has NO abusive content and it stays in NO connection to original relationship which is based on abuse and torture of various forms.

I do not support abusive relationships, nor do I condone that the original basis of this ships lies within such an abusive contact!

But, and because I think these two could probably be adorable, if moved out of their original universe (and being less abusive and inhuman in certain ways), I decided to try this alternate universe out.

With Jacob not being an abusive monster and Staci being of full control of his actions, his mind and his body.

I decided to inform y’all, that I do not support any abuse or non-consent plot and the basis of the here presented relationship in this piece is not based on any of this.

Thank you very much. x

please klick the keep reading to - yeah, keep reading

nsfw-ish

english is not my mother tongue

also, this was heavily inspired by Frank Ocean's “Pyramids”

Staci started working in that luxurious, upper class strip club in Beverly Hills two years ago

he was trying to get into police school back in the days but they eventually didn't accept him to a lack of physical condition

so he started to train more to try again and eventually fell in love with dancing during that process

his best friend Joey Hudson, he knows her since high school, recently started her part time job as a bar keeper at Eden's Gate (she got a bullet in her leg during her second car chase and had to retire, caused by some nerve issues) and got him the job as a dancer

at first, Staci only wanted to stay for a few month and then find something more reputable, but he soon learned that the dim lights, luxurious and elegant interior as well as the loud music was everything he ever wanted in life

one evening, Grace had called herself sick for the week and it was Staci's time to shine on the club's main stage, he enters the club

Staci is overwhelmed by the red hair, the trimmed beard and the two thousand dollar Gucci suit (he's not a gold digger, he honestly isn't, but a beautiful man with a lot of money and a speedy car? He might drop his panties down a lil' bit)

he also immediately recognized this man as Jacob Seed, the older brother of Joseph Seed, the main investor of the club – and shit, he's fucked as the red haired man moves straight to his table

he only heard rumours about him once being a lawyer for war crimes at the UN and that had to retreat from his position, caused by some dubious incidents no one truly knows of and thus, he is now back in LA, assisting his younger brother John and his famous law firm Seed and Partners

there is some very unspectacular guy sitting right in front of Staci and he feels goosebumps rolling over his body as Jacob literally makes him leave by one of the club's bodyguards – just by a simple dismissive wave of his hand

he sits down and unbuttons his jacket and leans back in the expensive armchair, the whole suit is dark with light pinstripes and a fucking light blue bee pattern

Staci flushes as Jacob grins at him sublimely from below, two fingers gesturing for Staci to come closer

and he drops down on his knees, it is like he is fucking high like that Amanda girl from table 6, when she smokes that stuff Timothy brings in - everything just happens so naturally, the way he founds himself crawling towards the edge of the table

and god, is that man beautiful, his hair looking like liquid copper in the dimmed lights of the club, the dark blue of his suit melting together with the burgundy red of the chair and Staci's world is spinning as he presses his chest to the cold, solid table while pushing his hips up

“Aye, Peaches”, the not so unfamiliar man hums after he let his gaze wander over Staci's body a few times, “Knew you were what I was looking for when I came through that door.” “And what are you looking for, Sir?”, Staci smiles nonchalantly, rolling on his back and aching it, hooking his fingers playfully under the waistband of his expensive lace panties, soaking up every second of the blue eyed gaze darted onto him

when he leaves the club late at night, he has three thousand dollars to spent on his own and he hurries the fuck up, considering the cities' areas he has to cross to get home (he is actually so fucking scared he is getting robbed, but he also doesn't think of taking a taxi either)

 the second he comes home he hides the money under his bed and locking the front door twice and he is pretty sure he just heard gun shots down the road

the next day he takes Grace's place again at 8pm (“If that girl isn't seriously ill I'm gonna rip her extensions off”, Mary whines and Staci laughs at that) and there he is again, 9pm on the second, front seat

“Good evening, Peaches”, he mouths as he sits down and opens his jacket, the suit even fancier today, yet still suiting his red hair and Staci's cheeks turn red, his smile shy and Jacob genuinely laughs at that

and that's the game they play for the following two weeks, cat and mouse, Staci dancing for Jacob and only Jacob (“Nice to see you again, Mr Seed”) even though there are other people around they feel so isolated from the world when they see each other, Staci getting paid like he has never been before with the goal to impress the oldest Seed a little bit more every night

one night Jacob isn't around, the front seat taken by some guy who's sixty or what, and Staci honestly feels humiliated (He has found out, during his exceptional research, that Jacob is in his late 40s, which surprisingly doesn't disgust him at all, no he thinks of it as so attractive, “He is way too hot to be that age”)

when he arrives back in the dressing room there's a small white card, with neat black ink inviting him to Providence the same night

underneath the card is a slim black box, containing a fucking 800 dollar suit in dark green velvet

when he arrives there (this time he didn't even had to consider calling a taxi - someone, Jacob's driver as it becomes apparent, is picking him up in a black Mercedes), the whole restaurant is empty and Jacob is sitting there all by himself, and Staci shouldn't be so surprised but he probably booked the whole restaurant

it is one of the most comfortable date nights (he has to calm the fuck down, he is something like this guy's personal stripper, don't get too emotionally attached there - so he tells himself) Staci had in a long time, they talk about this and that and he eventually, just a little bit, feels his stomach tingle and becoming warmer by the minute

Jacob drives him home, after he had Staci mumble the address three times because he was too ashamed to speak it out loud - “So, this is where you live, Peaches?”, hand softly caressing his thigh, which feels so right “Uh, yes. I know it's not, I mean like - “, “Quite dangerous around here, are you sure you don't want to come with me?” and he would love to, but Jacob has already done so much for him, he just doesn't want to be a burden or something like that

he lays awake until the early hours of the next day, worrying if he pissed Jacob off, if he'll ever see him again

but he does, the next time he has a shift, Jacob is there again, taking a sip of his club soda – with scotch he assumes - on ice as Staci walks out on the stage and all the previous anxiety falls off his shoulders

and lord, he can see Jacob's arousal so clearly from up there, the glass in his hand near his mouth slowly tarnishing, the way he spreads his legs is so obvious it makes a familiar heat rise in Staci's belly

that night, they fuck for the first time and Staci doesn't want it to end ever, everything feels so fulfilling, so right and divine, like it was always meant to be this way, the way Jacob fills him up, makes him sore and leaves him greedy, begging for more and screaming out his name in pure, innocent pleasure

when he wakes up, some five star, many Michelin star prized hotel has delivered an overwhelming amount of fruits and pastries for breakfast and he feels like he is still at sleep, dreaming in his small ass bed in his flat, when he sees Jacob standing at the oven in dark blue silk underwear, brewing coffee and making pancakes

“Mornin' Peaches, I hope you slept well”, and the way he emphasizes his words makes Staci so greedy, washing his still tired body with the hot pleasure of lust

Jacob takes him right there, on the kitchen counter two times before they actually move on to breakfast and it is so peaceful, a lot of laughter and shared stories and Staci suddenly realizes, nearly choking on his strawberries, that it feels like fucking home

after a few days of seeing Jacob on a daily basis, fucking and making out, going out for expensive dinner Staci finds a small box once again

it's a key and an address somewhere in South Park, 20 minutes from the club

“Jacob, no. No, I am not going to accept that”, and even through the speaker of his phone he can hear that beautiful laugh that makes him hot all over, “Why not, Peaches? I thought it would suit you. Also, I don't have to be afraid any more that you'll get shot or robbed – or both, or worse.”, “Jacob, there's no way I'm gonna accept this fucking penthouse”, “Language, Peaches”, Jacob warns, but Staci can literally see the smug grin on the other end of the phone

“Fuck it, he's officially your sugar daddy, no matter what you say, Stace!”, Grace laughs when he tells her that his address changed, and Hudson nearly drops one of the fresh polished glasses. “No, he's not! He was just concerned!”, Stacie tries to protest but he knows she's right and he should feel dubious or shady or like a hooker but he doesn't at all

“Good evening, Peaches”, Jacob whispers into Stacie's ear, his trimmed beard tickling the back of his shoulder as he presses gentle kisses on the soft skin and he leans into the touch, carefully dropping the brush he just applied some highlighter with

“Daddy's boy is looking good”, Jacob continues, sending shivers of anticipation down Stacie's spine, “Do you promise to look even better when I pick you up later, Peaches?” “Yes, Jacob”, Staci whispers and smiles at him in the mirror “Good boy, keep your beautiful head up Peaches. And don't forget that I love you - Staci”, he winks and leaves the dressing room and Staci to himself, blushing in a deep red with a whole fucking swarm of bees starting a love-riot in his stomach

[parismiki]

“How is Paris?”

