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[sadmeme]

The Rise of Homeschooling: Equipping Households and also Changing Education And Learning

Over the last few years, homeschooling has actually gotten considerable grip as an alternate education and learning alternative for family members across the globe. With the traditional education system dealing with numerous obstacles such as chock-full class, minimal resources, and one-size-fits-all educational program, homeschooling has become a powerful device to encourage parents and provide personalized education to their youngsters. Homeschooling enables families to tailor their children's learning experiences to their specific needs, interests, and also discovering designs, cultivating a love for learning and also encouraging independent reasoning. This blog site post checks out the rise of homeschooling, highlighting its benefits, exposing common mistaken beliefs, as well as clarifying how it is changing the educational landscape.One of the vital advantages of homeschooling is the versatility it supplies. Unlike conventional schools, homeschooling permits family members to create an educational program that lines up with their worths, ideas, and educational goals. This flexibility enables parents to include real-life experiences, hands-on discovering, as well as personalized guideline, leading to a much more appealing as well as sensible education and learning for kids. Additionally, homeschooling gives a safe as well as nurturing atmosphere, devoid of the disturbances and also negative influences that can be located in conventional school setups. This cultivates a positive discovering atmosphere and also enables moms and dads to address their youngster's special demands, consisting of any type of discovering troubles or special needs. As homeschooling acquires energy, it is clear that this educational strategy is changing just how kids are educated, empowering families to take an energetic role in their youngsters's education and making certain that knowing is an individualized as well as improving experience for every youngster.

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[cass828]

The Surge of Homeschooling: Encouraging Families and Changing Education And Learning

In recent times, homeschooling has actually gotten significant traction as a different education choice for families across the globe. With the traditional education system facing numerous difficulties such as chock-full classrooms, limited sources, as well as one-size-fits-all curriculum, homeschooling has actually become an effective tool to encourage parents and also provide customized education to their kids. Homeschooling permits families to customize their kids's learning experiences to their particular demands, interests, and also learning designs, fostering a love for learning as well as encouraging independent reasoning. This blog site message discovers the increase of homeschooling, highlighting its advantages, unmasking common misunderstandings, as well as shedding light on just how it is changing the educational landscape.One of the vital advantages of homeschooling is the adaptability it supplies. Unlike traditional institutions, homeschooling permits households to design an educational program that aligns with their worths, ideas, and educational objectives. This adaptability makes it possible for moms and dads to incorporate real-life experiences, hands-on learning, as well as individualized guideline, resulting in an extra appealing and functional education and learning for children. Furthermore, homeschooling supplies a secure and also caring atmosphere, totally free from the disturbances as well as negative impacts that can be located in traditional school settings. This promotes a favorable knowing ambience and permits parents to resolve their child's unique needs, consisting of any discovering problems or special requirements. As homeschooling acquires energy, it is clear that this instructional approach is reinventing exactly how children are informed, empowering family members to take an energetic role in their youngsters's education and learning and making sure that understanding is an individualized and also improving experience for each youngster.

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[tatzelbookwurm]

In need of serotonin, so please enjoy Chapter 1 of my Sugar Baby Danny who talks to himself in ghost speak with a side of Dick has the obol coin which allows him to hear ghosts.

Midnight Snack (2650 words) by Sanguine_Smile Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danny Phantom, Nightwing (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton/Dick Grayson Characters: Danny Fenton, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Batfamily Members (DCU), Jazz Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Boston Brand Additional Tags: sex worker danny fenton, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Danny Fenton is a Little Shit, nightwing can hear the dead, nightwing can talk to the dead, Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, because they really do try, even if they're very bad at it, kind of a corpse AU, But only if you squint, Sugar Baby AU, DC Stands for Disregard Canon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Misunderstandings, Identity Shenanigans, Tags May Change

Summary: Dick should probably not have burned his bridges in quite such a spectacular fashion. Screaming “FUCK YOU ALL YOU CORRUPT MOTHERFUCKERS!!! YOU’RE ALL GONNA BURN IN HELL AND I’M GONNA ROAST MARSHMALLOWS OVER YOUR BURNING FLESH WHILE YOU DO IT!!!” while stripping to his boxers and then setting his police uniform on fire in the street in front of the Bludhaven PD station was probably going to look really suspicious when the exposé about the systemic racism, extortion, bribery, and multitudinous other issues in the Bludhaven police force is the Daily Planet’s headline news on Sunday. Really, he should probably have waited until after the article came out and pretended that he was leaving the force because of the revelations.

Or: Dick quits the police force in spectacular fashion and wakes up the next day with a hangover and a (un)dead escort in his bed. He decides fake dating said not-actually-a-corpse is the best way out of his predicament.

Or: Danny moonlights as an escort to pay his college tuition. He just woke up to a client discussing plans to dispose of his body. Now he's pretty sure the Waynes are a crime family to rival Falcone and Maroni, but with a way better PR department.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Learn the Hard Way 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Nick Fowler (Professor AU)

Summary: you return to campus is less than glorious.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

“It’s a nice place,” you say as you keep a grip on your duffel bag. 

You took a big chance trusting in the online posting. Furnished and a decent price. Your innate cynicism told you it couldn’t be true and yet your dire financial straits convinced you to take the risk. Even if it turned out to be a mattress in a dingy basement, you would make it work. 

Yet, your pessimism makes the reality even more of a relief. The apartment is just like it was listed in the virtual walk through. And it’s all yours at such a good rate. 

“Got everything you need,” the man explains as he pulls out a tube of lip balm. “And if it doesn’t, you have my number.” 

“Sure, uh, I don’t think I should,” you shrug. 

You peek over at him again. He seems every measure the slimy landlord, mustache included. Designer polo, loafers without socks, tight pants, thought his jacket does give a slightly refined touch to the whole aesthetic. 

“Rules. No parties. You can have some girlfriends over for a little pillow fight now and again but I don’t want a rager. This shit’s too nice for that,” he warns. 

“Right,” you agree, ignoring his strange comment. “I don’t think I’ll be throwing any parties.” 

“Good,” he tuts. “Well, I got shit to do. Class in an hour.” 

He checks his watch and you give him a curious look, “you’re a student too?” 

“Fuck off,” he chirps as he tweaks a brow. “Professor.” 

“Professor. Wait, so isn’t this like a shit, what’s it called, ah, conflict of interest?” 

“What are you? A law student?” He snaps. 

“Photography, actually.” 

“Oh, so you like to throw your money away. That’s good to hear,” he chortles. You frown at the insult. “And now it’s not a goddamn conflict. It’s off campus and you just happen to be a poor student. It’s fucking fine or do you wanna go find something else? Half your monthly to break the lease.” 

“Shit, no, I mean, no. No, it’s cool. I was just... as long as it doesn’t affect me, that’s fine. It’s smart. I mean, if I had money, I’d do some investing too.”  

His eyes dart towards you sharply, “whatever, stop wasting my time.” 

“Sorry, uh, well, thanks, Lloyd.” 

He winces and tilts his head, “I think I prefer professor.” 

“But you’re not mine--” 

“Look, I don’t like you uppity girls gettin’ fun with me. You think I don’t got tail wiggling at me for a higher GPA every goddamn day.” He clucks and straightens his coat, spinning on his heel, “tell your boys not to flush their rubbers.” 

He struts through the door and it snaps shut behind him. You look down at the keys in your hand and cringe. It’s not exactly the best start but you won’t bother him again. This place is perfect. 

You bring your bag into the living room and drop it on the couch. A couch! A chair, dining table, a separate bedroom, and a nice kitchen... you even have a stacked laundry set-up. Shit, feels like you’re robbing the guy. It’s almost too good to be true. 

You pace around for a while before you start to unpack. You didn’t bring much. You’re a person of very little means. You worked two catering jobs in the summer just to get tuition and the whole housing spike on campus had you worried it was all for not. 

Hey, it all turned out. You’ll never trust fate, but fuck dammit, it can be kind when it wants to. 

You head out shortly after, restless, and find the bus stop. Tuition includes a bus pass but you need to go to the Student Support Center to get your card reactivated for the term. You spend the change and weave your way around campus. 

The wait for the simple swipe of your card and a few keys tapped, is far too long. But now you have your transit pass and your meal plan. You’ll hit the cafeteria and hope that they have hiked the cost of a tuna sandwich with the rent. 

The prices may not have gone up but you’re not sure the quality is what it was. You examine the thin prepackaged sandwiches. You’re suddenly not as hungry. You can get a noodle plate and split it between today and tomorrow. A coffee is always cheap too. 

You get your container of pad thai and stop to peruse the self-serve karafes of coffee. Irish Cream, blech. You opt for the caramel sundae flavour. You get maybe two drops and it bottoms out. What the hell? 

“Piss,” you mutter. 

Whatever, you’ll just have some medium roast. You move over to press your cup to the lever and hit someone else’s hand. You recoil, “fuck, shit, sorry.” 

The man grunts and fills his cup. He’s older. Likely a professor judging by the blazer. He watches the slow drip and you do too. You just want a coffee. You wait and as he finishes, you step up to claim your cup. The karafe runs out at the half line of the cup. 

“What the shit?” You huff. “I swear to fuck--” 

“Eloquent,” he remarks as he takes a lid from the stack. 

“Huh?” You look over at him. “Oh, you can hear me? I thought that was my inside voice.” 

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. He snaps the lid on his cup and takes it. You get no response but the roiling judgment rising off of his rigid posture. 

You top off your cup with the dark roast. Maybe you should let the staff know the coffee is almost out. You go to join the line for the cashier and find yourself facing the back of the man’s blazer. 

He pays and you move up to tap your student card. You thank the cashier and head off, the smell of the noodles stoking your hunger. Mmm, you can’t wait to dig-- 

You collide with something and your coffee bursts and pours over your hand. You look up to find the splatter of mixed brews across dark blue fabric. You squeak as the liquid scalds your hand. 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry, dude,” you say as the same man snarls and turns stiffly on his heel. 

He looks down at you with his icy eyes. You tremble as they’re harsh enough to cool the heat of the spill dripping from your hand. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Hi again,” you murmur. 

He shakes his head and reaches to feel the back of his jacket. He takes a deep breath, a tick in his jaw. “I can clean this, can you clean up that gutter you call a mouth?” 

He doesn’t wait for your answer. You suppose it’s rhetorical and well-earned. You did just dump coffee down his back. 

[hoeneymilktea]

deciphered ✧ tooru oikawa chapter 1 | downtown tokyo

Your cousin, Hajime Iwaizumi—whom you haven't seen in a long time, invited you to support him at the largest street racing event in Tokyo. He told you he was a part of the Seijoh Brawlers, one of the notorious top five gangs affiliated with the underground street racing scene. Once he introduced you to his leader, Tooru Oikawa, a.k.a. Cypher—your interest piqued, curiously wanting to understand the true meaning behind his alleged nickname.

✧ pairing — tooru oikawa / afab reader ✧ genre — erotica/smut, action romance, crime romance, dark romance (absolutely no dv/sa), psychological thriller, crime/detective mystery ✧ rating — very explicit, 18+ mdni ✧ chapter word count — 17.1k ✧ content warnings — violence, street racing, references to drugs, explicit sexual content, heavy angst. see below break for chapter specific warnings ↴

author's note — This fanfic is inspired by the beautiful and amazing fanart of Street Racer AU Tooru Oikawa. Artist is @aikk00. disclaimer — I do not condone the romanticization of the yakuza or the reality of gang life as I intended not to portray that kind of interpretation, nor promote the activity of illegal street racing. Do not seek out these types of experiences as this work is just a piece of fiction. Please remember to read at your own risk.

downtown tokyo ⇢ cypher's condo ⇢ ramen & racing

✧ chapter specific content warnings: smoking, vaping, references to drugs

“I’d love it if you could come to my race tonight. It’s the largest one in Tokyo.”

You placed your right hand on your heart, clutching the fabric of your shirt while letting out a half sincere mutter of endearment, laughing directly after. The sound of a loud cackle echoed through the phone on the other side as you tilted your head, staring straight into Iwaizumi’s eyes.

“Aw. I’m flattered, Hajime. I’ll support you no matter what, anything for my favorite cousin.” You smiled brightly at him, showing off the front of your teeth with the edges of your mouth curled up; the same smile you always gave him when you both were younger.

He shyly chuckled and grinned through the video call, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. “I’m so excited to finally see you again. It’s been so long since we were kids.”

“Yeah it has,” you replied, placing your phone back on your desk while propping it up behind a water bottle. As you looked back to your laptop, your hand scribbled down another drawing from your organic chemistry lecture slides carelessly onto your notebook.

Iwaizumi’s mother was your father’s older sister, which made you first cousins. The two of you would play and hang out all the time until a disagreement between your aunt and your father made it impossible to see him anymore, completely disconnecting you both for years. Over a decade had passed by since you had last seen him, recognizing he was not the same cousin you once knew during childhood.

He was always into cars ever since he was younger, given your father was a car guy himself—showing off his prized 2006 Mitsubishi Lancer to Iwaizumi, always letting him help fix the car alongside your help. He explained he was studying to be a mechanic at the University of Tokyo, and that street racing was a side hustle that he was a part of to earn some extra cash for tuition.

“So when I get there, where should I go? I’ve never really been to a street race before,” you asked while writing down the last bit of information from your lecture onto your notebook.

Iwaizumi looked up and pondered for a moment before replying, resting the crook of his hand beneath his chin. “You can be my special guest for the race, so you'll be able to stand with the guys in the Brawlers pit. I’ll make sure one of the Seijoh boys can keep you company.”

You weren’t sure what he meant—while squinting your eyes, you made a confused face, showing you weren’t very knowledgeable in his street racing lingo. “Brawlers pit? Seijoh boys?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. Don’t tell my mom, but I’ve been initiated into the Seijoh Brawlers. Have you heard of them?” Iwaizumi’s eyes quickly widened as he held his breath, making you skeptical of his intentions.

“No,” you immediately replied, cocking your left eyebrow up. “Are they like the best racers or something?”

“Yeah kind of. The Seijoh Brawlers are part of the top five gangs associated with the street racing scene in Tokyo.” Iwaizumi shamefully explained while looking down from the camera.

You looked up at your phone with an astonished expression, pursing your lips to the side of your face. Scolding him through the phone, you pinched your eyebrows together. “Gangs? Hajime, come on. How’d you get yourself involved in something like that?”

“Please, don’t tell your dad or my mom,” Iwaizumi begged through the phone. “They’re my boys—my ride or dies.”

You smiled at his remark, chuckling under your breath as you glided your pencil along your notebook, the graphite leaving tiny smears on the paper. “I won’t, don’t worry. I haven’t really talked to my dad in a while anyways.”

“I hope so because if I win this race, I get about a million yen in cash. This is a huge deal for me, it could help pay for university.” Iwaizumi placed his phone closer to his face and zoomed in the camera. You could tell how he was excited about tonight as he smiled brightly through the screen, peering straight at your face.

“Oh that’s actually really convenient,” you responded, quite shocked at the amount of money he would be able to win. “That’s basically a semester’s worth of tuition.”

You heard a few voices mumble through the call as Iwaizumi lowered the phone down from his face. Only the bottom of his chin could be seen through the screen as his head nodded in agreement to the voices in the background.

“Oh shit—I’m sorry, I gotta get going. I have to meet with Cypher before the race starts,” Iwaizumi rustled through the phone, facing it towards himself one more time. ��Remember, meet me at the race in Downtown Tokyo! Just go to the Brawlers’ pit when you arrive, you should see us wearing white and teal. I’ll see you when I get there, bye!”

Iwaizumi hung up the phone immediately without explaining any further, leaving the microphone cutting off with the beep at the end of the call. You were slightly irritated at him for not giving you any more information than he provided, not sure what to do, except meet him at the race. He only gave vague details—the address of the car meet and the colors of the Seijoh Brawlers, not even any information on what kind of car he drove.

By the time you finished up your chemistry homework, there was about an hour and half left in order to get ready and leave before Iwaizumi’s race had started. You still questioned why he nonchalantly mentioned he was part of a gang, as most members usually do not disclose that kind of information so suddenly. Time really did fly as you acknowledged how much you both had changed since the last time you saw him, now confirming he wasn’t the same cousin you once knew.

It was around the twenty-third hour of the day when you arrived at a packed parking lot filled with people crowding around different types of cars, recognizing a few popular models such as the American-imported Ford Mustang and the Nissan Skyline. Most were customized with large decals of their car clubs, gang names or lewd female anime characters, all surrounded by people dispersed into smaller circles. A lot of them were men, but you were able to spot a few women hanging around the larger crowds as well.

You were not able to find Iwaizumi or the colors of the Seijoh Brawlers he mentioned, aimlessly wandering around the larger crowds, not sure where to walk to. While scanning through the parking lot, you saw groups of men dressed in red, yellow, grey and black—yet you couldn’t manage to find the white and teal colors he had told you to look for.

As you pressed down a green button on your phone, you tried calling Iwaizumi again, yet no answer every time it rang. You blew up his inbox by sending repeated text messages of ‘Where are you?’, ‘What car are you driving?’ and ‘If you don’t respond I’m telling Auntie!’.

You gave up knowing he might have been with the Seijoh Brawlers preparing for “the largest street race in Tokyo”, or at least that’s how Iwaizumi advertised it as. Looking down at your phone as you sent the hundredth text to him, you accidentally bumped into a large figure, almost knocking you down onto your feet.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you apologized as you dusted off the dirt from your black dress. While picking out an outfit, you weren’t sure what people usually wore to a street race. In your closet resided your father’s old denim jacket he used to wear in high school, thinking perhaps you could commemorate his presence.

You looked up at a muscular man in a black tank top and red cargo pants smirking to himself as he took off his black shades. Staring into his hazel eyes, you questioned to yourself why he was wearing sunglasses at night.

“I apologize, shawty.” The man with spiked black hair bent down and reached out to grab your hand. “Whaddup girl, how you doing? The name's DK, who’re you?”

“Um,” you hesitated as you dodged his question, placing your hands inside your oversized denim jacket while firmly looking at him in the eyes despite his intimidating gaze. “I’m just here to see my cousin. He’s part of the Seijoh Brawlers, do you know where they are?”

“Oh, them.” The man scoffed and laughed before he whistled and waved for a woman with long black hair and large gold hoop earrings to come forth. She had a nasty scowl on her face when he called her over, but as soon as she walked up to the both of you, it faded away and changed into a sweet smile when she saw your face.

“Hey baby,” her voice was enticing and smooth, almost like a harmony in your ear. She looked at you with a closed grin on her face and her hands in a red bomber jacket labeled Nekoma Crew across the left side of her chest. “What’s up?”

“Shawty here says her cousin is part of the Seijoh Brawlers.” The man placed his left hand on your back and slightly shoved you toward the woman. “Take her to them, Leia.”

“Whatever you say, DK.” She rolled her eyes and placed her hand on your back as you both began to walk in the opposite direction.

She strolled ahead of you; the label DK on the back of her Nekoma Crew bomber jacket flashed proudly from one side to the other. The woman turned around and looked back with a smile on her face, the fake contact lenses around her irises glistening underneath the passing streetlight.

“Hey, my name’s Leia. What’s yours?” She stopped walking for a moment and placed her right hand out to greet you.

You replied with your first name, grabbing her hand and shaking it firmly. Despite her short and petite stature, Leia exuded a strong sense of confidence and boldness within her posture, wondering to yourself if she was a racer as well. Though noticing the gloves peeking out from her pocket and the scuffs of soot on her knees, you presumed she could have been a mechanic instead.

“Is this your first time attending a street race?” She tilted her head and raised both of her eyebrows, her long black hair slicked over to her left shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m here to support my cousin.” You placed your right hand back into your pocket as Leia took off the red bomber jacket on her shoulders and tied it around her hips. It rested atop her high waisted booty shorts, uncovering her black lacy bralette and a beautiful yakuza-style koi fish tattoo on her left shoulder.

“So your cousin is in the Seijoh Brawlers? Eh, they’re alright,” Leia slowed down a bit to walk alongside you as she crossed her arms and turned her head. She shot you a charming smile and winked accordingly as her straight long black hair flowed over her shoulder, exposing her orange koi fish tattoo yet again. “They’re not as good as the Nekoma Crew, but you know I’m being biased.”

You smiled to yourself, continuing to walk alongside her in a direction you weren’t sure of. The sound of music blasted throughout the parking lot, multiple speakers going off playing different kinds of American hip-hop and rap from all the groups of men dressed in matching bomber jackets. Turning your head to face Leia, you quickly pointed back towards the crowd with your thumb before placing your hand back into your pocket.

“So, who are the best racers here? I thought street racing was an individual thing, so what’s the deal with all these teams?” You looked down at your white shoes gliding along the asphalt before looking back up at her again. The sounds of noisy chatter and car engines revving filled the silence between you and Leia as you both walked past a crowd of men surrounding a vintage American-imported car.

“You want the long answer or the short answer?” Leia slyly asked.

“I guess the long answer,” you replied, looking up at the street lights right above your head. “I don’t really know what’s going on here, I guess you can say I’m clueless. My knowledge in car culture is pretty much limited.”

