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#I don’t think he is referring to his middle-class childhood because he’s spent almost as much time (and all his adult life) as a millionair
rose2jam · 3 years
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Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult, an essay by Rose Jam
So, let’s talk about Cults. Disclaimer: This is just information I’ve gathered over the years from my personal fascination with religious cults.  I’m in no way an expert or a psychologist or whatever.  This is just my personal understanding from the research I’ve done.
A cult is started when a wildly charismatic Leader feels like they have a purpose, a higher calling, or a mission to be fulfilled (or they could also just be an egomaniac). Maybe they really do feel like what makes them special comes directly from a higher power, be that God, or the Heir of Slytherin, but either way, this person has a pathological need to be worshiped, and they need followers in order to do that.  
So, how does one obtain Followers easily? By finding the misunderstood misfits of society, and promising them something.  The people who feel like no one else understands them, or their ideologies.  But this Leader?  This Leader GETS IT, MAN! The Leader understands them perfectly, vindicates them, and makes them promises along the way.  Like, if they stick with the Leader, then not only will they finally be understood, but they themselves will also be revered.  That they will rise above all of the others who have put them down for so long, and will come out on top as a superior being.  
Any of this sounding familiar?
Charles Manson preyed on young people in the middle of the hippie movement, mostly women, who were feeling lost, lonely, and in need of guidance, or in terms of the men he recruited, seeking power over others.  Not all of these people were poor or helpless; some of them came from middle class, or even rich homes and families.  Yes, some of them came from broken homes, but all of them felt “broken” themselves, in some way. So Manson used their desires to have a family to draw them in.  He then used LSD and other drugs to keep them under his control, and he created a manipulative environment where the members of his “family” felt they could never leave him, and if they didn’t follow his commands, something horrible would happen to them.  I’m not going to go into full detail on the Manson Family Murders, but if you’re personally interested, check out the Podcast “Cults” on Spotify.
So back to basics, this Leader draws in Followers with flowery promises of community, power, family, or whatever.  But once the Leader has that following, the terror will begin.  Cult Leaders are usually master manipulators, and have completely brainwashed their followers into believing the “us vs them” mentality, that the outside world is evil, that the outside world will only harm them, that the outside world would never understand what they’re doing on the inside.  And that the Leader is the only one who knows the truth, so they better stick with him.  Or maybe the Leader has gaslit his followers so completely, that they become dependent on him for everything, to the point where they don’t know how they would possibly function without the Leader.  Or, the Leader has created an environment that’s so hostile, that Followers are too afraid of what might happen to them if they tried to leave, or didn’t do what the Leader commanded.  Typically, it’s a combination of all of the above.  Destructive cults will either hurt others outside of their circle (The Manson Family, Sect of Nacozari), harm themselves (Heaven’s Gate, The Ant Hill Kids), or both (The People’s Temple, Aum Sinrikyo).  
Now that I’ve laid this foundation, I’m going to tell you why it was practically inevitable that Severus Snape would join a cult.
Snape’s childhood ultimately laid the foundation for the mental state he would be in when he decided to join the Death Eaters.  He grew up in an abusive household, where his father, the muggle, had his magical wife so thoroughly whipped, that she couldn’t (or chose not to) use magic to defend herself, or her son (1).  Eileen had obviously told Severus about magic, about Hogwarts, about what a wonderful place it was, and what a wonderful gift magic could be.  Severus also watched as Tobias beat the magic out of her.  (I know it’s debated whether Tobias actually physically abused his family, but he certainly verbally/mentally/emotionally abused them, so the term “beat” could be used figuratively as well).  I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe that Severus developed an extreme hatred of muggles with “burn the witch” mentalities from a very young age because of this.
Enter Lily, perhaps the only other magical person in his life besides his mother up to this point. He sees her using magic out in the open, perhaps recklessly, for fun, and he sees an opportunity to make a friend (and, admittedly, to be smarter than someone about something for a while). He was so eager to tell her all about magic, because getting to learn magic, and go to Hogwarts, has possibly been the only thing keeping him going in his young life.  And now he’s made a friend, a real friend who doesn’t think he’s weird because he’s magical.  Unlike Petunia, yet another muggle who makes fun of him for being weird (2). And Lily actually seems to like him back.  For a kid who probably hasn’t received a lot of affection in his life, this is monumental.  This friendship is everything.  Why wouldn’t he love her?
So the time finally comes to go to Hogwarts.  Severus gets to escape his abusive household, and finally has an opportunity to embrace magic for the first time in his life.  But almost immediately, he’s met with a hic-up.  Specifically, James Potter and Sirius Black.  So Severus is no longer facing abuse exclusively from muggles who think he’s weird, but now he’s also getting it from other magical people who think he’s weird (3).  And this started on the fucking TRAIN before he even GOT to Hogwarts. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t sour a kids dream right off the fucking bat.  And then, when he finally gets there, he’s separated from his only friend, by being sorted into different houses (4).  What a way for a life-long dream to be thoroughly dashed in less than 24 hours.
Let’s look at Snape’s Hogwarts experience.  He’s a good student, and he pours himself into learning as much magic as possible, and at being the best he can possibly be, probably motivated by a desire to be better than what his Father thinks possible.  During this time, he is regularly bullied and abused by the Marauders. Sometime before his 5th year, the Incident at the Shrieking Shack took place.  It definitely sucks to have been so thoroughly fucking duped, and put into a life-threatening situation involving a goddamn werewolf (5).  But perhaps even worse than that, the salt in the wound, was that no one fucking did anything about it (6).  He saw Sirius and James and Remus get out of that situation without facing any sort of proper punishment (as in, they all still stayed at the school as opposed to being expelled like they DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE BEEN (At least Sirius should have been)). Dumbledore was looking out for the Marauders, but no one was looking out for Severus.  On top of that, Severus isn’t allowed to TELL anyone about it, not even Lily.  So, he goes through what was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, and he can’t even tell anyone that it happened.
So, what sort of support system does Severus have during all this?  He has Lily, sure (who literally told him he should be GRATEFUL to James, one of his abusers).  But, what he really has, is Slytherin House (7). I’ll say it plainly: Severus was sorted into a house that was already full of existing cult members.  McGonagall says in Sorcerer’s Stone that “Your house will be like your family” (she at least says it in the movies, I’m too lazy to get up and reference my books rn lol).  So, Severus’ family, his support system, for 10 months out of every year, is a house that is already full to the brim with pureblood elitists with prejudiced ideals, who would absolutely vindicate Severus in his dislike for muggles.  As a kid first getting sorted into the house, it’s obviously not unreasonable to become friends with the people you’re literally living with.  His dorm mates became his family.  So, when his dorm mates started to become Death Eaters… This is headcanon, I fully admit, but like, fuck, Severus didn’t have a lot of friends, and was probably already drifting apart from Lily.  Do you really think he was going to tell the people he had to live with every single day, not to mention the only people that had been supporting him for years, to go fuck themselves for using Dark Magic?  Especially when he was probably feeling like he was on the verge of thinking that their rhetoric made some sense?
On to Snape’s Worst Memory (8).  At this point, he’s spent 5 years in Slytherin House, with fellow students who casually throw around the M word.  He gets attacked by James and Sirius, he’s practically defenseless, and then the girl who he’d considered his closest friend for so long… has to force herself not to smile when he’s thrown upside down and exposed to everyone on the grounds.  Sure, she was trying to defend him at first, but she also fucking nearly smiled at his humiliation, his pain, his abuse.  So he hurls the one word that he knows is going to cut the deepest, that will hopefully hurt her as badly as she has hurt him. And it works.
Severus had been beaten down his entire life.  By Muggles and Magic Folk alike.  And finally, he’s betrayed by Lily, his last lifeline to the light.  He betrayed her as well, of course.  But he did try to show remorse.  And she doesn’t forgive him (9), which was her prerogative, of course.  
So.  Who does he have left?
I’ve placed little (numbers) throughout my writing here.  Each of those numbers denote the specific events that led Severus to becoming an angry young man, who hates muggles, hates (some) magic folk, and resulted in him feeling weak, helpless, and desperate.  For what?  For power, for a family, for a community.  For a world where he is no longer the weird one.  For a world where he’s respected, strong.  For the world he thought he was going to be a part of, when he arrived at Hogwarts in his first year.
And it just so happens that this is the exact world that Voldemort is (allegedly) trying to create.
Severus Snape was angry, and vulnerable, and as such, he was practically the poster child for the type of person who would be susceptible to falling for a cult.  Maybe he was recruited by his friends in Slytherin House.  Maybe he was recruited directly.  Either way, charismatic Tom Riddle came along, understood how he felt, where he was coming from, told him he deserved better, and offered him all of the things he never had in his life.  And being at rock bottom, being the lowest of the low, to Severus it must have seemed like a miracle of an opportunity, or perhaps, like the only chance he had left.
Now, let me be extremely clear; everything I’ve written is not trying to EXCUSE Severus Snape for his actions.  There is always a point where personal responsibility must come into play.  Except for children born into cults or victims of kidnapping, nearly every person who has ever joined a cult has made the personal decision to join it. I’m just trying to express how unbelievably easy it is, for a Cult Leader to find people with damaged lives and low self-worth, to suck them in with promises of a fulfilling life and grandeur, and for those people to be easily swept up and brainwashed into believing that what they are doing is right.  (Or that what they are doing is required, because the alternative is more horrifying.)  
The type of people who joined the Death Eaters are the same type of people who joined Heaven’s Gate, or The People’s Temple, or yes, The Manson Family.  Now, I’m just going to say, from my own personal point of view, I do not vilify anyone who’s ever joined a destructive cult.  On the contrary, I feel sorry for them.  Because most people who join a cult, don’t necessarily do it signing up for the… end result of what happened to them.  Some of them totally do, like Heaven’s Gate. Most of them knew that the end result was going to be the “evacuation of their earthly vessel”.  But the people who joined the Manson Family, for instance, did not initially join it KNOWING how it was going to end.  They were part of the family long before Manson even came up with Helter Skelter, and by the time the Tate-LaBianca Murders took place, they were already too far gone to go against it.
I highly recommend anyone who’s interested in a humanizing view of former cult members, to read the essay “Leslie Van Houten: A Friendship” by John Waters. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/leslie-van-houten-a-frien_b_246953
Or, at the very least, listen to this 7 minute NPR interview with John Waters about the essay https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111585116
It’s the story of how notorious film maker John Waters, became friends with former Manson Girl, Leslie Van Houten, and about how she broke away from the cult after her conviction, how she’s spent the last 51 years of her life recovering from the psychotic influence of a maniac who’d promised her the world, and how even though she was convicted to life WITH a possibility of parole, it’s never been granted to her, despite the fact that she has done literally everything possible to try and atone for her crimes.
Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart.  I’m pretty much the only person I know who feels sorry for Leslie Van Houten and other cult members who were brainwashed, abused, and manipulated into doing a lot of the horrible things they’ve done.  But there are people in the world, who have committed FAR more heinous crimes than the Manson Family murders, and who are far less repentant than Leslie, but because those crimes weren’t as notorious, they get to walk free.
Addendum: When I first posted this, I had a few people point out to me that they had always associated Voldemort and the Death Eaters with Hitler and Nazi Germany.  This is a perfectly fair point, but one that I personally don’t jive with, and the reason is simply the numbers.   There were literally millions of people in the Nazi party during WW2.   Death Eaters don’t even reach triple digits, as far as I’m aware.  As I hinted at in this essay, I consider Voldemort and the Death Eaters to be MUCH closer to Charles Manson and the Manson Family.  The Manson Family 100% had Nazi ideology, of course. "Helter Skelter” was Charles Manson’s prediction that there was going to be a massive race war; one that the Whites were going to lose, and that he and his Pure White family would emerge from it in order to rule over the remaining Blacks.  Kinda... sounds like a Death Eater thing, huh?
Sorry.  Back to Snape.  There is a lot we don’t know about Severus’ actual time as a Death Eater. I think it can be reasonably assumed he’s never actually killed anyone before Dumbledore (In Prince’s Tale, Severus questions if his soul would be safe from killing Dumbledore, and Dumbledore implies that his soul would not be damaged by helping an old man avoid pain and humiliation.  This leads me to believe that Severus never committed any soul-damaging murders before this).  Beyond being a sneaky spy and delivering the prophecy to Voldemort, his time as a Death Eater is all up for conjecture.  
Severus does make one important deviation from the typical cult member mold, however.  In the end, he manages to break away from the cult.  The scales fall from his eyes.  In a figurative sense, the LSD has worn off.  What made him sober up, was the threat to his last lifeline to the light. The one good fucking thing he’d ever had in his miserable life.  He was brought back by genuine love.  Ya know, the ENTIRE MESSAGE OF THE HP SERIES. And not only did he leave the cult, but he then spent the rest of his life actively attempting to destroy it, and atone for the mistakes he’s made, in an effort to bring back the world he’d been excited for, as an 11-year-old kid, so full of hope.
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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years
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Just One Last Word
Summary: As children, she swore she'd become the greatest author in all of Asgard. Loki had his doubts.
Word Count: 4,360
Pairing: Loki x OFC
A/N: Look who's back! I got this idea from a made-up fic title sent to me by an anon a while back and I just loved the concept so much I had to write it. What can I say? I’m a glutton for childhood romance and angst
Thanks for reading! :)
Warnings: Implied/referenced domestic violence/child abuse
Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian
If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)
Read it on Ao3!
The first time Loki heard about Sága’s extraordinary book was the day Lady Gudrun decided that the spring weather was just too lovely to ignore and took her literature students to give them their lessons in the gardens rather than the stuffy palace classrooms. He couldn’t quite recall what year they were—childhood seemed so long ago that all of his primary classes had melted into one amorphous blur—but they had to have been young because Sága hadn’t yet chopped off both her braids in the middle of arithmetic, claiming that they were too heavy to think properly whilst wearing them. No, her braids still hung at her shoulders, and as Lady Gudrun read aloud to them on the lawn, Sága was busy weaving dandelion flowers into their intricate patterns.
“This is going in my book!” she whispered to Loki with a grin. “In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.”
Loki frowned. “What book?”
“The one I’m writing,” she said, fiddling with another flower stem. “It’s going to be the best book in all of Asgard.”