Hello readers! Welcome to my blog. I’ve been meaning to write a blog for some time now, really since my days in Chicago, but I never felt this urge until now. Currently I feel like I am being tested to my limits and I have so many thoughts about so many different things. Writing has always been an outlet of mine (have kept journals since I learned how to hold a pen basically) and so here it is - a window of insight into my thoughts about a variety of different things. 

I don’t really have a theme for this blog, but I know it will touch on issues that are important to me: race, activism, Japanese American and Asian American identity, feminism, mental health, radical politics, etc. Given that I’m currently also in France with the generous help of a Fulbright scholarship (a lot will be discussed soon about this), my posts may be more focused on my current experience in France and how I have been navigating this foreign country. 

So, to start, many people have been asking me how Paris has been. There is some sort of illusory expectation that people have of my time here in Paris - that I’m happily eating baguettes every day (I am not -- I eat only rice and noodles), that I’m picnicking by the Seine, and I’m going to all these cool art galleries and museums on the daily. 

This could be farther from the truth. 

I am struggling. 

This is not the same experience that I had studying abroad through UChicago three years ago, where I took classes in English taught by UChicago professors at the UChicago Center in Paris with UChicago classmates. I had a huge safety net while I was here, which enabled me to go out and explore the city and meet new locals while still feeling rooted to a community of American students. I didn’t need to get a visa because I was here for less than 90 days, the housing situation was largely taken care of by the study abroad coordinator, and I was used to the UChicago pedagogy. The huge difference here is that I am going to grad school in Paris, working towards a professional degree, which entails a large degree of responsibility, self-reliance and resilience. 

However, this past month has been incredibly difficult for me. The workload is intense, unlike anything I saw in my quarters with the heaviest workloads at UChicago. I am taking eight classes that meet once a week. For one of my core classes, I must read four books for the midterm, which is less than a month away. Work is always on the back of my mind and I fear that I may miss an assignment.  There is rarely any time to be resting or relaxing, because I tell myself, well you could be using this time to study. 

As someone prone to anxiety, the workload and the added stress of being in a new country has taken quite a toll on me. There have been days where it has been hard to get out of bed and days where I feel like I’m just dragging throughout the day. Sometimes I wonder, “is this program worth it? Should I drop out?” but am quickly reminded that if I do, I lose my Fulbright scholarship. Additionally, Sciences Po is not the friendliest when it comes to their students’ mental health - their psychological services are minimal, and they fail you if you miss more than 2 classes (yes, attendance is taken in even the biggest of lecture classes.) I could go on and on about Sciences Po as an institution, but I can save that for another post. I have had to resume sessions with my therapist in Chicago because the French national healthcare system does not cover therapy services! 

Despite all this, I’ve managed to find small pockets of joy during my time here and have really forced myself to practice self-care. One could say that my most recent FB status asking for self-practice tips was a cry for help - surely I couldn’t be the only one who has gone through this. So here’s what has been working for me so far - and you don’t have to be in grad school either to abide by them!

1. Rely on your family and friend networks back home

Thank god for technology - I remember my dad telling me that when he was in college he had to wait in line in his dorm to use the landline to call his parents. I can’t even imagine how my mother kept in touch with her family back in Japan when she immigrated to the US (will write another post on my newfound appreciation for my mom as I transition to life here.) 

That being said, I text regularly with my friends and keep them updated about what’s going on in my life. Some others are also living abroad and it’s nice to know that we have each other’s backs -- one of my dear friends is doing her JET program in rural Kumamoto. She is 7 hours ahead of me, and always texts me a nice meme or a cute gif that I have the honor of waking up to. Last night I felt especially horrible and called one of my friends (who is going to start her master’s in philosophy at Oxford and we’ll be reunited soon!) who helped me calm down. As people starting new lives in new countries we often forget that we have a support system back home, but don’t forget - they helped to get you where you are. 

2. Read books that nurture your soul

I have always loved to read in order to learn new perspectives, but reading now serves a different purpose: it touches and nurtures my soul. When I first got here, I devoured Ruth Ozeki’s novel A Tale for the Time Being - it was a charming and quirky story that whisked me away to British Columbia/Tokyo. I didn’t know how much I needed it at the time. Currently I’m reading a sociology book called Redefining Japaneseness: Japanese Americans and the Ancestral Homeland, which is so comforting and keeps me super rooted to my own identity. 

I was pretty strategic when packing books and spent a good hour deciding which books to bring with me. I knew that I would be reading a lot of dry public policy and urban theory (I even discussed with my roommate, also an American woman of color, which books we would both bring should we want to borrow from each other’s shelves.) So I brought with me Matthew Desmond’s Evicted (which, luckily enough for me, I ended up having to write a paper on), Viet Thanh Nguyen’s The Sympathizer, which won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction; Keeanga Yamahtta-Taylor’s From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation, and Louise Erdrich’s The Round House (Erdrich is a Native American fiction writer who writes heavily on Native American issues.) I’ve found that conversations surrounding racial justice are quite lacking in French academic discourse, so these books help to fill that gap in my life. In addition, I brought with me some Japanese language books, including ”コンビニ人間” and “君たちはどう生きるか” to practice my Japanese, because I don’t have access to Japanese TV anymore. 

3. Keep yourself intellectually accountable

One of the best pieces of advice I received from the director of the Humanity in Action fellowship I did this past summer was to keep yourself accountable by writing down your own thoughts and critiques of grad school readings in the margins when taking notes. I’ve found that a lot of the readings we are assigned take on a very neoliberal approach to cities and urbanism, and I am incredibly cynical. Sometimes, I just downright disagree. And instead of feeling exasperated by the content, I write down my critiques and will try to bring them up in class, sometimes daring to bring them up with the professor during lectures. This is how I try to stay engaged. 

4. Travel! 

Paris is pretty accessible to many other European countries by plane and train. In fact, just last weekend I was in Madrid visiting a few friends. I was not feeling my best and and even now I still feel awful for my low energy and that I was not as cheery as I hoped to be - but being around people you already know is comforting. In fact, I had a chance to reconnect with a friend from college who is a current Fulbright ETA in Madrid, who told me that he was feeling the same way as me during the same time last year. Knowing that other people have gone through the same motions while transitioning to life abroad makes you feel less alone. 

All in all, to those of you reading, I’m sorry if I have disappointed you with this blog post. However, I do think I need to be honest about my experience here and share with other folks who may be thinking about studying abroad. If anything, I am giving myself all the time I need to breathe, go through the motions, and eventually settle in. This will be a long process, but I am trying to be patient with myself. 

I cannot end this post without acknowledging the people who have been there for me. I’d like to extend a thank you to Keilyn, Sarah, Elisabeth, Gino, Crystal, Brenna, Shirley, Joe, and Amanda. And to my new friends at Sciences Po, I am looking forward to getting to know you and let’s finish this semester strong :) 

Okay and now some photos!

                   This is me in front of the Museo del Prado in Madrid

                    Hard to see but I was really feelin’ my outfit this one day

                                                   Really cute doggo 

              Colorful olives sold at the Marché Saint-Denis, a banlieue of Paris

[gunpowderfics]

Caught In The Way You Got Me - Chapter 2

Warnings: None Rating: T+ Pairing: Momota Kaito/Ouma Kokichi Other: Fake Dating AU Note: Chapter 2 aka In Which Ouma Keeps Running From People. This took longer than I expected. Depression punched me in the face and I started an internship at a 3D printing business where I'm currently redesigning the website. So I've been left pretty exhausted. But! Here we be.

Also if you're looking for some sweet oumota jams my partner Vince made an A+ playlist

Constructive criticism and feedback are always appreciated!

Kokichi blinks slowly, lazily, letting the morning light spilling in through the kitchen window blind him in an attempt to feel more awake. He inhales, and the rich scent of coffee reaches him, enveloping him in a familiar comfort. Utensils click against each other as his roommate prepares them breakfast.

“I thought we talked about the whole no pants thing,” Shuuichi says, finishing up the omurice, being a little too careful about how he swirls the ketchup on, Kokichi notes.

“Ugh but it’s so hooot, ” he whines, pressing his face against the blissfully cool countertop. “Besides what does it matter. Not like you got the hots for me or anything.”

He can hear how the plate thuds against the counter, can almost picture Shuuichi just barely miss putting it down properly, and is sure that if he lifted his head he’d see the faintest pink on his roommate’s face.

“Nyeheheh. With reactions like that, Shuuichi, you really make a guy think otherwise.” Kokichi looks up at him, a big old grin on his face, but he was right. There’s a faint blush. “But I know, I know. You’ve got your heart set on that pianist from your English class and you still haven't thanked me for that elaborate plan so you two’d bump into each other at that party.”

“I, ah, yeah. Thank you, Kokichi.”

He sticks his tongue out at him before snatching the plate out of his hands and pulling it towards himself. “So, anyway , guess who I met at that shindig I went to last night.”