Leia smiled excitedly and clasped her hands together as she stopped right in front of a pink Honda S2000 and sat on top of it, motioning for you to come and sit on the hood right next to her. You looked at her worryingly before checking the time on your phone, noticing it was thirty minutes before midnight.

“The races don’t start for another half hour. We have time,” She stretched out her arms and yawned as you sat next to her and kept your hands in the pockets of your denim jacket. You looked around the parking lot, noticing more cars starting to roll in through the entrance connecting to the main street.

You were slightly worried about trailing off with a random stranger instead of searching for your cousin, still adamant on looking out for the white and teal colors around the crowds. The underground culture of street racing was familiar to you, yet it never crossed your mind in these recent years because it had been awhile since you’ve worked on a car. The only reason you knew some basic car models and just the bare minimum was from conversations with Iwaizumi and your father.

“Obviously you met DK,” Leia looked up at the street lights above her parked car. In the distance you could see part of the bright Tokyo skyline, the overpass of several highways towering above the large area of the car meet. “His real name is Tetsurou Kuroo. Everyone calls him DK, though.”

You continued to stare at the horizon, the city lights shining brightly against the night sky. “DK? What does that mean?”

“Drift King,” Leia responded with a large smile on her face as she swung her legs back and forth. “All the girls call him Dragon King because of the dragon tattoo on his arm, but if you’re lucky enough to sleep with him you’re able to see the full thing on his back.” Leia hummed as she looked up at the highway overpass, watching cars speed by.

“Drift King?” You pondered while raising an eyebrow, knowing the word sounded familiar, yet not familiar enough for you to remember.

“He’s the best drift racer in all of Tokyo. You know when cars do donuts around in a circle?” Leia swirled her finger in a circular motion to mimic a full revolution. “It’s like that, but cooler.”

You both looked back at Kuroo leaning against the side of his bright red Nissan 350Z, flexing his right bicep while proudly showing off the dragon tattoo across his arm. Another guy with dyed blonde hair tied back into a small bun came up to him, handing a wrench from the toolbelt around his waist.

“That guy right next DK is Kenma Kozume, a.k.a. Snake Eyes.” Leia mentioned, motioning her finger to his direction. “He doesn’t race, but he’s the best mechanic on Nekoma, the absolute mastermind behind DK’s excellent drifting. If your car gets tuned by Snake Eyes, you’re bound to win the race.”

“Nekoma,” you looked towards the label on Kuroo’s bomber jacket that Leia had around her waist. “Is that your car club?”

“Yeah, kind of. We’re part of the top five gangs in all of Tokyo for street racing,” Leia explained with her head leaned back. “The others, not as good as Nekoma, but also in the top five—Seijoh, just like your cousin,” She turned her head to face your body, the ends of her lips curled up against her cheeks. “Fukurodani, Inarizaki and Karasuno as well.”

“Damn,” you exasperated. “That’s a lot of names to remember.”

“I’m sure your cousin can probably help you out on it,” Leia whistled. “Just know their names and color associations and you should be fine.”

You both heard a boom of laughter, followed by the revving of a loud car engine. A grey Mitsubishi Eclipse with yellow rims on the tires passed by Leia’s car as it blasted a song with heavy bass—you recognized it as Drake’s Nonstop.

A man with spiky grey hair sat in the driver’s seat as you both watched him pull over and back into an empty parking space, diligently hopping out of his vehicle. He enthusiastically chuckled with other men dressed in grey around him, the bright yellow font of their nicknames plastered on the back of their bomber jackets.

“That’s Kotarou Bokuto, a.k.a. Blackjack.” Leia mentioned with her head tilted and a smile on her face. “You can hear him and his car from a mile away.”

You looked back over at Bokuto who stood proudly in his grey bomber jacket, talking to another guy in the same one with the words Fukurodani Squad labeled on the front. He immediately slapped the man’s back, another laughter erupting from his mouth as his eyebrows raised up in an enthusiastic nature. They all surrounded silver cars with yellow accents, their side of the parking lot blasting upbeat drum and bass music.

“Bokuto is extremely popular around here and makes an interesting rival for the racers. He doesn’t drift, but somehow always seems to give DK a hard time when they race.” Leia pointed to a man talking to Bokuto with short black hair and blue eyes, a toothpick resting in between the corner of his lips. “Keiji Akaashi, a.k.a. Spades—also an excellent mechanic. Not comparable to Kenma, but always comes up with new tricks for Blackjack’s Eclipse.”

“What about the others? You mentioned Inarizaki and Karasuno, right?” You questioned while placing both of your elbows on top of your knees, slumping your body forward on top of Leia’s car. “Sorry if I keep asking too many questions, I just wanna make sure I’m understanding everything correctly. So far, everyone seems pretty interesting.”

“Oh it’s no problem. I always hate that feeling of never knowing what’s going on, so I’m glad I can help you out. There aren’t that many of us here in a male-dominated subculture, so I always get excited when I see another girl out here enjoying her time, taking an interest.”

She scanned across the parking lot and spotted the corner with a group of men surrounding all-black cars as sleek as the night—looking the most intimidating out of all of the gangs in the car meet. Although all of them had black hoodies and black jeans covering the majority of their bodies, the snake tattoos on all of their necks stood out clear as day. Cigarette smoke and vapor clouds surround their section of the parking lot, making it impossible to see their faces clearly.

“Those guys right there are the Inarizaki Bois. They’re extremely pretentious, but they deserve to be by how amazingly fast they are on the track.” A man with silver hair and black tips rested against a Nissan Silvia S15 with a cigarette in between his lips, chatting with another member.

“Shinsuke Kita, their main racer, a.k.a. Sly Fox. He always starts off at last place, but by the end, easily jumps up to first. He catches up to you within a second, it’s fucking ridiculous.” Leia crossed her arms and stared straight at the two identical twins arguing right next to Kita—one leaning against another black car as the other yelled in his face.

“Those are the Miya Brothers. They have the exact same car, color and model. When they’re both in a race, you can never tell which car is which,” Leia scoffed, obviously annoyed by something. “Atsumu Miya, a.k.a. Thrasher—the blonde one, fucked up my car once during a race. He’s a prick.”

You nodded your head in agreement, giving your pity. “That seems annoying.”

In an instant, Leia swiveled her body towards you with an annoyed face. “It cost thousands to fix my car after that. What a fucking pain.”

A large crowd roared as you noticed a sleek black Lexus LFA with electric blue accents across the body roll up from the entrance of the parking lot, the sound of their engine rumbling low to the ground.  Following behind was an orange Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution, the same model of car your father used to have.

“Oh look here, it’s the Tyrant, Tobio Kageyama of the Karasuno Killers.”

Leia pointed to the driver of the Lexus LFA, watching him give a distasteful scowl to the crowd. His black hair slicked back against his forehead while his dark blue eyes matched the aura of his car. You both watched him roll up to the section of the parking lot dedicated to the Karasuno Killers, noticing all of the members wearing orange, while he wore all black.

“Kageyama’s new to the scene, yet he’s placed first in every single race he’s been in. He overthrew the reigning champion of drift racing in all of Tokyo, actually. Yet, he’s still fairly new, so we call him the Tyrant.”

You looked towards Kageyama again as he let out an exhale of clouds from the vape he took a hit off of, passing the mod to a man with a shaved head. “He’s pretty much an outcast, but he knew that joining a gang had to be the only way for him to get recognition in the underground racing scene. He’s pretty much the main racer on the Karasuno Killers for now.”

“You sure do know a lot about all the racers here.” You turned your head to the left, noticing Leia had aimlessly looked up into the sky. “Are you close with everyone?”

“Mmm, you can say that.” She closed her eyes and continued to lean her head back, placing her left hand against the hood of her car. “I just have connections to a lot of people. DK is beloved by basically everyone here, which also means I’ve gotten to know all the top racers.”

You both jolted up from the boom of several engines roaring near the front entrance of the parking lot as the crowd in front of you cheered. Your eyes followed a line of bright white cars from different companies and models, all with teal accents on the edges of the side skirts.

They all followed a single white Mazda RX-7 Veilside Fortune with black accents and teal stripes on the edge of the windows. Every single car in the queue had their windows tinted dark, making it impossible to see who was driving in any of the vehicles. You assumed by the colors that it was the Seijoh Brawlers, which meant one of the cars belonged to Iwaizumi.

“Ah, just in time. Speaking of the top racers, the Seijoh Brawlers definitely hold some of the best.” Leia propped her feet up onto the hood of her car and rested her chin on her knees, bringing her legs close to her body. “Your cousin should be in that lineup.”

A crowd of people gathered around the Seijoh Brawlers as the drivers backed into their parking spots and stepped out of their vehicles. All of the men had white t-shirts and teal bomber jackets, bright lettering of their nicknames plastered across their backs.

The man that was leading the pack in the Mazda RX-7 Fortune stepped out with his back turned against the crowd, his right hand pulling back his bangs. Instead of a bomber jacket, he wore an open Off-White button down shirt with his sleeves rolled up, the customized moniker Cypher written across the back. The minute he turned around, your interest piqued—although you were across the parking lot, his eyes fixated in the direction of where you and Leia were sitting.

“Tooru Oikawa—a.k.a. Cypher,” Leia mumbled as she continued to rest her chin onto her knees. “Reigning champion of the street races, best in Tokyo. Recently overthrown by the Tyrant.”

Oikawa continued to look in your direction, yet you could not tell where his eyes were fixated on. You saw an expressionless yet intimidating look plaster across his face before he turned around back to the Seijoh Brawlers. “Interesting nickname. Why’s he called Cypher?”

“There’s two meanings,” Leia clarified. “He’s called Cypher because when he drifts, he makes perfect zeros into the road. There is never a moment where his drifts and spins aren’t calculated perfectly. If Kuroo wasn’t already established as the Drift King, Oikawa would definitely claim that title.”

You immediately recognized your cousin the moment he walked out of his white Subaru WRX STI, going up to Oikawa and whispering something into his ear. You stared intently at Iwaizumi, hoping he saw you across the parking lot.

“The other meaning,” Leia continued as she stared directly at Oikawa. “Cypher’s a blank slate. No one knows what kind of person he truly is. Sure, he puts on a front—everyone has to. But under that intimidating act, he’s impossible to crack.”

A Seijoh Brawlers member handed Oikawa his white bomber jacket with Cypher written across the back. In one swift motion, he effortlessly slid both of his arms through the sleeves with a smug look on his face. It appeared that he was the leader of the gang with his contrasting colors and confident demeanor.

“He spent several years leading a faction under a yakuza clan called the Kitagawa Daiichi down south in Osaka. He made some serious money off the kinds of businesses he did, that’s how you know he was able to afford his luxurious custom Veilside RX-7.”

“Oh, so these gangs aren’t just car clubs,” you continued to stare at Oikawa, observing him prop open the hood of his car as he let one of the members of the Seijoh Brawlers inspect underneath. “The yakuza is involved.”

“With anything illegal, the yakuza will always be involved.” Leia pursed her lips, squinting her eyelids. “Even with underground street racing, you can never seem to escape them.”

“What kind of person is he?” You nodded your head and pointed your chin towards Oikawa, swinging your legs off the edge of the car. “Just by first glance, he looks like the kind of person to take up two parking spots.”

You both began to chuckle together as Leia grabbed onto your arm, leaning in to rest her head on your shoulder. With her eyes closed and a large smile on her face, she let out a loud high pitched wheeze—for which you could not resist laughing along to as well.

“You know what, I really like you. You’re pretty funny.” She took in a long deep breath before staring back towards the Seijoh Brawlers, looking back straight in the direction of Oikawa.

“But honestly, it beats me. Cypher’s pretty much your run-of-the-mill bad boy, if you also include he’s the top racer in the underground street racing scene. But unfortunately, no one—including me, knows a thing about him, only his business. No one can decipher the great Cypher.”

You noticed Iwaizumi talking to him, noting back when he mentioned having to meet with a guy named Cypher before the race. After the information Leia had disclosed about Oikawa, you couldn’t help but speculate about how Iwaizumi was able to involve himself with a guy like him. You crossed your legs on top of Leia’s S2000 while peering straight at your cousin, still hoping he was able to notice you.

“The guy talking to Cypher,” you pointed towards Iwaizumi peering underneath the hood of Oikawa’s car. “That’s my cousin.”

Leia whipped around the hood of her car and got extremely close to your face; the shocked expression in her eyes revealing it all. “Indigo is your cousin?!”

“Fucking—who?”

“Hajime Iwaizumi, he’s your cousin?” Leia reiterated, switching back to formalities.

You backed away just enough to put some distance between you and Leia. “Yeah, is he a big deal around here?”

“He’s pretty much the entire package,” Leia explained. “An amazing mechanic and a pretty fucking good racer. Girls would kill to sleep with your cousin.” She winked her left eye at you, obviously swooned by Iwaizumi’s underground street racing reputation.

“Ugh, I don’t want to hear about that.” You crinkled your nose with a scowl on your face, disgusted by Leia’s remark. All she did was shoot you another playful smile in return, tapping her fingers along the hood of her car. “I didn’t know he was pretty popular around here.”

“You should probably go see him before his race starts, let him know you’re here.” Leia stretched out her arms up in the air before placing her feet back onto the ground, grabbing your hand right after. “Here, I’ll take you to them.”

You hopped off the hood of her Honda S2000 and fixed your dress before placing your hands inside the pockets of your denim jacket again. As you walked alongside her in the direction of the Seijoh Brawlers, you held in your breath, trying your best to slow down your rapid heart rate. In a few moments, it would be the first time you and Iwaizumi had seen each other in over a decade.

As you approached their section of the parking lot, almost all of the members of the Seijoh Brawlers noticed you two immediately, eyeing you both up and down with skeptical looks on their faces. Iwaizumi and Oikawa didn’t take notice, yet one man with spiked black hair almost in the shape of a mohawk approached in your direction, shaking his arms in a crossed motion.

“Sorry ladies, we’re busy preparing for the race.” The man suddenly grabbed Leia’s arm, almost pulling her away from you.

“Fuck off, Kindaichi.” Leia swatted his arm away from her body, causing him to retract back. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again, onionhead. Anyways, this is Indigo’s cousin. She’s supposed to be here.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa looked back at the mention of your cousin’s nickname, observing his eyes widening as his face gleamed in joy. He dropped whatever he was working on and rushed to greet you, leaving Oikawa behind.

“You made it!” Iwaizumi’s muscular figure swallowed you into a giant hug, his arms squeezing behind your back. You were so glad to see your favorite cousin again after a decade, and this moment made it seem entirely worth it. Here you were, now both adults, hugging and celebrating just like when you both were kids.

When you opened your eyes again, you noticed Leia walking away, swinging her keys along a single fingertip as her work boots clicked against the asphalt. Without looking back, she lifted up her left hand and waved goodbye.

Iwaizumi gave you one last tight hug before retracting back. You noticed how the ends of his smile lifted up his cheeks high to the point where it overshadowed his eyes, almost completely mirroring the one he used to give when you last saw him. No matter what his reputation was in the underground street racing scene, you would never see him other than his childish and loving self.

“Here, let me introduce you to Cypher. He’s pretty chill.” Iwaizumi put his hand on your shoulder as he began to walk over in the direction of Oikawa, who already turned his head to look at you both. His intimidating expression stared straight into your eyes, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“Cypher, this is my cousin. She’s the one I was telling you about.” Oikawa smirked and nodded his head, acknowledging your presence. In front of him, the hood of his Mazda RX-7 Fortune was propped up against its support strut as he prepared his car for one of the races. His hands were placed firmly against the edge of his front bumper, holding up most of his upper body by both of his arms.

“Hey.” You raised your hand to wave as you stated your name, quickly shaking your palm with a soft smile on your lips. “Nice to meet you.”

The smug look on his face transformed into an intimidating and malicious stare, assuming like he was trying to read right through your front. He looked up and down your figure with his right eyebrow raised and a pouty lip, scanning every inch of your body.

“You got a pretty cousin, Indy.” Oikawa shut the hood of his car and placed his left hand inside the pockets of his black jeans, turning his body towards the both of you. A chuckle escaped under his breath as he ran the fingers of his other hand through his bangs, pulling back the wispy strands of hair against his head. “She’s basically perfect like you said, a total fucking cutie in my eyes.”

“Bro, shut the fuck up.” Iwaizumi retorted through his teeth with an irritated tone as he attempted to slap Oikawa’s arm, causing him to slightly jolt back in order to escape. “Don’t hit on my cousin right in front of me ever again.”

You lowered your eyelids and buried your hands deeper into the pockets of your father’s oversized denim jacket, looking away from Oikawa’s gaze. The ends of his mouth curled up into his cheeks before he chuckled to himself in a playful manner, shaking off his complacent demeanor—yet, you couldn’t tell if he was being sincere.

“Relax, Indy. I was just stating the truth.” Oikawa began to walk towards your direction, sliding right next to Iwaizumi in order to teasingly slap his back hard, insinuating a reaction from the both of you.

“Uh, okay. Whatever, Cypher.” Iwaizumi spat as Oikawa laughed quietly, bringing up a fist to his lips to silence himself. In a matter of seconds, you observed him quickly sneak up behind you, placing his right hand on your shoulder.

You turned around and backed up for a minute, startled by his sudden approach. Instinctively, you swatted his hand away from the top of your shoulder without saying a word. An uncomfortable expression grew on your face as you stared at him in irritation, the corners of your mouth slightly turned down.

“Woah,” Oikawa offered you his hand to shake. “I apologize if I came off too rude, let me introduce myself properly.”

You took notice of a similar yakuza-style dragon tattoo across his right arm, the tail extending to the inside of his wrist. An ominous grin formed on his face as you fixed your eyes towards the head of the dragon placed on the right side of his neck, observing its mouth wrapped all the way around his nape. Assuming it was related to his affiliation down in Osaka, you raised one eyebrow up in curiosity.

“The name’s Tooru Oikawa. Everyone here calls me Cypher, but you can call me anytime.”

“You’re such a menace to society.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

You crinkled your nose and hesitantly shook his hand, noticing the grip on his handshake was gentle and light. His hand was surprisingly faint and nimble, something you didn’t expect from someone who frequently worked on cars. Though, his fingers were quite long comparative to the size of your hand, watching his palm completely swallow over yours. Oikawa’s brown hair looked soft as it curled so easily at the ends, sticking up behind his head like he had just rolled out of bed.

Yet, it was his brown eyes that caught your complete attention—his pupils enlarged as he stared straight into yours, absolutely hypnotizing you into a trance. Although you wanted to deny it at the moment, you couldn’t help but admit he was extremely attractive. You weren’t sure if it was the tattoos, the upfront cocky attitude, or the hard-to-crack demeanor, but something about him intrigued your interest.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, I won’t bite.” Oikawa reassured as he dropped his hand back into the pockets of his jeans, tilting his head to the right before shooting you a wink. “Unless you want me to.”

You were all interrupted by the sound of several car engines revving, hearing someone in the distance exclaim the second race was about to begin and the racers should line up at the base of the road above the parking lot. Iwaizumi slapped Oikawa’s back, causing him to jump up.

“I gotta move, Cypher. Take her up to the spectator platform and keep her company, yeah?” Iwaizumi patted your shoulder gave you a kind smile before turning his head back to Oikawa. “Don’t try any shit, or I’ll break your neck. Got it?”

“Loud and clear, Indigo. I quite like my neck, so I won’t try anything that isn’t up to her decision.” Oikawa grinned from ear to ear as he turned his head to face you, both of his hands resting inside the front pockets of his black jeans.

Iwaizumi gave him a thumbs up before rushing inside his white Subaru WRX STI, upstarting the ignition before revving the engine, watching the car rumble beneath asphalt. Right after he rolled down both of his windows, he waved goodbye to the both of you as he joined the other four racers from the rivaling gangs at the starting lineup near the entrance of the parking lot.

“Let’s get going, the second race is about to start.” Oikawa delicately patted his right hand on your shoulder before placing it back into his pocket, weary of not making you uncomfortable anymore.

You both walked up to his Mazda RX-7, noticing a large white decal labeled Veilside above on his windshield. The car itself was positioned low to the ground to counter the effects of inertia, the bumpers and side skirts almost touching the asphalt. The entire body of the car was white, except for the black accents on the side of his car doors.

He guided you to the passenger’s side, wrapping his fingers around the handle before swinging it open, gesturing for you to enter. When you ducked your head and peered in, the interior of his car was entirely black, the crisp scent from the inside dissipating out into the fresh air of the parking lot.

Oikawa leaned his body on the side of the door with a smile on his face, patiently waiting. “You should get in.”

You gulped down a dry swallow before entering the passenger seat of his car, feeling your whole body sink to the floor with the seat positioned low. While stretching out your legs, you looked down at your shoes and noticed your legs shake from the cold outside gust of air.

Oikawa shut the door and walked to the front of his car, staring intently as he made his way over to the driver’s side. You inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh scent of the interior—as expected, it smelled pristine and well taken care of, something you expected no less from a car guy.

He opened the driver’s side door and swung his body in by holding onto the roof with his right hand, shutting it quickly before placing his keys into the ignition. The car roared underneath you, feeling the low rumble of the engine vibrate throughout the whole body. Oikawa looked over with a sly smirk, his eyelids half open before placing his left hand on the gearstick before swiftly shifting the car into reverse.