He had been going to say that there was no way in all the realms she was capable of writing the best book in all of Asgard, but then Lady Gudrun asked them if there was something they wanted to share with the rest of their classmates, since they seemed to be having such an intriguing conversation by themselves, and Loki had shaken his head, blushing. Sága wasn’t bothered. She kept playing with her dandelions and humming softly to herself, some horrifically out of tune melody Loki was almost positive she was just making up as she went along.
Sága Svanhilddottir was a strange girl. One day she had just plopped her bulging crocheted bookbag onto the desk next to his, and she never really went away. There were plenty of whispers about her—her mother was an Asgardian noble who had run away to Alfheim to marry a man in the Elvish court, only to return nine years later with a child in her arms and no husband to be found. At dinner, Loki would overhear the noblewomen’s hushed speculations on what could possessed her to leave in the first place, and what prompted her return. How had the Elf bewitched her so? A love potion? A spell? Had she gotten with child and fled to preserve her dignity? But then why return? Was he unfaithful? Was she unfaithful?
Sága had her own story. She told Loki very seriously before class one day that her mother had come back to Asgard because her father had been turned into a dragon by a wicked witch and now every time he sneezed he spat out enormous balls of fire into the air, and that her mother was afraid that the next time he caught a cold he’d burn the whole apartment down. She pulled down her dress sleeve to show Loki her burn scar, angry red flesh that stretched from her wrist all the way across her shoulders—a scar, she explained, she had gotten when she had tried to give her dragon father a handkerchief.
Loki didn’t believe her.
“Witches don’t turn people into dragons,” he bristled. “My mother’s a witch, and she would never turn anyone into a dragon.”
“That’s because your mother’s a nice witch,” Sága explained impatiently. “This was a mean old witch, with pointy teeth and spiky hair, who hated everybody.” Ruffling her shorn locks (this was after the ill-fated math lesson), she bared her teeth in demonstration. “She was mad at my father because he forgot to bring her mousetail pudding for her birthday like he promised.”
“He—what?”
But Sága only waved him off dismissively. “You’ll have to read my book,” she said. “I explain it all there.”
Oh, that damn book. It seemed like it was the only thing she ever talked about, this stupid, imaginary book. Because it had to be imaginary. Loki had never even seen the girl hold a pen, let alone write a sentence. No, she was too busy prattling on about her wonderous book, this book that would one day become the pinnacle of Asgardian literature.
“Someday, they’ll be making students read my book instead of this nonsense,” she’d whisper to Loki as their teacher read to them in the front of the classroom. “It’ll be much more interesting.”
Or when he ran into her in the library, and she’d drag him to the shelf where they kept all the classics.
“This is where they’ll keep my book!” she’d grin, having the audacity to pat the dusty wood where the great authors of millennia long past rested.
And then there was that one time during one of the feasts, when he turned around to find her staring at him intently from across the ballroom, a studious expression on her face. He shot what he hoped was an intimidating glare at her, but she only skipped across the room to join him.
“What are you doing?” he asked sourly.
“Looking at you,” she said, grinning as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I need to remember how you look like, so I can put you in my book.”
Loki scowled. “I don’t want to be in your book.”
“Well, I want you in it,” Sága retorted. “And, since I’m the author, that’s all that matters.” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the dessert table. “Come on, Prince Loki. Let’s get some cake!”
Thor said that he must be harboring a crush on her, to seemingly hate her so and yet be constantly spending time with her. Loki nearly threw a fit when he accused him of such at the dinner table. He didn’t like Sága. She was strange and irritating and talked far too much and he wanted her to go away. He spent time with her because she followed him around, not because he wanted to! She was annoying. And weird. And …
And yet.
One day she wasn’t in class. Loki thought he’d be relieved—finally, a lesson where he could listen to the teacher without having to filter out her constant chatter. But … it didn’t feel right. It was too quiet—he hated the empty stretches of silence that hung over the classroom every time Lady Gudrun stopped talking. For some reason, it seemed even more difficult to focus without the familiar presence of his deskmate hunched over the table and picking splinters out of the wood with her fingernail.
The library was more of the same. Loki perused the shelves, gaze lingering on the spot Sága had claimed for her own. She was the only person he really talked to, he realized. Without her, the day felt hollow.
She was gone for the rest of the week. Her mother was gone too, and rumors began to fly that she had decided to take her daughter back to Alfheim to rejoin her mysterious husband. Loki couldn’t help but remember her story about her father the dragon.
Just when he was starting to fear she had left for good, one morning a ratty old crotched bag smacked the desk next to his before class started.
He scowled to mask his sigh of relief. “Where have you been?”
But Sága wouldn’t say. She only grinned at him from under her crown of dandelions. “I was working on my book. Why?” she asked. “Did you miss me, Prince Loki?”
Loki flushed bright red.
It was strange to think about now, with everything that had happened. At the time, Loki thought he would have fallen on his sword before he ever referred to Sága as a friend. And yet, she was not only a friend, but the closest one he had. She continued finding ways to spend time with him even after they graduated Lady Gudrun’s class—she’d track him down and ask him for help with her arithmetic, or to wish him luck on an upcoming test, or to tell him about a book she thought he’d like. Thor and his companions drove Loki up the wall with their merciless teasing, but their words couldn’t quell the odd sort of fluttering in his stomach every time she came running up to him clutching some new story against her chest.
“Is it your book?” he’d ask jokingly, even as he took the novel from her hands.
“No,” she laughed. “I’m still working on that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”
Sága patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Don’t worry,” she said. “When I’m done, you’ll be the first to read it.”
She was pretty. Loki wasn’t quite certain when that happened. Sága didn’t really change all that much, even as everyone else grew and morphed into something resembling maturity. She continued cutting her own hair, keeping it messy and uneven and even shorter than his. She’d weave dandelion stalks into the shorn clumps and walk around in gauzy yellow dresses with cuffed sleeves that went past her fingers, looking like one of her fairy-story creatures come to life. It was generally accepted that she looked ridiculous, and Loki didn’t disagree. He just felt that she made ridiculous look good.
He noticed it when she came down to the sparring pit to watch him practice with his daggers. There she was, perched on the railing, beaming like the sun as she waved at him. She was pretty. Very pretty.
Loki turned around without waving back. There was a heat rising in his cheeks that he wasn’t quite sure how to address. He missed the target completely on his next throw.
He wasn’t the only person who noticed. The other boys his age were beginning to be quite drawn to Sága Svanhilddottir as well, although Loki suspected it was less due to actual interest and more because of her proclivity for disregarding traditional decorum. She loved to dance. It seemed every ball she was spinning across the floor in the arms of some new beau, giggling so loudly that her voice echoed down the hall. Loki hated the way they’d hold her, gripping her tightly to their bodies as if she belonged to them, but Sága didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. She’d laugh and whoop and make a show of it as they twirled through the song.
It might have made her popular with the young men, but older members of the court weren’t as amused. After all, such displays weren’t exactly becoming of an unmarried woman. But Sága didn’t mind that they whispered things like “promiscuous” and “loose” as she walked by. Unlike her fellow ladies, Sága wasn’t particularly interested in catching a husband. In fact, she once told Loki in no uncertain terms that she had no intentions of ever giving her hand in marriage.
“Marriage is horrible,” she said. Loki could barely hear her over the ruckus—it was Thor’s Nameday Feast, and such a raucous celebration was hardly ideal for intimate conversation. He thought Sága might have been enjoying the festivities a bit too much as well—she was swaying on her feet as she leaned in to speak. “You’re tied down forever to some person, and you don’t even know what they’re going to be like! Sure, they might seem nice, but who knows!” She hiccupped, and Loki found himself reaching out to steady her without realizing he was doing it, accidentally grabbing the shoulder he knew to be scarred under her sleeve.
Sága brushed him off. There was a bitterness in her eyes that made his chest ache. “I don’t want to get married,” she said. “I just want to have fun.”
He walked her back to her rooms that night. He had started doing that recently—partially because with the way she was staggering he didn’t trust her to be able to make it herself, and partially because the voracious looks some of her dance partners had been giving her were making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.
Sága grinned at him when they made it back to her door. The dandelions in her hair were beginning to wilt. One was nearly falling off her head, held there only by a tangled strand.
“Are you going to kiss me, Prince Loki?” she asked.
Loki started. All at once, the fluttering was back. “What?”
“You’re my prince, aren’t you?” She was swaying quite a bit, but she didn’t look away. Her breath stank of wine. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss the lady goodnight?” She leaned forward as if meaning to demonstrate, but ended up falling right into his chest, giggling all the way. Loki caught her, hoping she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.
My prince.
“I—I don’t think it would be very princely of me to kiss you right now,” he whispered.
“Maybe not,” she yawned against his armor. “But I’d like it anyways.”
Loki inhaled. I’d like it too. But she was drunk, practically incoherent—she didn’t mean any of the words coming out of her mouth right now, and he knew it.
And so, he helped her back up and through the doorway. “Not tonight.”
Sága perked up. “Tomorrow?”
She looked so childishly excited that Loki couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Sure. Tomorrow.” Maybe he had had too much wine as well, because the thought of such a silly promise exhilarated him far more than it should have. “You come find me and I’ll kiss you.”
They never spoke about that night again. Sága didn’t seem to remember it—when he ran into her the next day she was nursing a headache and a new idea for her book and wanted to ask him a question about the mechanics of water seidr. Loki didn’t mention it either. The whole thing felt much sillier doused in daylight. What, did he think she was just going to knock on his door and cash in a kiss like a raffle ticket? No, it was better that the whole thing just fade into obscurity. Loki told himself he was relieved that Sága didn’t remember his promise.
It didn’t stop his thoughts from racing every time he saw her.
What would it be like to kiss her, he wondered? Would she let him pull her close? Would she wrap her arms around his neck and run her fingers through his hair? How would it feel to press his lips to hers, to close his eyes and just drink her in as if she were the only thing that existed?
He wished he could find out.
Loki remembered the last time he saw her. Her father had passed away, and she and her mother were returning to Alfheim for his funeral and to clear up several issues regarding his estate. They weren’t sure how long they’d be gone, but Sága predicted that the legal affairs would take years to resolve.
“Is it bad that I don’t want to go?” she asked in a whisper the night before she was set to leave. Loki looked at her, huddled against the balcony railing besides him. Inside, the feast raged on, but in the moonlight the world seemed almost tranquil.
“I don’t think it’s bad,” he said slowly. “Funerals aren’t exactly joyful occasions. I doubt anyone ever wants to go to them.”
She was silent for a moment, staring across the gardens spread beneath them. “I was happy when they told me he was dead,” she said finally, voice hoarse. “That’s bad, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to be happy because your father’s dead.”
Loki wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t know much about Sága’s father—she almost never spoke of him, and Loki never asked—but he never could quite forget the stories she would tell when they were children, about witches and dragons and violent, fiery breath.
He inhaled. “I don’t think that’s bad either.” A part of him wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, but he wasn’t sure if that was right. “If he was a good father, you’d feel differently. But he wasn’t, and you don’t. That’s all there is to it.”
Sága only nodded.
The next morning was less somber. When Sága came to say goodbye, she seemed her normal, airy self, bouncing and bubbling over every small detail.
“Hopefully, by the time I’m back, I’ll have my book done!” she beamed. “And I’ll bring it back for you to read!”
“Well, in that case, I’ll be counting the seconds,” he drawled. Sága laughed, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. They were lovely, those eyes—warm, like liquid amber, brown and sparkling with mirth. He had never really stopped to think about it before, but she had to have the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
Perhaps he was staring too intently, because Sága had stopped laughing. Loki felt his cheeks flush. He was about to apologize when she threw her arms around his shoulders.
He was so thrown off by the embrace that he couldn’t really comprehend what had happened until after she had let go. It was a quick hug, spur of the moment and over as soon as it began. It meant nothing.
Still there was something in the air as Sága pulled away, something he didn’t think either of them had the capability to describe. She patted his shoulder, nodding as if in agreement with something neither of them had said.
“Goodbye, Prince Loki,” she said thickly.
He nodded too. “Goodbye, Sága.”
It was the last time he saw her.
Loki stared at the book on the table. He had told his mother that he didn’t want any more books—he was beginning to feel less like a person and more like a pity case with each shipment she sent in.
Enough with it! Just let me rot in peace.
And she had agreed. The flood of books had ceased.
Except for this one.
He hadn’t heard them come in to drop it off, which was concerning. Loki had always been a light sleeper, and that had increased a hundredfold by the time he had returned to Asgard. He wondered if they were drugging him.
The book itself was crisp and clean—freshly bound. He always used to like those books as a child, so new that the spine let out a satisfying crack as he opened them for the first time. Now, he was almost afraid to touch it.
The mossy green cover was unassuming. No artwork, no patterns, just the title and author in simple gold lettering.
Dandelion
Sága Svanhilddottir
Loki didn’t know how long he stared at it. The dungeons made it hard to keep track of time in general, but in that moment it felt as if everything around him ceased to exist. He couldn’t tear his eyes from it.
Damn. She actually did it.
Sága … when was the last time he thought of Sága? She seemed to exist in a different lifetime, a character in a story that had long since been shelved. He remembered her, though—a scrawny little girl on the grass, weaving yellow flowers through her braids.
In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.
He picked it up. It wasn’t particularly heavy, nor particularly thick—certainly nothing like the texts of old she had once proclaimed herself equal to. It appeared quite average, really. Maybe he wouldn’t read it. The whole thing was birthed out of a childish fancy, and he no longer held any appreciation for fairy-stories.
But who was he kidding?
The story was about a girl named Dandelion (Loki groaned aloud upon reading it, although such puerility was to be expected from an author who went about her days with weeds dangling from her hair) who lived with her mother and her beast of  a father off in some nonexistent realm, far away from Asgard. While her father had not the form of a dragon, he certainly had the temperament. He spent the days raging about their household, ranting and raving at every little inconvenience until he’d worked himself up into a violent frenzy.
Her mother didn’t know what to do. She was alone in a strange land, having forfeited her freedom to irrevocably tie herself to this monster of a man. She had nowhere to go, no family to turn to. And so she grit her teeth and took the beatings and the curses and prayed for a miracle.