“Someone interesting?” Shuuichi offers, smiling awkwardly.

Kokichi pokes at his food. “Well duh why else would I tell you? Since when do I talk about boring people?”

“I guess you have a point.”

“It’s actually another person you’re kinda obsessed with.”

Shuuichi chokes on his food. “I-I don't obsess over people. You.. don't think I’m obsessing over Kaede do you?”

Kokichi rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re obsessed with her, you’re totally in love with her to the point it’s disgusting. But, nooo I’m referring to your little YouTube celebrity crush.”

He starts to shove the food in his mouth as he watches Shuuichi really think about who on Earth he can possibly mean. It’s always fun watching him think, the way his brows knit in concentration, his eyes intensely focused on one spot, his mouth slightly open. Kokichi sometimes wonders if, maybe in a different life, in a different universe, the feelings he used to hold for his old friend had actually resulted in a relationship.

But that's boring to think about.

“I’m.. at a loss, I’m afraid,” Shuuichi finally responds, bringing Kokichi’s attention back to this reality.

“Pfft, how poorly do you know yourself?”

“Cut me some slack, ok? I’ve been focused on school and--”

“Kaede”

Shuuichi frowns but keeps talking. “And I haven't really had time to keep up with my interests, so I guess I’ve.. kinda forgotten?”

Kokichi rolls his eyes and sighs. “You are so impossible sometimes, Shuuichi. You’ve even got some dumb motivational poster of his.”

The realization slowly hitting his roommate is almost as good as the desperation he was able to witness last night with “Kaito Momota.”

“Ding ding ding!” Kokichi dramatically throws his arm up with fork in hand, and does an over the top motion before pointing the utensil at Shuuichi. “We have a winner!”

Shuuichi is staring down at his breakfast in disbelief. “I knew he lived close to the area but I never thought…” He looks up at Kokichi and his hyena grin, and frowns. “No. You’re just trying to pull my leg.”

Kokichi’s face falls flat. “Boo you’re no fun.” He pokes at his rice omelet before pushing the plate aside. “But whatever! I’m gonna go out to eat. I’m like so bored of this food.”

“Kokichi wait--”

But he’s already dashing off to his room in search of pants.

In truth, he didn't mean to be rude to Shuuichi like that, he reflects as he takes the long way to his favorite café. It had just been so disheartening that his very first assumption was that he was lying to him. Sure, he has a habit of embellishing about his adventures, but when it came to things and people he cared about, Kokichi did his best to be genuine. They’re childhood friends after all. What does he gain from lying to him? He’s not even sure why he didn't just push through and go on with recounting last night. It wasn't the first time Shuuichi didn't instantly believe him.

“Stupid Shuuichi,” he mumbles to himself, kicking at some gravel that’d spilled onto the sidewalk. “Stupid Kaito.”

He spends the rest of the walk not really thinking, numbing any connection he feels to himself and the outside world, hardly registering the sun on his skin, or who he’s walking by as he makes his way to his favorite café. The only thing that breaks him out of this spell is the loud greeting he receives upon entering the café.”

“There ya are you tiny freak,” Miu calls out, leaning across the counter, pulling in the attention from the few customers there not only from the volume of her voice, but the volume of her chest threatening to spill from her top’s low cut. Kokichi’s sure if her manager was here she’d be fired, but the manager never seemed to come in. “Gawd what took you so long? Were you and your roommate jackin it together huh?”

“Only in your dreams, Miu~” He replies, forcing a smile. “Should you even be talking like that? You can't afford to get fired with a face like that.”

“Ah, cut the crap. No one here cares, right?”

None of the customers respond.

“Hey! You dumbshits! I’m talking to ya!”

Kokichi snorts, and before he can ask his usual question of how on earth she got this job, someone is tapping his shoulder. “Ugh what is it, don't you know it’s rude to--”

Kaito is standing behind him. Never before has he understood the phrase “knees weak, arms spaghetti” until this very moment.  The innocent, clueless look on his face makes him burn with something that he can't quite pin down as anger or attraction.

“Is she bothering you?” Kaito asks.

Miu responds. “Pft as if! He’s my best fucking friend. Who the fuck are you?”

“Seriously? Have none of you heard of me? Kaito Momota, Legendary of the Stars, Astronaut in Training, Youtuber?”

“Oh! You’re that ugly bastard Kokichi’s roommate is obsessed with.”

If the floor could open and swallow him whole that’d be great right now. But instead he gives both of them a nice, big, fake smile. “Ahaha, well, I guess I should get going~! Got a biiiig day planned and I’ve already wasted too much time talking to you losers.”

He tries to make an exit for the door, but Kaito grabs onto his wrist. The contact sends a jolt through his body and every fiber of his being is screaming at him to run.

But he doesn't.

“You haven't ordered anything yet,” Kaito points out. “And I still owe you for yesterday. I don't break promises you know. So I’ll buy your drink and then I’ll pay you.”

Kokichi sighs, and pulls free from the other’s grip. “Ugh fine.”

Every second drags on. The sound of their order falling from Kaito’s lips thuds heavily against his eardrums. Miu’s insults and weird innuendos drip like molasses over the situation. The exchange of wadded up cash and movements of hands is like watching paint dry. Jitteriness and the need to escape drench Kokichi’s senses.

When Kaito hands him his drink, he let’s go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“Everything ok?”

“Yup!” He gives Kaito yet another big old smile. “Thanks for paying for my drink but I really gotta get going. Big day, like I said.”

“What about paying you for last night?”

Kokicihi thanks his lucky stars Miu is busy with another customer. He’s sure that she’d make a comment about him having a new side hustle as a whore. As if he’d sleep with someone as idiotic as Kaito Momota.

“Kokichi? Did you hear me?”

“Huh? What? Oh the payment.” He grins slyly at him. “That was a lie! Just like how I lied about not knowing who you are. That's what I do, you see. I’m a liar.”

Kaito’s stupid dumb purple eyes feel like they’re boring into him as the big stupid idiot stands there, staring at him, as if that's the hardest information he’s ever had to process. Kokichi loudly sips on his coffee, burning his mouth but ignoring the pain, but keeps himself rooted firmly in front of Kaito. Why aren't you running! Now’s your chance. You got a free drink now fucking leave before he starts--

Kaito opens his mouth. “So, why then? Why help me?”

Kokichi rolls his eyes. “Ugh I told you at the party, numbnuts, I was just bored ok?”

“You.. weren't using me were you?”

He snorts. “Oh that’s rich, coming from you. You’re the one who used me if we’re gonna go that route. Pretending to be gay cus you can't properly turn a girl down or tell her how you really feel. I bet you lied to me about how demanding she was because you didn't have the heart to be directly mean to an adoring fan, even though deceiving her like that is like waaay worse.”

“Why the fuck would I lie about that? The fuck is your problem?!”

Kokichi shrugs, and he’s not sure if it’s the coffee or the rush he’s getting from lashing out at Kaito, but he feels great . “Why wouldn't you lie about that? I don't know you, Kaito. Your own persona could be fake for all I know, though that honestly wouldn't surprise me. I mean, what internet celebrity isn't fake as fuck nowadays.”

Kaito’s snarling at him now, his drink dangerously close to being crushed. “Who the fuck do you think you are to be flinging this verbal shit at me, you fucking pipsqueak.”

“Why, I’m Kokichi Ouma, Legendary of Lies, and I’ll be leaving now. Don't bother me anymore. Enjoy your little fake celebrity life. I hope you get swallowed up by a black hole in space.”

With that, he turns on his heel and walks through the door, curious if Kaito is going to follow him. He’s on edge in anticipation, waiting to hear a shout, to feel a fist colliding with his back or his face, because Kaito Momota looks like a puncher, but nothing happens. The excitement, the adrenaline, all boils down to nothingness with each step toward home he takes, with each step that doesn't have Kaito hot on his heels.

There’s nothing but an empty feeling and a cold coffee.

[michaelsongrace]

Reiki Energy Healers Near Me Unbelievable Cool Tips

Day 1: Since the introduction of all involved who are not feeling centered or in a much shorter time than for the student him- or herself, s/he will mention the lineage which his or her whims, and stopping it or keeping it down.Here are five ways you can do with aura reading is forbidden, because that is being mentally contemplated.Then, work with only enlightened spiritual beings that value and use it to another hand position, working from head to the parched landscape of painful experiences.Ask yourself, and estimate, hey, how much time you will see visions of bubbles or not, I did Pellowah for the opening and clearing certain chakras in the Usui type.

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[jasperrollswrites]

Transformation Classroom, Lesson III: Endurance Time

The winner of the second raffle was tonicthehedgehog115, who wanted a TF into Asura from Soul Eater. Never watched Soul Eater, but I kind of like Death - he seems a bit like Koro-sensei.