Oikawa’s Mazda RX-7 Veilside Fortune rumbled as he backed out of his parking space, the transmission moving as he shifted from first into second gear. He rolled out of the car meet, letting his headlights shine brightly through the crowd that made space for him to pass through as he drove straight up the ramp leading to the freeway above the parking lot.

A swarm of people gathered around five cars at the starting line—Iwaizumi being one of them, directly in the middle. Oikawa parked his car on the platform above the crowd where you were able to get a glimpse of all the racers. You noticed that you both were alone on the platform the minute he turned off the engine, only the silence between you two and the echoes of the cars in the distance could be heard.

He took the keys out of the ignition and stayed in place, a small exhale releasing through his nose as he leaned back in his seat. While not moving a muscle, you kept your eyes fixed on Iwaizumi’s car—intently watching the smoke trail out of his exhaust, hoping it could distract you from the awkward tension between you and Oikawa.

“Do I make you nervous?” He nonchalantly asked in a deep tone, breaking the silence.

You look over to Oikawa’s right hand on top of the steering wheel, his upper body facing entirely towards your direction. When he rested his left hand behind your seat and forced a smile, you could instantly tell it had a malicious intent behind it.

“Not really,” you choked while slightly turning your head, only for him to peer his eyes deeper into your gaze. “Just what I’ve heard about you makes me curious.”

Oikawa shifted his position and crossed his arms, noticing his interest had piqued while leaning on his car door, facing your direction. “Oh? What have you heard?”

“That no one knows who you really are,” you stared back into his eyes, noticing a slight glimmer in his brown irises. Other cars, all from the Seijoh Brawlers, drove past him and parked close alongside the RX-7. Their passing headlights shone on Oikawa’s figure, his thin gold chain brightly reflected against the illumination.

He hummed nonchalantly before pulling out an e-cigarette out of his pocket, taking in a large puff off the small black bar. When he opened his mouth, a trail of white vapor escaped his lips—only for him to inhale it back in through his nose, fully exhaling the remaining vapor clouds out through his teeth. He offered you the e-cigarette after he took another hit, placing the bar in between his fingers.

“I also heard you spent some time down south in Osaka.” You accepted his offer and took the e-cigarette in between your hands, inspecting the metal before politely changing your mind and handing it back to him. “How long were you there?”

“Hmm, about six years,” he responded before taking one final hit off the e-cigarette, twirling it in between his fingers. The whole car smelled sweet from the vapor—sharp top notes of warm vanilla and sugar, possibly like caramel. “I ran important business down there. Nothing else, really.”

You watched the smoke escape his lips as he talked, the wisps of vapor delicately brushing up against the roof of his car before he leaned back in his seat, resting his left hand behind his head. Oikawa closed his eyes and rolled down the windows, letting the dense air from inside the car escape out into the night. You took in a fresh breath of air as the roar of several engines echoed in the background, only for the smell of his rotary engine and gasoline to cloud your nose.

“You’re in university, right? Biochemistry major?” Oikawa placed the e-cigarette in between his fingers back into his pocket before peering at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Wait, how’d you know that?” You snapped, pinching your eyebrows close together while shifting your body to the right.

“Relax, I’m just trying to spark up a conversation. Iwaizumi told me a lot about you over the past several months and I just so happened to retain all that information.” Oikawa chuckled as he closed his eyes and rested his elbow on the middle console in between you two.

“Obsessed, much?” You stuck out your bottom lip and peered back at him with your right eyebrow raised. Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. “That’s a little creepy, knowing someone’s life so extensively without ever meeting them.”

He chuckled along with you, turning his head to face the front of his car. “Well, it’s not my fault. I only know so much because your cousin wouldn’t shut up about you for months. Every single day for weeks on end, something new about you and your life always had to come up during work hours at our shop.”

You snickered under your breath, remembering the thought of Iwaizumi constantly rambling on about anything he deemed exciting at the moment. The minute your father taught him how to change a tire, for weeks he couldn’t stop describing the steps over and over again every time you guys played together. “Yeah, that’s Hajime for you. He always has something to say, it’s been like that since we were kids.”

“I practically know everything about you at this point,” Oikawa turned his head to the left, staring straight into your eyes. “Even your most embarrassing moments as a kid.”

“What? Nah, I don’t believe you.” You crossed your legs and your arms while still peering at Oikawa with a smile, shaking your head. “You’re bluffing.”

“Quiz me then.” He shifted his body towards you and rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, his left elbow still on the middle console. When he tilted his head over to the right, he shot you a facetious grin with his eyes hooded down. “I’m sure I can get everything right.”

You accepted his challenge and began listing a few basic questions about yourself, ranging from your favorite color to your childhood nickname. Oikawa got everything correct, rapidly answering each question with ease. He brushed it off like it was nothing, purposefully wanting you to increase the intensity of the questions.

Starting to become annoyed, you decided to give him questions about yourself that Iwaizumi didn’t know, just to prove him wrong out of spite. You asked him at what age did you start a particular hobby—which only to you, was entirely false because you never started that particular hobby in the first place. Yet, to your surprise, Oikawa was able to detect it was a trick question.

Your jaw instantly dropped as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, watching his eyes looking up and down your body as he smiled without moving a muscle. “How did you know I was lying?”

“You just don’t seem like the kind of person to do that sort of thing.”

You reflected back on his assumption, questioning to yourself if you really were the kind of the person to do that particular hobby. Would you have been that kind of person if you did? Although you had previously decided you definitely weren’t, after hearing his input, you started to wonder if others perceived you the way you assumptively perceived others.

For a brief moment, there was silence between you two. As you were contemplating on his remark, Oikawa reclined back in his seat and stared down at the car meet, scanning through the parking lot. You noticed he relaxed the bold grin on his face, now alleviated into a mundane yet serene expression.

“You know, Iwaizumi also told me you were into cars. I think that’s pretty cool, a lot of girls here aren’t actually that interested in what’s underneath the hood.” Oikawa mentioned while tucking his chin close to his body, his right hand resting atop his steering wheel.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m really not.” You corrected, looking away from Oikawa towards the passenger window down at the parking lot. “I just used to spend a lot of time with Hajime and my dad fixing his car, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“I did.” Oikawa casually responded with a cheeky smile as he looked down at the middle console, slightly shaking the gearshift in a bored manner.

“You probably think I’m not that cool anymore now that you know the truth, huh?” You stated in a humorous yet deprecating tone, looking down at your feet as you kept your hands inside your denim jacket, balling both of them into fists to warm up your fingers.

“Nah, it’s fine. I still think you’re pretty interesting either way.” Oikawa tilted his head slightly to face you, showing off the front of his teeth as a grin formed on his lips.

Down near the front, you noticed Leia carry a red flag, waving it clear in the air to initiate the start of the second race. The minute the countdown reached to the last digit, the sound of the wheels screeching against the asphalt could be heard from miles away as all five cars sped off into the distance. From what you remembered, the racers had to circle back around the track, reaching a total of ten kilometers around Downtown Tokyo—first place receiving one million yen in cash.

“Looks like Iwaizumi’s race just started. It shouldn’t take too long.” Oikawa observed the crowd cheering down below as he placed his hands behind his neck, reclining back into his seat once again. You also looked down at the swarm of people—still lively and filled with energy, even when none of the racers were in sight.

You took your hand out from the pocket of your denim jacket and pointed in the general direction towards the car meet, grabbing the attention of Oikawa. While lazily shaking your finger, you mentioned Leia, who was talking to Kuroo in the middle of the parking lot. “That woman down there, Leia from the Nekoma Crew.”

Oikawa shifted his eyes to his windshield, staring straight down at Leia conversing with Kuroo, Kenma and a tall man with grey hair. “Yeah, what about her?”

“She was actually the one who told me that you spent some time down in Osaka.” You placed your hand back into your pocket, relaxing your body back into the passenger seat of his car. 

Lights from around the highways and streets blinded your vision and illuminated onto Oikawa’s body, the small gold chain around his neck shining brighter than ever before. “Well, that’s no secret. Everyone knows that about me.”

“But she also told me you used to be the leader of a yakuza clan, and that you’re pretty much a blank slate, stating that no one can decipher the great Cypher , or something along that line. Would you say that’s true about yourself?”

Oikawa turned his head to the left, peering at you with a dead stare. Though within seconds, the right side of his mouth curled up into his cheek before his eyes squinted until you could only see his pupils. “Well, that’s for you to find out.”

You cocked an eyebrow up before pursing your lips shut, genuinely confused on what he meant. “What do you mean?”

“Never rely on other peoples’ perception of me. Only you can determine that for yourself.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, resting his right hand up on the top of his steering wheel. You noticed how articulated he was in his speech, something you assumed was because of his past and present leadership positions. Despite being aware of the rumors around his reputation, you were quite intrigued by Oikawa. He exuded complete confidence over himself and his abilities, and knowing yourself, you knew exactly how to play his game.

“So let me get to know you then,” you proposed, lifting your head up to face him. “You already know everything about me.”

“What would you like to know?” A familiar smirk reappeared on his lips again as he shifted his body in your direction, resting his elbow down on the middle console.

You looked up and tapped your chin with your left index finger, pretending to ponder on his question. “I wanna know everything about you.”

Oikawa chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat as he closed his eyes. “Good luck. I don’t open up to just anybody.”

“Well, I’ll convince you that I’m not just anybody.” While you shifted your body towards him and gazed straight into his brown eyes, you watched his pupils dilate the minute you placed your right elbow onto the middle console, resting your cheek against your hand with a grin on your face. “I’m confident that I’ll get you to crack.”

Oikawa leaned in, also placing his left elbow on the armrest in between you two. His right eyebrow raised substantially as another complacent smile formed on his face, making it obvious to you that he was captivated by your bold proposition. “Oh really?”

You nodded, confident in your abilities. “Really.”

Oikawa leaned back in his seat, a soft laughter erupting from under his breath as he stepped on the clutch pedal and placed his keys into the ignition, starting the car. You felt the engine rumble underneath your feet, feeling the vibrations of the cyclic gears before Oikawa began to release his foot off the clutch.

“We should meet your cousin at the finish line. He’d be happy to see you once he wins.” Oikawa pressed down on the accelerator, moving the car forward through the spectator platform before descending down the ramp into the street where the rest of the crowd resided.

“How do you know he’ll win?” You asked while Oikawa quickly backed into a parking space rear in, several meters away from other people.

“Trust me,” Oikawa reassured before turning his head to the left, shooting a cocky grin at you. He shifted the stick into first gear before pulling up the emergency brake, parking the car in place. “He’ll win.”

He turned off the engine, placed his keys into his front pocket and unbuckled his seatbelt, swinging the car door open in the process. You followed his actions and unbuckled yours, yet Oikawa grabbed your right wrist before you could retract the seatbelt back into place.

You turned your head, only to see him give you a soft smile. “Please, stay. Let me.”

Oikawa let go of your wrist and exited out of the right side, shutting the car door behind him. With long strides, he walked over to your side and opened the door for you, allowing for your legs to swing out and touch the ground. Reaching for your hand, Oikawa helped you up and closed the door behind you, reaching back into his pocket to grab his keys in order to lock his car.

The RX-7 Fortune beeped twice before he slid his keys in his back pocket and placed his left hand inside the front. Your hands remained linked, the tips of his cold fingers gently holding onto yours, just barely touching your palm as he led you straight towards the street where the finish line was.

He began to pull you towards the crowd as you squeezed his fingers, acknowledging his presence. You thought it wasn’t necessary for him to hold your hand, yet he cradled your fingers so gently—almost like he was scared to hurt you. While placing your right hand in your jacket pocket, you trailed behind Oikawa as you both pushed through the large crowd.

The roars of the engines could be heard from a distance as Iwaizumi’s white Subaru WRX showed up first, followed by a black Toyota Supra and an orange Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution. Iwaizumi’s car drifted in a half moon revolution, his tires squealing against the road before rolling up to the finish line. As a large mob of people gathered around, he instantly hopped out with a victorious smile on his face—greetings with handshakes and congratulatory high-fives surrounded him as the announcer boomed across the crowd.

“Winner of the second race—in the WRX, Hajime Iwaizumi, Indigo of the Seijoh Brawlers! Second place in the Supra—Rintarou Suna, Engima of the Inarizaki Bois! Third place, in the Evo—Ryunosuke Tanaka, Cueball of the Karasuno Killers!”

The cash handler walked up to him and slapped one million yen in Iwaizumi’s hands, congratulating him with a firm handshake. In an instant, he spotted you and Oikawa from afar, ignoring all the congratulatory greetings from several people in the crowd before jogging up. His face instantly brightened the minute he saw you behind Oikawa, waving excitedly as he approached you both.

“You could work a little more on your exit spin,” Oikawa scolded, folding his arms across his chest with a pout on his face. Iwaizumi frowned for a second before Oikawa laughed and leaned in, clasping Iwaizumi’s right hand before slapping his back with the other. “Otherwise, great job honoring the Seijoh name.”

After their hug, Iwaizumi reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash containing ten million yen before handing it to Oikawa. He began to count the prize money, swiping his thumb against the tip of his tongue before portioning out his cut. Twenty percent went to the Seijoh Tune Shop while the other eighty went straight into Iwaizumi’s pockets. Though, it didn’t seem he was too stingy about it as he kept the same confident smile on his face the entire time.

When he placed the wad of cash back into his pocket and Oikawa shoved the twenty percent portion into his, you glanced at Iwaizumi, opening up your arms to give him the biggest hug. Once again, his arms swallowed you into a giant embrace, tucking your head into the crook of his shoulder.

“I knew you could do it!” You exclaimed while you both started to jump up and down in excitement, swinging each other back and forth as energetic laughter filled up the lively atmosphere. “You did so well, congratulations!”

“I’m so glad you came to support me,” Iwaizumi mumbled over your shoulder as you both began to calm down from celebrating, the tight hug between you both now subsiding. “I really missed you.”

Once you both retracted from the hug, he put his hands in his pockets and faced Oikawa with a grin on his face from ear to ear, his teeth peeking out from his lips. He tilted his head to the side, letting out a light chuckle.

“Thanks for keeping her company. I owe you a big one.” Iwaizumi reached out and shook Oikawa’s hand again, staring straight into his pupils before placing his arm back at his side.

“Well, there is one thing I had in mind.” Oikawa took his left hand out of his pocket, cradling his chin between his pointer finger and thumb. From what you could see, a tattoo of a small dagger rested on his index with a matching cross on his middle—on his ring finger, a small crescent moon.

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “What is it?”

“I’d like her to be the passenger in my race.” Oikawa requested with an eyebrow raised and the left corner of his mouth curled up, exposing a little bit of his teeth.

Your eyes widened as you crossed your arms, dropping your jaw in shock, unable to speak your opinion. A million thoughts ruminated throughout your mind, not sure where to start as you hesitantly looked towards Iwaizumi for his answer.

“Yeah sure, fine by me.” He agreed, shrugging his shoulders before placing both of his hands on his hips.

“Wait, wait. Hold on,” you slid your body in between the both of them, interfering with their conversation. While giving Iwaizumi a glare and visibly expressing your disturbance, you shook your head in disappointment. “Nah, you can’t be fucking serious, really?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Iwaizumi placed his right hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. “You’ll get to see a street race up close. Plus, it’s fun to be in the RX-7 when Cypher drifts.”

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want to distract him, also I barely even know the guy.”

“If she doesn’t want to, that’s fine.” Oikawa interrupted, placing both of his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. He shrugged his shoulders up, a sly smile plastered on his face. “I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I thought you wanted to get to know me more.”

The announcer boomed again, reminding the participants for the final race to line up soon. You remembered Iwaizumi mentioning that the third race was designed for the best of the best to compete with each other—usually having the gangs nominate their fastest racers. A few moments ago, Leia pointed out the best in the top five gangs, for whom you supposed were going to be the ones to race, including Oikawa.

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. You should totally do it.” Iwaizumi encouraged while patting your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Don’t worry, I trust Cypher a lot. I would never recommend it if I thought he’d put you in danger.”

While reflecting on his words, you always remembered how fun it was to be in the passenger seat of your dad’s car whenever he raced down a mountain with Iwaizumi in the backseat. It brought back a sense of comfort as you recalled him always speeding down a long stretch of road whenever he could, a moment where all three of you could bond. For a second, the memory eased up your tension and you wondered if being the passenger for Oikawa would bring back that same nostalgic feeling again.

“Well if you say it like that, sure, I’ll be his passenger. I trust your judgement.” You turned around to face Oikawa with your arms still folded over your chest, a smile resting on your lips before releasing a soft and playful chuckle. “Just don’t kill me, would’ya?”

A tender smile rested upon his lips, reassuring that whenever you were with him, you would be safe. “I would never.”

In the distance, one last call boomed throughout the crowd, reminding the everyone that the final race would begin in a couple of minutes. Oikawa looked down and gently grabbed your hand, slightly squeezing your palm with a soothing look on his face.

“Well then, let’s get going. I got a race to win.”

He began to pull you through the crowd and back to his car, speeding up the long strides he took as he maneuvered through several bodies. You looked back over your shoulder, quickly glancing at Iwaizumi—recognizing the same wide grin he always gave back then, waving his arm goodbye as he disappeared into the sea of people.

Oikawa reached into his back pocket and pulled out his keys, quickly unlocking the RX-7 while opening the passenger side door for you. His chivalrous actions didn’t go unnoticed as you whispered a quick ‘thank you’ before hopping into his vehicle. You buckled your seatbelt as he shut the door and made his way over onto the other side, nonchalantly hopping into the driver’s seat.

Oikawa quickly pressed down on the clutch before placing his keys into the engine, turning on the car as he rolled down the windows on both sides. You could smell the gasoline and exhaust smoke again as the cold air seeped into the vehicle—the sound of engines roaring and the crowd cheering vibrantly filling up your ears while the entire car rumbled beneath your feet.

As he released the emergency brake down, Oikawa  took his foot off the clutch, letting the car slowly move forward. His headlights flashed onto the crowd that made space for him to enter the street, people on both sides of his car staring at the two of you in awe. As you looked up into the rearview mirror, he instantly relaxed his eyes, a small smirk slowly creeping upon his lips.

The crowd for the third race became twice as large as the second, noticing the sudden increase in attendance for the best racers. Oikawa rolled up to the starting line and revved his engine loudly, provoking the red Nissan 350Z to his right. You leaned your head forward to see no other than DK himself in it, taking off his black sunglasses and resting his arm on top of the steering wheel, showing off his elaborate dragon tattoo.

A familiar face popped out right next to him, immediately recognizing it was Leia in the passenger seat. She waved her left hand out the window, yelling in excitement.

“Hey bitch! Fancy seeing you here!” She screamed over the loudness of the engines.

“Hey!” You yelled as you waved back at her, shoving your right hand in front of Oikawa’s face.

“What are you doing in Cypher’s ride?!” Leia screamed again, leaning out of the car as she cupped her mouth with her hands, amplifying her voice.

You leaned closer to Oikawa’s window, also cupping your mouth. “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later!”

“Well, you’re totally gonna owe me ramen later when DK wins!” She taunted as Kuroo revved his engine twice, provoking Oikawa in the process.

“We’ll see about that!” You gave Leia a wink, for which she returned one back before ducking her head back into Kuroo’s car. Oikawa revved his engine multiple times as he grabbed the wad of cash from his pocket and flashed it out the window, teasing Kuroo.

“You see this, DK? That prize money’s gonna be all mine, you hear me? All mine!” He shouted out the window as he stuck out his tongue, showing off the bright silver piercing situated near the apex. While shaking the money in his hands violently at Kuroo, Oikawa signaled a playful taunt towards his pride. His intimidating assertion frightened you slightly because before, he kept a calm and collected demeanor throughout the entire time you were talking with him.

You looked over your left shoulder only to see the Tyrant himself, Karasuno Killers’ Tobio Kageyama. He stared at you with his dark blueberry eyes and a scowl on his face, revving his engine twice in order to taunt Oikawa. Further left past him was Shinsuke Kita from the Inarizaki Bois and Kotarou Bokuto from the Fukurodani Squad.

Turning your head back to the right, you noticed Oikawa glaring malevolently at Kageyama, a sense of rage deep within his pupils. He pointed at him with an infuriated expression on his face, his left hand directly in front of your eyes. “Watch out, Tyrant—I’m gonna fucking smoke you.”

Oikawa slapped both of his hands on the wheel and curled his fingers around the top, revving the engine as loudly as he could. You looked up into the rearview mirror and saw the back window completely covered in white exhaust smoke before quickly glancing at Oikawa’s face flushed with determination and confidence. For the first time, you felt frightened to be next to him.

A new flagger appeared in front—a woman wearing orange with black hair and glasses, slowly counting down the numbers from five. As soon as she said ‘three’, Oikawa revved his engine so loudly that you couldn’t hear her count down to the last digit anymore. You glanced at Leia who was already wearing her own pair of black sunglasses, resting her left arm on the side of the 350Z while showing off her koi fish tattoo. While quickly holding onto the grab-handle above the ceiling, you rested your arm on the edge of the window, gulping down a dry swallow.