Of course, little Dandelion was too young to understand this. She didn’t know why her mother cried herself to sleep at night, nor could she comprehend the foulness of the words that her father spat into the air. She had never known anything else. And so, every night she sat upon her father’s knee as he brushed out and braided her long, silky hair and read aloud to her from his rotted old storybook. Dandelion loved those stories, of monstrous dragons and evil witches who feasted on rats and tarantulas, fair maidens locked away in towers and dashing princes fighting their way through bramble-choked woods to awaken them with a kiss.
She’d dream about those stories as she lay in bed, writing her own in her head to drown out the crashes and cries ricocheting off the walls on the floor below her. In her mind’s eye, Dandelion could see herself as the maiden, nose pressed against the window as she waited for her prince to scale her tower and carry her to safety.
He never came.
But she was not long for this way of life. One night, during dinner, her father in a fit of anger overturned the candle on the tablecloth. The fabric went up in flames. They spread fast across the table and caught on Dandelion’s cuff, setting her sleeve ablaze. She survived—her father was quick to come to his senses and douse the flames—but her arm was badly burned. It was at that moment that her mother had had enough. She took her daughter and ran for it.
After a long struggle to secure the funds they needed, they were able to book passage back to her mother’s home realm. There, they found sanctuary.
She found something else there too. There, sitting in the very back row of the classroom with his head hidden behind a book, was a real, living, breathing prince. Dandelion was entranced—she had always thought princes to be some mythical creature that existed only within the pages of storybook. And yet, here was one right in front of her, like the most normal thing in the world. He didn’t seem very princely. He just seemed like a boy, a quiet boy who preferred reading to conversation. Dandelion would have never known him to be anything else if her mother hadn’t pointed him out to her.
But she was curious, and so when given the opportunity to choose her spot, she sat down next to him. He was a strange prince. He’d argue with her about the stories she told, but that only meant he was listening to her. He’d say he didn’t want to see her when she bumped into him outside of class, but he’d still follow her down the hall when she turned to leave. He didn’t strike her as the dragon-slaying tower-scaling type, but that was okay. Dandelion liked him just the way he was.
The story went on. Dandelion grew up to the whooshing of letters slipped under the door—her dragon father, asking her mother to come back, to come home, promising that he was different and everything would be all right. There were times when her mother seemed almost swayed by his sweet words—she’d sigh and say that it would be nice to see their family safe and back together again and stare off into the distance as if remembering something other than the screaming or the fighting or the burning, as if she had forgotten the way Dandelion would wake screaming in the night convinced she could smell her flesh burning. It sent cold shivers down Dandelion’s spine. She began tossing the letters into the fire before her mother had the chance to read them.
She’d turn to her prince for comfort. He didn’t know about the letters, but somehow, he made her feel better all the same. He was light and safe and everything she needed—she always seemed to be laughing when she was with him. And when he laughed—something about that laugh made Dandelion’s chest feel awash with a lovely sort of warmth.
She was in love with him.
But Dandelion didn’t say anything about that. She knew he only saw her as a friend—a silly, trivial friend who he could tease and laugh with without having to concern himself with the solemnity of his station. If he knew how she felt … she could lose him entirely. Dandelion couldn’t face such a prospect.
Instead, she danced with everyone but her prince, drowned herself in wine and spent her nights in the arms of any faceless man who wanted her, all in some vain attempt to sway her feelings in another direction. It only made things worse.
But life went on. Another letter came in from the realm of her birth, written in a different hand than usual. Her father had passed in his sleep, it explained. At long last, the dragon had been defeated. Dandelion was to return home immediately. And so, she bid her prince a friendly farewell.
The fallout of her father’s death was horrifically complicated. She was his legal heir, but she had also spent a majority of her life estranged from him and she found his representatives unwilling to hand over control of his estate to her. It was years before she could come back. And when she did—
Loki couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He knew very well what “Dandelion” found when she returned to Asgard—or more aptly, what she didn’t find.
You’re my prince, aren’t you?
He wished he had kissed her.
86 notes · View notes
radiorenjun · 4 years
Text
 I Don't Need It
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• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader
• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff
• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn't stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.
• Warnings: mentions of heartbreak, slight cussing or swearing, body pains, unrequited love, Jaemin finally getting karma for what he’s done, a bit of crying, brief mentions of death and flashbacks.
• Word count : 7.4k
• Masterlist here!
• Chapters: viii, ix
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They say karma hits back at the best of times. In this case, it was no different with Na Jaemin. 
As time went on Jaemin finds himself longing and missing your presence by every passing moment. It’s been a full month since you started avoiding him like the plague, never daring to meet his eyes or even turning your head to acknowledge his presence in the classroom. It was as if you hadn’t spent most of your life hanging out with each other. As if you two were complete strangers.
At first, Jaemin tried ignoring the empty feeling inside of him whenever you pass by without giving him a slight glance. Trying to focus on whatever he was doing and not turn his head whenever he heard somebody calling out your name or whenever he hears your voice nearby. But it appears to be getting harder and harder as time goes by.
He finds himself thinking back to all the things you both used to do together wherever he goes. 
More or less, he doesn’t notice how his smile would quickly turn into a frown when he sees you hang around and act too friendly with Renjun. But then again, who was he to tell you what to do? He should be thrilled that you’ve finally decided to let go of him and get off his back. Yet again, he doesn’t seem too happy.
It seemed as if the world has turned upside down. Jaemin hadn’t noticed how many habits he developed in your absence from his life. He usually finds himself staring longingly at the shit polaroid the two of your took back when you were fourteen on your senior middle school field trip. A small smile stretching across his face when his mind wandered back to the exact moment when and where you took it. 
“Jaemin!” you hissed loudly as you took your bag to pull out your polaroid camera that your grandma had bought you earlier on your birthday. You were both currently on break after a long hike and hours of camp activities. Jaemin turned his head, seeing you pull out your camera and blowing some dust off of it. Jaemin smiled as he shoved his hand in his own bag which had a hidden package of fluffy white marshmallows.
You were saving them for the bonfire later that night but what’s the harm in eating a few right? Jaemin shoved a marshmallow in his mouth as he got up to sit next to you on the dirty floor, the satisfying crunching sound of dried leaves being crumpled under his beige colored boots. “I thought you weren’t allowed to bring devices into camp,” Jaemin slumped down on the spot beside you, watching you fidget with your camera.
“I got permission from Mr.Jung. He said I could take some pics for the sake of saving memories, as long as I don’t blame him if I lose it,” you chuckled, turning to your best friend before your eyes lit up at the marshmallows in his palm. Jaemin’s eyes flickered from your camera to your pleading expression, puppy eyes boring into his, opening your mouth in a large ‘o’ shape.
Jaemin bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing, his hand picking up one of the marshmallows in the other before aiming it towards your mouth. When you leaned forward to gobble up the treat in between his finger, he pulled away teasingly, causing you to let out a short frown. He giggled at your reaction, pulling the marshmallow close to you before pulling away once again once you leaned forward.
“Jaemin, stop and let me have a marshmallow, you greedy goblin!” you whined, bumping your shoulder rather harshly against his teasingly. Jaemin broke into a fit of giggles, nodding with a giggly, “okay, okay. Chill out.” 
He popped the fluffy treat into your mouth where you started humming in content, “thank you,” you replied melodiously with a wide smile. Jaemin laughed, ruffling your already messy hair before pulling his hat off his head to plop it lopsidedly on your head. You furrowed your brows, scrunching your nose as you pouted almost menacingly at him causing him to smile innocently and pinch your nose in between his free hand that wasn’t carrying the marshmallows.
“Finally!” you exclaimed, turning on your camera before Jaemin took it out of your grasp. “How much do you have left?” Jaemin asked, referring to the contents inside of your camera. You suddenly turned to him, camera closer to your face, quickly snapping a quick picture of his taken aback state. The flash coming from your camera nearly blinding him, causing black spots to line his vision for a couple of seconds. “Three, now.” you pulled the polaroid out of the dispenser, blowing on it smugly before shaking the piece of film in between your fingers.
“Great, then you don’t mind if we finish the last four polaroids on us?” Jaemin raised his brow in a rather flirtatious way. “Whatever, my grandma’s gonna gush about us either way, saying how pissed off she’ll be if we don’t end up as soulmates.” You shrugged as Jaemin lifted the camera to angle it so the two of you would be in the frame. Your grandmother was one of those people who were convinced that you two were going to be soulmates in the future. “That’s a risk I’ll be willing to take,” he nods with a laugh.
“Enough blabbering and put on a really ugly face so I can save it in my scrapbook, Na.” you joked, winking awkwardly at the camera as you brought your hand closer to your eye for a peace sign, hovering your index finger above the camera button. “Oh y/n, always so desperate to have more cringey pictures of me, aren’t you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a crush on me,” he smirked, causing you to lower your camera to purse your lips and roll your eyes at him.
“Just shut up and take a picture before I tell Mr. Seo that you’ve been eating all the marshmallows during the hike,” you threatened weakly, raising the camera once again to get a better angle. Jaemin to let out a soft chuckle before sucking in the corners of his lips into his mouth to make a duck face before his finger slowly slides onto the camera button, clicking it rather quickly.
For the next three shots, you two continued to goof off with either you or Jaemin ruining the last three photos. Only finally having a decent one when you threatened to burn his x-box if you didn’t get this last picture right. One polaroid had a picture of you pushing Jaemin’s face away from the camera, resulting in you showing your pearly white teeth.
“Shining shimmering splendid” as Jaemin liked to say. 
The other was a slightly less blurry than the precious one, with Jaemin trapping you squealing and squirming in his arms, scrunching your face in disgust. You soon revealed that you had kept this in your scrapbook that you were so devoted to at the time.  
The last picture was the clearest picture out of the four. A picture of you laughing brightly, hands pushing against Jaemin’s face, his lips puckered up to give you a teasing, friendly kiss. “I’m definitely keeping this,” Jaemin giggled, holding the polaroid in between his fingers with amusement written all over his face. You peeked at the photo in question, letting out a huff as you rolled your eyes.
“You’re such a hopeless romantic, it was a mistake to watch the Titanic with you,” you shoved Jaemin teasingly with a snicker, stuffing the other polaroids in the front pocket of your backpack. Jaemin pouted letting out a small “humph” as he crossed his arms rather childishly, “please?” he said, coming closer to you to poke your cheek.
You snickered at your best friend who was now pinching your cheek and chanting “please” in a playfully aggressive tone. “Pay me,” you stuck your tongue out jokingly, jaw dropping a second afterwards when you saw Jaemin pulling out his wallet from his pocket. “How much?” he asked, shuffling through his almost empty wallet. (He spent all the pocket money his parents gave him for a can of coke the seniors were selling during the hike, despite your protests)
You let out a laugh. “You idiot, I wasn’t serious, put your wallet back in before it cries at how empty it is, Jaemin.” you retorted, smacking his arm lightly as Jaemin smiled like a dork at your expression. “Oh, I see how this is. You just want to see how broke and empty my wallet is, didn’t you? You ” he accused, wiggling a finger in your face. 
“Yes, I definitely wanted to see how broke you are after I told you multiple times that the juice our moms packed us is way more worth it than some soda our senior offered. Definitely not because I was joking or anything,” you laughed sarcastically, rolling your eyes at the boy who let out an embarrassed giggle. “Shut up!” he laughed, flicking your forehead.
“It was just coca cola, you nitwit. You have no right to complain considering you practically begged me to buy you one as well,” he retorted, pinching your cheek rather hard. “I only asked! It’s your own fault that you decided to buy me one, for all you knew I could’ve shared yours! But  no, you’re a greedy little shit that wants to drink a whole can of cola by himself!” you shot back, laughing along as you pushed his hand away from your face.
“Clearly, coca cola means much more to you than our friendship. I can’t handle this betrayal!” you raised your arm to cover your eyes with the back of your hand dramatically, wailing like a banshee as Jaemin’s jaw dropped, feeling slightly offended at how you unceremoniously exclaimed his betrayal for the whole class to hear. 
“L/N!”
Jaemin smiled to himself at the vivid memory, remembering how you both laughed so hard the majority of your whole trip, so hard that your stomachs’ were aching. Remembering how you squealed his name in alarm when you were squirming in his hold, trying to get out of his arms when Jaemin tried to place a kiss on your forehead in front of everyone to mess with you. Your classmates were surprisingly unfazed by the immense amount of platonic affection displayed in front of them, but you couldn’t blame them. This is Na Jaemin we’re talking about. The boy who flirted with his nurse while getting an injection in his ass.
Though, Jaemin never realized how mature you both have gotten since then. How since your 16th birthday, you stopped having midnight texts that made you both grip your own stomachs out of laughter. How you both stopped joking around as much. How this whole soulmate ordeal tore your friendship apart.
Jaemin would like to convince himself that this was all your fault. You were the one that caused your relationship to fall, with your over the top devotion to making him love you more than a friend would. He would like to think that if it weren’t for you being so clingy and dramatic when professing your love, he wouldn’t have lost his childhood best friend.
He sighed softly as he closed his locker, gripping his biology book against his side with one hand and gripping the saddle of his bag in the other. Jaemin despised this empty feeling in his chest.The feeling that as if something had gone missing in his life. The same feeling of how he lost his newest transformers action figure back when he was nine years old.
As he turned around the corner, pausing in his step as his eyes widened slightly to see you leaning against the locker with your friends. A bright expression on your face as you listened to your friend ranting bout whatever Jisung did to fool the newest math substitute teacher into giving them a free period. 
Jaemin felt his mouth running dry, words stuck in his throat, a sudden uneasy feeling piling up into his chest. He scoffed lightly to himself, mentally scolding himself for his sudden nervousness. ‘Why am I getting nervous over this? It’s just y/n after all.’ he thought with furrowed brows before shaking the thought out of his head, huffing to himself before continuing on forward. 
It felt as if the world had slowed down for a dramatic effect. As Jaemin passed by you and your friend, he couldn’t help but look at you in the corner of his eye, catching a small glimpse of your laughing figure. And to his surprise, your eyes darted to his own, catching his piercing gaze. Both of your eyes met for a brief moment, the sound of students chattering around you growing deaf for a split second.