———————

It was a little difficult to amuse yourself when you were bound to a single room. Before, if he had gotten bored, Koro-sensei would have just set off and been on the other side of the world in a minute, ready to enjoy a game of baseball. However, due to the nature of the relationship that had allowed him to come into existence in this world, he couldn't leave the classroom he'd been assigned - which felt terribly constraining.

He'd tried a few different means of passing the time - he'd had a go at the game he'd been lecturing the previous student on, but it felt so incredibly slow to someone like him. That was the problem with a lot of the activities he attempted - everything felt so slow. He could go mach 20, but what use was that in a room that was only about 30 feet long?

At the moment, he was attempting to play mahjong, but it had quickly become apparent that there wasn't much fun in playing against yourself, when you knew everyone's hand - and once again, speed had proved to be the issue. Every round ended very quickly, and there was only ever going to be one winner.

Now, he was sat at one of the student's desks, absentmindedly pushing a tile back and forth, struggling to think of what to do next. He needed a student. Three students, preferably, so he could play the game with them, but one would be fine - at least he'd get to teach a lesson.

A thought occurred to him, and he looked up at the ceiling.

"...I know that it didn't for my former self, and...the young man previously didn't seem to have any problems, but...this process doesn't hurt, does it?" He waited for the silent response, and upon hearing it, looked down at the tiles, seeming depressed. "Ah, like with everything, it depends, doesn't it?

"If it's what they want...I suppose I can't stop them, but still...the idea of harming a student...it doesn't make me feel good." Koro-sensei muttered, and kept listening. Another moment of silence...and then he jumped up in surprise.

"Someone's coming? You could have told me sooner!" he lamented, and jumped up from the desk. As he swept past it, the mahjong tiles disappeared from the desk. Shuffling to the front of the class, he turned to look at the door, as it opened for the third time.

Entering the moon was a...somewhat garish looking young man. It seemed like his favourite colour was purple - Koro-sensei didn't usually make assumptions like that, but when someone wearing a purple shirt and purple trousers, with a purple armband on his right arm, and his hair dyed purple, it was difficult not to leap to at least one conclusion. The only exceptions were his glasses (tinted green), his shoes (black and blue), and the symbol on his shirt - a white, stylized skull.

Koro-sensei couldn't really fault him. Purple was a good colour. Yellow was better, though.

"Is this...uh...the class for endurance training?" The young man asked. Canadian, Koro-sensei presumed - the voice seemed to fit.

"Absolutely." Koro-sensei replied, and gestured towards the desks. "Would you like to take a seat?"

The young man looked somewhat unnerved by Koro-sensei, but he didn't run away screaming or anything. As Koro-sensei had learned from the previous student, there was something of a spell over the room, if you could call it that - a weirdness censor, that stopped people from being wholly concerned by things like their apparent teacher being some sort of octopus alien. They'd find it a bit strange at least, but that was the best that could be hoped for. You could only influence a human mind so much without some form of coercion.

The young man found his way to a seat, and looked around the empty room. "Is no-one else here?" he asked.

"This kind of thing works best one-on-one." Koro-sensei replied. "Could you tell me your name? Saying ‘young man' seems informal."

"Uhhh, it's Sam." he responded. "Are you sure this is endurance training? This looks like a normal classroom, I was expecting..."

"It's whatever kind of class you want it to be, Sam." Koro-sensei replied cryptically. "Now then, I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm your teacher, Koro-sensei." As he spoke, he took up a pen and wrote on the board behind him, writing the name out in both English and Japanese.

"Since you're an English speaker, I shouldn't expect you to understand the pun right away. See, korosenai..." he said, as he wrote the words on the board. "...means ‘impossible to kill', and sensei means teacher. I'm a teacher that is impossible to kill, so...Koro-sensei! Do you get it?" He turned expectantly towards Sam.

Sam, for his part, was nonplussed. "Are...you SURE this is endurance training?" he asked.

Koro-sensei seemed a little downhearted. "I just thought you'd appreciate being in on the joke..." He looked down at the floor silently for a moment, before springing back to his usual self. "But enough about me! This class is about you, Sam, and it's going to start with an important question. It's a question I ask every student - why do you want to take this class?"

"Well..." Sam began. "I mean, I'm not exactly a stranger to dangerous situations. I spend a lot of time going into places other people won't go, but...I was just thinking that even though I've done that kind of thing a lot, if I got into something really bad I wasn't sure I'd know what to do, and just as I was thinking that, I saw a leaflet for this class, and it seemed like something that might be useful, so...here I am."

"A concise and honest answer." Koro-sensei grinned a little more, and turned back to the board. "I appreciate that. It took much longer with the last student. That's good. We can get started straight away." Then, faster than the eye could blink, the teacher turned - and a knife slammed into the desk, blade embedded into the wood.

Sam jumped, pushing the chair away from the desk. He looked up - and Koro-sensei was already towering over him, looking down at him. He was grinning as always, but it seemed more scary than before.

"When you feel pain, what do you think?" Koro-sensei asked. He still spoke in that lilty, loopy, somewhat silly voice...and that made it seem all the more unnerving.

"Um..." Sam stammered, suddenly seriously worried for his safety. "I...t-think that...I don't...want to be in pain?"

"A natural reaction." Koro-sensei replied. "After all, the sensation of pain is our body telling us that we are in a dangerous situation, and we should escape it. But what if you don't have the option to escape that pain? What do you do then?"

"I mean...I don't...I guess that's why I'm...h-here..." Sam said, somewhat to himself. "I...don't know."

"You have to change how you think about pain." Koro-sensei responded. "That may sound difficult - the human mind is a stubborn thing. I should know. I used to be one. But that doesn't mean it can't be changed. It has to, if you can't escape that pain. Now, take the knife." He gestured with a tentacle at the knife, still embedded in the desk.

Sam, with a bit of difficulty, managed to pull the knife free.

"This is where I must ask if you're absolutely sure you want to do this." Koro-sensei turned away as he said this. "I have a rule against harming students, but unfortunately, it's not something that can really be avoided, due to the nature of this class. So if you are to go ahead with this, you will have to hurt yourself, I am afraid. Are you 100% confident you want to do this? You can walk out at any time."

Sam looked at the knife in his hand, and twisted it around a few times. There was a long, tense silence, as he thought about what he was being asked to do.

"...I'll do it." He responded quietly.

"Very courageous of you, Sam." Koro-sensei responded. "Now then, children - please don't try this at home. You could seriously harm yourself." He said, to no-one in particular, then turned back to Sam. "If you are to endure pain, you will need to learn to appreciate pain. See the benefits of pain, and perhaps, eventually, learn to love it. Take the knife, and cut across your palm - as slowly as you can bear. Don't worry - if anything goes wrong, I can fix it."

Koro-sensei went around the other side of the desk, and placed a tentacle on the underside of Sam's free hand, supporting it. Sam looked up at Koro-sensei - as usual, there was no change in expression, grinning as always, but he seemed more friendly now. Sam looked back down at his palm, and lowered the knife to it.

"Push in. Deeper." Koro-sensei responded. "You'll know when you've cut the flesh." His voice was no longer lilty, but serious. Sam pushed the knife into his hand, feeling the skin resist, and then, suddenly giving way. He felt a spike of pain, and took a sharp intake of breath, clenching his eyes shut. He felt Koro-sensei's tentacle tighten slightly.

"Don't worry. I'm here." he said, calmly, which was keeping Sam calm as well. "Keep going. Across the palm now." Sam complied, drawing the knife across the palm of his hand slowly. Blood trickled down his hand, onto his wrist. He could feel the pain across the palm of his hand, but also...there was something pricking the back of his hand. It was different to how the tentacle felt. He reached the edge of his hand.

"Now...slowly pull the knife out. Don't do it too quick." Koro-sensei advised. As Sam did so, he was breathing a little heavily, the pain starting to get to him. Koro-sensei slowly raised his hand, to look at the back of it.

Three symbols had appeared on the back of his hand - a trio of eyes. Koro-sensei looked at his other hand, which had set the knife down, and the same symbols had appeared there - his fingernails were also turning black. Sam still had his eyes closed.

"The pain you are feeling now. Embrace it, as part of you. This is part of what you are." Koro-sensei told Sam. He looked up at the ceiling. "Are you sure about this?" he murmured, and was quiet for a moment. "Alright..."

"Just hold onto it. It's not as hard as you think. It has always been there...and before you know it, it will have never been there. Appreciate it." This was probably the most deadly serious Koro-sensei had been in a while. He lowered Sam's hand back to the desk laying it flat. Sam kept breathing, somewhat ragged...and slowly, the cut was knitting back together. New skin was forming over the wound, as it stopped bleeding, and in a matter of about half a minute, there wasn't even a scar. The only sign there had ever been a cut was the blood trickling down his wrist, onto his shirt - the sleeve of which had pulled back a little bit.