The woman waved the orange flag down, screaming “GO!” at the top of her lungs. Within the speed of a second, Oikawa stomped on the accelerator causing the car to jerk forward, speeding down the road as the tires squealed against the asphalt. The gust of wind shrieked loud in your ears while the engines from every car overwhelmed the noise of the busy highways nearby.

Every car was neck and neck—you couldn’t tell who was leading as the rankings fluctuated between all the racers. Oikawa shifted the car into fifth gear and stepped on the accelerator, the sound of his engine growing louder in your ears as he increased his speed. On the right side, Kuroo did the same thing; rev-matching to the same gear as you could hear his car pushing forward.

Within a second, Kageyama’s black Lexus LFA zoomed to your left with sparks flying out of his exhaust, passing all of the cars behind him. He glanced over at you and Oikawa with a scowl on his face and his nose crinkled up, tightening his grip on the wheel. You immediately turned your head right to look at Oikawa who kept his eyes on the road, clicking his tongue with a slight shake of his head.

“Too soon to use nitrous, Tyrant.” Oikawa patronized, smiling to himself as Kageyama pushed forward, leading the race. He clicked his tongue against his teeth again and swerved the entire car to the left, drifting on the corner between two streets. You scrambled to grab onto something, accidentally gripping onto Oikawa’s forearm on the gearshift. He didn’t flinch and continued to drift the corner, acting as he didn’t feel you grab his arm.

Kageyama led first in the race, followed by Oikawa right on his tail. You looked back and saw Kuroo and Leia directly behind, the entire back window blocked by the headlights of his Nissan 350Z. With your hand still gripped onto his forearm, you felt Oikawa shift the gear stick back down to fourth before he blipped his foot on the throttle.

Everything was happening so fast as it was hard for you to comprehend anything that was going on, your head spinning in multiple directions every time you felt the inertia hit your body. Sooner or later, Kuroo’s vehicle zoomed up right next to your side, the sound of the engine echoing into the tunnel all the racers entered. Oikawa growled and stepped on the accelerator, swerving to the right and turning a sharp corner in order to drift away from the 350Z.

The drift was heavy when you felt the entire car shift to the left,  hearing the tires squeal loudly in your ears while your body ricocheted in the same direction. You clutched onto the seat belt around the front of your body as Kuroo’s 350Z sped past Oikawa, hearing a maniacal laughter echo from their window with sparks flying out of his exhaust.

“Son of a bitch,” Oikawa cursed to himself, hitting the top of his steering wheel as he grunted, his rank now dropping down to third place.

He shifted up to fifth gear and pulled the emergency brake, swerving the car all the way to the left again as he maneuvered through other cars on the road, finally exiting out of the tunnel. The rear of his RX-7 drifted to the right, feeling every organ in your body shift with it. You clutched the grab-handle as tightly as you could with your left hand when Oikawa stepped on the accelerator and focused his attention to the road ahead—it stretched a far distance without any turns, which was a huge advantage at the given moment of the race.

“If you’re gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks.”

Oikawa revved his engine and sped up to 150km/h, flipping a small switch underneath his thumb on the wheel. You felt your stomach drop as the car pushed forward, the rumble of his engine vibrating beneath your feet. Sparks flew in the rearview mirror while Oikawa’s speedometer read 195km/h, finally passing both Kuroo and Kageyama, leaving them both behind in the dust.

“Suck my dick, bitch!” Oikawa shouted as he looked back at them while sticking his arm out the window, pumping his fist victoriously into the air.

You looked over your right shoulder and saw the four other racers in the distance, the headlights of their cars diminishing until you could no longer see the glisten in the night. Oikawa glanced in your direction with a smug expression on his face, chuckling to himself as he sped down the road.

“Holy shit,” you exclaimed in shock, unable to say anything else. You peered out the window and saw the bright Tokyo skyline, all the colorful neon lights flashing on the hood of his car as Oikawa quickly swerved in between cars and trucks traveling on the road. The air breezed through his brown locks pulling back along his head, the edges of his white button up shirt fluttering with the wind.

For a while, his car cruised at a steady 130km/h, no worries of the other racers catching up. You placed your hand on the window, the cold touch of the glass forming a fog around the silhouette of your fingers. The Tokyo rainbow bridge lit up in the distance, the colors reflecting on the calm waters down below. Hearing the sputter of his engine once again, Oikawa pressed his foot on the accelerator and increased his speed.

“Watch this.” He pulled the emergency brake up and turned the steering wheel all the way to the right, pushing down on the gas pedal with a staggered motion. He shifted the gear stick up to fifth again as the car drifted across a tight round turn on the road. At that moment, you glanced at Oikawa—a smile from one ear to the other grew on his face, showing his teeth as a cheer erupted from his mouth. Only pure happiness resided in his eyes, a shine in his teeth reflecting from the street lights.

Within the moment, it almost felt like your heart stopped beating when he glanced back, giving you a soft and genuine smile. You didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but if you could describe how it might have felt, this exact moment would have been your answer. The term ‘butterflies in your stomach’ couldn’t come close to describing the way you were somehow feeling about Oikawa.

An epiphany came to your mind; as you watched him enjoy the one thing he loved doing while catching a glimpse of what kind of person he was in the moment—that was when you realized you were attracted to him, both physically and mentally. The first time you saw Oikawa, you wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but you thought he was a beautiful man with a beautiful face—though, you didn’t expect him to have a beautiful soul as well.

You weren’t sure how, but just by observing the way he talked to you, the way he treated you and the way Iwaizumi entrusted him to watch over you—it was obvious he was much more than the kind of person people perceived him out to be. There was no way to describe your attraction to him other than there seemed to be a glass wall Oikawa had purposefully surrounded himself with in order for you to peer in and observe, to seek out what truly remained inside.

Oikawa revved the engine again and increased his speed back up to 160km/h reaching the end of the race, seeing the finish line in the distance. While looking up in the rearview mirror, you noticed Oikawa smile to himself as he pressed down on the throttle, the engine roaring once again.

Within a second, one of the racers instantly approached right behind Oikawa, their headlights dimmed low in the rearview mirror. You couldn’t tell who it was at first, but the minute they swerved right up next to Oikawa’s drivers side, you instantly recognized it was Shinsuke Kita from the Inarizaki Bois in his Nissan Silvia S15. He glanced at Oikawa with his eyebrows raised, taking the lit cigarette out of his mouth and placing it in between his two fingers, waving his hand slightly while he sped up and took first place.

“Fucking bitch,” Oikawa growled as he pushed down on the clutch and shifted the gear back up to fifth again to increase his speed, earning a little bit of room above Kita.

You looked to your left and saw Kuroo’s 350Z pulling up on the passenger side, noticing the black sunglasses on Kuroo’s face slide down his nose, enough for his eyes to peer up at you. He gave a smug look, resting his right arm on the top of the steering wheel. In the passenger seat, Leia could be seen dancing along to the loud song booming on their stereo, swinging her hips side to side with her arms up in the air as Kuroo gained leverage above both Oikawa and Kita.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Oikawa gritted his teeth while tightening his grip around the steering wheel, stomping down on the accelerator once again to gain speed. In an instant, he leveled with both Kuroo and Kita, now making it impossible to tell who was in first place.

The finish line approached quickly as you saw a large crowd of people gathered around the end of the street, their loud cheers mixing in with the echoes of the busy traffic in the distance. Oikawa pushed past over 180km/h again, determined to win the race as he stepped on the accelerator harder, causing the transmission to vibrate loudly again. Another roar came from his engine as he gained leverage, pulling himself ahead of the others.

You saw Kuroo and Kita drag behind as Oikawa pushed through the finish line, placing first in the race. He pulled up in the middle of the crowd and drifted around in a circle—his special exit spin. He made a perfect donut with tread marks on the asphalt, connecting the lines in a 360 degree motion. The rear wheels drifted for three more revolutions before Oikawa finally stopped in place, feeling the jolt of the brake.

Grabbing your seatbelt, you felt quite dizzy when your vision began to blur, just barely making out the large crowd gathering around Oikawa’s car. You breathed in the smoke from his exhaust as it clouded around his car, seeping inside past the open windows. Voices from all around filled your hearing, the sound of congratulatory greetings and squeals of excitement ringing through your ears.

Kuroo and Leia rushed in next as they placed second, Kita coming in right after, placed third—all finishing within a second of each other. You saw Kageyama arrive a few seconds later, pulling up slowly in his Lexus LFA with an irritated expression on his face and a tight grip on his wheel.

Bokuto rolled up in last place with the side of his car wrecked, smoke coming out of the hood and the front bumper holding on by a screw. You winced at the condition of his car, knowing it would cost a fortune to get that all fixed.

Oikawa parked his car and jumped out of the vehicle only to be greeted by the people of the crowd, congratulating him for winning the final race. Women tried to surround him, but he ultimately ignored their advances and rushed to the other side, swinging your car door open. Even in the midst of winning the largest race in Tokyo surrounded by beautiful women, Oikawa still fulfilled his chivalrous duties to you.

As you stepped out of the vehicle, Oikawa held your hand gently and pulled you up from the seat, closing the door behind you. He stared into your eyes with a smile on his face before impulsively embracing you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist as his hands brushed up against the top of your back. Instinctively, you hugged back, wrapping your own arms around his body as you felt his face bury in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa immediately tried to pull away, realizing he might have crossed a boundary—yet you pulled him back in, not wanting him to let go of your warm embrace. You lifted your head up to look at him, noticing his pupils dilate when he stared down at your lips, his right hand placed just at the crook of your back.

He looked straight into your eyes as he placed his left hand on your face, gently stroking your cheek as he breathed out a soft sigh. With a tender smile on your lips, you placed your left hand on his jaw, pulling his face in for a kiss.

Oikawa was startled by your sudden movements, but soon found himself wrapping his arms around your body, bringing you closer to him than ever before. You flung your right arm around his neck and ran your hand through the back of his hair, feeling each strand of his locks brush against your fingertips.

Your entire body shifted closer as he pulled you in to deepen the kiss, slightly opening his mouth to take a quick breath. With your left hand still on the side of his face, you trailed the fingers on your right hand down his back, slightly turning your head to the side in order to let his tongue swipe alongside the bottom of your lip.

You weren’t the type to kiss strangers within an hour of meeting them, but with Oikawa—you hated to admit it, but it felt absolutely different with him. Somehow, his kiss felt like medicine, healing a growing ache within your body as you began to kiss him passionately, moving your lips in sync with his.

Oikawa pulled away and broke the kiss, slightly gasping for air before cupping your face with both of his hands, all while staring into your eyes. He connected the tip of his forehead with yours, fluttering his eyes shut before whispering against your lips.

“My prize.”

He completely removed both his hands off of your body, diligently placing them into the front pocket of his black jeans. A bit embarrassed, you turned around to see Leia and Kuroo stepping out of the Nissan 350Z, waving their hands in your direction. She walked up to you quickly with her arms out, not insinuating an embrace.

“Okay, now I see why you were in Cypher’s car,” Leia smirked as she placed her left hand inside DK’s Nekoma Crew bomber jacket around her body. “Ya know, you’re kinda bad. He doesn’t let just any girl ride with him during a race. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever done that before.”

You looked over your shoulder back at Oikawa as he nodded, confirming Leia’s statement. He looked down at you with a smug look on his face and his eyebrows raised while he took his right hand out of his pocket to touch your denim jacket, slightly pulling your back against his chest. You weren’t sure what had happened in the last minute, but all you knew was that the tension between you two grew rapidly, the kiss confirming that you both were into each other.

In the distance you saw the same guy with a man-bun talking to Kuroo earlier, Kenma Kozume, pushing through the large crowd. He had his hands in the front pockets of his red cargo pants and a black skin tight tank top, presuming it was the signature uniform of the Nekoma Crew. His yellow toolbelt hung loosely around his hips as he walked up to you and Oikawa with a bundle of cash rolled up in his hand.

“Snake Eyes,” Oikawa greeted with a slight nod as he approached the both of you.

“Fair and square, Cypher.” Kenma slapped the large wad of cash rolled up by a rubber band onto Oikawa’s hand. “Two million yen.”

Just as Oikawa placed the cash in his pocket, Kuroo’s walkie talkie went off. As everyone around the parking lot paused, you looked towards Leia as her eyes widened with a worried expression on her face. For a second there was a beep on the machine, then a stressed eerie-sounding noise wailed through the static.

“Cops, cops, cops!” A deep voice on Kuroo’s walkie talkie went off. “COPS HEADED OUR WAY!”

There wasn’t any hesitation when it came to law enforcement as the crowd panicked and rushed to their vehicles, making it hard for any driver to get out of the parking lot safely. Kuroo grabbed Leia’s hand as they both rushed inside his 350Z, Kenma closely following behind as he shoved himself into the backseat of the two-seater car.

“Looks like I’ll have to buy you ramen another time!” Leia yelled back at you before she hopped into the 350Z, shutting the passenger side door behind her. Kuroo sped off into the night right after, straight into the highway as his engine echoed throughout the air.

Oikawa grabbed your hand and quickly opened the passenger door of his car, motioning for you to get in. Once your body sank low into the seat again, he shut the door, jumping onto the front of his car while swiftly gliding across the hood, opening the driver’s side all in one fluid motion. The second he hopped in, Oikawa quickly stomped on the clutch and started the engine, switching on the headlights while revving the car, speeding off into the same direction as Kuroo.

With people still running in multiple directions throughout the parking lot, it was difficult for anyone to get out safely onto the main road. The highway near the car meet became flooded with vehicles packed end to end, bumper to bumper—causing Oikawa to take a shortcut between two factory buildings, speeding down a tight alleyway. He quickly pressed down on the clutch again, rapidly switching from third to fourth gear with his left hand, accelerating the speed of his car as the engine boomed.

You looked over to your right and saw a tensed expression on his face with his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip pouted, focusing on the road ahead of him. He kept his left hand on the gear stick and his right hand on the steering wheel, quickly downshifting from fourth to third gear, blipping the throttle with the tip of his foot before slowing down.

Once he placed the emergency brake up, he drifted a tight corner between the two buildings, entering a small street perpendicular to the main highway packed with most of the people from the car meet. You held onto the grab handle above your head, clutching it tightly while you felt your entire body swerve to the left, noticing Oikawa’s body ricocheted in his seat as well with the turn of the drift.

Once he was able to steady the direction of the car, he stepped on the clutch and shifted the car back up to fourth and then fifth gear sequentially—hitting the gas pedal hard as he sped down the small road, catching the attention of the pedestrians walking on the side. In the rearview mirror, you saw police lights flash brightly coming in your direction, not noticing them on your tails before as the roar of his engine drowned out the sound of the sirens.

Oikawa’s eyes shifted up to look at the rearview mirror, pinching the edges of his eyebrows closer together as he became more infuriated. Another scowl plastered on his face, tensing his entire body up while stepping on the gas pedal harder. On his speedometer, you saw him pushing past 150km/h—not as fast as in the race, but fast enough to escape the police trailing behind you. Focusing on the road ahead of him while turning corners and speeding down adjacent roads, Oikawa remained silent the whole time the police chased after you two.

Your mind felt dizzy; unable to comprehend how he was able to stay so focused and calm with the sirens blaring in his ears. Thinking to yourself if you were in his place, you would have immediately panicked, not knowing what to do in the moment. While racing through different theories and conclusions, you remembered that Oikawa was a criminal—this probably wasn’t the first time he had been hunted by law enforcement.

Despite being in a chase, you looked outside of the window to see the city skyline shine brightly in the night, the neon colors scattered throughout the horizon. You reflected back on your actions during the past hour, wondering how you were able to end up in the passenger seat of a car during a street race, now chased by law enforcement on the streets of Tokyo. Yet, in the back of your mind you would not have wanted to do anything else—or even with anyone else.

You gripped the grab handle on the roof of the car with your left hand and grasped the middle of your seatbelt with the other, your body trembling as the red lights from the police flashed in the side mirrors. Oikawa chucked the steering wheel to the left and instantly pulled the emergency brake up, only to release it down when the car drifted to the corner of the street. As your body rocked from side to side in your seat, you inhaled sharply through your nose while feeling the adrenaline rush straight to your head.

Despite the intensity of the predicament you both were in, you felt Oikawa gently place his hand on your leg, benevolently caressing the exposed skin on your inner right thigh. He turned to look at you, smiling with confidence in his abilities. The sound of his sultry voice made your heart beat faster despite his attempt to calm you down.

“Hey,” Oikawa reassured. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of here.”

The minute his car exited the main street, Oikawa immediately turned left into another, revving his engine quietly at the apex of the corner. Oikawa began to slow down his speed the further he drove down the road, completely stopping the car while shifting the gear into reverse. Tucked between two buildings, Oikawa backed the car into a smaller alleyway, tucking his arm behind your seat as he positioned his upper body to face you, turning his head to look back.

With his right hand on the steering wheel, Oikawa effortlessly backed up into the alleyway, securing a large space tucked into the alley. He quickly turned off the engine and dimmed his headlights, making sure to cautiously hide his entire vehicle from the police as you both waited in silence, not a single peep coming from your mouth.

You swore you could hear the police sirens approaching in the distance, feeling your heart beating straight out of your chest like it was ready to burst any second. Oikawa on the other hand, placed his right hand on the steering wheel and watched the exit closely, his body calm and relaxed in his seat. Two police vehicles sped past the alleyway, completely unaware of the RX-7 hiding in the darkness.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief and closed your eyes, feeling the rush of  blood to your head subside with the sound of your heart pumping throughout your body filling your ears. Leaning your head back into the headrest, you inhaled deeply in order to calm down the nerves creeping underneath your skin.

“They’re gone now.” Oikawa stated as he placed his keys back into the ignition to start the engine again. The car rumbled beneath your feet as he released the clutch, letting the car slowly roll out of the alleyway.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Oikawa turned the car in the opposite direction from the police.

“I can take you back to your place if you want.” Oikawa’s voice became monotonous, not a single expression resting on his face. “Or we can go back to my condo, whichever one. I can stay with you for the night if you’d like.”

While turning your head to the left, you brought your face close to the window as your breath condensed on the glass, spotting the Rainbow Bridge in the distance from earlier. You somehow recognized the place you were in as the Minato ward, just a little south from Downtown Tokyo. “Where’s your condo?”

“It’s in the Shibuya district, not too far from here. I just took the other way in order to lead the police in the wrong direction, you know, to avoid any suspicion.” Oikawa peered his head to the left and then to the right, checking to see if there was any traffic before advancing forward, shifting the transmission from third to fourth gear.

You looked back out to the left, observing the street you both were driving on—in the distance, several highways stretched far into downtown, multiple buildings standing tall into the sky. The night was calm, just barely seeing the stars up in the violet atmosphere.

Turning your head back to the right, you looked at Oikawa with your answer. “Well, we can go back to your place then. Mine’s a little far from where we are.”

“You sure? I don’t mind the drive.” With his left hand, he signaled to turn right, his indicators blinking against the road signs.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You knew exactly what you were doing, asking for him to drive you both back to his condo—it was painfully obvious to him, yet it seemed like your advances didn’t stop Oikawa from entering the expressway that led back up to Shibuya. He relaxed his eyelids a bit, accelerating his speed through the bridge with the Tokyo skyline spanning throughout the view.

You placed your hand into your denim jacket pocket and pulled out your phone, glancing up to check the clock as it read 1:37 AM. Time seemed to pass by quickly, remembering that you were just doing your chemistry homework in your apartment yesterday evening. Now, as you were on your way to Oikawa’s condo—you couldn’t help but notice everything was happening way too fast and way too easily, knowing exactly what was to come in a matter of a few hours.

You suddenly remembered about Iwaizumi, questioning to yourself if he might have been worried of your whereabouts. Just to give him a peace of mind, you scrolled through your contacts and tapped on his name before placing your phone up to your ear. As you heard the dial-tone ring three times, within a second he picked up, the roar of an engine greeting you through the speaker.

“Hello?” Iwaizumi croaked before clearing his throat, hearing him shuffle something on the other side. He called your name out, making sure you were still there. “Where are you? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m safe. I’m actually still with Cypher,” you lowered the volume of your voice slightly as you stared out the window. “We’re going back to his condo.”

“His condo?! I didn’t say he could bring you back to his place.” Iwaizumi scolded, his voice growing a bit annoyed. You could sense the same protectiveness he’s always had for you, even when you both were young.

“Hajime, relax, it was my decision.” You turned your head to face Oikawa, watching the corner of his mouth slightly turn up.

“Nah, I still want to talk to him. Give him the phone.” Iwaizumi commanded, reluctant to accept the fact you were an adult, able to make decisions for yourself.

“He’s driving. I can’t just—” Oikawa brought out his left hand, insinuating for you to give him your phone while he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion. You placed it face up onto his palm before he cleared his throat, bringing it up close to his ear.

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa greeted with a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. You could hear the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice booming through your phone, yelling in all sorts of directions out of the speaker. All Oikawa did was chuckle to himself, taking in all the insults and threats from your cousin with a grain of salt.

“You know it was her decision, right? I didn’t force her to do anything,” he responded into the phone, restating what you had already told Iwaizumi. “Okay, fine. I’ll take her back.”

“What? No.” You reached out for your phone again, asking for it back. “What did he say?”