That is, until Jaemin got snapped back into reality when he watched the happiness from your eyes evaporate. A sad, hurt expression replacing it as your pupils moved away from his own, he watched your head turn to look at your nails, pretending to listen to whatever your friend was saying as you tried to mask your hurt with a slight smile.
Jaemin’s heart ached, a frown taking place on his own lips as he tears his gaze away from your figure to look down on the tiled floor. Jaemin let out a loud exhale as he makes his way to class, There was something hurtful about the  way your eyes instantly dart away to avoid his gaze, his heart aching at the thought that you couldn’t even look at him. Were you that upset bout the dinner party? He couldn’t recall the last time you were this upset.
As Jaemin sat on his usual spot in his Biology class, he began to get lost in his thoughts. The closest thing he remembered to you being this upset over something was when-
He was snapped out of his thoughts in a flash when he heard a loud container being dropped in front of him. Jaemin jumped in his seat at the startling noise, turning his head to the source of the action. Unsurprisingly, it was non other than his oh-so-precious seatmate, Lee Donghyuck himself. “What’s gotten you so pissed off? You looked as if you poured orange into your cereal instead of milk,” Donghyuck snickered.
“That’s a possible option considering I’m lactose intolerant, Hyuck.” Jaemin shot back with a rather sardonic tone. Hyuck chuckled, slumping in his seat beside Jaemin before continuing to speak. “Reminds me of when I bought you milk bingsu,” he snickers causing Jaemin to let out a soft chuckle, pushing the side of the older boy’s head away in retaliation. “You bitch, you knew I was allergic. Why couldn’t you just get me a fruit bingsu instead? Instead, you made y/n buy it.” Jaemin stopped himself from speaking any further, his mind drifting away to recall the wonderful memory.
“Jaemin, my good pal. You absolutely need to try this place’s milk bingsu.” Hyuck exclaimed as he sat down on the empty seat with his other friends with two big bowls of milk bingsu in his hands. Jaemin glanced up from his phone, a deadpanned expression spreading across his face as he slumped back in his seat with an offended frown plastered on his face.
“Lee Haechan, you know very well I’m lactose intolerant. Why couldn’t you just get a fruit bingsu?” Jaemin groaned, eyes glaring at his older friend who merely shrugged innocently as the rest of their friends dig into the scrumptious dessert with soft snickers coming out of their mouths. “The audacity,” Yeoreum snickered, waving a spoonful of the dessert in front of Jaemin’s face.
Jaemin huffed, blowing out a puff of air as he crossed his arms against his chest. “This speaks so much bout our friendship right now. Clearly, you guys don’t care bout me.” he muttered under his breath like a little 5 year old boy throwing a tantrum in his car when his mother said that they have food at home when he wanted Mc Donald’s.
“You’re such a baby. If you want one so much, go buy some.” Jeno chuckled, shoving Jaemin by the shoulder playfully causing Jaemin to let out a soft laugh. “Shut up, you know very well that I’ve gone broke from buying the latest Final Fantasy game.” he laughed, patting the empty wallet hidden in his jacket pocket.
“No wonder I couldn’t understand you. You’re speaking in broke with us rich kids, go away peasant.” Hyuck joked, earning a hard punch on the shoulder from the younger boy. “It was worth it,” he spat back. “ I’m good with starving for the rest of the month if it means I get to spend my whole weekend procrastinating on assignments for that glorious game,” he smiled in defeat.
“You big baby, I’ll buy it.” you sighed, standing up from your seat which was across the table from Jaemin’s, pulling out your own wallet from your hoodie, causing Jaemin’s jaw to drop. “Your girlfriend buying your meal for you, how romantic. Such a gentleman, Mister. Na Jaemin.” Hyuck applauded, clapping his hand together with each word that spews out of the idiot’s mouth.
“Y/n, you really don’t have to-” Jaemin insisted, standing up from his chair to look at you. Trying to swallow down the typical feeling of annoyance piling up in his chest whenever he talks to you, Jaemin tried to ignore the coos and howls of your friends gushing about how cute you two are. You had found out two of you were soulmates almost 6 months ago, and ever since then, things changed between you two.
You smiled briefly. At that time, Jaemin couldn’t decipher if she was just oblivious to the fact that he was annoyed and uncomfortable at that situation or you were just putting up a facade to mask your hurt when you saw his annoyed expression. “Hush, it’s not unusual for me to buy you things, Jaemin.” you grinned cheekily, walking up to the cashier and ignoring Jaemin’s annoyed whines.
Jaemin rolled his eyes at you in annoyance before sitting down and slumping in his seat with a heavy sigh. “Hey, at least you get a fruit bingsu,” Hyuck snickered. “Just like you wanted, right?” he leaned forward to pinch Jaemin’s cheeks, receiving a hard smack in response from the younger boy, an annoyed expression plastered across his face. 
“Shut up, Hyuck.” he snarled, slumping in his seat in annoyance.
“Welp, no matter. I got you some cookies.” Hyuck sighed, pushing the container towards Jaemin, causing him to lift his brow questioningly. “Cookies?” he asked, surprised. “What’s the occasion? You never gave me anything before,” Jaemin opened it to reveal that the container was filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. “You seem pretty down these days so I figured you needed the old cheering up by your best pal, Haechan!” he exclaimed with enthusiastic jazz hands.
Jaemin chuckled lightly, grabbing one cookie. “Don’t worry, they’re those dark chocolate, no milk kinds of cookies. You won’t have to go to the bathroom with a stomach ache later on,” Donghyuck snickered, patting Jaemin’s back when Jaemin looks at him and the cookie suspiciously. “Where did you even get these? “ Jaemin asked, inspecting the cookie with furrowed brows, eyeing Donghyuck suspiciously as if Donghyuck had poisoned said cookie. 
“Relax, Jaemin. I didn’t make them, so no pranks, I can promise you that.” Hyuck waved the back of his hand at Jaemin, telling him that he’s telling the truth. Jaemin shrugged, opening his mouth to eat the cookie before Hyuck spoke up again. “I got it from y/n,” Hyuck added on, making Jaemin pause, pulling the cookie away from his mouth.
“I think I’m good,” Jaemin muttered lowly, putting the cookie back into the container. ”Oh come on, Jaemin! I bet you missed tasting her cookies. Sure, you two aren’t haven’t been on speaking terms lately. But what’s stopping you from eating her Thursday Cookies? They’re literally to die for! Plus, you’re acting as if she poisoned them or something, it’s nothing like you never had before.” Hyuck groaned, grabbing two pieces of cookies and shoving one into Jaemin’s grip and tossing the other into his mouth.
Hyuck watched Jaemin from the corner of his eye, feeling sort of uneasy at the sad puppy-like expression plastered on his best friend’s face as he stared down at the cookie as if he was lost. “What’s wrong?” Hyuck asked with a raised brow, pushing back his bangs which almost covered his eyes. He might need a trim before Mark complains bout how his hair is gonna poke him in the eyes all the time.
Jaemin looks up at his friend with a startled expression as if Hyuck had snapped him out of his thoughts, Jaemin opened his mouth before closing it again, trying to think of something to say. “I’ve never had her cookies before,” Jaemin confessed, leaning his head against his palm, his elbow on the table. Hyuck’s eyes widened at the surprising statement, leaning forward to tell whether Jaemin is lying or not.
He wasn’t.
“WHAT?!” Hyuck exclaimed, attracting their classmates’ attention. Jaemin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the eyes of his classmates. “You couldn’t say that any louder, huh, Hyuck?” he shot back with a scowl. Though, Donghyuck didn’t care about the concerned eyes of his classmates boring into his skull for interrupting their conversation with his dramatic antics. “Don’t change the subject, Na.” Hyuck pointed a finger at his friend, a deep frown adorning his lips.
“What? I’m not,” Jaemin sighed heavily, looking back at his friend with a bored expression. “Stop lying!” Hyuck exclaimed, pressing his index finger against Jaemin’s nose. Jaemin raised his brow, “I’m really not, Hyuck. Why are you making such a big deal of this?” he asked with furrowed brows, concerned of his friend’s sanity. He really couldn’t remember why he was friends with Donghyuck at that given moment.
Donghyuck was acting as if he had just found out Jaemin is secretly those aliens that rule over the government, waiting for the right moment to start a world wide apocalypse. (according to Renjun’s theory during their shared art class, that is) 
“Dude. I’m not an idiot, you practically received a life’s worth of her delicious cookies every week! How have you not tried at least one of these? These are literally heaven baked cookies! A salvation of life! The only thing that’s worth living in life! The-” 
“Remind me how you’re not single again?”
Hyuck frowned, a pout appearing on his lips afterwards as Jaemin grinned proudly in response. “Whatever, what I mean is. I would literally send you death glares from across the hall because you were one lucky bastard to be receiving a large ass jar of cookies every week while I’m stuck here begging y/n for cookies only to receive, ‘oh, I gave them all to Jaemin.’ every week of my life.” he huffed, crossing his arms with a deep frown on his lips.
Jaemin’s eyes widened slightly at the statement, eyes falling back on the chocolate chip cookie in between his fingers. Did you really spend your time baking him cookies every week? He felt his heart flutter at the thought, a warm feeling in his stomach suddenly appeared as he eyed the cookie.
“Hey Jaemin?” 
Jaemin looks up from his locker, humming to see none other than your presence. “Y/n?” he raised his brow, stuffing his Chemistry textbook into his locker and grabbing his Math textbook as he speaks. “What’s up?” he asked in a bored tone, adverting his gaze back to the contents of his locker, pulling out the books he needs for his next class.
“So, I baked you some cookies. I used your mom’s recipe for your favorite peanut butter and dark chocolate chip cookies that we used to eat as kids together.” you exclaimed, handing him a clear air-tight glass jar filled to the brim with delicious cookies. Jaemin looked at the jar filled with cookies before sighing up at you, tired eyes boring into yours. “Y/n, as much as I love accepting gifts from you and as much as I love the fact that you care about me, but you really need to stop doing this.” Jaemin sighed, stretching out his hand to give you back your cookies.
“What?” you frowned slightly. “It’s just too much, I appreciate you giving me so much of these cookies. But it’s kind of a waste to give me so many don’t you think? I mean, I know loads of people who would want your cookies way more than I do. You’ve given me so much cookies, I’m not even eating them!” Jaemin exclaimed almost exasperatedly, sighing heavily afterwards. His eyes glancing at the jar filled with delicious treats to your soft pleading eyes boring into his.
“Come on, it’s just a jar of cookies. It would mean a lot if you accept them, I worked hard to bake them,” you pouted, giving him that look you often use to make him give in. Jaemin would often compare your expression to that iphone emoji with puppy pleading eyes whenever he gives in to your wants and needs. Jaemin almost let out a scowl at your remark, almost retorting back with a ‘it’s your own fault. I didn’t ask for cookies in the first place.’
He tried his best not to roll his eyes, sighing in defeat as he gave in to your pleas. “Fine, only because I can’t say no to that look,” he huffed, masking his annoyance with a pout of his own, shoving the jar of cookies into the front pocket of his bag. He watched as your puppy-like pout morph into a happy, pleased expression, reminding him of the cute emoticons he always used in his phone. He didn’t know why but It always brings a small smile to his lips to see your happy expression.
“Yay!” you cheered rather enthusiastically. “Why do you like giving me cookies so much anyways? It’s a becoming a weekly routine now for me to get cookies from you.” Jaemin chuckled as you both began to walk side by side to your next class. He watched as you shrugged simply, eyes forward, waving at a few students who passed by. “I just like giving gifts to my soulmate,” you giggled at him, skipping away from him before he could scold you for saying it out loud.
He shrugged, taking a bite out of the cookie before widening his eyes at the sweet taste. He let out a surprised hum, eyeing the cookie as if he was Aladdin and the cookie was the golden lamp with a genie inside. “Good, right?” Hyuck chuckled, amused by his friend’s expression. “ I still can’t believe you never tried these before. She says she got the recipes from Buzzfeed but I don’t buy it, I’ve tried making some with Mark but they don’t taste nearly as good as hers.” Hyuck blabbered on.
“On a rare occasions she would hand them over. But those are only when your ungrateful ass kept refusing her cookies. Like, it often made me think, ‘why couldn’t Mark bake as well as-” Hyuck’s words eventually gone deaf to the younger boy’s ears, head filled with his own loud thoughts as the sweet flavor of the cookie entranced his taste buds.  
He remembers constantly rejecting your gifts every time you came up to him with hands hidden behind your back, trying every possible excuse in the book so that you would possibly give them to someone else. Or even suggesting that you should give them to Hyuck whenever Jaemin spotted him talking to Jeno across the hall in the corner of his eye. Avoiding your slightly saddened expression. On rare occasions, you would give in with a sad smile and give them to either Jeno, Haechan or some other lucky soul that gets to have free cookies.
“Like, I’ve had her give me some of her super special recipes but they just hit differently from hers you kno-”
“It taste like her hugs.” 
“What?” 
Jaemin’s eyes widened when he realized he said that last bit out loud, his head turning to his friend who mirrored his wide eyed expression. There was a pregnant pause between the two boys, taking in the words that accidentally slipped out of Jaemin’s mouth. Jaemin opened his mouth to speak, trying to come up with something to say to cover up the previous statement he had made.
Hyuck furrowed his brows at his friend. 
“You can taste hugs?” 
“Mr. Lee is coming!” someone exclaimed, causing Hyuck and Jaemin to sit up in their chairs. Jaemin shoved the rest of the half eaten cookie into his mouth as Hyuck quickly closed the container and snuck it quickly into his bag, trying to act as casual as possible as their teacher walked into class with his usual stoic expression.
“Good morning, class. We have no time to waste, exams are in a month. Please open your textbooks to page 67.” their teacher announced in his typical booming voice, turning around to start explaining on the whiteboard in front of them. Jaemin glanced at Hyuck for a split second, diverting his gaze away when he caught his eye. Hyuck shrugged simply, burying his head into his arms into a sleeping position.
Jaemin wasn’t surprised to see Hyuck closing his eyes in content, thus, not paying attention to the lecture. It wasn’t such an unusual thing for Lee Donghyuck to doze off during class, thus ignoring the whole lecturing and depending on other students for notes or seniors for cheat sheets. Jaemin hoped Hyuck would let go of what he said earlier or even better, pretend it never happened.