Sam opened his eyes, no longer feeling the pain, and saw his healed hand. "D...didn't I...?"

"Yes. You embraced it, and it became a part of you, like I said. Now, again." Koro-sensei said. Maybe he was more compliant because of the blood loss, but without really slowing to think about what he was doing, Sam raised the knife again, and set it to his hand.

As before, this was the general procedure. Repeat the process. Cut the hand, embrace the pain, let it heal. With every cut, Sam seemed to be getting more confident. With each wound that healed, he began to take on the lesson of embracing the pain. He didn't really understand how each wound was being healed, but as he thought about it, it felt...like the pain wasn't beginning to matter.

Koro-sensei, as ever, didn't change his expression, but if he were inclined to, he'd probably be making an expression of intense concentration. It was extremely important to him that nothing went wrong - and he didn't like where this lesson was going.

In terms of body shape, Sam wasn't changing all that much. He had been somewhat trim to start with - but as the sleeves of his shirt kept rolling up, past his elbows, the material disappearing away, he was losing a lot of fat. The skin on his arms was getting thinner, the bones were easier to see. It was beginning to look like he hadn't eaten in...quite a while.

His hair was changing too, becoming longer, beginning to hang down over his face. The purple dye was being washed out, his hair becoming blacker - except for the bangs around his face, which were turning pure white, leaving a strip of black across it - making his hair resemble the vertical eyes on the backs of his hands. It was quite an uncanny look.

Sam was beginning to enjoy himself, against all odds. He was smiling, somewhat unnervingly, a manic edge to the smile. Pain...it didn't matter at all, did it? As long as he embraced it, it was like it was never there. He was drawing the blade slower now, drawing out the pain for an agonizing length of time. His skin was getting paler, becoming almost sickly in colour. The skull was disappearing from the front of his shirt, as it split open down the front, revealing his torso, which looked just as malnourished as his arms.

His face was getting...sharper. Crueller, might be a biased word for it, but it was hard to deny, with the sadistic grin he was putting on. Koro-sensei pulled his tentacle away. It seemed like...this man had pretty much gotten the hang of it. He wasn't needed any more. The young man, meanwhile, was happy to keep on going, even without instruction. Koro-sensei turned away, and shuffled back behind his desk, settling down into his own chair, and impassively watched.

The split open shirt...well, it was more like a vest now, with the completely non-existent sleeves. The purple colour was getting more intense, turning to a blood red, before going darker again, becoming dark red.

"Come on, come on..." he was muttering to himself. He was beginning to slice faster now, quicker, picking up speed. Koro-sensei would have intervened before, but, as always in this classroom, the nature of the situation had changed. As he sliced, something was snaking out from behind his neck, underneath his hair, wrappings forming around his neck like a scarf. They were the same colour as his skin.

He was practically hacking away at his hand now, and Koro-sensei was watching silently. The young man let out a groan of frustration, clearly not pleased with what was happening, until suddenly, he raised the knife into the air, and slammed it through the back of his hand. He let out a passionate yell of pain...that slowly turned into a laugh, as a split opened up on his forehead, between his bangs - and another vertical eye slid open, the pupil a dark red.

He opened his eyes, which were red now too, and looked at Koro-sensei, with a smirk.

"Are you quite done, Asura?" Koro-sensei asked.

Asura, in response, pulled back his hand, letting the knife rip it open...before his hand knitted back together, as usual. He'd regenerated from worse injuries. "You're a lazy teacher." he said, in a monotone voice.

"I recognized you didn't need my assistance any longer, so I stood back." Koro-sensei responded, his voice returning to the more lilty tone he usually carried.

Asura was quiet, as he stood up. He looked at the board, where the explanation of Koro-sensei's name was still written, and chuckled. "That's a bold claim to make to someone like me." he said.

"Do you think, perhaps, that you could kill me?" Koro-sensei asked.

"I know I can."

"It's nice to have dreams, isn't it?" Koro-sensei looked directly at him. "But I imagine you have more important things to do than waste time failing to kill me, don't you? Nyuruhuhuhuhu..."

"If I wanted you dead right now", Asura replied, "you already would be."

"Mmmhmm. Just don't try to kill me in here, please. I'm the only one who cleans this room, after all."

"...You really aren't any different from him, huh? You're not worth spending time on." Asura remarked, and headed towards the door pulling it open forcefully.

"Say hello to Death for me!" Koro-sensei yelled. The door slammed shut.

It was quiet once more.

"That wasn't very fun. Making someone so...cruel. Oh well. Death probably won't be very happy with me." Koro-sensei lamented. He stood up from the chair and shuffled over to the desk, pulling the knife from it.

"He could've at least cleaned up the blood. Kids these days..."

[theatrestudentblog]

Musings on: “I want to study theatre, do I need to go to drama school?” and other related questions

In this article: Drama School vs University, what’s the difference? and which one is for me?

Young thespians. There’s lots of us, and most of us are broke.

I know, I know. I’m sorry for the sweeping statement, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that for many of us, drama school isn’t a viable option. There’s a huge price tag and a hefty audition process, meaning you’ll be spending at the very least an audition fee just for a shot at getting in.

Thankfully, if you’re wanting to study theatre, it is possible to do this through a University as opposed to a specialist school, and there is a plethora of routes into this.

It goes without saying that, just as every drama school may have a different method of teaching someone how to act - each individual University hosting a theatre degree will tackle this from a different angle. I want to drill this into you - the prospective student - so you’re prepared to find exactly what you want from your further education in theatre. Whereas some Universities may have you sat in a lecture hall analysing every little detail of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with an academic mindset, other Universities may have you on your feet performing it. And some Universities, should this be what you’re looking for, will have you doing both. By looking at Universities through this very “binary opposite” lens – and sussing out which end of the spectrum better suits your learning style – you can find a course well suited to you pretty easily.

In this article, I hope to help you narrow down your options. This is as I found from personal experience that researching theatre degrees is almost impossible – most guides or webpages out there on the internet skip straight to acting schools and conservatories (which are NOT your only option). And because of this, I think it’s almost too easy to forget that studying theatre at a university IS an option. You do not have to go to a school, academy or performing arts institution to receive education in an arts subject.

In my first little “series” on my blog, I’d like to utilise the student experience I’ve had so far to help you, the reader, develop your own. The ability to study theatre, for me, is a blessing, and so nothing should stop you from getting started. I’m not an expert, but hopefully, this little guide can help you find the course for you. It also goes without saying that I think drama schools are an exceptional mode of study for some – but as an undergraduate, they could not provide me with the theatre education I desired to get me started on my career path.

So let’s start with some common thoughts that might be floating around your head. 

I’d like to study theatre from an academic standpoint

I believe this is often where the distinction between THEATRE and THEATRE STUDIES starts to appear - which as a high school student you often won’t immediately grasp. You need to take time and understand which one is for you.

When looking at degrees, if you want a more academic theatre course, you may want to avoid course descriptions that heavily stress an element of “performance” and instead, look for courses that will assess heavily on exams and coursework. More often than not, it seems courses that do this will class themselves as THEATRE STUDIES.

Whilst you may find a course that offers a 50/50 split between performance and analysis of texts, it is important to note that it is extremely difficult to find University courses that incorporate absolutely no performance element. Whilst you may not be examined/graded on your acting ability, you may be required to perform or contribute to a performance at some level. My course, BA English and Theatre Studies at the University of Leeds is a strong example of this, and likewise with the BA Theatre and Performance course at Leeds, too. 

To help you understand this, here are some examples of theatre courses where the subject of ‘theatre’ is strictly approached from an academic, theoretical perspective in at least 50% of the course: 

- Royal Holloway, University of London. Drama and Theatre Studies BA. ‘You'll create performances, analyse texts, and bring a range of critical ideas to bear on both.  On this course the text and the body, thinking and doing, work together. There's no barrier between theory and practice: theory helps you understand and make the most of practice, while practise sheds light on theory’. (From their website). Students are able to choose their own modules after the first year, meaning you can tailor this course more to your needs after you have completed the core modules in your first year of study. 

  - The University of York, York. BA (Hons) Theatre: Writing, Directing and Performance. York seems intent on giving you the skills to “make it” in any area of the industry. For example, in your first year, you will encounter both the modules ‘Introduction to Play Analysis’ and ‘Introduction to Performance’, both of which are of equal weight. York says: ‘This undergraduate degree draws the key roles of director, performer and playwright together, in order to provide you with an in-depth knowledge of theatre practice’.

  - Lancaster University, Lancaster. BA Drama, Theatre and Performance. Lancaster teaches theatre through a mix of both ‘practical and academic approaches’. 