“He said he wants me to take you back to your apartment or else he’s going to break my neck, or something.” Oikawa scoffed and chuckled to himself before placing his left hand back on the gearstick, downshifting to third gear in order to slow down with the traffic.

You both still heard Iwaizumi scold Oikawa through the phone, his voice now growing deep and exasperated, noticing he started to sound like a broken record with the constant insults. “Shittykawa, I will personally drive over to your fucking condo and beat the living hell out of you and your shitty ass car!”

“Shut up Hajime, you’re being rude now.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back into your seat, letting out a large sigh. He continued to yell into the speaker as you cupped your hand over the microphone, turning your head to whisper. “Let’s just lie and say you’re taking me back to my place.”

Oikawa let out a loud chuckle to himself as he rested his left elbow on the middle console, turning his head over to shoot you a cheeky grin. “I like the way you think.”

You smiled back before placing your phone up to your ear again, hearing Iwaizumi continue to lecture you on why you shouldn’t go back to Oikawa’s condo for completely irrational and absurd reasons. “Okay Hajime. He’s taking me back to my apartment right now.”

“About damn time. Look, I’m about to arrive at this one girl’s place, so I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” Iwaizumi’s tone quickly shifted, confusing you on what he had just mentioned.

“What the fuck—?”

“Love you!” He quickly exclaimed before hanging up, your phone now displaying your background screensaver. With your eyebrows pinched and your lips pouted, a bewildered look formed on your face as you squinted down at your phone again.

“…Love you too, Hajime.”

You reclined back into your seat, slumping your shoulders slightly as you placed your phone back into your pocket, tucking both of your hands inside as well. Oikawa continued to drive down the expressway, acting as if the call with Iwaizumi didn’t happen.

During most of the car ride, you both sat in silence—listening to the rumble of the engine and the rotation of the tires, other traffic filling up your ears as you leaned your elbow on the open window. Staring straight up at the tall buildings with the wind in your face, you felt the cool breeze through your cheeks while resting your head on your palm.

You still didn’t know much about Oikawa, only what Leia had told you about him. Though, by what you had directly experienced, it didn’t seem like he lived up to his reputation at all—the way Leia had described his past, his façade and his notoriety, it didn’t fit his character. Yet, this was just your first impression of him; he could have been a completely different person underneath what he was showing you now.

He still intrigued your interest, making it a challenge for yourself to know what was really underneath the mask he was hiding behind. You turned your head to face him again, looking directly at the prominent dragon tattoo on his right forearm, only seeing what could be shown with his sleeves rolled. Oikawa quickly noticed you and glanced over to your side, cocking his eyebrow up.

“Got something to say?” He broke the silence, turning his attention back to the road.

You removed your head from your palm, shoving both of your hands inside the pockets of your oversized denim jacket. The wind from outside seeped into the car, brushing through your skin once again. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, proceeding to ask him a blunt question. “Yeah, I do. How’d you convince Hajime to join your gang?”

You raised an eyebrow again, turning your head to face him. In the back of your mind, you still wondered how Iwaizumi was able to involve himself with someone who had previously been associated with the yakuza—you’ve known him to always be the kind of person to “follow the rules” ever since he was younger. It seemed out of place for him, presuming he might have been persuaded in terms of money or future promises in exchange to be initiated in.

“He came into my shop looking for parts.” Oikawa responded hesitantly, his eyes still focused on the road. “And I didn’t convince your cousin at all. He wanted to join all on his own.”

There was a long pause in between your question and his answer, raising your suspicion on the reliability of his statement. Iwaizumi was never the type of person to willingly join a group of people as he was more of a person to do things on his own, at least when it was anything related to cars. You remembered that the only other person he would willingly let fix his car alongside your help was no other than your father. “Hmm… okay, but I don’t really believe you.”

“Well look at it this way—your cousin, all throughout his life, has been into cars. Fixing them, racing them. He probably mentioned before that he’d want a career out of it too. Sound familiar?” There was a brief moment of silence between you two as you didn’t respond to his rhetoric. Oikawa looked towards your direction one last time, raising an eyebrow in the process. “Now wouldn’t it make sense he would want to join a gang that does all those things, while also being guaranteed a job at my shop?”

Although all of his reasons were logically sound, you still weren’t fully convinced; you wanted to know the details, you wanted to fully understand. Perhaps that was your problem—you always wanted to know exactly the reason why. “Yeah, I guess that does sound believable or whatever.”

“Well, baby you can believe whatever you want to believe.” You turned your head and looked out the window again, fixing your vision to stare at yourself through the mirror. The clouds began to creep in, blocking out the moon up in the sky. “So, if what you’re telling me is true, that’s exactly how Hajime got into street racing?”

“Correct.”

Turning your neck to face him, you asked him another question, watching him turn the wheel to the right with one hand. “Can I ask how did you get into street racing?”

Oikawa quickly whipped his head to the left, leaning his body over to check the traffic coming in from the opposite direction. His pupils quickly glanced at you, his eyelids relaxed without an expression on his face. Before turning his wheel completely over, he cleared his throat and mumbled softly. “Through DK. You met him, right?”

You recalled the man you had bumped into earlier, remembering if you hadn’t, Leia would not have told you about Oikawa’s reputation. “Yeah, I did. Have you always known him?”

“I actually met DK when I first moved back to Tokyo two years ago.” He turned the steering wheel to the left and signaled to change lanes, slowing down the car. “He was already established as Drift King of the underground street racing scene—in fact, he was the one who got me into cars and racing as a sport up here.”

He exited down the highway ramp and into a busy district on the outskirts of Downtown Tokyo. The neon lights of several businesses reflected on the hood of his car as you passed through a road filled with lively people walking on the side. Despite the time almost reaching 2 AM, the streets of the urban Tokyo neighborhood still boomed with vibrant energy.

“You weren’t already a racer back in Osaka? You’re pretty much a natural at drifting.” You peered your head out the window, looking up into the tall buildings with purple, blue and red neon lights as it reflected back on Oikawa’s car.

He smiled in the corner of his mouth, letting out a sharp exhale. “Thanks, but no I wasn’t. I did other things.”

“What, like selling drugs?” You joked, slightly chuckling to yourself as you placed your hands back into your pockets, gripping your right hand around your phone. 

“Yeah, exactly.”

The yakuza was notorious for doing those kinds of businesses, yet you thought he could have done something else in place of it, like running gambling rings or clubs—that was what you remembered most yakuza members did nowadays when the largest yakuza clan in all of Japan banned their men from dealing in drug trafficking.

Your eyes widened as you fixed your posture, turning your head back to face him. Silence filled the car once again, your mouth slightly parted open as you stared at Oikawa. The tattoos on his arm stood out against the lights as your eyes fixed on his left hand—remembering the dagger on his index, the cross on his middle. The small crescent moon situated on his ring finger, the ink completely filled in. 

“Oh, you were being serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Oikawa responded in a monotonous voice, barely turning his head to look at you as he rev-matched down to second gear, slowly turning into an underground parking garage situated beneath a tall building.

“So you’re basically a criminal.” You assumed as the car descended down a series of ramps, the rumble of his engine echoing louder than before. He looked at you with an alluring gaze, one you could not describe how it made you feel.

“Always have been, baby.”

next chapter | next next chapter | deciphered masterlist

© hoeneymilktea 2024, I am protected by copyright. I do not give permission to translate or repost my works.

[readytoescalate]

"EMORY IS EVERYWHERE": AN OPEN INVITATION FROM PROTESTORS OCCUPYING EMORY UNIVERSITY

As the Palestine Solidarity movement rips across college campuses, college administrators and government bureaucrats are rushing to denounce anyone taking action as an “outside agitator”. Those who grease the gears of the war machine think that this rhetoric will erode public support for bold actions at Emory. They are wrong. 45 years after the Camp David Accords - an infamously botched, imperialist plan for peace between Israel and Egypt with no input from Palestinians - was orchestrated by an Emory faculty alum President Carter, we observe that there is nowhere on Earth “outside” of Emory University. We want to say as clearly as possible - we welcome “outside agitators” to our struggle against the ruthless genocide of Palestinians. Emory University has the highest tuition, the lowest acceptance rate, and by far the highest endowment of any institution in Georgia. Economic barriers, infamously racist standardized testing, and nepotism have barred many from studying at Emory. To students in Atlanta and beyond - we invite you to struggle with us. Local high school students dream of attending Emory, and many teachers encourage them to study hard and take up extracurriculars to increase their chance acceptance, knowing their chance of admission is slim. To local high school students and teachers, we invite you to struggle with us. Just down the street from Emory Hospital Midtown is the site of the former Peachtree-Pine homeless shelter. In a bid to gentrify the city and evict its houseless population, the City closed the shelter and did not replace it, displacing hundreds and cutting off a last line of support for thousands of poor people in the city. Emory University purchased this building, just one example of Emory’s contribution to gentrification in Atlanta. To those without homes, or those displaced by gentrification, we invite you to struggle with us. Emory’s $11 billion endowment, the 11th highest in the country, is an outsized influence in Atlanta’s economy. While economic inequality widens in the city, Emory remains a bastion of the rich. To the restaurant workers, house cleaners, gig workers, and all proletarians - we invite you to struggle with us. In 2020, Emory University laied off or furloughed over 1500 employees. To those who are no longer affiliated with the university - we invite you to struggle with us. 4 out of 5 students at Emory are not from Georgia. While the Freedom Riders were heading down to Georgia in the 1960’s to fight for Black people’s right to vote, segregationist governors cast them as “outside agitators”. To those from outside Atlanta and Georgia, we invite you to struggle with us. 1 in 5 students at Emory are from outside of the United States. The Palestinian students murdered by American weapons under Biden will never be one of those students. To those from outside of the country, we invite you to struggle with us. In April 2023, Emory admin called the police to break up a protest led by students against Cop City on the quad. None of the pigs were Emory students. To all of those who struggle against police brutality, we invite you to struggle with us. EMORY IS EVERYWHERE. THE PLACE FOR DIVISION IS NOWHERE. WE INVITE YOU TO STRUGGLE WITH US.

[mintconditioned]

student debt is getting scarier. here’s how to protect your future.

if you’re a teen thinking about college, here’s something you might not know: the decisions you make now could either save you thousands — or lock you into years of student debt. and this moment in history? it’s making those decisions even more important.

why this matters:

1️⃣ interest rates are rising. the federal reserve raised interest rates several times recently to fight inflation. that means new federal student loans now come with higher interest rates (5.5% for undergrads in 2024–25, up from 4.99%). private loans? even higher. translation: borrowing today costs you more long-term than it did a few years ago.

2️⃣ student loan forgiveness is in flux. biden’s large-scale student loan forgiveness plan was blocked by the supreme court, but the administration is pushing new targeted relief (as of 2025, $146 billion in debt relief for about 4 million borrowers). great — but also unpredictable. future forgiveness depends on politics. counting on it is risky.

3️⃣ college costs are still climbing. average tuition at public 4-year universities rose 4% last year alone. in some states, budget shortfalls mean public universities are cutting programs but not lowering costs — so you may pay more for less.

4️⃣ economic instability is affecting job prospects. tech layoffs. hiring slowdowns. AI disrupting entire industries. a degree still matters, but planning for debt when the job market is uncertain? that matters even more.

so what can you actually do — beyond the basic “apply for scholarships” advice?

📚 know how to read a financial aid award letter. most teens don’t. schools may bury parent plus loans or high-interest private loans inside your “aid” package. use tools like nerdwallet’s aid letter decoder to understand what’s really free money and what’s expensive debt.

🔍 research state-specific aid + tuition reciprocity. look up whether your state participates in tuition reciprocity programs (like WUE for western states). out-of-state tuition can sometimes drop by 50% if your state has an agreement. most families never hear about this.

🛠 combine vocational training + college. instead of a full 4-year program, look at hybrid paths: 1–2 years of vocational training + part-time degree later. fields like tech support, healthcare administration, logistics pay well without requiring a full degree first. you can earn earlier and avoid full-time debt.

🖥 maximize low-cost online college credits now. through dual enrollment, clep exams, or online platforms like outlier.org, you can earn gen ed credits for ~$400/class instead of ~$1,500+. even one semester of credit saved = thousands in future loans avoided.

💬 talk to current college students about debt — not just admissions officers. schools will tell you about campus life. current students can tell you whether people are drowning in loans. if everyone says “yeah, most of us are $50k in debt,” listen.

bottom line:

student debt isn’t just a future problem. inflation, rising interest rates, shaky job markets, and political uncertainty make this the hardest environment for student borrowers in over a decade. the good news? teens today are savvier than ever — and if you start planning early, you can avoid some of the mistakes that trap millions of others.

your future self will absolutely thank you

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tontos HC:

Tontos is the Bruce Wayne of the Woso world. Like she is the richest footballer (even more than Messi and Ronaldo). Like the company she inherits is something she can live off comfortably.

But the thing is, Tontos doesn’t want to be rich. She dumps a lot of funding into her parents company for the workers but increased salaries and more benefits equals increased productivity and retention, so the company is making more money. She gives full benefits to all employees (including part time and contractors) but this back fires as it becomes the #1 worker friendly company. When she sees she is gaining more money from this she begins converting her parents buildings into green buildings with a full plan that is successful to try and get rid of her money. This turns into a branched off business arm that is all for converting other companies’ buildings into green buildings, sparing no expense. It turns out to be so successful in an effective and cost efficient way that she is gaining more profit.

Tontos then goes as to so far as to slash her own salary in the company and invests it into the company but its just so successful she’s gaining profit at an alarming rate. Like she has more money than she knows what to do with. And of course this catches the attention of the media meaning more profits for her company.

Tontos next thought is to invest in her hometown and Barcelona. She makes sure all the buildings are up to date and funds schools, hospitals, charities, clinics, sets up trusts for every one of them, anything to get rid of her money, but by god she is failing at it. Miserably. Like somehow, some way, this is just feeding back into her company and giving her more profits. Like she is just becoming richer against her will.

Because of all this positive PR, people invest into Tontos company. Tontos practically begs for them to stop, only for her cries to land on deaf ears. Tontos then sets up a foundation to pay for everyone’s college tuition in her home town and Barcelona and it begins to work until the public realises what she is doing and also invests in the foundation and everyone’s college begins to be free. She gets so annoyed because she can’t even give her money to her own foundation.

So Tontos tries to invest in football. She funds all of Barca’s trips, gets them the best hotels and training facilities. The healthiest food, the best medical care, anything she can think of. She even goes so far as to fund the team and allowance so they can give their jerseys to children without it docking their pay. All of this just increases play and health among the team that they begin to win more and by a larger margin that their profits soar meaning so does Tontos money. The next step is to invest in other leagues like the NWSL and the WSL but the same effect happens. She even funds a majority of Project ACL but even with all this spending it barely makes a mark in Tontos wealth.

But Tontos lives with Mapi and Ingrid and all their teens and kids. Surely she can distribute some wealth amongst them. Mapi and Ingrid are as stubborn as the day is long and refuse to take any money from Tontos but Tontos secretly pays for everything thing like utilities and groceries. She tries to fund Dirtbag to go to art school but Dirtbag has come up with a mysterious way to give it back to Tontos and it frustrates her to no end. She tries to give some to Sol but Sol teams uo with Dirtbag and just gives it back to her. She’s put away a sizable college fund for all five of Ingrid and Mapi’s children so they can go to college debt free wherever they want and does this for Nena too.

At this point Tontos is just so frustated with trying to get rid of her money but can’t seem to find a way to spend it all. Like after a meeting with her accountants, Ingrid and Mapi just come home to Tontos lying on the ground with Toast in her chest just staring at the ceiling. When Mapi and Ingrid walk over to her to make sure she’s okay, all they get is “I have too much money.”

Okay so I actually love this and have more thoughts:

There's no board overseeing the company and no shareholders so the sole profits are going to Tontos so all of her profits are just being invested back and raising salaries and supporting local charities and Tontos takes the bare minimum because she's already getting paid by Barcelona and Norway to play football

She's trying everything she can to try and limit the amount of money she's getting but all she's doing is getting a very good reputation and people flock to her companies because she gives such good benefits and such good standards for management

She's paid off all of Barcelona's debt and is secretly funnelling money into Mapi and Ingrid's accounts even though they insist she shouldn't pay rent

She's paid for Dirtbag (and Sol's @girlgenius1111 ) uni tuition but they insist on paying her back someday but she tries to tell them that she doesn't want that

She pays for Teeny's art school and all of Sunshine's cameras and Skatt's terrarium and uni and Cub's cafe and Bebita's motorbikes.

She even spoils Toast to the max but no matter how much she spends and donates, it just finds its way back to her and she has no idea what she should do to get rid of it all

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

May 22nd

~*~

1. Wanting to find a modern AU. The one scene I recall was in a parking lot, I think: the Jiangs are confronting WY, who had been at a party with LZ, possibly in order to see JYL. JC finds out about the sacrifice WY made for him. It was something to do with college tuition money this time around. Possibly YZY and WY both let the others think WY left of his own accord? @linderel

FOUND! 🧡 Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending) could be near the end

~*~

2. hello i am looking for a fic where wex was adopted into the wen sect. the scene i remember most is when wwx used a talisman to flatten himself so he can get through a door. id appreciate all the help thank you so much ♥️

FOUND! Communal Child-Rearing and Other Diplomatic Necessities by Elpie (Horribibble) (T, 4k, WangXian, LQR/WRH, Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

~*~

3. for the next fic finder, can someone help me with a oneshot sickfic i have been finding for too long ;; i think the main premise was ljy pushing wwx into a pond bc he was upset, and so wwx got unwell (and didnt tell anyone?) thank you for the hard work!

FOUND? Some Days. by jollytortoise (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Shock, Horror)

~*~

4. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian returns back from the dead in Mo xuanyu's body but he lost all his memories. He doesn't remember his name or any of the events of the past. He is saved by Lan zhan and the juniors as soon as he wakes up and they take him to Gusu where he lives and falls in love with Lan zhan. Lan zhan also falls in love with him but he is conflicted beacuse he feels like he's betraying wei wuxian. In the end, he remembers and they get together.

FOUND? Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

~*~

5. hi!! for the next fic finder — im looking for a wlw wangxian one where lwj was a cultivator(?) who sailed the ocean looking for resentful energy(??) (i dont remember) and one day she picks up mermaid wwx. i dont remember much other than wwx getting dry and turning into human, staying on her boat, and being curious about her own human anatomy which leads to lwj fucking her in every surface available. it Has plot. please help 🥺🥺🥺🫶🫶🫶

FOUND! 💖 splash;; by defractum (nyargles) (E, 11k, wangxian, F/F, modern cultivation, Gender Changes, Merpeople, Humanfucking, the opposite of monsterfucking, Rule 63)

~*~

6. FF request! This is a modern au. I think wwx, lwj, lxc, nmj, nhs and maybe also jc, jyl, jzx, wq and wn, go on some sort of vacation under the excuse of night hunting. They finish a night hunt really quickly and then nmj (as the oldest and only sect leader?) is basically like, I don't care what you guys do, this is my vacation. They're all staying in the same house and divide into rooms by couple. Any ideas are much appreciated! Thank you!

FOUND? 🔒 Night Hunts and Getaways by Netrixie (T, 7k, LXC/NMJ, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC/NHS, WWX & LXC, NHS could be a criminal mastermind, if he really wanted to, but he uses his powers for good, the plot exists merely for LXC to get some dick, so don't think too hard about it, Modern Cultivation, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, LXC centric, treating canon with gleeful irreverence, ships other than nielan are background, Attempt at Humor) It's part of a series.

~*~

7. Hi! This is for Fic Finder. ☺️

I'm trying to find two fics. I don't remember much, unfortunately.

A) It's a time travel in which WWX comes back in time and go to visit WQ to convince her that he is from future and both make a long term plan to eliminate all the "bad guys".

B) It's also a time travel, but this time WWX is found by the Wens and is raised with the heirs of WR. The scene I remember quite well is one in witch LWJ is fighting with one of the Wen heirs (don't remember who, not WQ or WN) and when the Wen is going to attack LWJ, he sees the red ribbon that WWX gifted to LWJ. This means that LWJ is WWX's love (and fiance maybe?) so the Wen decided not to attack LWJ and it's killed.

I hope you can help me, thanks for everything!