As Jaemin advert his eyes back to the whiteboard and started to listen to Mr. Lee’s explanations, he didn’t realize Hyuck, whose face was hidden and buried in his arms, was staring into darkness with sad half-lidded eyes. He knew full well who Jaemin was talking about, he knew what was happening with Jaemin. The fate of those who rejected their soulmate’s love. He knew this would happen eventually but he didn’t expect this to happen so soon.
Deep down, he felt sympathy for what’s to come to his dear friend. He knew from here on out, it’s going to be a roller coaster of emotions for his dear friends and he was afraid of finding out the end to their story. 
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Jaemin often spent his Thursdays hanging out at the arcade with his friends right after practice. As the good friend Jaemin was, he would often go broke from treating his team for some food and beverages. (As long as they didn’t get on his bad side or anything) Especially for those who were feeling down that whole week. Jaemin was more than willing to sacrifice his wallet’s contents for the sake of his friends smiling again.
But this time, to Jaemin’s surprise, Jeno was the one who offered to sacrifice his wallet for the team this week. Due to the exhaustion and stress of his constant chest pains, wrist pains, long endless assignments and his upcoming midterm exams, all he wanted to do that weekend was get at least 18 hours of sleep and binge watch the latest series that just came out recently.
But since, Jeno, the one and only Jeno who was the one who usually encourages the rest of the team to make Jaemin’s wallet an empty little bitch, was willing to empty out his pockets this time. He couldn’t say no. Hell if Jeno was the one paying, that meant someone in the team was feeling down or needed a real cheering up. 
Plus, it was finally his turn to scream, “BUY EVERYTHING YOU CAN. JENO’S PAYING, WHOEVER’S GOT THE MOST EXPENSIVE SHIT WILL GET A FREE JAR OF COOKIES!”
You can tell Jaemin had been waiting decades to say that. 
But sadly, he was too tired from all the pain he was dealing with every hour of his day that he was basically dragging himself across the floor when they arrived at the mall, making their way to the arcade with Jeno and Haechan’s arms slung over Jaemin’s shoulder, making a little skip with every step they take. “How do you guys have the energy for this?” Jaemin croaked, putting on a sloppy smile to mask his exhaustion.
“Said by the guy who drinks expresso every morning with what? Four extra shots? With no water nor sugar? Six times a day?” Hyuck replied in a sassy tone, nodding his head cockily at the younger boy. “Besides, it’s a once in a life time opportunity to make our Lee Jeno broke and penniless. The thought of Jeno’s wallet crying out of hunger will always be my mood booster.” he added on with a proud smirk, causing Jeno to roll is eyes.
“Plus, you, my friend, looks exhausted as hell. You need some refreshing fun time with your best buds, Jeno and Haechan!” Jeno exclaimed with a proud smile, whipping out his VIP card in between his fingers like some kind of weird card trick. (which he rarely whips out when going to the arcade because why bother bringing a wallet when Jaemin or Chenle exists in their friend group?)
“What?” Jaemin deadpanned, brows furrowed in confusion.
“We exist, too, hyung!” Chenle exclaimed behind them in an offended tone, waving his hand in the air to alert his seniors that his existence was right behind them. “Honestly, we’re here because Haechan-hyung said Jeno-hyung finally brought his wallet,” Jisung snickered, finally lifting his eyes up from the nintendo switch his mom bought him a couple months ago.
“Not wrong, really.” Chenle shrugged, pulling Jaemin forward so that they could walk side by side with their seniors. “You know, you’re the rich one here. Why don’t you treat your seniors once in a while,” Jaemin teased, sending the Chinese boy a cheeky grin. “That’s because you’re mean. I don’t treat mean people,” he replied back with a cackle.
“I brought you kimchi last week, you ungrateful brat.” Jaemin hissed back as the five of them entered the crowded arcade, music booming loudly in their ears, bright lights from the arcade games nearly blinding their eyes. “What game should we play first?” Hyuck clapped his hands, rubbing them against each other with a sinister expression as Jeno came up to the counter to check his VIP card, nervously opening his wallet.
“Oh, what bout those-” as Jisung continues to speak, pointing at a random direction. The wide grin on Jaemin’s face soon dissipated when he heard a familiar laugh through the symphony of random gaming music. His head turned to see the source to confirm his suspicions, eyes widening when he saw you laughing with a bunch of your other friends.
What made his smile evaporate in a second was the sight of Renjun right beside you, leaning his arm against the game you were playing, laughing along with you as the rest of your friends continued to cheer for you to win. Jaemin felt the oh-so-familiar electrifying sting under the skin beneath his wristwatch, wincing slightly at the burning pain. He tried to mask his pain and turn his head away, his heart feeling heavy at the sight happening a few meters away from him.
Jaemin snuck his aching wrist into the baggy pockets of his jacket. Eyes back to his friends who were laughing at Jeno’s puppy-like expression to his now half empty wallet. He bit back a pained hiss, his heart beat muffling the loud noise around him as he watched Renjun lean closer to you to look closer at the game screen, his blood boiling at the mere sight.
He turned his gaze away following his friends to the long aisle of racing games, watching as Hyuck grabbed the play card from Jeno’s fingers and hopped into one of the games. “Jaemin get over here so I can beat your ass!” Hyuck exclaimed eagerly as Jaemin let out a soft sigh and sat on the empty seat inb between Hyuck and Jisung.
“The one with the lowest score has to chug down Jaemin’s disgusting Starbucks order,” Chenle snickered, sliding the card against the slot before handing it to Jaemin. “Then I’ll gladly lose on purpose, my drink tastes like rainbows and unicorns, thank you very much” Jaemin laughs, carefully taking out his aching wrist to grip the fake steering wheel, ignoring the excruciating pain in his skin as he passes the card to Donghyuck.
“Shut up, Jaemin.” Hyuck teased as they begun to play. 
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Jaemin’s mind fluttered through the nostalgic memories of his childhood with you, remembering the first time your parents ever brought you to the arcade. When they had to use a certain amount of those silver or gold coins to play games. As Jaemin walked side by side with his friends, sipping his Starbucks order in his right hand (he lost the game on purpose because despite the empty pain in his chest, he could always distract his mind away from the pain with his precious expresso that Jeno payed) and his left back in his pockets.
Jaemin’s eyes paused at the familiar aisle of crane games, remembering those lovely times when you were both still in middle school, you would always play crane games to see who would get the most prizes. Coming home with a bag filled with plushies or small toys and wide grins on your faces as both of your parents just stared at the two of you in disappointment for spending their money on crane games.
‘It’s an investment’ you would always say whenever you ran towards the crane games with Jaemin trailing right behind you, whining bout how you rarely play the other fun games just to waste your money in a bunch of small hand sized plushies. ‘Investment into what exactly? You have a bunch of plushies in your shelf that aren’t doing anything but collecting dust,’ he would chuckle as he watched you slip a coin or two into the machine with your tongue stuck out in concentration. ‘Into my happiness,’ you would reply with a smug expression before focusing on the crane inside the glass box.
He smiled to himself at the memory, his eyes catching a few kids gathering up at the crane games, screaming and hollering every few seconds when their friend accidentally moved the crane too far from the doll. His chest aching once again when a brief memory of when you two were in your first year of middle school, screaming whenever the timer runs out right when you were bout to drop the claw with his hands filled with a towers worth of plushies and you laughing in victory like a maniac as you both watched the pocket money in your wallet slowly disintegrate into nothingness.
“You’re into crane games, Jaemin?” Jeno asked, causing Jaemin to snap out of his thoughts. “Huh?” Jaemin turned to look at his friends, his mind still in a blurry haze. “You’ve been staring at those kids as if they had stolen your last candy bar,” Jeno commented with a slight laugh, nodding his head towards the group of kids, screaming in victory when the claw machine dropped the large stuffed animal into the gigantic slot.
“It just reminded me of something,” Jaemin put on a slight smile, shaking his head with a light laugh, continuing on drinking his expresso and moving on forward to the music games. Hyuck gave Jeno a worried look, who sent him back a concerned look of his own as the two of them caught up with Jaemin. (Chenle and Jisung went to the snack bar near the arcade to get some snacks to sneak in the movies later)
“You okay, buddy? You’ve been spacing out a lot recently,”  Hyuck asked in a concerned tone, slinging an arm around Jaemin’s shoulders. Jaemin turned to Hyuck with eyes void of emotion, a frown displayed on his face as he casually sipped his drink. “Yeah? I guess,” he shrugged simply, avoiding Hyuck’s concerned eyes.
“You sure? You don’t look too well,” Jeno asked, brows furrowed even more as Jaemin let out a small nod. He could feel his heart getting heavy with each second, his wrist aching even more as he tried to avoid his friends’ worried expressions, trying to act nonchalant as if he wasn’t clenching his fist tightly in his pocket to try to suppress the excruciating pain he was enduring. 
“Guys, really, I’m fine.” Jaemin forced a smile on to his face, turning his head away from Hyuck and Jeno. At that exact moment, Jaemin regretted turning his head away. His eyes widened to see you with your friends, your arm was wrapped around a gigantic penguin plushie, talking to Renjun with a wide smile, a laugh eliciting from you when Renjun said something that Jaemin couldn’t make out.
“Did you really have to spend most of your money on a bunch of plushies?” Renjun chuckled, nodding to Yebin who was carrying three shopping bags worth of random plushies. You giggled, nodding as you reached up to pinch Renjun’s cheek eagerly. “It’s an investment into my happiness, leave me alone Injun.” you giggled, clutching the penguin tighter against you when you felt it slipping in between your arms. 
Renjun slapped your hand away from his cheek, huffing out exasperatedly before grabbing your plushie from your arms and into his. “Let me carry that,” he sighs, adjusting his grip slightly before sending you a soft smile. “Renjun you really don’t have to,” you frowned, tugging the flippers of the penguin as if he was going to give you back your plushie.
“I’ve already made Youngheum and Yebin my slaves, I don’t need you stooping into their levels,” you joke, dodging the dog plushie Yebin had threw at you right after Youngheum let out a dramatic, “BETRAYAL!” as they dropped shopping bags filled with your prizes unceremoniously.
“Shut up and let me carry this for you, you ungrateful little shit.” Renjun chuckled, using a hand to carry the life-sized penguin plushie to flick your forehead. “The audacity, I’ll be sure to bake you guys a fuck ton of cookies this week,” you snickered as Hyunjin let out a laugh. “I want cookies too!” he exclaimed, shaking your shoulders vigorously as he whined.
Jaemin let out a loud groan of pain as he felt an intense stinging sensation, his heart was beating erratically in his ears. “Jaemin, you okay?” Hyuck asked, pulling his arm away from Jaemin’s shoulders as Jaemin bit his lip to suppress a hiss. Jeno and Hyuck turned to see what Jaemin was glaring at, eyes widening at you standing so closely to Renjun.
“Jaem-” 
Their eyes widened when they silently watched Jaemin pulling his wrist out of his pocket, tugging his wrist watch down to see the oh-so-familiar tattoo glowing  a bright blood crimson red. The words were stuck in their throat, they didn’t know what to say. Or if they could even say anything as they silently watched their friend bit his lip and clench his eyes shut at the pain of his wrist and chest.
“Shit, what’s going on?” Jisung’s deep voiced cut through the tense atmosphere, causing Jeno and Hyuck to turn to see Jisung and Chenle with their jaws dropped, arms filled with snacks as they stared at their Team Captain with horrified eyes. Jaemin’s eyes were glossy from the intense pain, his chest was aching like hell, his heartbeat muffling the music around him as he hissed out in pain, eyes still on your figure laughing with Renjun.
“Get Jaemin, out of here. I knew this was going to happen but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” Jeno ordered, trying to pull Jaemin out of the arcade but the boy could barely move. The pain getting more intense and intense by the second as Jaemin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two figures standing not even a couple meters away from them.
“Jaemin come on, it’s gonna get even worse if you stay here.” 
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T A G G I N G : @lixseu @morks-watermelon @cherrystay @candiednickles @12am-musings @lowkeyviv @btm-taeyong @d-nghyck @gothmingguk @luvlyjaemin @cowward @smileyyuta @cakelyn @uncovermenow666 @aconeptun​ @comically-sleep-deprived​ @wtfhaechan​ @chaeshii 
TAG LIST IS : O P E N E D ! do inform me if you changed your url. I couldn’t tag three people i’m so sorry idk what’s going on
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“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels
Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is 
actively 
trying
to kill you?!
 Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.
Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.
So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold! 
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Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).
Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.
By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous. 
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At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends. 
In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.
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So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???
And here they are in no particular order:
1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom
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Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.
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In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.” 
The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.
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Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see. 
Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.
Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.
2) Their best friends are dating
Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).
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3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode
OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage. 
Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”
 Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid. 
Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids. 
But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him. 
Sound familiar???
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4) Hidden Personality                   vs.          Surface Personality
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 I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”
It’s all you, fam.
Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into. 
Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness
Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact
Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien. 
Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)
Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.
 Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.
 Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time. 
Which leads me to the next parallel.
5) Umbrella in the Rain
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squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3
If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.
youtube
Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”
Helga: “...There was someone.”
The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time. 
 In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series. 
 But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.
 And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.
6) Clinginess
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What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity? 
Clinginess. 
I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that. 
 What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.
 It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed. 
 The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship
Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.
Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.
 He treats his friends better.
 He does love his father--
Even though his father is THE. 
WORST.
 PARENT.
 EVER!!!
--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.
7) Unhealthy Obsession
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I--
I...
Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.
 Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s. 
But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning. 
The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold
Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.
Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that. 
As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...
8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies
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As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying. 
 But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight. 
Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?
 The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.
 The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.
The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.
The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do. 
The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store
It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.
 Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.” 
9) There are two main characters
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Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story. 
Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is. 
Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.
But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.
10) Constantly bumping into each other
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Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks. 
 But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes. 
 I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme
Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette? 
;)
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chaotically-cas · 3 years
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The Wall by Pink Floyd x Ponyboy Curtis Essay (part 1 of 2)
Umm first off I would like to say I know how dumb all of this sounds & I know this is far from intelligent or anything close to a thought I can articulate, so before I get hate for this, I know it’s dumb. So hush.
Anyways. 