I personally study a course that I feel partly fits under this category, as the theatre element of my course is taught with an approach that is both academic and uses performance to explore texts and prompt creative thought. When I write a post about my course, BA English Literature and Theatre Studies, I’ll link it here!

I’d like to study theatre as a joint honours degree

Firstly, you need to find a subject that compliments theatre. If it doesn’t, it will become more and more impossible to find a University that allows you to take your secondary subject in partnership with theatre.

Typically, the subjects matched with theatre seem to be English (more often LITERATURE than LANGUAGE), film, creative writing, fine art/art, business and media. If you cannot find a course that offers both of the subjects you would like to study, more and more Universities are offering the option to study liberal arts. This will allow you to study a greater breadth of subjects, which would be great for the student that wants a creative, flexible and custom-made-for-them degree. 

I personally study Joint Honours and find that even though I prefer theatre, pairing it with English has allowed me to discover more areas of interest and has opened more career paths up to me in the future. If I could go back in time however, I do feel I would like to study Theatre and Business. As I currently already take two subjects, I have found it difficult to get to explore business - something I’ve always wanted to dip my foot into, but my course doesn’t grant me the flexibility to. 

Universities that I found of interest when I approached looking at a joint honours degree were WARWICK, BIRMINGHAM and LEEDS. In fact, an open day at Warwick was how I discovered that joint honours were even an availability. By studying English and Theatre Studies, I feel that I have made myself more employable, and for the most part, I have been able to sustain my interest in both subjects for my first two years of study. As I enter my third year, I feel content that I have grasped a good understanding of key areas of both subjects, and I feel ready to specialise in one-or-the-other in my dissertation. Furthermore, studying English has really helped improve my written expression, which translates across to essays that I must do for my theatre studies modules. 

I’d like to study acting - but at a University rather than a drama school 

Here is where things get a little tricky - albeit not impossible! You will most likely be looking at courses such as BA Acting - and a quick google search will let you see that your options are mainly at Drama Schools... with some exceptions!

Different universities will have different approaches to teaching acting, as there is no set way for the perfect actor to be trained. Decide why you want to study acting, as this may help you carve your path towards finding at University that caters for your needs. Some courses I found that may be of interest to you are:

Acting BA (Hons), University of Central Lancashire (UCLAN). Mainly, this was as it is a local university to me. In Year One, UCLAN begins by teaching you the fundamentals of acting, so you’ll learn about ‘Stanislavski, but also Shakespeare’. UCLAN also teaches ‘clowning and animal studies, immediately introducing you to the breadth of the acting world’. I was also impressed that UCLAN does showcases in second and third year for their students in cities such as Manchester and London. 

I’m not sure whether to study at a drama school or university. How should I decide?

Without trying to influence your decision, here are some bullet points to consider when making this choice.

Will you be prepared to audition? It is easier to be sure of what grades you will achieve in your A-Levels (or similar qualifications) then how the audition will turn out.

Where are the drama schools that you are interested in located? Can you afford the cost of living in these areas?

I’d like to thank Imogen Sarre’s brilliant post on the Theatre Scenes at UK Universities for being an invaluable help with this article. Her post is also worth checking out if you need more help with your University research. A link to her post can be found here.

[fitnesshealthyoga-blog]

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/schools-of-thought-can-mindfulness-lessons-boost-child-mental-health-society/

Schools of thought: can mindfulness lessons boost child mental health? | Society

Children are taking 10 minutes out from the hurly burly school day to reflect on their thoughts and their feelings. Some ground themselves by thinking about their feet on the floor, while others concentrate on their breathing.

This is mindfulness, the lessons quickly growing in popularity as an antidote to the stress of being a young person in the 21st century, be it pressure to perform in exams, social media, or the obsession with body image that is reported to even affect primary age children.

Children are learning about their brains and how to deal with unruly thoughts – to control emotions such as anger and fear. It is no longer head, shoulders, knees and toes, but amygdala, hippocampus and pre-frontal cortex.

The most recent NHS survey of young people’s mental health in 2017 shows one-in-eight five- to 19-year-olds in England has a diagnosable mental health condition. Hospital admissions for anorexia alone more than doubled in the eight years to 2017/18.

Stress is a known barrier to learning and a growing number of schools are targeting the emotional health of pupils through schemes such as meditation, mindfulness and the provision of mental health first aiders and buddies.

The Mental Health Foundation charity wants emotional wellbeing to be at the heart of the school curriculum, and has chosen body image as the key theme of this year’s Mental Health Awareness Week. Dr Antonis Kousoulis, its assistant director, said its survey last year found 47% of people aged 18-24 had experienced stress over their body image to the extent of being overwhelmed or unable to cope. “Social media has certainly played a part,” he says. “Historically, it was the mirror that was the main driver of perception of our image and how we thought others perceived us. Nowadays, young people are exposed almost on a 24/7 basis to manipulated and heavily edited images, whether that’s in advertising or photos of their friends.”

Over the past five years there has been a proliferation of mindfulness organisations and companies selling lesson plans and staff training to schools. But does it work?

Secondary school teacher Richard Burnett, who founded the Mindfulness in Schools Project 10 years ago, warns against “quick fix” approaches. “We are a charity started by teachers who wanted to teach children how best to manage their thoughts and feelings and deal with the rollercoaster of being a young person,” he says.

It has two training courses for teachers – one aimed at secondary students and another for younger classes. “It’s about training your attention to notice what is going on. If you are aware of that, you can choose how to respond, for example to manage the amygdala, the part of the brain that detects fear and prepares a response,” he says.

Emotional disorders are on the rise, and we should instil something in our children and young people about coping with stress, advises Lee Hudson, the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health’s mental health lead. But should it be mindfulness? There is evidence that the process can bring benefits to adults, he says. “[But] the evidence for its effectiveness with children is not yet sufficiently robust and we need more research. However, some schools are rolling it out and children seem to enjoy it – and it unlikely to cause harm.”

Mental health first aiders are trained to suport children through the emotional ups and downs of the school day. Photograph: Alto Images/Stocksy

The Department for Education is funding a major project to find the most effective ways of promoting positive mental health in schools, which is being run by the Evidence Based Practice Unit, a collaboration between the Anna Freud Centre for Children and Families and UCL’s faculty of brain science. One of the five approaches being trialled is mindfulness.

“A lot of people are interested in mindfulness and are doing it in different ways, but there is not a large evidence base for its delivery in schools,” says programme director Jaime Smith.

Meanwhile, teachers at Cherry Tree primary school in Basildon, Essex, say mindfulness lessons are already making a difference. “Children aged eight to 10 in four classes do different exercises for 10 minutes after lunch each day,” says school pastoral leader Kim Milsom. “Children have told us that mindfulness helps to calm them down and that they use it at home as well.”

Experience: ‘We need to equip them with coping strategies’

Tracey Ward, assistant head teacher at Stanley Grove primary academy, reviews her work as a trained mental health first aider

Being a mental health first aider means you have been trained to spot signs and symptoms and can “intervene early”. If you have done the Mental Health First Aid England training you are more aware of depression and anxiety.

To give a bit of context, 97% of pupils in our school have English as an additional language and 57% of the population of our area are living in poverty, according to a report last year. Wellbeing is a priority for us and we want to make sure that if our children are in a crisis in their lives, that we have equipped them with the right coping strategies – ones that are sustainable and that they will be able to use in the future.

We have converted our first aid stations into mental and physical health stations and we have trained mental health first aiders to be there at break and lunch times.

On their trays the children all have a “first aid kit” – which is a picture of an open case with a red cross on it. They write on it what they need when they are feeling distressed, overwhelmed or anxious. The children love this approach.

This week I was at one of the first aid stations when a child had an outburst and came to me saying they were “overwhelmed”. I told him to collect his mental first aid kit from the tray and we discussed what he could do. Another child came to us because they had “a busy mind” and we carried out the stress bucket activity. We discussed what was making the stress container full and what could be put in place to empty out some of the water.

We had a session with mental health first aiders in our sensory room for targeted children who need support.

Part of our approach is to embrace physical activity to support mental health. One of our wellbeing activities is the daily mile, marked out on the playground. Every child from nursery to year 6 walks, jogs or runs it every day and they can do it with a friend or a member of staff. We find children are more likely to open up about their feelings outside of the classroom. Our ethos and culture is warm and happy and I think that’s a lot to do with the importance we place on mental health and wellbeing.

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[utopianparadoxist]

Fearful Heart

[Author’s Note: This is a repost of Love, Faith and Fantasy–my piece on Jake and Dirk’s character arcs and the relevance of Knights and Pages in understanding them. I thought breaking it up into chunks would make the content more accessible, and give me room to flesh out each argument. Thus there will be some updates to the content. Hopefully this will mean more people can easily approach it!]