🥰💕 @wangxiansgirl

7A)

FOUND? Here With Me ‘verse Series by iamwish (T/G, 80k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, wwx turns this into a no war!au, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator, Character Death, Blood and Gore, BAMF WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, there’s some elements of, Grief/Mourning, Character Study, POV JYL, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death)

FOUND? We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, Minor ChenLi, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It)

7B)

FOUND? When Flowers Spring from Killing Things by windsweptice (B0redaf) (Not rated, 100k, wangxian, Wen WWX, Demonic Cultivation, WWX Has No Golden Core, he's got a resentful one instead, Yīn Iron, WRH pov, LWJ pov, WWX pov, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Sentient Burial Mounds, XY Is A Little Shit, WQ pov, Protective WWX, Protective WQ, Cinnamon Roll WN, Protective WN, LXC pov, BAMF WWX, Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Fall of Lotus Pier, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WN, BAMF WQ, Good Person WX, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Weddings) the scene with the ribbon being spotted is in Chapter 18

~*~

8. Hi so I'm trying to find a podfic that I listen to few years ago I don't remember a lot about it but I do remember that wei ing wen ing and wen qing went to his nephew's naming ceremony or birthday I forget and Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian we're alive and there for their grandson's naming ceremony or birthday and I remember that madam yu come up to wei ing and took his wrist and like looked if he had a golden core she was like I don't know how she reacted but she respected him because he gave his golden cord to his little brother and like I don't know much I can't remember much but I do remember there was a scuffle and all that I'm just trying to find this podfic if you can find it please tell me if you can't well at least you tried @constancebloodstone

FOUND? seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

~*~

9. Hello! For fic finder: I am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian was cursed to lie / say the opposite of what he truly thought. But everyone thought he was cursed to tell the truth, so when he says all kinds of horrible things to people they believe him thinking that he has been compelled to say what he really thinks of them. The curse is only broken after people realize he is lying (not truthing). Wei Wuxian then has a series of conversations with the various characters as he reassures them that he was lying and that he didn’t mean whatever he said. He also has some angst about how people so easily thought the worst of him / believed his lies. This plot is so clear in my head but I just can’t find it in my ao3 history! Please, can anyone find this? Thank you in advance <3 <3

FOUND? A Kiss of True Love to break a Curse by Wangxian101 (T, 5k, WangXian, Teenage Wangxian, Not Canon Compliant, kiss of true love, curse of lies, truth curse, Angst, Fluff, When the only way to break the curse is to kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Teen Angst, They are in love your honour, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, there is only one brain cell in this group and it belongs to JC, LXC is the biggest wangxian shipper, jc is a good bro, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Gremlin WWX, Happily Every After, LXC will gut anyone who hurts his precious little brother, True Love's Kiss, JC is an awkward bean, LWJ POV, WWX POV, WWX is a closet romantic, WWX loves his romance novels, Protective JC, JC loves his gremlin brother, Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, it all works out in the end)

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10. Hi 👋🏼 can you please find me this fic . It was WIP when I came across it. idk if it has been updated or not . The story went like meng yao , xue yang, and Wei Ying all end up in Burial Mounds as kids, and they are adopted by the ghost ? Of a queen of a fallen kingdom. I think the wens had something to do with the destruction of the kingdom.

FOUND? The Kids Are Okay (I Think) by GossamerGlint (Not Rated, 80k, JGY & WWX, WWX & XY, WWX & JGY & XY, WangXian, WIP, give wwx jgy and xy a mom agenda, but not just any mom, powerful ghost empress mom with a revenge plot :), Royalty AU, Prince WWX, Prince JGY, Prince XY, Burial Mounds, Yílíng Wèi Sect, more like yiling xue sect, its... complicated, illustrated when the mood strikes)

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11. HEYYYYY!! there was this pretty woman fusion of wangxian, can you please find it?????

FOUND? A Sure Thing by ElDiablito_SF (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern, Pretty Woman Fusion, Prostitution, Unsafe Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempted Sexual Assault, You'd think this would be wild and kinky, but actually they're soft and gross, past Zhancheng and they're still friends, Prostitute WWX, rich asshole LWJ, fashion bitch LWJ, Shoe Porn, background attempted Xiyao, Drinking to Cope, physical assault, Villain JGY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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12. For fic finder: It was a canon-divergent or post-canon fic where someone reminds Wei Wuxian that the juniors grew up in a time of peace and so they don’t have war-instincts (like startle reflexes or ptsd from battle, and in general they are too trusting). I think the juniors too were warned that the older generation is more jumpy because of what they had been through when they were teens, and so they shouldn’t sneak up on Wei Wuxian. Unfortunately I don’t remember any of the actual plot, just this bit about the differences between the generations.

FOUND? tell some storm by qurbat (G, 31k, wangxian, JC & WWX, LSZ & WWX, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, liberal amounts of outsider POV, the legend of wangxian, how to create a romance epic for dummies) since wwx has a conversation with lsz in chapter 2 about wwxs generation being one of war

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13. hello dear, I was looking for a ff where wei wuxian left with a-yuan after wen remnants are dead. NHS secretly send them materials anonymously. After NMJ died, NHS come to wei wuxian to find his brother's body.

FOUND? Innocence by snowberryrose (G, 8k, WangXian, Introspection, Family, Canon Divergence)

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14. I wanted you to find a fic I read and lost among the saved ones I have. it was where the lans protected wwx and the time wwx saw them protecting him. I think it was 4 parts and 1. I just remember that. thank you if you find it and sorry for disturbing

FOUND? one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things)

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15. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where wangxian were already married ig but don't love each other just yet and one day wy faints due to lack of scenting so they start as ordered by lqr. At the end or something wy leaves lwj for a bit because he's angry that lwj told him to stand up for himself when jiangs insult him, but he comes back after lwj apologises to wn for slapping him. Also I think its jiang corp and lan corp kinda stuff and wy is stuck in btw. Thank you sm I know this is confusing so sorry @tinkalb

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16. I'm looking for some fics where Wei Ying achieves some sort of mastership(?) in cultivation. I think there were two of them that I read which had this idea... but I'm not sure now. I vaguely recall that he had to travel quite a bit to get to an instituion of some sort and there was a series of tests that he had to pass. I think there might also be something about him having to save up the money for it. Thanks!

FOUND? 🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 179k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war) For #16 of the recent Fic Finder with WWX getting mastership in a cultivation field, there’s a chance it might be Truth Will Out by KizuKatana. The only thing is, WWX doesn’t actually achieve mastership, but he goes to Gus’s LAN to apply for a teaching job for talismans, and LWJ won’t consider him for multiple reasons including that WWX doesn’t have a master’s license (something like that)

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17. Hi, love your blog. Thanks for sharing such great content always! I would like to please request your assistance with finding a fic, it's driving me crazy because I thought I saved it. It's a modern au and lwj and wwx are coworkers and lwj is really shocked because wwx just came back from the dead 13 years later and he's acting normal in the office. Wwx has no idea he was dead the whole time. Please let me know if you know of it, thank you! @qilin-world

FOUND? A Ghost Story by Anonymous (E, 51k, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Modern with Magic, Mentions of Major Character Death, Resurrection, (the character death is not permanent), grave desecration, Grief/Mourning, Panic Attacks, Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Self-Harm, (the gore/body horror/self-harm all take place in dreams but they are still graphic), Compulsory Heterosexuality, internalized kinkshaming, Consensual Non-Consent, Masturbation, Bondage, WWX is a Manic Pixie Dead Boy) this fic has everything but WWX was only dead for three years, not thirteen

FOUND? Exactly what he wanted by Rookseeksraven (E, 32k, WangXian, Modern, Sex Cam Worker LWJ, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Housing Insecurity, Inaccurate sex cam work, Inaccurate sex, weirdo4weirdo, Masturbation, Vibrators, Creampie, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Unsafe Sex, they're really horny, Switch WangXian, Bathroom Sex, Office Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Cock Ring, Gags, Light Bondage, Nipple Piercings, Internalized Homophobia, not Jiang friendly, Slight LQR bashing, Getting Together, Secret Identity)

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18. Thnks for your work! I'm looking for a modern au fic. Teens WWX and LWJ were chess players who knew each during junior competitions. WWX struggled to befriend LWJ until he got LWJ to invite him to his house. They meet again at a chess competition and they kiss. Everything is ruined when SMS (¿?) accuses WWX of cheating and nobody believes in his innocence. WWX abandons the competition and don't contact LWJ. 13 years pass and LWJ faces WWX again in another competition but he is disguised as MXY

FOUND? Trebuchet by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 61k, WangXian, Modern AU, they’re chess players in this, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, rocky reunions, Good Uncle LQR, best boy wn, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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19. Hello, for fic finder, can u help me find a fic with wangxian fake dating? I remember a particular scenario where, during the wen doctrine WWX asks LWJ to marry him expecting rejection but LWJ agrees. And our sweet sweet WWX proposes to fake a relationship and not bcoz he was head over heels in love with LWJ. I don't remember anything else from the fic. Sorry. Can you help me? @grrumpywoof

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20. greetings! i'm trying to find a fic where jyl is the one who time travels. her younger counterpart is still present, so she takes street kid wwx and lives in wen territory. she falls in love with wen qing & ning's (mother? father?) and discovers cooking cultivation. she assassinates wrh with it, allowing wwx to meet lwj as he gets older.

FOUND! 後悔莫及 (Too Late for Regrets) by liverbiver9 (T, 20k, JYL/OC, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, JYL-centric, POV JYL, Genderqueer WWX, Trans Male Character, Kid Fic, Child WWX, Fluff and Angst, Family Feels, Found Family, WWX is a Wen, technically, Assassination Attempt(s), WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Minor MianQing, No Sunshot Campaign, No Golden Core Transfer, Everybody Lives, mentioned minor character death, Gender Non-Conforming WWX, Trans WWX)

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[styrvexxual]

Han Jisung's Guide to The College Experience (CH. 1)

My child, my first ever fic, right here on Tumblr

minsung-centric (ft. a few side ships ;) )

7.3k words

Nothing 18+ here -> not sure what's happening later

college au, not quite enemies to lovers but like kinda, me projecting my hatred for college on skz

also posted on ao3 here :) https://archiveofourown.org/works/61759963/chapters/157886353

An empty stage, save for a single microphone conveniently placed center stage. Enter stage left, one Han Jisung. “College fucking sucks,” he says into the mic.

The result is a resounding agreement, applause echoing through the room. People have even started throwing flowers towards the stage (and various other items that shall remain unnamed). The aforementioned Han Jisung has never felt more seen and accomplished, this shall go down as the greatest moment in his otherwise bland, unimportant life. That is until he hears a faint booing from somewhere in the third row.

Kim Motherfucking Seungmin

Or at least, this is how it would’ve played out in said Han Jisung’s head if this situation happened. In hindsight, he realizes that might be the wrong person to play the role of his daydream arch nemesis given that Kim Seungmin usually cannot be bothered to give two shits about most things, and definitely wouldn’t attend a speech given by Jisung even if just to be a general disturbance. Changbin on the other hand, the man who lives to give Jisung the younger brother treatment and constant humiliation? Now that might be just a slight bit more realistic.

Take right now for example. Fall registration, the worst part of the year for any underclassman who wants a sliver of a chance at classes that will prove themselves useful for their degree. Chan and Changbin, two upperclassmen who have taken it upon themselves to ‘adopt’ Jisung in a sense after he was able to squeeze himself into an actually useful lower-division music production class the other two had also enrolled in last semester, filled their schedules hours ago and were able to find classes that might one day provide them with their degrees. The rest of the day proceeds as follows:

The three rented a studio space for the day to begin recording for their last final project of the year knowing that they would each have to halt the process for their brief window of an enrollment period. Going into their senior and junior year respectively, in addition to their overachiever tendencies providing them extra course credits, Chan and Changbin had prime enrollment times earlier in the morning while Jisung had to wait until the late afternoon before he could even think of opening his laptop and checking his schedule.

After hours of anxious leg shaking and tense recording sessions, Jisung found himself in front of his laptop, refreshing the page as soon as it loaded until the buttons lit up that let him enroll in his courses. As soon as his enrollment window opened, a scream that could be heard across campus regardless of the soundproof recording booth was let out.

“Waitlist? Fucking bullshit is what it is.” Jisung muttered as he found himself able to enroll in only one of the five classes he had planned on for the next semester. Tens of thousands in yearly tuition payments and he can’t even get a fucking degree? Absurd.

Luckily his friends had taught him how to make backup schedules because surely there’s no way everything he wanted to take was full, it’s not like there are that many people on this campus. Right?

Wrong. After a grand total of six separate schedules and 16 courses Jisung was even considering taking (including those horrific STEM classes the school wanted him to take to graduate thank you very much) only two other classes had spots, neither of which fell under his major. At this rate, he wasn’t even going to be allowed to come back to campus with how barren his schedule looked.

“Chat, I fear we might be cooked here,” Jisung said to no one in particular. Well, actually that’s a lie, as there are two other people in the room with Jisung, and he would very much so like them to bestow upon him their worldly advice.

“Jisung, as funny as I might find this, which mind you is incredibly hilarious, you do need to find another class to fill your schedule,” Changbin responded. As objectively right as he is, Jisung hopes all of his classes get canceled so he can feel a fraction of the stress he’s currently under.

“Have you considered sorting by classes with available spots? You might as well just take what you can get before you’re stuck with waitlists longer than the class size.” Chan adds. He’s never wronged Jisung before and he’s already under enough stress, so he can have a slightly better fate. Maybe only a class or two was canceled, or a waitlist he’ll never get off of.

In all honesty, Jisung wouldn't wish his fate upon anyone, not even Kim Seungmin. Now that he’s been brought up within the confines of Jisung’s mind palace, he wonders how enrollment went for his roommate. Probably significantly better considering he took six classes a semester his first year and the classes for his major have 200 spots compared to Jisung’s 25 spot music classes. Jisung briefly considers swapping his major to computer science, as studying classics like Seungmin is quite frankly too pretentious for him, but quickly remembers how poorly that would go for him as he had to drop his course on the subject last fall before he failed it. Surely he should’ve gotten some good karma from the computer science major he got off the comically large waitlist. Wait, that's not the point here, enrollment closes in five minutes and Jisung still doesn’t have a fourth class.

“That’s it, I’m sorting by classes with available spots and just clicking on one. As long as it doesn’t stop me to tell me my schedule conflicts it literally cannot be worse.” Jisung announces to the room. It’s not like a university campus has classes so useless this backfires on him.

“You sure about that one? I mean you could at least try to find something that fulfills a graduation requirement. I'm sure something still has space.” Jisung hears Chan ask in the background. He pays no mind to this warning and instead clicks on a random class that pops up with available spots.

“There’s no way you seriously just signed yourself up for a two-hour 8 am every Monday and Wednesday. I don’t even care what that class is, you’ve just screwed yourself beyond belief here kid.” Changbin says, cut off only by his laughter. Jisung doesn’t really find this situation humorous, but to each their own he supposes.

With that, the enrollment window closes and all Jisung is left with is 4 class codes and the worst schedule of his college years. How can someone end up with an 8 am every day of the week but also an 8 pm? Jisung closes the tab his schedule is on, refusing to believe this is something that actually happened to him. Before doing so, he noticed a class code under one of his 8 am classes that wasn’t on his schedule before, CDM101, clearly the class he signed up for randomly. Surely it can’t be that hard, it’s an introductory course, and the only classes he can think of that start with C are communications and chemistry, and anything under the latter is definitely full already.

The topic of registration is nothing but a stray thought in the back of Jisung’s mind, batted away like a cat toy. He’s enrolled in four classes, he won’t be kicked out of school, and at least something there will be going towards his degree. As the three begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel on their final project, they quickly wrap up their recording and agree to finish editing on their own and grab dinner instead as they have very little left. Three burnt-out college students versus a single final project for their music production class, who will win? Let the records state that although it was a concerningly close fight, the students did in fact win, and they all walked away with an A on their transcript.

As the three boys leave the restaurant, significantly more optimistic than they were walking into the studio (save for one Han Jisung), a lull in the conversation occurs and Chan just can’t seem to help himself because he immediately turns to Jisung and asks, “Are you sure you’ll be okay in your classes? You can always just talk to an advisor, that’s literally what they’re paid to do. We both know you don’t do well with mornings and I don’t want to see your grades slip just because you didn’t want to get up to go to class.”

Chan truly is nothing if not a worrying mother at heart. Jisung would find it endearing if it wasn’t contributing to his already soured mood over his classes. Yes his schedule sucks, and yes he will be immediately calling his parents once he gets back to his dorm to cry about it, but nobody needs to know that, especially his friends.

“While I appreciate the concern, it was truly never that deep, I’ll be fine,” Jisung responds, before fully turning to Chan to add on, “and everyone knows advisors are actually paid to be a pain in your ass and make sure you enroll in even less than if you just did it yourself.”

Yes, Jisung might be a little frustrated with his schedule, but he’s dealt with worse classes. Like that computer science class, but at least he could drop that one. So he signed up for a communications class, big fucking deal. He’ll just show up to the first lecture, find out if attendance is mandatory, and never show up again if it’s not. Communications classes are easy, he knows how to talk to people, and surely that’s what he signed up for, right?

Right?

——————------------------------

Wrong.

Again, seriously? Jisung wonders how many times he’ll be wrong before he gets something right because it’s apparently more than two. Well, it’s a lot more than two given his track record but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that Jisung needs to find his classes, starting with his Monday 8 am communications class. He left his dorm around 7:30 this morning, as he was positive this was all the time he needed to reach the mystery class, and right he was. Gold star for Jisung everybody! He should throw a party, maybe even invite his new communications professor.

Now Jisung knows some friends of friends who have taken a communications class or two for an easy A, so he knows the building this class is in is definitely not the communications building. He’s almost positive that the building in question is on the other side of campus, not two buildings away from the music building over by where the art classes are held. He also knows that classes tend to stick within the building of their department as to avoid confusion. So the question remains: What the fuck did Jisung sign up for last spring?

A dance class. A fucking contemporary dance class. It couldn’t have just been a communications class, a history of dance class, or even any other style of dance. It just had to be something that requires a genuine understanding of movement and a body with the capacity to do things no human should be able to do. It should be, in theory, or at least according to the syllabus and Han Jisung’s limited knowledge of the dance department, an easy A just like it would’ve been if he actually signed up for a communications class. However, there’s one bright, shining error in his brilliant plan to get an A.

Mandatory Attendance.

“Showing up is half the battle my ass,” Jisung mutters as he reviews the syllabus the professor had been handing out at the door. He hopes she didn’t hear him as that could possibly win for the worst first impression of Jisung’s college career.

Yes the final for this class is a paper, and yes he has maybe three homework assignments the entire quarter; but seriously, how hard is it to make a syllabus where attendance isn’t 50% of your final grade? At least in other mandatory attendance classes, the portion of your grade that attendance counts for tends to be insignificant enough that you could still get an A while missing a good portion of lectures so long as you did well on the exams. Jisung begins weighing the possibility of dropping out of college entirely and living off of Changbin’s trust fund when the door closes, signifying what is usually the beginning of class, but who fucking knows at this point, this is uncharted territory here.

“Welcome to beginning contemporary dance, I’ll be your professor for this semester.” A voice cuts through Jisung’s pessimistic stream of consciousness, “As stated in the syllabus, you will have a teaching assistant who will be attending class alongside you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t attend class today due to a conflict in scheduling within the department, but know that you have much to learn from him”

The professor continues to drone on about how despite the class being made for beginners, she expects effort and attention from all students regardless of their dance background, or lack thereof (definitely a pointed comment thank you very much); and then a few other things regarding the attendance policies and grading structure. Jisung, however, is paying shit attention to this little speech and hasn’t been since the professor mentioned a teaching assistant. He? Now don’t get it twisted, Jisung is in no position to be prejudiced. In fact, it’ll be great to have some boy doing spins around him for two hours at a time. Jisung’s never been able to focus too well in class without something to look at, so surely this will motivate him to show up at 8 am twice a week for the next 18 weeks. On second thought, it probably won’t, but it doesn’t hurt to hope.

Jisung’s thoughts are once again interrupted by the professor, this time addressing him directly. “Sorry, could you repeat that?” He asks, trying (and failing) to make himself not look like the biggest idiot on the planet.

“We’re doing introductions. Just tell the class your name, year, major, and a fun fact. Nothing too difficult, that comes later of course.” the professor tells him, adding a seemingly ominous wink to the end of her sentence.

Well, that’s easy, the same shit you do in every class, surely this sentiment will remain similar for the remainder of the semester. Jisung thinks for a second before responding with, “Hi everyone, I’m Jisung, I’m a second-year music major, and I’ve never danced before nor wanted to in my entire life.”

“Thank you for participating Jisung, and I sincerely hope this class can change your views on dance.” With the passive-aggressive comment from his professor out of the way, Jisung resumes his stream of consciousness. Today’s class seems to be largely focused on getting to know each other, which he does so on autopilot, listening but never taking in the words of his peers.

For once, the universe decided to work in Jisung’s favor, and class got out early, meaning he had an extra hour to spend before his 8 pm lecture that night that he didn’t really need but still liked having regardless. He found himself at the campus coffee shop he frequented his freshman year in the hopes of finishing those pesky homework assignments he was supposed to do before classes started. Say what you want, but summer homework is egregious and should be banned regardless of the subject. At long last, it was 8 pm, and time for a class that Jisung actually gave a fuck about, his sole music-related class; which turned out to be a history class? Look, registration was rough, and if he needs it to graduate, then by god Jisung is going to get that snoozefest done.

Luckily the class is one he shares with his friends, so really it could have been worse. You know, like the rest of his schedule. Once he reached the classroom, he noticed Chan and Changbin waving him over, having saved him a seat. Jisung knew what they wanted to hear, and briefly yet seriously contemplated running the other direction and taking the inevitable hit to his grade that ditching class would leave him with. Despite all this, he moves to sit between his friends, anticipating the immediate badgering and questioning, but not quite moving to deflect. Look, he just needs to complain, like seriously who makes an 8 am mandatory — attendance being half your grade at that? He pauses for a second and proceeds to voice this thought to his peers.