Tw // talk of death, suicidal ideations/thoughts, trauma, (events from the book)
Like 2.1k words
Also I didn’t fully proof read this
- - -
One of my favorite albums of all time is The Wall by Pink Floyd. It is a two part album that tells the fictional story of a rock star named Pink, and his life and struggles. As it is my favorite album I couldn’t help myself but draw some very strong connections between the story of Pink, and Ponyboy. Pink and Pony both spent their lives building a metaphorical wall around them to help deal with the traumas of life. And I wanted to write this oddly formatted essay in connection with Pony and an analysis of most of the songs.
In The Flesh?: starts off right in the middle, the song is about someone mocking asking questions similar to ‘is this what you expected me to become’? I think this is about the time in Pony’s life when he is writing for his English class. In the song it says, “Tell me, is something eluding you, sunshine? Is this not what you expected to see?”. I think this is similar to Pony thinking about Johnny and symbolizing of how he is thinking to himself on how did this all happen to him and so quickly. Maybe even without his full knowledge. So I think the question the lyrics pose are just as much a genuine question to himself as a rhetorical one. Another lyric I think can show Pony’s reflection not only on the events of the past week but also him reflecting into himself is “If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes. You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise.” This shows how Pony feels himself aging and being changed but also wanting others to see himself for more than what’s in the newspaper. Pony talks a lot about only being seen as a greaser or a hood and maybe if people were to ‘claw through’ that disguise they could see what Cherry and Johnny saw.
The Thin Ice: this song is a flashback to the version of Pony before the events of that Sunday. Where he was not exactly innocent but wasn’t aged like he was after. The beginning of the song talks about a mother and fathers love for their child which is slowly being seen as less of a reality. This is the death of Pony’s parents. “Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice. Appears under your feet. You slip out of your depth and out of your mind.”, this can explain how Pony felt ripped to shreds and like the ice of his innocence has been broken from underneath him. The ice both represents his parents love and life, as well as his life before knowing death the way he does now.
Another Brick In The Wall (part1): I think this one is the most obvious. The first brick being placed in the wall. The wall being a metaphor of how Pony begins to mentally distance himself from others by building a metaphorical wall around himself, and him using different events in his life as ‘bricks’ to build it. The first ‘brick’ and event being the death of his parents, especially in a very traumatic way. “Daddy's flown across the ocean. Leaving just a memory” is quite literally about the death of a parent, making the connection to Pony’s situation go without being said. Additionally, I think the line “Daddy, what else did you leave for me?” can show Pony’s confusion with his life and him beginning to question who he is and what his place in it all is.
Another Brick In The Wall (part 2): something notable and worth mentioning in this part two of ABITW is how it says “youre” another brick in the wall. Instead of “its”. So we already know it is referring to a person, which in Pony’s case is Bob. It’s a bit of a jump from his parents dying but the death of Bob is what truly kick started the whole events of Pony’s story and the book. I think it is also worth mentioning that Johnny could also be the new brick in Pony’s wall. Seeing a kid like Johnny, only a few years older than him but being aged dramatically by his trauma, relating with Pony too now. So it is totally possible that Pony finding himself relating to the trauma and actions of Johnny, being another brick in the wall he is building around himself. Especially in the line “We don't need no education”, as it shows how Pony is starting to feel himself unwittingly starting to fit into the whole ‘greaser’ stereotype that has been placed on him.
Mother: Now this song is definitely in symbolism to his relationship with Darry. I think it is shown through many lines but especially in the overall meaning of the song. The song is about an overprotective mother figure that tries to dominate the life of the singer. Which is very similar to the way Darry begins to treat Pony after the death of their parents. The song starts off with the singer asking their mother all these questions and advice, which I think would be very similar to the dynamic of Pony and Darry shortly after the funeral. With Pony being lost in life and asking Darry for help. But as the song goes on the singer sees how toxic and overpowering the relationship has come in dominating his life. But before that point of view can be fully expressed, the mother takes over and is telling the son about how to feel once again. I think this is exactly how the dynamic between the Curtis brothers has shifted around the day of Bob’s death. Especially with Darry finally pushing Pony, and that being the last straw of Pony realizing the control he no longer wants Darry to have. Most importantly with the lines about the mother pushing her fears onto her child, which seems to be exactly what Darry is doing to Pony. Because Darry sees the same potential in Pony that he had. There are too many lines for me to analyze but I think the most important one has to be the very last line, “Mother, did it need to be so high?”. This is where Pony would be asking Darry why he needed to be and act the way he did, especially to him, and truly beginning the deeper questioning of everything.
Goodbye Blue Sky: this song starts out by a reflection of childhood innocence by the line “Look mummy, there's an aeroplane up in the sky”. This to me is when Pony is running away with Johnny, before going to the park. When his head is too cloudy and juvenile perhaps to think rationally. But then the song fades into questions about ‘frightened ones’ and ‘falling bombs’ which is Pony telling Johnny about how Darry had hit him and in a way he felt like this whole life had been starting to fall apart. The song even states a specific line about running for shelter, which is exactly what Pony does to Johnny. Another obvious connection is the ‘goodbye’ aspect of it. Where Pony and Johnny are running away, in a literal goodbye from Tulsa and their problems. “Goodbye blue sky” can be seen as them saying goodbye to the blue skies of life before the skies turned grey, in a metaphorical sense.
Empty Spaces: this song is by far one of the shortest from the album but I still think the connections are intense. A very powerful start off with “What shall we use. To fill the empty spaces. Where we used to talk?” which I think can be connected to the silence between Johnny and Pony right after Johnny kills Bob. Because Johnny and Pony used to have the best and most honest conversations, but not in this moment there is nothing but empty and painful silence between them as they realize what has just happened. And then the next line is more of Pony’s internal dialogue in my opinion, “How shall I fill. The final places? How should I complete the wall?”. I see it as him asking himself if this was the final event he needed to completely run away and distance himself from this life. From the pressure of ‘greaser life’ to the challenges at home and in his own head. He is asking himself if he wants this to be the final ‘brick’ in the wall of his life.
Young Lust: Now this song is when it is really starting to be expressed that Pony has almost completely lost himself from who he was just hours ago. “I am just a new boy. Stranger in this town. Where are all the good times? Who's gonna show this stranger around?”, is very indicative of Pony feeling completely lost and besides himself. Like a stranger in his own head, and one who feels in bad need of assistance because of how lost he feels. Especially without the guidance and overwhelming protection of Darry. In a sort of broken way of beginning to feel free.
One Of My Turns: In this song is can be connected to the conversation Cherry and Pony were having earlier, which Cherry eluded to the idea of the separate groups of Socs and Greasers not being so fundamentally different. In the line, “Day after day, love turns grey. Like the skin of a dying man” it can be seen as talking about Bob’s death. While it is quite literally referencing the skin of a dying man, I think it could also be metaphoric of how Bob’s death was like the beginning of a bigger thing. In a sort of, death brings even more tragedy than one body, sort of ideal. Also, “And night after night, we pretend it's all right. But I have grown older. And you have grown colder. And nothing is very much fun anymore” I think this is about Pony and Johnny. Pony feels like he has aged tremendously in one night, and seeing Johnny grow into a completely different and more ‘cold’ version of his best friend. The song goes on to discuss the singers feelings of numbness, regret, and horror in a series of metaphors and questions. Maybe in reference to possible suicidal ideations, much like the thoughts Johnny expressed earlier in the day.
Don’t Leave Me Now: I think don’t leave me now isnt as important of a song to the story line the rest but still worth mentioning because I see it as a conversation between Pony and himself. He is asking himself to not run away and telling himself that it doesn't have to be the end of the road, when deep down he knows that just isn’t true. He is conflicted about running away and staying to face life, even though he knows the decision he already made.
Another Brick In The Wall (part 3): And Pony finally deciding to run away with Johnny, with help from Dally, is the last brick in his wall. “I don't need no arms around me. And I don't need no drugs to calm me.”, can show the true numbness of the situation and how Pony has already adjusted in a way to how different he knew his life was gonna be after this final event and decision. But in a way he is also unsure if exactly what was going to happen now. I think this is best shown through the use of ‘think’ in the line “Don't think I need anything at all”. It shows that while Pony is trying to figure out where to go from here, he still has a bit of that child like innocence in him where he isn’t completely sure of what needs to happen next, but he knows it won’t work out in his favor. Because he knows that back in Tulsa people are bound to figure out it was him and Johnny behind it all, which would make them “all just bricks in the wall”, to Ponyboy.
Goodbye Cruel World: there isn’t no extravagant connection to be made or discussed in detail about this song, as it is just even more of Pony saying goodbye to life as jr knew it and the innocent child like version of himself. “Goodbye all you people. There's nothing you can say. To make me change. My mind” is exactly what I think Pony would have going through his head as he fell asleep on the train, especially in thoughts about Soda and how he couldn’t even stay for him, because that meant changing the entire outcome of the night. And in his mind nothing could change the fact that he and Johnny needed to go.
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inkedstarlight · 3 years
Text
Bittersweet: Chapter Nine
Summary: Cassian and Nesta finally meet. Officially, this time. Let the romance commence. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: very brief/non-explicit mention of sexual assault Bittersweet Masterlist
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“Earth to Nesta?”
Nesta snapped from her trance to see Emerie waving a hand in front of her face.
“You’ve been cleaning the same spot for a good ten minutes,” Emerie gestured to where Nesta was scrubbing the counter with a towel. It was squeaky clean.
Nesta let go of the towel and cleared her throat. “My bad.”
Emerie pulled out the chair on the other side of the counter and sat down. It was eleven in the evening on a Monday, and they had just closed. The only other person in Rita’s was Lucien, and he was doing dishes in the back.
“You’ve been acting weird for the past two weeks,” Emerie stated blatantly. Her stare was unwavering. “And you’ve lost at least ten pounds.”
The incidence with Tomas happened two weeks ago. Nesta was doing a pretty good job of moving on with her life all things considered. She felt like shit, but she hadn’t missed a single shift at work. That had to count for something.
But she should’ve known Emerie would notice. She was like a fucking hawk, that girl. She saw everything.
When Nesta didn’t say anything, Emerie shrugged and got up from the stool. “At least try a little harder,” she said, referring to the coworkers’ challenge to get the most tips. She shot Nesta a sad look. “Thesan is beating you. Thesan.”
Nesta mustered a laugh. Thesan wasn’t great with customers, that was common knowledge. Neither Emerie nor Nesta were people persons, but they knew how to turn it on for customers. Thesan, on the other hand, didn’t make much of an effort. It wasn’t that he was intentionally rude, the guy was just quiet in nature. In fact, he was quite a sweetheart.
Which was why it was quite entertaining to watch Thesan and Helion interact. Where Thesan was an introvert, Helion was loud as hell. Not to mention it was clear that Thesan was crushing on him. But unfortunately, Helion flirted with every living, breathing thing and was thus completely oblivious. During Nesta’s first week at Rita’s, Emerie had spilled all the tea about their coworkers. Thesan was head over heels in love with Helion, Helion had never been in a monogamous relationship, and Viviane… well, Viviane had her own little love story. A complicated one at that.
His name was Kallias. They grew up together, from scheming little kids to rebellious teenagers to young adults. Best friends since they could remember.
Because Emerie grew up in the same small town as them, she knew everything. They all went to school together. She knew that Kallias had been in love with Viviane since freshman year of high school. She knew that Viviane felt the same way, but she would never admit it thanks to the hell she was put through during her childhood. Nesta didn’t know the specifics, and she never asked.
It also didn’t help that Viviane was in a relationship with someone else. They’d been together for almost two years. Emerie thought Viviane deserved better, that he wasn’t a very good person.
Anyway, Kallias visited Rita’s nearly every weekend after his shift at the fire station to grab a drink and more importantly, see Viviane.
Nesta thought it was ridiculous. She’d told Emerie as much when she’d brought Nesta up to date on their coworkers’ lives. Why wouldn’t they just admit they loved each other and get on with it already? It was pretty fucking simple; they were just making it complicated for themselves. Emerie wholeheartedly agreed and the pair then went on an hour long rant on the idiocy of romantic relationships.
And if she was being honest, Nesta didn’t care much about these people. Sure, they were respectable but they were a temporary fixture in her life. Once she secured a job in her career field, she was going to leave them all behind.
“We should get a drink sometime. Outside of work,” Emerie clarified with a look of disgust. “I’m sick of it here.”
Nesta knew that was a lie based on the relationship Emerie had with Rita and her wife. But she didn’t say that.
“Maybe,” Nesta responded distractedly, desperate to think of an excuse. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Emerie; no, Nesta liked her coworker. She just couldn’t muster the energy to go out with friends or socialize like that. “I’m pretty busy right now though.”
Emerie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized her.
“Stop analyzing me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Emerie sighed and receded. She hesitated before saying quietly, “Is… is this the part when I ask if you’re okay and we get all deep and explore a new level of our friendship?”
Nesta slowly met her friend’s gaze. They stared at one another for several moments.
Then, they burst out laughing.
-------------------------
The next morning, Nesta was brewing her third cup of coffee when Elain padded into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Elain yawned as a greeting. She wore bunny slippers and an oversized hoodie. Elain only had one evening class on Tuesdays, so today was her only day - save for the weekend - to sleep in.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“How long have you been up?”
Nesta glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. She’d woken up at six after a sleepless night of tossing and turning.
But she simply shrugged instead. “Not long.”
Nesta poured the coffee into her mug, sitting back down at the counter. She watched as Elain bustled around the kitchen, scrambling eggs and slicing fruit. The morning light spilled through the dusty kitchen sink window, bars of sunshine reflecting off the tiled floors. Iroh basked in the sunspots, his black fur glistening as his chartreuse eyes blinked closed.
Elain and Nesta hadn’t spent much time together in the past couple weeks. It was Nesta’s doing, of course. She was actively avoiding her sister and everyone else. After Elain had tried to talk to Nesta after the whole thing with Tomas, she stopped asking Nesta if she was okay. Nesta assumed that Elain realized she wasn’t going to get an answer, that there wasn't really a point in trying.
But Gods, Nesta fucking missed her. And even though she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bedroom as she sat there in the kitchen, she didn’t move from the chair.
You need them as much as they need you, her father’s voice echoed in her head.
Guilt stabbed at her chest.