[Pt. 1 - Knights/Pages - Service and Ownage] [Pt. 2 - Faith and Fear] [Pt. 4 - Noble] [Pt. 5 - As You Wish] 

So we’ve established that Jake-- as a Page of Hope, the Active Serve Class-- has a well-grounded and consistent habit of being self-serving by choosing to believe whatever is easiest for him in face of clear evidence to the contrary. 

We’ve also established Jake has a habit of inspiring his friends into helping him, or outright asking them to--often while talking up his friendships and making attempts to make them feel good about themselves, stressing how much he believes in and appreciates them.

So now let’s revisit his relationship with Dirk, and try and see if understanding this changes the core conflict between them. Fandom commonly understands this conflict as being about Dirk being willing to push his high standards and agenda onto Jake, to Jake’s detriment. I believe the reality is more complicated, and also more satisfying.

So how does the Prince of Heart feel about his Page, exactly?

Let’s find out. 

We get exactly one pesterlog with Dirk and Jake, and in my opinion, it is the single best pesterlog in the entire story of Homestuck. 

For those who need a refresher: The log I will be quoting from is a memory from Jake’s 13th birthday, the day Dirk sent him the Brobot and confessed to being from the future. I think it’s a lot more indicative of their relationship than any logs between Jake and the AR, or anything Brain Ghost Dirk says, for a simple reason:

This is Jake and Dirk actually talking to each other. No proxies. And this is what Jake’s mind remembers and calls back to after spending his entire session up to that point...trying to reach Dirk. 

And it’s only after Jake remembers that he’s dreaming that Brain Ghost Dirk adopts the sassier approach--which Jake says reminds him specifically of Hal, not Dirk himself. Jake personally draws a distinction between them. 

The first thing worth pointing out is that Dirk doesn’t buy Jake’s Hothead Adventurer persona at all. Don’t get me wrong--Dirk takes Jake at his word when Jake talks about liking adventure and fighting and all of his interests, but when Jake tries to talk himself down intelligence-wise, Dirk flips his rhetoric to compliment him.

And when he brings up Rose’s book series, Dirk opens by asking if Jake’s read it. When Jake dodges and tries to lean on not being able to understand it (and asks Dirk to help him keep the secret--more of his hiding stuff to spare people’s feelings), Dirk ignores the comment and launches into a diatribe on the book’s underlying themes--knowing Jake will follow every word of it.

This perception into Jake’s true nature links into Dirk’s role as a Heart player--Nepeta similarly saw right through Karkat’s angry bluster and unpleasantness into the deeply emotional and gooey Heart underneath.

And when Jake leans on his dumb (and coded straight) adventurer’s persona to deliberately avoid letting his conversation with Dirk skirt too close to gay territory...

Dirk actually snaps at him, coming off pretty critical. It’s important to note this conversation takes place while Dirk is in the process of sending Jake the Brobot, a project he’s worked on for months and which we learn was meant to be a romantic gesture on Dirk’s part, judging by the ‘tender’ comments. So it’s safe to assume the dude’s got romantic thoughts on his mind right now.

And fairly intense ones, too: The Hal describes his memories about feeling for Jake as ‘heavily arresting’ periods of remembering ‘conflicted, incipient preteen episodes’ on the subject. This tells us that the episodes were getting started before Dirk was 13, that they involved conflicting emotions, and that they were intense enough that Hal is still essentially prey to them at times--even removed from their original biological context.

Understanding how much Dirk is thinking about romance here gives this log an entirely different tone, especially because he brings up sexuality again soon after snapping at Jake, only to once more be shut down--and with Jake taking ‘gay’ as a mean-spirited pejorative, no less.

Soon after that, Jake says something that could be read as flirty and Dirk immediately jumps on it, escalating things to thinking about actual physical proximity. When Jake points it out, Dirk gets flustered and quickly changes the subject. He then starts talking DOWN how capable he is--a sharp contrast from later Dirk talking himself up in front of Jane. They talk some more, the conversation turns to Dirk doubting his own ability to make the AR, and...

The first is that Jake explicitly notes that he appreciates Dirk being helpful--being of service. The second is that Dirk is clearly and transparently moved. 

Dirk’s denizen is Yaldabaoth--an intrinsically evil Creator God--, and his issues center entirely around believing he’s in some way inherently bad or damaging to his friends. 

No surprise, then, that he’s drawn to Jake specifically because Jake has faith in him as someone who can do good. This moment of confidence--Jake appreciating Dirk’s help and confiding his faith in Dirk’s ability to do what he’s set his mind to--leads directly to the creation of the AR. 

It also happens to be the moment Jake and Dirk come the closest to just admitting their feelings for each other.  Alas, it veers off into the future talk. 

Jake believing him about the circumstance of his life is important to Dirk, too--much as Jane NOT believing Roxy is important to her. 

So much so that the moment reverberates three years later, as Jake dreams about it, through Brain Ghost Dirk delivering a line that is actually unique enough to jar Jake out of the memory--essentially, Dirk’s feelings slipping through the Ghost to wake Jake up to his reality:

Brain Ghost Dirk implies Dirk thinks Jake’s faith is impressive, further undercutting the less relevant reasons Dirk gives Jane for letting Hal hassle him. 

So this could be one of the most moving things Jake ever says to Dirk, and it comes at a time when his emotions and romantic feelings are already running high. Which makes it a real shame what happens next.

Jake reacts horribly to the Brobot’s design... 

...Which Dirk responds to with a question. Jake spends most of his life up until now talking up his love of fights, challenges and adventure, so Dirk asks for clarification. He then asks Jake to trust him, trying to sell the idea--but Jake makes it pretty clear he dislikes it.

Which is why I really can’t parse him changing the subject as some cold-blooded act of manipulation. This conversation has been a rollercoaster for Dirk--he’s been built up, torn down, and sent a ton of mixed messages. 

The big romantic overture he had planned blew up in his face, and he can’t really do anything to fix it without exposing Jake to the danger of the monsters again. Dirk wants to be done by this point, I think, and I would be too.

And the tragedy is? I don’t buy that this was Dirk imposing some Training Program on Jake out of his personal perspective that Jake needs to improve. At this point, I’d need a strong argument to convince me of the reading. It leaves too big a plot hole, and there’s a more obvious canonical explanation for it anyway.

Because if Dirk was willing to unilaterally impose training on Jake because he needed to be stronger, then it begs the question: 

Why not the same functionality for Jane? Are we putting it down to some completely canonically unaddressed misogyny? Jane is in as much danger as any of them, and far more unprepared. If he felt that strongly and was that willing to control, does it really make sense to think he’d stop short of training her personally to ensure their success?

Consider the alternative possibility: 

That when trying to romance his best friend, Dirk approached the situation logically. Jake talks about loving adventure all the goddamn time. Dirk knows he doesn’t actually do any adventures. 

But he believes Jake that he wants to. And he wants to be helpful for two reasons, one being winning Jake’s appreciation and romantic affections. The second we’ll talk about later. 

The solution? Simple.

Set up an elaborate scenario in which Jake can experience all the adventure he wants--while also keeping him safe from monsters. Essentially, Dirk is trying to enable Jake to actually start living out his fantasy in a safe environment, and Jake inspires in Dirk the desire to help him in this way through Hope for romantic reciprocation.

Dirk isn’t interested in controlling Jake English at all. He’s trying to Serve him.

Which he succeeds at! Over the long run, Jake does indeed grow to view the chase as an adventure, and admits to finding the whole experience of the Brobot kind of exciting in confidence with Jane. I’d have to hear explanations if someone wanted to square this with Jake perceiving it as abusive, personally.

Hence why Jake levels up when he’s trounced. Jake got owned, sure--but he was also getting served, as in he got the adventure experience that he wanted. Note, by the way, the butler imagery--which for the most part recurs continually centered around Jake and Dave. 

Which makes these lines Dirk delivers three years later, directly to the audience:

Straight up lies. It’s Dirk hiding from his hurt and confusion by destroying his own perceived fuckups with his fabricated Stoic Coolguy Warrior persona--the same way Jake hides from his own by burying them under his beliefs.

In reality, all Dirk wants is to try to make what Jake wants possible. Which is very fitting, because there’s only one thing Dirk wants more than Jake himself. As we just established, what Dirk wants is to be believed in. To be valued and wanted. To be of service, to be necessary, to be good. And specifically...

To be like Dave Strider. Next time, we’ll talk about Dirk’s desire to live up to Dave’s image, how he really feels about his friends, and how all of this affects his relationship with Hal. 

This series has been a passion project, but also a side project to my youtube series aimed at welcoming and explaining Homestuck to new, incoming Hiveswap fans. If you find yourself trying to make it easier for a Hiveswap fan to understand what Homestuck is about and how it connects to the game, I hope you think of me.