“You mean to tell me you’ve somehow found an introductory communications class at 8 am that lasts two hours, mind you, that’s completely mandatory and worth half your grade just to show up?” Changbin explains, looking a little too enthused by Jisung’s suffering.

“Nah dude, that’s the worst part, it’s not even a communications class,” Jisung responds. “It’s a fucking dance class. I have to participate and shit, can’t even slack off in the corner of a lecture hall.”

“You know, most people go to class to learn,” Chan adds. “It only makes sense that would be applied to more practical classes.” Curse him and his realistic worldview, and sue Jisung for using lectures to online shop and play 2048, it’s not like they aren’t recorded and uploaded anyway.

Upon giving his two cents, which are somehow worth more than most people’s despite still being two cents, Chan looks away to pay attention to the lecture. Jisung can’t help but thank him in his head. Not because he’s no longer grilling him, but because he knows Changbin won’t let up and neither of them will take a single note tonight.

“So what do you even do in that class? With your two left feet, I can’t foresee anything about this going well.” Changbin leans over to whisper.

“Bro, why are you acting like I know? All I remember from whatever that class was is that some dude is gonna come in and TA for us.” Jisung thinks for a second and adds, “I’ll probably just make friends with him and hope he can save my grade.”

“Your TAs a guy?”

“Yeah dude, didn’t realize you of all people would take offense to that. Isn’t your boyfriend literally a dance major?”

“Not where I was going with that dumbass. Was just gonna say I know a guy who’s TAing a dance class this semester.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Says the one who didn’t even know he was in a dance class until this morning.”

“Whatever dude, so what should I know about this mysterious TA guy? The prof kept hyping him up and shit, no way he’s that good?”

“I'm not telling you shit with that attitude,” Changbin says, finishing their gossip session before it could start. “Pay attention, according to what I just heard you need to if you want to pass any of your classes this semester.”

With that, Jisung turned back to the professor at the front of the room. Paying attention in a class where all of the lecture videos get sent to him is pointless, Jisung thinks as he opens 2048 on his computer, a game already in progress.

Tuesday went by in a blur, two general education classes Jisung will be doing the bare minimum for because no hiring manager in the history of ever is going to give a single shit that someone working in music production got a C- in their genetics class they were forced to take sophomore year. It was once Wednesday hit the semester began to immediately worsen, which Jisung didn’t even think was possible. Look, the 8 am classes every day are really starting to get to him, especially when paired with a class twelve hours later.

So he overslept and missed his dance class, no biggie, surely there’s a policy that says he can miss a few classes right? Every class has those, it’s like a fail-safe for when overworked college students inevitably find themselves too sick (or lazy, as seen here) so Jisung will be fine.

Or not. Seriously, one excused absence for an entire semester? That’s a little absurd, even for a dance class. Oh well, he’ll just have to go to all of the classes in the future if he wants a good grade. Better hope he doesn’t find himself catching every disease ever like all college kids do in the fall.

Thursday followed as per the Tuesday schedule, and Friday was empty save for a morning discussion class Jisung would rather dunk his socks in cereal and suck the milk out of than attend despite participation being a significant enough portion of his grade. Aside from the utter failure that has been trying to attend his dance class, Jisung was sure he could turn the semester around and make it into something bearable. Make lemons out of lemonade or whatever old people say when they don’t want you to believe it’s okay to be frustrated.

——————------------------------

Surely after the disaster that was trying to get to all of his classes last week, Jisung could bring himself to attend his 8ams, and attend his 8ams he did. Walking into the dance building at 7:55 am (see Changbin, not that hard) Jisung noticed a boy about his age approaching him. He takes a moment to think back to last week, trying to recall a face, name, or anything to help him remember this boy who clearly knows him. His strikingly blonde hair and round features allowed him to stand out amongst the crowd, and surely Jisung would remember meeting someone as unique as him. He comes up with nothing, and takes the last few seconds to pray that they don’t actually know each other and he isn’t about to severely offend someone.

“Where were you on Wednesday?” the boy asks, “It kinda sucks being the only guy in this class, well except for the TA I guess.”

“I’m really sorry but, do we know each other?” Jisung responds with the only thing he’s thinking at this moment. “I don’t mean to offend you, I just do not remember a thing from the first class and I feel like I’d remember meeting you.”

“Well not yet I suppose, but that’s what this is for. Lee Felix, a second-year dance major.” The boy, Felix as he now knows, reaches his hand out, presumably for a handshake.

“Han Jisung, second-year music major. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you in a class for beginners if this is what your degree is in?” Jisung worries he’s pried a bit too much for a first-time conversation, but he really doesn’t understand why someone who loves dance enough to major in it is in a class with the likes of him.

“Don’t worry, people already questioned me about it last week, I’ll give you the run down since you weren’t there. I’m auditing the class, which means I kinda just show up when I feel like it and don’t worry about a grade.”

“Dude I wish that was me. I signed up for this class by chance after I was under the credit limit.”

“Seriously? I hate to break it to you, but you’re really in for something different if you signed up by accident. I mean, just wait until you meet the TA, he’s really gonna have it out for you if he ever hears that.”

“The TA? Don’t worry man I have that covered. All I gotta do is play nice and make friends, and he’ll help me get an A, right?”

“Wrong.” The second Jisung hears this from Felix, all he can do is put a little tally next to the chart on his brain whiteboard next to ‘wrongs’. The ‘rights’ side is regrettably empty save for when he made it to class on time (does that count?). “Don’t think I’m trying to scare you or anything, he’s not a bad guy, it’s just… he can be a little more on the serious side when it comes to dance. I mean I’m sure you get it, being in the arts and all that.”

“Whatever man, just wait. I’ve got this in the bag already.” Jisung says as they enter the studio together. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots something, or someone that is, that definitely wasn’t there last week. He likes to think he’d remember seeing someone like him. He also believes he’d remember every single girl in that class (which mind you, is everyone with the exception of Jisung and Felix) shamelessly staring the same guy down as if he was the last croissant at that trendy bakery down the street from Chan’s apartment. It makes something akin to jealousy shoot down Jisung’s spine and into his fingertips. Look, it’s not what you think it is, he doesn’t even like girls like that, but he sincerely doubts Mr. Twinkle Toes over there does either, he’s in a dance class for fucks sake. It’s just the whole attention thing; Jisung loves being the person in the room that people feel compelled to approach (except for when he really doesn’t), and this guy is hogging his spotlight. Jisung does the only thing he thinks can help him in this situation, and turns to Felix to ask, “Who in the everloving fuck is that?”

“Who?” He distantly hears Felix’s response over the sound of blood in his ears as he makes eye contact with the mystery man. Jisung really just thinks it’s unfair, how can someone have such an objectively perfect face, and maybe now he understands why all 20-something girls just can’t seem to look away from their classmate. His stare is piercing, almost as if he’s one of those mind readers Jisung worries about when his thoughts get a little inappropriate for the situation, and now all he can think about is if that’s exactly what’s happening right now.

Regrettably, before he can really unpack what any of that is supposed to mean, the professor walks in, and any fraction of the boy’s attention that Jisung held is immediately lost to what he thinks is a motivational speech to open the class.

“Alright everybody, today’s class will be focused on Horton Technique” the professor starts, “As a lot of you are not dancers, we will begin the class with a bit of a lecture on the history of the form. Contemporary dance is deeply rooted in the evolution of modern dance forms, so it is important we begin with these foundational techniques”

As the professor drones on about the history of modern dance, a voice in the back of Jisung’s mind reminds him that although there are no exams, the homework assignments are probably based on what she’s saying right now. He proceeds to throw that out the window and instead stares at Mr. Twinkle Toes from his place across the room. Look don’t judge the nickname, it's not like Jisung knows his real name and honestly, the nickname is kinda funny and definitely going to stick around for way too long whether or not they ever even exchange greetings.

What he finds, however, is not a sight he had been expecting. TT, as Jisung will now be taking to calling the boy in his head since Mr. Twinkle Toes is long and pretentious and must be saved exclusively for peak comedic timing, is already looking right back at him. Seriously, what is this dude's deal with Jisung? All he wanted when he signed up for a random class was some inner peace and an easy A, and now he’s not sure he’s got either of those. Unfortunately, just like every other time, Jisung has attempted to get any form of information on his mystery man, his professor has decided to stop lecturing and move on to actual dancing, causing both of their gazes to break.

This professor is really starting to get on Jisung’s nerves, can’t she see he’s on a mission here? Clearly more important than whatever the fuck Horton Technique is.

“To begin our warmup series, we will be learning a flat-back combination. This exercise engages your muscles and prepares the body for more rigorous movement” Jisung is vaguely aware of the teacher as she guides the class through the combination, focusing on keeping his head down and refusing to attract negative attention.

The teacher repeats the combination twice through movement, once verbally, and declares this enough before moving to turn on the music. Jisung can’t help but notice that Mr, Twinkle Toes seems to have taken to standing front and center of the studio. Teacher’s pet much? It’s not like he could possibly be good enough to warrant standing there in the first place. Jisung may not be a dancer, but he and Seungmin did drunkenly watch reruns of Dance Moms one night after finals, so he knows that front and center is reserved for special people who can actually dance.

Mystery Boy, as it turns out, is in fact one of those special people who can actually dance, and Jisung finds himself entranced by the way he effortlessly completes the exercise Jisung couldn’t even remember with the repetition and explanations. He suddenly finds himself grateful he’s placed himself directly behind Mystery Boy, and no it’s not because he has a good view of his ass you pervert, he’s wearing sweats anyways. Jisung learns that standing behind him does actually provide him with some knowledge as he simply repeats the movements he sees in front of him, albeit a little sloppier.

As the exercise draws to a close, and the professor moves to command the attention of the class, Jisung realizes something he had been previously ignorant of.

The music

Well, if you can even call it that. Jisung doesn’t understand how Mr. Twinkle Toes up in the front can do the exercises so flawlessly when the sound of nails on a chalkboard would be more audibly appealing than this monstrosity contained in his professor’s iPad. To each their own, he supposes, as he proceeds to figure out how to get his brain to tune out the music for the remainder of the class.

The professor leads them through a few more simple warm-up exercises in the center before announcing that they’ll be moving to the corner to try a few exercises across the floor. Jisung finds himself grateful for this, as if he ever has to do a Lateral T exercise again he might just do something drastic enough to change the trajectory of his professor’s life. He finds himself towards the end of the line the class has formed, alongside Felix, and notices that Mystery Boy has taken up a position at the end of the line. Given his assertiveness at the front of the room, and unfortunately, his ability to dance better than Jisung previously assumed, it seemed like he would be the kind of person to rush to be first in line.

Not that Jisung is complaining, this just means that he doesn’t have to embarrass himself by going after someone who actually knows what they’re doing.

The teacher then leads them through Jisung’s new least favorite exercise. The worst part? It’s not even supposed to be that hard. It’s basically a glorified walking pattern across the length of the studio, something about familiarizing yourself with the ground or whatever, and Jisung just doesn’t get it. He proceeds to share this with Felix, who goes over it with him while they wait in line, and he could kiss Felix for how he saved him from being a walking (literally) embarrassment.

Unfortunately for him, his Mystery Boy is soon after him, and he’s forced to watch the most graceful walking of his entire life. He didn’t even know walking could be so graceful before taking this class. You learn something new every day it seems. Jisung is infuriated by the boy and his strange affinity for walking, and he decides that Felix needs to hear this.

“Who the fuck does he think he is? It's enough to be that obnoxiously talented and objectively attractive, but to know it like he does too?“ Jisung whispers to Felix a little louder than expected. Before he can check if anyone heard him, he feels someone’s breath on the back of his neck, far too close for comfort.

“It’s rude to talk about people behind their backs. I guess I was wrong to assume your parents would have raised you better than that?” He hears from behind him, whispered directly in his ear.

Jisung finds himself unable to move, or speak for that matter. In a true life or death scenario (not that this isn’t), his instincts would immediately choose freeze over the much more useful fight or flight, which should worry Jisung, but he’s a little preoccupied. He says what is apparently the only thing he can think of when faced with strangers recently, which ends up being an incredibly eloquent, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Lee Minho, it’d do you well to remember that. Your TA as well, although in hindsight that part might be a bit more important” he gets in response.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I swear whatever you heard, I really didn’t mean it to be rude. I’m just struggling with the class and dealing with it in an even worse manner. But since you’re my TA, you can help me, right?” Jisung adds that last part alongside some serious puppy-dog eyes as a last-ditch attempt to make Minho believe that Jisung really is just in awe of him and not a jerk.

“Yeah, fat chance after that display. You have a far better chance of getting help from Lixie over here, it’s not like he doesn’t know the same things I do.” So that didn’t work.

“There’s really no need to get snappy Minho, I swear he didn’t mean it like that.” Felix decides to add in at that moment, and thank god Jisung has someone to come to his aid like this,” He really is just curious, he missed class last Wednesday anyways.”

“Yeah, whatever, just don’t let me catch you talking like that again. I’m not a bitch but I will take it up with the professor if you want to choose to act like a child in a college course.” Minho finishes with that, brushing past Jisung before he can even utter another apology.

The rest of class continues somewhat normally, Jisung keeps his head down and mouth shut to avoid inadvertently offending another classmate or worse, his professor. Minho seems to preen even more given that the professor is making it more and more aware that he is the TA, and incredibly talented at that. She couldn’t have done that an hour ago before Jisung was given the perfect opportunity to humiliate himself? This class keeps getting worse.

At long last, class is released, and Jisung is free to hide in his dorm for the rest of eternity out of shame. He almost makes it out of the dance building unscathed, but not before he runs into Felix waiting for a more advanced dance class after the one he shares with Jisung, who offers apologies on behalf of Minho as well as a chance for him to help Jisung better understand the class and his phone number.

Jisung really doesn’t have it in his heart to tell Felix he’s seriously considering dropping this class over how horrifically he’s embarrassed himself. He also doesn’t have it in himself to drop the class when he checks the app on his phone as he begins his walk, so he might as well accept the help where he can. He texts Felix, asking if they can meet outside of class, and heads off towards his dorm.

——————------------------------

Jisung left class that morning more confused than he’d ever been in his entire life. He likes to think of himself as a people person, even though he is one of those people who spends his solo walks and that awkward period of laying down before you fall asleep thinking of every conversation that’s ever gone wrong in his entire life. Honestly, this truly is one for the books, how was he supposed to know Mr. Twinkle Toes was his TA, and how the fuck was he supposed to know that Felix wasn’t playing about him actually giving a fuck about dance. Now Jisung gets it, he’s an artist too, it sucks to have your work devalued or seen as lesser, especially as a student. But it’s not like he even said anything rude to Minho, in fact, he was incredibly complimentary of him, so he really doesn’t understand what upset the other boy so much.

Jisung’s self-deprecating depression spiral over his stupid dance TA, who doesn’t even matter anyway like who even cares, comes to an end when he reaches his dorm and slams the front door a little harder than normal, startling his roommate. Kim Seungmin may be a little shit who makes (lovingly) snide comments towards Jisung whenever he finds the opportunity to do so, but there’s a reason Jisung chose to room with him again despite totally having a way out of doing so. Okay so he didn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that he really does love Seungmin and appreciates his ability to stay put together when Jisung absolutely cannot.

“The fuck happened to you? I haven’t seen you this upset since spring registration.” Jisung hears Seungmin ask. Although he really isn’t in the mood to ‘talk this out’, he has to admit that Seungmin might have something interesting to provide.

“It’s just my TA for that stupid dance class, not like it’s important or anything.” Jisung responds, “He’s just so… infuriating.”

“Oh? How so?”

“We were going through class like what I assume is normal, and I went to say something about him to my friend in the class and I guess he overheard and flipped the fuck out over it.”

“Well, what did you say? If you’re talking shit about someone and they hear it’s not like they’re going to be particularly excited about that, you idiot.”

“No, I swear nothing like that! I was just upset that he was so talented and objectively attractive AND confident on top of all of that. I didn’t even know he was my TA for fucks sake” Jisung proceeds to flop across their shared couch for dramatic effect, surely Seungmin will take pity on him.

“Wait, what’s his name? I know a few dancers myself you know.” He did not, oh well. Curse Seungmin and his ability to be impartial about situations.

“I think he said it was like Lee Minho? Something like that, not much to go off, unfortunately.”

“Do you have a picture of him?”

“No what the fuck why do you need one?” Jisung feels weirdly called out by this as he does, in fact, have a photo of him. Sue him for being able to find the socials of the boy in question, not like it was that hard.

“I’ll tell you if you show me a picture of him”

“Fine.” Jisung relents, handing over his phone, opened to Minho’s Instagram account.

“Oh! I do know him, didn’t think this is who you’d be talking about though. You sure this is the right guy?”

“Absolutely. How the fuck do you know him, you literally study old books for fun and he’s a dancer”

“We grew up together dipshit, and don’t shit talk about my major. It's not like yours is anything useful either.”

He really got Jisung there. On the Minho thing, a music degree is perfectly useful, thank you very much. Unless he ever decides he wants to do something that isn’t specifically music production, but that’s a thought for another time. Back to the whole Minho Problem. That’s right, it’s become a Problem, with capitals and everything. Could Jisung tell you why he cares so much? Not at all, but that’s why he needs to get to the bottom of this.

“You know, I really didn’t expect that to be who you were talking about. As much as he was a pain in my ass growing up, being older and all that, he wasn’t outright rude” Seungmin adds, “I mean he’s kinda got the closest thing you can have to a reputation on a college campus, dude gets along with everyone.”

“You’re joking. Well clearly nobody’s taken a dance class with him before. Or even heard that he dances.”

“You do realize most of those people in your class are there for the sole purpose of taking class with him, right? The dance department shows are only as popular as they are because of him. I heard they even got more people auditioning this past week because he’s in the shows.”

Now that he mentions it, that does make a lot of sense. Jisung was wondering how it was possible for one person to attract that much attention, but if they already knew who Minho was, of course, they would be looking for him. It also makes sense as to why he might not remember Felix from the first day of classes as it sounds like auditions for the dance department’s production were why Minho couldn’t make class. Seungmin’s next statement snaps him out of his train of thought.

“You know I feel like I should be a bit more hung up on the fact that you’ve been calling my childhood friend ‘objectively attractive’ whatever the fuck that means, but I really can’t bring myself to sit with that right now.” Leave it to Seungmin to find something even less helpful to interject with.

Jisung really needs to reconsider who he seeks advice from, maybe he should talk to Felix more. He really should’ve lied about what he said about Minho, but seriously how was he supposed to know Seungmin was all buddy-buddy with him?

“Whatever man, I’m going to bed. I’ll just like avoid him for the rest of the semester or something, doesn’t affect me.” Jisung says to Seungmin, hoping it’s enough to keep his roommate from prying. “Alright? I assumed you caring enough to rant to me about it meant you’d do something about it, but that’s not on me to inspire that in you.” he hears Seungmin snark in response. So what he knew Minho or something, people change from when they’re kids.

Despite going into that conversation seeking the truth, or at least validation that Minho is totally, ultimately in the wrong here, Jisung can’t feel anything but regret for how their conversation went down this morning. Now it’s not like all of a sudden Jisung thinks what he said was wrong, he just wishes he might’ve said something different so that he wasn’t the most hated classmate of his TA. He just wants a good grade in his dance class, that’s all.

As he tosses and turns in an attempt to get some sleep before his 8 am that night, he can’t help but wonder why he cares so much about what Minho thinks of him.

Just a bit later, while far along the way to the land of dreams, Jisung blinks awake with a genius idea. You see, late at night, right when you’re about to fall asleep is the greatest time to come up with a plan. Well, not quite a plan, just a name:

Seo Changbin.

[lostonmyroad]

Moments That I Want Tattooed On My Forehead From S-Classes That I Raised Chapters 50-70

As always, BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!! Future chapters may be referenced!!!