“How’re classes going?” Nesta asked quietly. Elain looked at her over her shoulder with a surprised yet pleasant smile.
“Great! I’m so grateful to be at such a great college, but…” Elain bit her lip, hesitating. “My bio lab is going to be the death of me."
“You know you’re allowed to complain, right?”
Elain just gave her a smile. “Yeah, I know. It's just, considering where I was a year ago, I couldn't be happier to finally be enrolled in such a prestigious program. Even if that means the classes are brutal."
I wish I was like you. I take everything for granted.
“And have you made any friends?”
Elain had started school at Pryth U months ago and yet Nesta had no idea if she even had friends yet.
Selfish bitch.
A fond smile broke out on Elain’s face. “Yes, I have this really great group of friends: Lucien, Ressina, and Varian. It's just the four of us, but we've gotten really close.”
Nesta asked Elain more questions before excusing herself back to her room, claiming she was going to try to write today, to which Elain squealed and wished her luck.
Nesta hadn't written since their dad died. Prior to his death, she would write nearly every day. She'd been working on a novel for years. The plot had came to her in middle school, and it just grew from there. She'd never told anyone about it. Everyone knows how fucking hard it is to get your writing published, much less get high ratings. Nesta wasn't even sure if she was going to finish it. This was the longest she'd gone without writing or editing it. And she had a feeling that she wouldn't ever go back to it.
Dread filled her stomach as she thought of that prospect. What the fuck was she doing with her life?
Nesta’s phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her back pocket.
 Incoming call from Feyre Archeron.
It kept buzzing, Nesta merely stared at her sister's name on her screen. She couldn't think of a single reason why Feyre would be calling. But she pressed "Accept" before it could go to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
Silence.
“Uh, what’s up?” Nesta asked. She collapsed onto her unmade bed. Iroh scampered past the door and jumped on the bed with her. He didn't waste a minute curling himself around her head.
"I was calling to see… maybe, I don’t know… uh, would you want to come to dinner tonight?”
I was not expecting that. And Nesta was about 95% sure this was Elain’s doing.
“Why?”
“I want you there," Feyre told her as if it were obvious.
“Why?” Nesta asked again. She hadn't seen Feyre since Thanksgiving despite her sister living just on the outskirts of the city.
That had been weeks ago.
“It's complicated," Feyre responded quietly. She seemed to pause before finding the words. "I've been so worried about Cassian, we all have. He'd never been deployed for that long - five months. It was scary. I guess I took that out on you. I don't know why..."
She drifted off. Nesta held her breath.
"I'm sure Elain told you, but he's home now. I've been more myself since he returned, and I want you to come to dinner. I… miss you.”
She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, Feyre.”
I don't know if I can pretend to be okay for an entire night. I don't know if you even fucking want me there or if you just feel obligated. I don't know if I can be in the same room as your douchebag boyfriend. I don't know if I can be surrounded by your friends, most of whom seem to dislike me. I don't know if I can behave like a normal fucking person.
I don't know.
“Please?” The plea was soft, quiet. It was like she was almost desperate. But for what?
Nesta looked out the window where a blue jay - their dad's favorite bird - was perched on a bare tree branch. The leaves had long ago fallen, leaving the world naked and vulnerable. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
-------------------------
Feyre embraced her with an awkward hug when Nesta and Elain walked into the house. Nesta patted her on the back lightly, uncomfortable with the physical touch. Luckily, no one else seemed incline to embrace her. Rhys actually seemed to make sure he was as far away as possible.
Elain, on the other hand, gave everyone a hug. Mor gave a laugh as she squeezed Elain back, Aurra watching them with a smile. Interestingly enough, when Elain greeted Azriel with a hug, his tanned cheeks glowed red. It was almost imperceptible, but Nesta noticed.
Feyre took a step back to assess her. Nesta could see the judgement in her sister's eyes as she took in Nesta's noticeably thinner body. Luckily, however, she wasn't given the chance to comment on it when Elain piped up, "Where's Cassian? Nesta still hasn't met him yet."
"He's running a bit late," Rhys answered, glancing down at his phone. "Should be here in about ten minutes."
Everyone began to make their way into the dining room and Nesta followed. However, she was quickly tugged to the side when Amren swooped in out of nowhere and basically dragged Nesta into the privacy of the hallway. She stopped, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Nesta.
“Where have you been?” Amren demanded.
"What do you mean?" Nesta asked, playing dumb.
She hadn't spoken to Amren in a long time, even though they had each others' numbers. Even though Amren had repeatedly texted her, asking to get coffee or go for a walk or something else of the sorts. All of which went unanswered.
Amren rolled her eyes, and Nesta was convinced they went to the back of her head for a good minute. "Don't play dumb with me, Nesta."
“I don’t know, working?"
"Is that a question?" Amren rose a deadly brow.
Nesta huffed and mirrored Amren's angry stance. "Why are you interrogating me?"
“Because you've been radio silent for weeks. I had to ask Elain if you were still fucking alive," Amren explained. Then, she leaned in close like she didn't want anyone to hear. "I was worried about you, you bitch."
Nesta let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? I've been busy. I do want to hang out, it's just that..." she trailed off.
"What? It's just that what?"
Nesta stared at the floor, unable to form words.
"Nesta, are you okay?" Amren asked, her voice softer.
Just tell her. Fucking tell her.
I was almost raped.
Just the thought was enough to make Nesta want to puke. She couldn't, it was too much and she wouldn't even be able to fucking say it and it's her fault, all her fault.
She breathed in through her nose and looked back up at Amren. She shot her the most fake smile she'd ever given. "I'm good. Seriously, I just got busy. It won't happen again."
Nesta saw the skepticism in Amren's eyes. But she conceded with a small sigh. "Well, don't do it again, okay? I seriously thought you were fucking murdered or some shit."
Nesta just nodded. Amren looked at her once more before gesturing with her chin back to the dining room. Nesta followed her.
When they rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Because sitting next to Feyre was the man who had tried to break into her apartment.
“Nesta!" Feyre exclaimed, calling her over from where she sat. "This is Cassian. Cassian, this is my sister, Nesta.”
Nesta simply stared at him like a deer in headlights and he stared at her, his lips parted in surprise. He was wearing a grey sweater, his long hair hanging down, no longer in a bun like it was the last time. He tucked it behind one ear.
"Are you stalking me or something?" Nesta said incredulously.
"I could ask you the same," Cassian retorted cheekily.
Feyre looked between them, a confused expression written on her face. "Do you guys know each other or something?"
"Something like that," Nesta mumbled.
Everyone's eyes were on them as they waited for an answer.
"Well as everyone knows, I live in the same building as Nesta and Elain," Cassian explained, waving a hand to the two sisters. "The other night, I got stupid drunk with a friend. He drove me back to my place and me, drunk off my fucking ass, tried to get into their apartment thinking it was mine."
The entire room erupted into laughter, Rhys choking on his food and Azriel looking up as if reasoning with the Gods.
"So when Nesta opened the door," Cassian continued, "she nearly beat me to death with a baseball bat."
Another round of laughter.
"Overreact much?"
Everyone's eyes flew to where Nesta sat. They seemed shocked. Nesta was too.
She didn't know why she said it, why she let it bother her. He was just so fucking frustrating, even his mere presence.
Cassian stuck his tongue out at her.
Feyre interrupted, her jaw agape. "You guys are acting like children."
Nesta got quiet after that. The conversation continued, thankfully taking the attention off her. As everyone laughed and conversed, Cassian looked over at her. His smile disappeared when he met Nesta's gaze. She just stared back at him, lips in a thin line. He seemed to try to gauge her reaction carefully, but her face was blank.
And so the night went on. Nesta didn't say another word after what happened. She avoided eye contact with Cassian. Avoided conversation with everyone.
It was half past eight when they all began clearing their dishes. Mor, Aurra, Azriel, and Cassian were all gathered in the kitchen cleaning up. Feyre and Rhys had excused themselves. It was just Nesta and Elain who remained in the dining room.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Nesta leaned over to whisper to Elain.
Elain nodded. "We'll head out right after, yeah?" She must've noticed the exhaustion in Nesta's face.
Nesta agreed, excusing herself from the table.
She walked down the hallway, peeking through every door to find the bathroom. She was about to push through a door on the left that was slightly cracked open when she heard voices coming from within.
“I’m worried about him. He’s not the same.” It was Feyre.
“He never is when he comes home, Feyre," Rhys said dejectedly. "It’s happened before. Cass just needs time.”
Cass.
Nesta tiptoed closer to the door, just enough for her to listen.
“No, what he needs is to see someone!”
“I’ve tried. He doesn’t want to go.”
“Try harder, Rhys!” Feyre cried, her tone frustrated.
“We can’t just force him to go, okay?”
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Do you even notice how lost your own fucking brother is? Do you even care?!”
Silence.
“Rhysand, I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I know you care. More than anyone. I just… I don’t want to lose him.”
She heard them both breathing deeply.
“C’mere,” Rhys murmured. Nesta heard Feyre's footsteps as she presumably walked toward him.
“We’ll figure it out, okay?”
“Together.”
“Always, Feyre darling.”
They got quiet, probably embracing each other. Nesta crept away from their bedroom door and into the bathroom before they could find her.
------------------------------------
Elain and Nesta had just unlocked their apartment door when Nesta groaned. “Oh, shit, I forgot my wallet in the car." She fished around in her bag to make sure it wasn't in there. "I’ll be right back.”
"I'll leave the door unlocked," Elain called behind her as Nesta made her way to the elevator.
She stepped between the doors, hitting the button for the parking garage. Gods, she just wanted to go to sleep. The night had been exhausting.
After a minute or so, she was approaching her car. She unlocked her door and grabbed her wallet that was in the middle console when a pair of headlights flashed past her, a car pulling into the spot next to her.
Before panic could set in, Nesta recognized who was driver the car through the window.
Cassian.
His car turned off and he emerged from the driver's door just a moment later. He looked over where Nesta was clutching her wallet to her chest staring at him. He gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning away and walking towards the elevator. Nesta had no choice to follow.
She walked just a few feet behind him as they made their way to the elevator.
"I'm sorry," Cassian told her, his voice sincere. He cast a concerned glance her way. "For embarrassing you at dinner. And if I scared you that night."
"You didn't embarrass me," Nesta snapped at him. "You were just being annoying as hell."
His entire body seemed to relax at her insult. Cassian tried to hide his smirk but failed. "I'm glad to see you're still your normal, hotheaded self. You got me worried at dinner with your stoic behavior."
Now she really glared at him. "Don't talk like you know me. You don't."
"Oh, sweetheart," he teased. "I think we're more similar than you think."
She scoffed. "I think that hubris of yours will be your downfall."
"You know, it's quite sexy when you use literary devices to insult me," he joked.
Nesta froze.
Was he coming onto her? Chills ran down her spine when she thought of the last time a man expressed interest in her.
It's not the same, she tried to convince yourself. He's not Tomas.
Cassian must've expected a heated response to his comment because he looked surprised when Nesta simply stared straight ahead. She seemed to be in a world of her own, oblivious to everything around her. Any trace of anger was gone, replaced by a cool indifference.
Cassian's face fell. "Nesta, I didn't mean to - "
He was cut off as the elevator door dinged opened and Nesta swiftly walked out.
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Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 3
Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼
Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi
This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Chapter 3 - Mortuary
There were always one or two friends in your life who you're never afraid will scold you or hang up on you in the early morning hours, even if the reason is because you had a nightmare about potatoes in your home growing lots of hair. Yin Zhou was this person to Lin Yan. He had two long strands of messy hair on his head, always wore unwashed shirts, and the eyes under his glasses could never focus because of how long he had spent gaming.
They grew up in the same neighbourhood, attended the same elementary school, middle school and high school, and they were each that "brilliant other child" in the eyes of both their parents. Since childhood, Lin Yan, regardless of how hard he worked, achieved the high grades that Yin Zhou could have achieved if he didn't skip class every day. No matter how good his grades were, his parents would praise Lin Yan for his diligent and hard work. After the college entrance exam, the two drank a glass of wine as a farewell and celebrated them parting ways. Unexpectedly, Yin Zhou missed half a page of questions while writing the math papers, but he still went to the same university as Lin Yan, so almost two. So the friendship continued with the constant cycle of loving and hating each other.
Later, they were divided by their majors. Yin Zhou studied electronics and Lin Yan studied history. From then on, there was little crossover with the two majors. Without the pressure of competition, the two of them became much closer, playing games, flirting with girls, talking about politics; there was no end to their activities.
The 'regular place' referred to the bar.
When Lin Yan walked in, he saw Yin Zhou shooting his shot with a girl at the bar unsuccessfully. Lin Yan called his name several times before he turned around. Yin Zhou opened a bottle of beer and his eyes widened: " Yo, you weren't responding to any of my calls or texts. Were you on a date?"
Lin Yan drank half the bottle in single breath, and said calmly, "I've got lost and was going around in circles."
"Got lost?!" Yin Zhou stared at him for a long time. Seeing that Lin Yan wasn't joking, he couldn't help but smile and said, "Are you feeling alright? If you're feeling sick, let this brother take you to the hospital."
Lin Yan was in a weird mood because of all the strange events that had happened. Now, his voice wasn't very strong either. He simply put down the beer bottle, put his hands on the table, raised his voice and shouted into Yin Zhou's ears: "I! Saw! A! Ghost!!"
His voice was so loud that most of the people at the bar heard him. They turned to look at him like he was crazy.
Yin Zhou hid his face behind his hand and muttered about how embarrassing it was. After thinking about it, he raised his head and said with a dazed expression: "Was it a female ghost? Was it pretty?"
Lin Yan was at a loss for words and the muscles on his face twitched.
Then Lin Yan explained all the night's occurrences to Yin Zhou in extreme detail, but he started regretting it halfway through. Yin Zhou obviously was eating it up, and a pair of unfocused eyes were shining with an excitement that couldn't be matched in ten thousand years. He rubbed his hands together and stammered when he heard the section of the figure under the street light: "This is too unscientific, or maybe it's too scientific. I'll apply to use one of the labs tomorrow, maybe I can figure this out!"
Lin Yan wanted to smash the beer bottle on his head.
"You seem busy, I'll head out first."