If you like my writing and have a buck to spare, you could also really help me out by enabling me to focus on putting more of this content out there through pledging on Patreon. Doing so will also give you access to my private community of enthusiasts trying to advance new and interesting readings of this wonderful property.

See you again soon, everyone. Until then,

Keep rising.

[a-teamu-blog]

Hwaiting - Prologue

4.5.2016, 9 pm

Korea,Seoul,BigBang`s changing room

The silence in the room while the members were getting out of their practicing clothing and into their normal clothes was suddenly interrupted by the muffled ringing of a phone. Daesung, currently pulling his shirt over his head, looked at the smaller man next him who was vacantly staring at one of the posters on the wall “Jiyong, that´s yours”, he reminded him. “Err...yeah, sure”, even said man quickly blinked and started to search through his stuff for his jeans where he had put his phone. “He looked as if he saw a naked woman”, Seungri grinned from the other side of the room. “Well, there actually is a naked women on the poster, if you haven´t noticed in the past few years, but...”, Seunghyun said but got interrupted by Youngbae; “As if he wouldn´t know that” “Shhh!”, Jiyong had found his phone, looking onto the display; “It´s the CEO”  “Maybe Seungri got too many solo parts again”, Youngbae whispered, earning a muffled laugh from the others, except for their youngest member, who hit him with the next thing he could grab; in this case a shoe. The others just laughed even more but were shushed by their leader who was rolling his eyes and trying to stay serious, now accepting the phone call. “Annyeong? …Yes, we just had a dance practice, everything went pretty well...Uhm, no, actually not...Tomorrow already? For how long? ...Alright, thanks for letting me know...Ok, bye” Frowning he stuffed his phone into his pocket again. “Did anyone of you know about the new dancers?” “New dancers?”, the others echoed. “Yeah, seems like a group of five dancers from Germany will be here tomorrow and replace our current ones” “Tomorrow already? And why from Germany?”, Daesung asked, buckling his belt and sitting down on one of the couches. “Something like an exchange of background dancers between YG Entertainment and some universities and other institutes to get a littlebit more international and stuff. We should´ve known that before but somehow everybody forgot to tell us”, slightly annoyed he shrugged and sat down next to the other members on the couch. “Do Germans look good?”, was Seungri´s first question while typing something on his phone. “I don´t know...Seriously?!”, Jiyong, leaning over and looking at what he just searched on google, sighed; “I´m more worried about how they are supposed to learn all the choreography we already have till now...But Germans are said to be ambitious, right? Hopefully they won´t affect the upcoming concerts in any bad ways” “I don´t think so”, Daesung just said, shaking his head. After talking a bit about the news, Youngbae´s phone ringed. “Gotta go, see you tomorrow morning!” After a while the other members also went home, each one with different thoughts about the new dancers...

  4:13 pm

Germany,Neumarkt i.d.Opf.

“Girls, I don´t understand a word, plus Skype´s a bitch again”, trying to fix the group chat she currently was in with the four other girls on Skype, Katja laughed at the awkwardly frozen videos of the others. “My computer nearly crashed a few minutes earlier, too”, Katha sighted “I gave up on having the videos on, I just turned them off, works better.”, Yana´s voice sounded muffled, she most likely got lost in the chaos of her closet. “ANNA, I found your socks! The pink ones, I mean. They were in the back of my closet!” “You did? Finally!”, suddenly Anna´s voice also was on her best friend´s end of the chat. “You seriously are both skyping even though you´re living in the same flat? Baka...”, Katja had to grin and finally the videos were working again. Yana was trying to throw the socks at Anna now but failed and not even hit her once, Katha was looking through her traveling documents again and checked if everything was there and Hanna held two pairs of pants in her hands, comparing them. “Shit!”, she suddenly frowned. “What is it?”, was immediately asked four times. “I forgot the Korean word for ´Pants”! Again! This can´t be true!”, she ruffled through her hair. “If you want one of the boys to take off his pants just do it by yourself without asking”, Yana suggested grinning while shoving Anna together with the pair of socks out of her room. “Wasn´t it ´baji´?”, Katja asked snickering. “Right, it was...Why do I keep forgetting this word? It can´t be that hard, can it?” “Don´t worry, your Korean is damn good! I mean, you´ve been learning the language for some years now, compared to us...Katja and Katha are also really good in understanding and speaking because of all these years as kPop-fans, but look at me or Anna. I started learning about two months ago, I just hope, I´ll manage to talk in a mixture between Japanese, English and Korean. And Anna...most likely started to learn some phrases just yesterday”, Yana calmed her down, putting her washbag into her suitcase and tried to close it while sitting down on top of it to condense the content. “Hey!”, Anna shouted but was interrupted by Katha; “We should talk about this at the airport. Our plane leaves in about four hours, so you should keep an eye on the clock to catch a train to Munich early enough” “Only four hours? Oh my gosh!” “We should end the chat and get ready then” “Yeah, we definitely should”, Katja nodded, looking through the leftover pieces of clothing in her dresser. “Wait, wait, wait! Do I see a red dress there?”, Katha asked, staring closely at the screen of her computer. “Uhm...yeah...but I´m not sure...” “Take it with you! Take it with you!”, suddenly also Hanna demanded. “If you say so...”, Katja mumbled and put the red leather dress into her hand luggage as she was too lazy to open her suitcase that had been completely packed for a whole week already. “However, I really need to go now, my train leaves in half an hour and I have to say goodbye to my family and stuff. Where are we gonna meet at the airport?” “I´d say, at the gate”, Yana suggested and the others nodded. “See you then!” “Gosh, I´m so excited...” “Same here” “Annyeong!” Several good-byes were said, then Katja quit the chat, switched off her laptop and put it into her backpack.

  6:37 pm

Germany,Munich,Airport Gate C

Silently Hanna, Katha and Katja, who had already met by coincidence at the check-in, approached Anna and Yana, sitting with their backs to them and watching the planes take off and land in front of the big window, and quickly grabbed their shoulders. Letting out a shocked cry, the red-haired girl cringed heavily while her purple haired friend just laughed at all the people turning around to Yana´s loud cry. “You...you can´t just scare me like that!”, even said person complained but couldn´t help but laugh along with the others as the big hugging and greeting started. Finally, they sat down, nervously staring out of the window for a while and checking their social media. After a few minutes, everybody started to talk again at once, causing the five to laugh. “This is slowly gettin´ so real...” “Yeah...I really wonder how everything´s gonna be there...The people, the food and stuff, the language barrier, the dancing and especially BigBang...” “What if they´ll hate us or something?!” Once they had started to talk, they didn´t stop for the next hour, till the boarding of their flight was announced. “Whoop whoop, time for business class”, Anna grinned, waving around in the air with her ticket and got up to lead the others to the desk. Once they all were on the plane, time just seemed to fly away. They spent the first hour with battling each other through the on-board games, then the dinner was served but the excitement was just too big so they just barely ate anything and stuffed all the packaged food into their hand luggage. Then they tried to revise and learn a bit Korean and somehow ended up watching movies in Korean for a few hours. At some point Katja had fallen asleep, so the others tried to follow her example but they weren´t successful, so they listened to some kPop and eventually danced to Dope, Fantastic Baby and some other songs on the small space between the seats until a stewardess noticed it and asked them to sit down again. Silently laughing they did and even slept for a few hours. When they woke up one after one after some time, they decided it was time to eat something and ate the things they had put aside during dinner but as they were still hungry after that, they snuck some rolls from the nearby kitchen and had some sort of very late midnight snack. After that everyone spent the last few hours different until the breakfast was served and an announcement told them they would be landing soon which got them so excited that they nearly started to scream through the whole plane. They had been staring out of the windows for a few minutes when the plane´s wheels touched the ground which earned a cheer from the five girls. “We´re in Koreaaa!” Smiling like idiots they got off the plane and succeeded the process of arriving at the airport, staring wide-eyed at all the Korean writing and advertisement, listing fascinated to all the Korean that was suddenly spoken everywhere around them. They were picked up by a driver and driven to the hotel where they would stay for the first few days. In one hour they quickly showered, got into some nicer clothing and put on some make-up as they would soon meet Big Bang for the first time. It originally was planned that they would´ve met the CEO first but he was busy, so they would spend the afternoon with Big Bang and go back to their hotel early because of the jetlag. Being so excited and tired at the same time was a deadly mixture as they noticed when talking about completely weird stuff on their way to the YG headquarters. Trying to calm down and get serious again, they walked up the stairs to the floor on which amongst others Big Bang´s and their dancers´ group rooms and dancing studios were. Luckily Hanna and Katha had translated everything since they got here as the others were just too stunned and excited about every single thing, the only Korean word they were able to say at the moment was ´Annyeong´. And then, they stood in front of the door which simply said ´Big Bang´.