The insane amount of lore dropped in these chapters wow

Chapters 50-60

help its genuinely still so funny to see yoojin in the early chapters going: “all i have to do is complete this one (1) task and then i can live like a slacker” before he gives up (cries in cale henituse)

everyone referring to yoojin as “monster daddy” and asking him to raise their children is amazing. no notes 

ARRIVAL OF THE KING SUNG HYUNJAE!!! He's a bastard he's amazing he's always on my mind

"...no matter how amazing Sung Hyunjae might be, he wouldn't be able to notice it easily. He wouldn't press his nose against my body and smell me, like my idiot brother had, would he" um. ok??? yoojin's completely normal though process

sung hyunjae essentially telling yoojin “aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you want to go apeshit” within 5 minutes of their first real conversation

i forgot shj gives him a pair of earrings!! (and a bone for Peace)

yoojin’s disguise to get to the f rank dungeon being a fucking sun protection hat…it’s giving marvel baseball cap and sunglasses…and he has this because he used to stage one man protests??? sir what were you protesting against

oh that’s right the dungeons will appear at a faster rate because “time was only reversed for yoojin” oops

Chirpie makes its debut!!

yoojin trying to hide where he got chirpie from “i found it in the hallway”. king if yoohyun wasn’t suspicious of you already that would do it

yoohyun yeeting Peace and mama yoojin scolding him

chef myungwoo :))

bleh bug dungeon. i’m with you yoojin that was disgusting

yoojin not wanting to use Last Repayment :((

Riette makes an entrance! do you think riette demonstrated girl power when she abused her brother until he became an s rank

yoojin thinking about how he had raised yoohyun and was so happy about sending him to college…saving money for his tuition…and just losing interest in riette :((

yoojin saves bak hayool!!

this is where we see peak yoojin mafia behavior. unhinged. but justified revenge?? this is why i don’t understand fan interpretations where he’s like a wallflower like this man has murdered multiple people quite violently 

chapter 60 is just so much. like. i cant even describe. yoojin you need so much therapy

the way he sees people’s last memories before they die ugh…

yoojin playing 3D chess while everyone else is playing checkers fr

him calling his friend who doesn’t remember him bc of the regression and telling them to live a happy life always gets me ufffff i wish we got to meet this character

Chapters 60-70

Yoojin and the Awakening center — a tragedy in the making. Pre-regression trauma galore

The Association rears its ugly head!!! Yoojin has an authority figure problem (but it’s completely justified)

love how chill Yoojin is about Chirpie. random F rank monster that’s cute as hell that’s eating Peace's weight in magic stones and was born from an error in the system??? ehh no big deal it’s my pet now and i’ll kill for it

love the absolutely random detail about seok hayan’s pineapple earrings. thank you geunseo you know what the people want

yoojin funding public research!! hero of the people and my heart

yerim refusing to praise yoohyun and myeongwoo to their faces hahahaha. all of them petty as hell

MYUNGWOO GETS HIS SS RANK SKILL BABYYYY

yoojin still trying to protect myungwoo i love them

yoojin: *is keeping secrets from yoohyun and putting himself in danger*

also yoojin: why is yoohyun being cold with me

everyone’s giving yoojin flowers today lmfao

sung hyunjae you’re everything to me. you’re so bizzare. the bouquet??? showing up in a 2-seater car?? bullying seok simyeong??

Shj reminding Yoojin to wear his seatbelt because he's an F rank HDJEKXIDKD

oh yoojin. “who’d want to place themselves through hardships on purpose” like SIR are u that un self aware

yerim listening to this bullshit, eyes falling out of her head: i’m literally going to crazy murder you with yoohyun

the dungeon ppl have the actual worst timing. yoohyun is going to McFreaking lose it

yoojin and yoohyun finally work things out we love to see it :))

chapter 65 starts the explanation of the 50 s ranks requirement!!! water droplet is going through it

so much is just casually dropped in this chapter like. yoohyun is a born s rank! the dungeon ppl are manually inputting things for yoojin! the world might end! anyways!

yoojin having such strong mom energy that the dungeon people forgot he was a dude

one of the moments ever when yoohyun and Peace burn down the dungeon in worry and yoojin’s just there like. ah. shit. my bad i fucked up there a little

grown up Peace my beloved

chapter 67 yoohyun my beloved. you are so crazy. “hold still while i chop off your arm and fake your dear so i can keep you safe” 

the han brothers finally having a real conversation. yoojin i love you but you really needed to do this sooner

PEACE STAYING SMALL JUST SO YOOJIN CAN PICK HIM UP UWAHHHH MY HEART

Newcomer joins the battle

Chirpie turnin on the TV by itself and yoojin praising it like every proud parent ever

more monsters!!!

unicorns (white + black bc yoojin is terrible at naming) + gryphon (named Blue)

yoojin’s training method of using himself as a human chew toy is traumatizing for everyone around him.

same hyuna i would also be taking 10939392 photos

Peace and Blue WWE match. flex on em Peace

nobody:

yoojin: wow myeongwoo is hot now

BLUE LEARNING HOW TO OPEN THE FRIDGE

i love the monster shenanigans

[kimsaidhii]

I wanna write this fic revolving around Jacob Frye as a character study, I’m thinking of placing him in 1960s England where crime rates were high and gangs were thriving.

What I had in mind is that the story kinda follows the beginning of syndicate, where Ethan died leaving his two early 20s children by themselves, they didn’t have any inheritance as I don’t imagine the Frye family to be wealthy (example was that Ethan was canonically a schoolmaster/teacher, during the Victorian era teachers, although considered honest due to their occupation, were placed in the lower or middle lower class depending on role, with Ethan being a teacher I would say he didn’t make a lot)

backstory: Evie was meant to be in university but she took a 3 year gap year when she was 18 due to her dad’s declining health and her wanting to be his caretaker, whilst Jacob went to university having to commute from Crawley to London but dropped out because he wanted to be with Evie…and he had horrible attendance and punctuality. Jacob worked full time since Ethan was out of commission and Evie was a full time carer, although the family did get some government aid (national assistance before that but Jacob didn’t want to be in a house with his father— daddy issues)

After Ethan died he didn’t have a lot to give to his children, so the twins sold his home and everything in it. Evie wanted to start fresh, Jacob would follow Evie wherever she goes. They were inseparable, womb mates afterall. She finally enrolled in university in London (idk which yet, probably kings or Greenwich…now I’m thinking Greenwich because of the green theme in syndicate)

Now, remember when I mentioned that Jacob was working full time? Yeah he was working full time as a boxer in cafe royal where you entertain rich people by fighting your gloves off— he also did illegal ring fighting, started young too. Due to London being a cesspool of crime activity and gangs, where wealth, reputation and suits now mattered, it was inevitable for Jacob to meet a few gang members or even leaders at times. He was good at what he did but he wasn’t ready to subject himself into a gang— he had Evie to care for after all, they only had each other now.

But Evie also began taking part time jobs to help as well, she felt like a burden to her twin who’s younger by four minutes (“it’s just four minutes,” Jacob shrugged once) with balancing schoolwork and work, she slowly burns herself out.

The overall problem was that Evie took out a loan to host a proper funeral for their dad AND for tuition, with that and the charge of interest she wants to work it off. Jacob gots himself in a small gang called “The Clinkers,” with doing small thing like being a courier or doing street-level enforcement, he was a good fighter. Not that strong but he fought dirty and without honour, making him dangerous and unpredictable in the ring.

But the clinkers were running themselves to the ground! The leader was doing a piss-poor job at handling with rival gangs especially the top dog Blighters. So Jacob hatched a plan to start a gang… for more money, for more reputation and for Evie

That’s currently all I got, this was heavily inspired by the movie “Gangster No.1” great movie, details London life and as a Londoner it’s surprising how accurate it was. The story would just be like…a process of Jacob being a gang leader. I’m not sure if there’s going to be romance. And to say, I do not ship rothfrye at all, hate that stuff but I can’t deny how Maxwell Roth and Jacob Frye’s interaction between each other benefits Jacob’s character development. But only that, nothing else.

[coffeefiction]

Changing the Story for Once Part 1 of Chapter 1

This is a royalty/isakai au I made a while back. I was inspired by the story called "Action" by Let's try some writing and a story called " Optimus Prime is destined to die" by Chuzillla.

And I decided, huh, you know what, why not? I have also posted this in Ao3 but this one is the revise version, I'm revising the story ever so slowly.

And I really wanna share it here but I was debating of it's a good idea you know.

Anyway,here's the summary; Orion Pax is a university student who ended up in one of his all time favorite novel. He has no idea how he ended up here, chaos ensues.

English is not my first language, so it's a mess.

_____________________________

Admist the glow of flickering screens and scattered datapads, Orion Pax was but an interesting figure, lost in the labyrinth of his own solitude. He was your typical university student who's faceplate is always buried in datapads after datapads, all day long. The epitome of a university hermit. His family tree resembled a barren wasteland, and his social life? Well, let's just say it made a hermit crab look like a party animal. 

He didn't have anyone aside for himself, he grew up with no sire nor carrier and he was just alone in life. He took odd jobs here and there to help him live and see another cycle. With no sire nor carrier to guide him, he wandered the corridors of life all by himself.

Despite such depressing situation, he always find solace on the novels he has accumulated throughout the years— one of which was his all time favorite, it was a story lace with tragedy of a fallen ruler who governed his kingdom with an iron fist, who used to carry the same name as he currently bore— a cruel irony he often found comfort in. He loved the story despite it's tragic and bittersweet end. It was the very first novel he had brought when his first paycheck arrived after grueling hours of being in one of his very odd jobs —the kind that left you questioning your life choices. 

Extra credits is extra credits, he cant say no to that. 

The novel was called “For Once”  and it was a very underrated masterpiece. One which Orion would talk about whenever he gets the chance, which he normally doesn’t so he opted to simply reread the darn thing over and over again to a point where he semi-memorize the entire plot. He had been reading it before he went into recharge, to try and distract him from the thesis paper he needed to write. The story was dark to say the least, but Orion was fascinated and again, it was the very first novel he had brought with his first paycheck.

He had joke to himself, about how his namesake was a terrifying mech, even slightly wished to have his confidence to avoid that glitched-arf mech that keeps tripping him down the mess hall. But then again, Orion Pax has a lot of problems that are far more important than that, not only he has a very barren social life but his student debt was astronomical.

He had already calculated it— at the rate he is going, his great-great-grandchildren might still be paying off his tuition fee— Primus, he really fragging hates the Iacon Academy, it’s a good academy, don’t get him wrong but damn it— it’s filled with assholes.  Another problem he has is his alarm clock being broken, and nothing else screamed ‘university life’ like missing your 8:30 lecture on the west hall because the universe seems to just hate you so much. 

But fate, seem to have a twisted sense of humor.  

__________________________            

Orion Pax awoke, blinking groggily, he rubbed his optics, half-expecting to find himself back in his cramped dorm room, tangled in his recharge cables with datapads scattered across the floor, and energon caffeine cans across his table from the nights he spend cramming for one impossible test. But as he looked around, he realized that this was in fact not his dorm—  he was in a lavish chamber, surrounded by opulent furnishings.

This wasn’t his very tiny space filled with his own mess— no, this place was…..way to fragging shinny. The walls were polished and they glistened under the lunars light.  

“This isn’t my dorm…..” Orion grumbled, rubbing his optics while yawning. He’s hoping that this is just another study-induced nightmare that he seems to get once every cycle. He sighs and sketches the mingling ache in his frame— he stands up and walked to the mirror, expecting to see his humble blue-and-red-slightly slender armored frame. What he saw was far from humble. He’s colors are still there, albeit less brighter than usual, he was decked out in a massive, bulky armor, which seems to have been polished.

His chestplate alone looked like it could stop a whole ass armada—Primus, it probably had . And his servos? They look like they could crash a datapad in one squeeze! (Not that he hasn’t done it before, accidentally…while studying..but still!).

This is not his body. “Primus…..By Primus fragging servo that slapped Unicron, what am I wearing!??” he yelped, backing away from the mirror like it had burned him. And by the matriarchs servos, why does his voice sound like that?! He stared at the reflection, his optics widening as the reflection glared back.

What he was seeing wasn’t Orion Slagging Pax staring back at him.  It was Optimus Slagging Prime…. 

“Oh no….oh no no no no no no! This—This cannot be happening! I’m-I’m dreaming! Oh Primus, please let this be a whole dream!!” His once semi-slender frame is now bulked with power and authority. It screams control and domination compare to his other one—which if you altered it to the side, he could be considered a femme by a very drunken mech!

And he had been considered as a femme once by a drunken mech!

Panic immediately seized him, his mind reeling with disbelief as he backed away, stumbling to the berth he layed. Orion Pax is known to be very calm and can work well being under pressure, he had done it several times!

But at that current moment— he momentarily lost this capability. With a barely functioning processor, he covers his mouth with his servo—

 And screamed.

 A very panic yet muffled scream.  

[mightyflamethrower]

Harvard has refused to accept the orders of a Trump administration commission concerning its chronic problems with anti-Semitism, campus violence, and racial tribalism, bias, and segregation.

Yet, unlike some conservative campuses that distrust an overbearing Washington, Harvard and most elite schools like it want it both ways. They do as they please on their own turf and yet still demand that the taxpayers send them multibillion-dollar checks in addition to their multibillion-dollar private incomes.

Aside from the issues of autonomy and free expression, there are lots of campus practices that higher education would prefer were not widely known to the public.

But soon they will be, and thus will become sources of public anger. Perhaps envision elite private colleges as mossy rocks, which seem outwardly picturesque—until you turn them over and see what crawls beneath.

So, if there are protracted standoffs, our elite campuses will be hard-pressed to defend the indefensible. This effort will be difficult because public confidence in higher education has already plummeted to historic lows in the most recent polls.

In Amerispeak public surveys, those expressing very little confidence or none at all in higher education have soared to about 30 percent of respondents, while those polling only “some” confidence rose to 40%.

Polls show that less than a third of Americans have quite a lot of confidence in our college campuses.

No wonder: Over the past half-century, tuition has generally risen at twice the rate of inflation. In part, that price-gouging became standard because federal aid to our most prestigious schools has skyrocketed, hand-in-glove with the federalized student loan program. It has become a $1.7 trillion entity in which the combined rate of both those students who defaulted on their guaranteed loans or are currently late on payments is nearing 12-13 percent. In sum, colleges counted on an ensured stream of tuition money and so raised their prices inordinately, given federal guarantees.

Note that small private Hillsdale College, which takes no federal money and is the guarantor of its own generous student aid, charges about $45,000-50,000 for combined tuition, room, and board—about half the going rate in the Ivy League and similar elite campuses.

Half the youth of the country who choose to go straight to work and not attend college might object to such use of their tax dollars. They would assume that universities with multibillion-dollar endowments and huge annual incomes have plenty of resources to guarantee their own student loans. That way, campuses would have a financial interest in seeing their own students graduate in four years, get jobs, and pay back their alma mater promptly and fully. Instead, as long as universities are paid upfront, they seem to care little that their graduates leave heavily in debt and occasionally default on their loans.

There is almost no intellectual diversity on campus.

Some recent studies have found Democrat/liberal professors outnumber their Republican/conservative counterparts by a 10-1 margin, especially in the social sciences and humanities. There are plenty of conservative PhDs on the market, but higher education has used insidious methods such as diversity oaths and covert political bias to find ways not to hire or retain them.

Colleges no longer believe in their ancient mission to teach students the ancient, disinterested, and inductive method of pursuing knowledge. Nor do they care much that their graduates leave college without a broad classical education in history, literature, language, philosophy, science, and math. Instead, they are missionaries who believe their duty is to indoctrinate youth in progressive ideology, found mostly in studies courses and deductive classes, as part of a greater project to fundamentally alter the nature of the United States.

The Supreme Court in a recent case ruled against Harvard and the University of North Carolina, stating that their use of racial and gender bias is illegal under the 14th Amendment and thus affirmative action and associated racial essentialism are forbidden.

Yet, many of our campuses simply rebrand their offices of “diversity/equity/inclusion” —the campus euphemism for using race and gender bias in applications, hiring, retention, and promotion—with newer Orwellian names like the “Office of Belonging” or “Community Outreach.” Universities are higher education’s version of sanctuary cities that likewise cavalierly believe they can largely ignore federal laws with impunity.

For example, it’s illegal to segregate university events or facilities by race. But universities sidestep the law by offering race-based graduation ceremonies as “auxiliary” or “additional” events and commemorations. Racially segregated dorms are deemed “theme” houses open to all but de facto widely known as racially exclusive. If the so-called “white” minority at Stanford—some 22 percent of the student body—opted for an “extra” white graduation ceremony, theoretically open to all students, the university would—and should—shut it down promptly.

In business and private entities, “overhead deductions” or “surcharges” usually run from 10 to 20 percent. But elite private universities charge the federal government for their faculty research grants, often between 40 and 60 percent. Apparently, they operate on the principle that their supposedly prestigious brands deserve private exemption from gouging the government.

Over the past few decades, foreign governments, without audit, have poured some $60 billion into America’s purportedly most prestigious universities. Communist China and illiberal Qatar alone gave $500 million last year. And they expect and receive something for their ideologically driven investments.

The Department of Education during the first Trump administration fined many campuses millions of dollars for not reporting these often quid pro quo gifts. If one wonders why hundreds of thousands of foreign students from dictatorial and often anti-American nations like China and Middle Eastern autocracies prove instrumental in growing anti-American and anti-Israel protests, then follow the money that funds professorships and programs sympathetic to these agendas.

The Bill of Rights and its later amendments apply to everyone everywhere in the United States. But these laws are especially operative on those entities that take federal government money and, by doing so, forfeit some of their operational autonomy.

Yet disruptions of invited lecturers who are conservative, pro-Israeli, pro-life, or who question biological males competing in female sports are commonplace on campus.

Usually, when an invited conservative federal judge, a Republican officeholder, a traditionalist activist, or a professor deemed not conservative is shouted down, or the lecture hall is swarmed with disruptive and sometimes violent student protestors, campus administrators issue pro forma stern statements about “not tolerating violations of free speech.”

And then, they do nothing.

Most campus officials either empathize with the spirit or the ideology of the disrupters. Or they are far more afraid of their own radical professors and students than they are of the federal government cutting off their funding for refusing to guarantee First Amendment protections. Harvard arguing for federal funds on the principle of protecting the First Amendment is adding insult to the serial injury it has done to free speech.

More cynically, most campus administrators assume that if conservative pro-life students ever swarmed a pro-abortion lecturer, or Jewish students ransacked a Middle East Studies classroom or chased and then trapped foreign students in a library, then they would likely be summarily expelled. Most naturally assume that universities’ selective timidity and laxity are ideologically and politically driven.

There is no guarantee of due process on campus, as understood under the Bill of Rights. Students or faculty who are accused of particular hot-button “crimes,” such as sexual harassment or “hate speech,” are often denied the right to know their accusers or to have an open hearing with legal counsel before a disinterested panel of judges.

The wronged have little redress of grievance except to use the public court system to intervene to force the university to follow the law.

The best-kept secret of our marquee universities is a radical fall-off in standards as once defined by their own, once much ballyhooed, tough requirements. Our best universities customarily now ensure that 70-80 percent of students in their classes receive A’s.

Prestigious campuses, like Harvard and Stanford, have recently introduced remedial math classes. Privately, the supposedly most demanding campuses know that their prior non-meritocratic admissions have resulted in thousands of students who enter college without the high-school preparation necessary to meet their own past traditional university requirements.

Conservative, Jewish, and religious families now doubt whether their offspring would be treated equitably or would receive a first-rate education commensurate with the four-year total $400,000 cost, or are even now safe.

When pressed, universities usually point to their professional and graduate schools in medicine, engineering, math, science, and business as integral to American prosperity. True, they are. But to the degree they are, it is likely because they have either resisted university orthodoxy or were never as politicized as the social sciences and humanities, or are already being weaponized, albeit more slowly.

If universities were smart, they would accept federal conditions to follow the law and protect the safety and interests of their own students.

That way, they would restore their academic rigor and reputations, regain public support, and enhance meritocracy, the key to their former excellence. But even if their officials are either too partisan or timid to change, they could always publicly report to their radical faculties and students that they were “forced” to comply with conditions that they might privately accept were certainly in their own interests.

Otherwise, at the present rate, employers, parents, and the public will make the necessary adjustments, and the brands once deemed the gold standard and prestigious will become mere dross.

[midnightpink]

Iron Tuition

read it here on ao3

The long and tumultuous road to finally becoming okay again.

by: surveycorpsjean

Words: 16,221, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English 

Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki

Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

Additional Tags: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Manga Spoilers, Post-Canon Fix-It, Confessions, Angst, Getting Together, First Time, No Underage Sex, Sexual Content, Explicit Language, they finally talk, bkdk - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort

[nczaversnick]

Emergency(ish?) Commissions

Okay the formatting on this is minimal because I’m only just now coming off a breakdown and I’m rushing to do this before my intense imposter syndrome kicks in. Sorry if that’s too personal, I’m really fucking raw right now

Anyway! Due to the government or the Department of Education or who the fuck ever, I lost my Pell Grant eligibility for the 24-25 school year. I’m told that it’s because I am too young to be considered an independent student regardless of the fact that I do not live with my family anymore. So now my student loans don’t give enough to cover my tuition, or half my living expenses.

So I’m going to offer art commissions. I base the price on how many hours I spend on a piece at a rate of 15$/hr (which is the same rate I get at my actual job). I specialize in character art and design. I can (and honestly love) drawing/designing other people’s TTRPG characters. There are a couple I’ve done before in the samples below.

I don’t do animals, mechs or graphic nsfw (I can get away with a little) or anything political or otherwise derogatory towards a specific group of people. You’d think I wouldn’t have to say that but it’s happened before.

I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.

I take payment is USD over Venmo, PayPal or Cashapp

I will also accept donations

Message me or comment below if interested

Please reblog if you can’t otherwise help

Here are some samples:

9 hours 135$

22 hours 330$

10 hours 150$

2.5 hours 37$

8.5 hours 127$

2 hours 30$

4 hours 60$

3 hours 45$

1 hour 15$

Adding my tag list to boost:

@honeybewrites @wyked-ao3 @kittrrrr @zackprincebooks @theverumproject @the-letterbox-archives @the-golden-comet @fractured-shield @poppycat-writes @illarian-rambling @finickyfelix @kuebiko-writing @yourpenpaldee @willtheweaver @moltenwrites @davycoquette @drchenquill @marlowethelibrarian @mr-orion @ath3alin @athenadire @the-ellia-west