Yin Zhou caught him before he walked away and scratched his head: "Alright, alright. I'm just kidding. Have a drink first and we can go back to my place afterwards."
"Let's be optimistic. If that thing is a guy, then you've got to get rid of him immediately. If it's a woman, then she should definitely get down on her knees to see what is under your jeans."
Lin Yan was actually very grateful to him when he drove Yin Zhou all the way to his house. He thought that unreliable people would have unreliable benefits. No matter how weird things were, he would really listen to them, but he immediately regretted it once they reached his apartment. The reason was simple: Yin Zhou's room was dirty and no living person would ever be found in this room.
The sight that Lin Yan was faced with when he stepped in the door made him scream inside. It's better to go home and be scared to death by ghosts. God only knows how he lives like this. It was a 10-square metre rental with rubbish and clothes littering the floor. There were mountains of instant noodle boxes on the table. Some of them were being used as ashtrays and there were cigarette butts floating in the murky soup. He had no idea how long they were left there, but they were exuded a rancid smell.
The laptop was thrown on the bed, and there was a line of characters moving across the screen. Yin Zhou rushed to take a look, and groaned: "It's been going on repeatedly. The program has to be changed." After he was done talking, he didn't pay any more attention to Lin Yan. He leaned against the headboard, flipping through his notebook and clicked to stop debugging, tapping on his keyboard with his long fingers.
"There is food in the cupboard. If you get hungry, grab something to eat."
Lin Yan opened the cabinet and inspected Yin Zhou’s selection. Various brands of instant noodles, rice vermicelli, pickled mustard greens, a large number of ham sausages that were about to expire. . . If this guy croaks one day, the number of preservatives in him would help him survive for at least thirty more years. If ancient people had eaten things like this, it could've saved conservation historians so much time.
"Do you have any clean clothes? Mine are soaked from the rain. Could you lend me some dry clothes first."
"There's some on the ground. Grab those."
After feeling Lin Yan's murderous glare, Yin Zhou reluctantly got up and slowly opened the wicker basket at the foot of his bed: "Yes, yes, my mother comes to wash my clothes once a week, and the clean ones are here."
After speaking, he threw him a graphic t-shirt.
"You earn so much from your projects yet you live in such a shabby place. You don't even own a washing machine, and that quality of life is catching up with you. Aren't you afraid that your arrogant old man won't give you money to marry a wife in the future? Lin Yan took off his shirt, stretched the t-shirt over his head and put it on. With the shirt over his head, he asked in a muffled voice: "Help me find a pair of pants."
Yin Zhou threw his hands up and said with disdain: "You're being so picky. A person uses so much stuff when they are alive but when they're dead, they only need a coffin. Why are you being so particular about this?" After finishing speaking, Yu Guang looked at Lin Yan with a smirk. : "Xiao Linzi's figure is good, the fitness card is not for nothing."
He glanced at Lin Yan with his peripheral vision and gave a sly smirk: "Little Brother Lin is in good shape, your gym membership wasn't bought in vain."
"Don't you dare call me Little Brother Lin, I'll show you want a real man is!" Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown by the bed, wiped off the ashes, and smacked his lips.
Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown near the bed, wiped off a handful of cigarette ashes, and smacked his lips.
"Disgusting."
Yin Zhou ignored him and spoke to himself as he flipped through his suitcase. "I remember I had a pair of new jeans, where are they going. . . Huh? What's this? Did my mother leave her clothes in here?"
This was. . .
The body was made of red satin, black lining, with loose sleeves that hung down, and there was heavy embroidery around the wrists. Yin Zhou shook it out curiously. Just as he was about to hold it up to compare it to his body, Lin Yan cried out: "Put that down, don't touch it!"
Looking at Lin Yan's pale face, Yin Zhou also noticed that something was wrong, so he threw the red clothes on the bed.
"These are mortuary clothes. It's for the dead." Lin Yan said weakly.
Yin Zhou's face also changed.
"This thing doesn't belong here."
Yin Zhou looked around his room, as if to relieve the nervous atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Is it wrong? How about I call my mother and ask if she left it."
Yin Zhou looked around his room. Trying to break the tense atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Was this a mistake? How about I call my mother and ask if she put it in here?"
Lin Yan looked at the clothes and said dejectedly: "No need, I believe you."
He was getting angry, thinking that this thing was trying to provoke him no matter what, and now it was involving his friend. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of him.
For a while, both of them were speechless. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Under the light of the bright light, the red clothes were laid straight out on the bed like paper. Despite its bright colour, it was gloomy and had a terrifying appearance. The ancient style and the luxurious fabrics exuded such a cold atmosphere that it was like the sun had never touched it.
Ten minutes later.
Lin Yan picked up the car key on the table. He sighed and said to Yin Zhou: "I'm going back home. This thing is coming after me, staying here will only hurt you."
Yin Zhou spat out: "Don't give me that bullshit. It would be stupid to go back by yourself, just stay here."
What Lin Yan wanted to say was interrupted by Yin Zhou: "We're close enough that you're wearing my pants. Won't I be the one that will have to explain what happened to your parents if there's an accident? Don't mess with me. We'll talk about this in the morning."
After talking, yin Zhou searched under the bed for a while. He found another notebook and handed it to Lin Yan: "Do you think a ghost would be able to scare us to death? Hurry up, let's get some kills on Dota!"
Lin Yan was silent for a while, opened his notebook, and said with a smile: "You asked for it, I won't go easy on you!"
The light flickered and dimmed, and the room became more and more gloomy. Lin Yan knew instinctively that something was staring at him somewhere in the room. Maybe it had a pale face, wrapped in a red mortuary, and said sorrowfully: Your death is approaching.
This must be the weirdest night in his 22 years of life, Lin Yan thought. Once the sky begins to get bright, things will be over by dawn.
The red mortuary was like a long, stiff corpse lying on the bed, the sleeves folded across the front as if to remind him that this was only the beginning.
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quicksilversquared · 4 years
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Max and the Murky Story
Max isn't always the best at social stuff. People don't behave in the same way numbers do, and they can be confusing. So when things at school with their newest classmate just aren't adding up quite right, he starts collecting data. And what he finds?
Well, it's a bit surprising.
links in the reblog
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Something funny was going on at school, Max was 87.5% sure of it. But he just couldn't put his finger on what.
Frowning to himself as he sat in front of his computer, Max listed off the facts in his head, hoping to gain a bit of perspective on the whole thing. It was worth a shot, and with any luck, Max could figure this whole thing out and stop waking up in the middle of the night, a niggling feeling dancing in the back of his mind.
Fact one. Marinette was one of the friendliest people in the class, and rarely- if ever- disliked people without good cause. Max might have been inclined to even go as far as to say that Marinette never disliked someone without good cause, but it was never a good idea to talk in such absolutes when considering a human element. There were almost always exceptions to the norm with living beings, and ignoring that and speaking in too broad of terms was- well, it wasn't a good idea.
Fact two. Lila was a new student, one who- at least according to her, it wasn't as though Max had independently verified those stories- lived an exciting life, with a mother who was a diplomat and frequently traveled. Lila had talked about meeting celebrities, all sorts of famous people with serious connections. She apparently had just as much bad luck to counter out the good, though, considering that Max had heard her complain of allergies and other ailments on more than one occasion.
Fact three. Marinette did not like Lila. In fact, Max might even dare to say that Marinette hated Lila. She refused to hang out with the rest of the girls when Lila was with them, even going so far as to turn around and leave after Lila turned up and joined their group when they were going out to watch a movie. Marinette had even once joined Chloe's group for a project so that she wouldn't end up being paired with Lila.
(Fact three-and-a-half: that was, objectively, really strange.)
Fact four. Pretty much everyone else in the class loved Lila. Except.
(There was almost always an except. Humans very rarely dealt in absolutes.)
Adrien also seemed to avoid Lila, if Max thought about it. Sure, he was polite and didn't turn away and hate as openly as Marinette, but he very rarely looked comfortable with Lila. Of course, the reason there might be because Lila sometimes seemed to forget what personal space was and Adrien was the kind of person who was only really comfortable with a select few people getting close to him like that. But there was a possibility that there was something else going on there.
(No hypotheticals and guesswork, Max scolded to himself. Theorizing wasn't going to help him any. So fact four-and-a-half: Adrien was the second exception to everyone loving Lila, and did not seem comfortable with her. The reason for that was unconfirmed.)
Fact five: The teachers and principal also seemed to like Lila, enough to make serious accommodations for her while Lila wasn't in school. They hadn't raised any concerns, but, well….
Fact five and a half: The staff at Dupont were not always through in their investigations. Point in court: the entire day when Marinette got expelled, considering that it had all been walked back and retracted the very next day.
And that led to fact six: Lila had made several large accusations against Marinette over the course of one day, leading to Marinette's abrupt expulsion. An expulsion that had been walked back less than twenty-four hours later. And, well- it wasn't a fact but a feeling: all three of those accusations had seemed strange. The answer sheet had been found on top of Marinette's things in her bag, when the test had been several days prior. Lila hadn't actually been limping and hadn't looked at all mussed after she claimed that Marinette pushed her down the stairs. And the fact that Lila apparently knew who had taken ("taken"?) her heirloom necklace and where it had been put….
Looking back on it, that was a little weird. A lot weird, even. But there could be data missing, incomplete information biasing his view. It wouldn't be smart to jump to conclusions now. The probability of him getting something wrong- well, it was too high.
One thing was for sure- to draw an informed conclusion, Max needed more data.
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  One of the most important things to do when collecting data was to make sure that it could be found again. Being able to cite references was important.
So Max recruited Markov.
His robot companion usually came to school with him most days anyway, in order to listen in on the traditional human process of teaching and learning information and to be able to spend more time with Max. All Max really had to do was ask Markov to keep audio files on record of everything Lila-related. Whenever she talked, whenever she was being talked about, whenever there were people talking to her. If Markov was out- and Max wasn't sure that he wanted to have his companion out until the strangeness surrounding the Lila situation was cleared up- then he would keep that visual file, too. On top of that, Max was going to try to do short narrations of what Lila was up to on a regular basis, just to add to his data set.
If there was something strange going on, Max was going to figure out what it was. Even the best-kept secrets couldn't hide against a deluge of data. Maybe there were other ways to do this, and maybe all of the audio-journaling was overkill, but this was Max's preferred way of investigating. By his calculations, it had a 97.7% chance of successfully producing truthful results within a five-week time frame. There was a potential for getting results even earlier, of course, but five weeks was pretty much the optimal collection time when Max factored in both the chance of success and the amount of time invested. After five weeks, he would likely get diminishing returns on the additional time spent collecting information. Continuing his data collection would only be advisable if the data that he collected in that time period turned out to be inconclusive.
Max really hoped that things wouldn't turn out inconclusive. It was so frustrating when things went that way. He liked clear-cut answers, things set out in black and white instead of blurry grey. Contradicting and/or incomplete information frustrated him, because it could throw his calculations way off.
But in the end, it only took a week for some inconsistencies to show up.
"On Monday morning, Lila turned down the opportunity to share a croissant with Alya after Marinette brought some in to share with Alya, Nino, and Adrien," Markov reported Friday evening, after running an initial scan on all of the data. "She claimed that she was dealing with a gluten sensitivity recently and couldn't eat bread. Then on Wednesday, she took her lunch at school and ate the pasta that the cafeteria was serving, which was not gluten-free."
Max frowned, noting that down on his summary sheet. "I suppose that sensitivities can come and go, but surely it would make more sense to gradually ease back into eating wheat instead of having a plate of pasta."
"On Tuesday afternoon, Lila stated that she was going to have a video conference with Prince Ali of Achu that evening about their charity work regarding pollution," Markov continued. "I have run a scan, and Prince Ali is currently only involved in children's charities, largely dealing with those concerning children's hospitals, childhood homelessness, and child hunger. There are also no mentions of any Lila Rossi being involved with Prince Ali, even though all people who have assisted him are mentioned on his website. Even your classmate Rose is listed."
Max's frown deepened. "Hmm."
"On Wednesday morning, Lila mentioned having attended the Royal Wedding," Markov continued. "There were plenty of pictures taken at the Royal Wedding, both of the couple being married and of the people attending. I ran facial recognition software on all of the photos and came up with no match for Lila, though I did recognize Adrien and his father as well as Kagami and her mother."
Odder and odder. Of course, it was possible that there were people hidden too far back in the crowd to be easily seen with a photo, and of course, Lila was shorter than adults, so it might be easier to miss her. The fact that Adrien and Kagami were seen could, of course, always be attributed to them just getting a better seat, so by itself that didn't necessarily mean much.
"Wednesday afternoon, Lila showed off a picture of herself in Berlin," Markov continued, and Max nodded, remembering that photo. It had been passed around, and he had managed to show it to Markov without anyone noticing. "It was on a well-known street in their shopping district, and Lila said that it was taken earlier this year, when she was absent from school for several months. However, there are no pedestrians or cars in the photo, even though there is a street behind Lila, and one of the stores pictured moved out of that location five years ago. A web scan turned up a poster of that street that matches exactly, available to purchase in a local poster shop for eight euros and fifty-two cents."
….what.
"There was nothing of particular note on Thursday, but on Friday afternoon, Lila claimed to be allergic to tomatoes after Sabrina invited her over to dinner and told her that it would be tomato soup and grilled cheese," Markov finished. "Even though she had had a tomato sauce on her pasta for lunch on Wednesday."
Max's frown deepened and he nodded sharply. "Okay. Even though I hadn't planned to stop collecting data for another four weeks, I think we have enough to draw some preliminary conclusions. Namely, that Marinette was correct when she called Lila a liar. Some things on their own could be explained away, but all of them?"
The chances that there was some unlikely excuse to explain away all of those contradictions… well, the chances of that were pretty low. Single digits, even. And when Max considered the comments about the food all on their own-
"Max, did you say that Lila's mom was the Italian ambassador?"
"Yes, that's why she travels so much and meets so many people," Max responded absently, wondering if he should bring what data he had to Ms. Bustier right away, or if he should wait for another week. "Why?"
"I cannot find data on who the current Italian ambassador, but a query about the duties of an ambassador do not mention anything about constant traveling to other countries as part of the job," Markov told him. "Their only travel for work would be between their home country and the country that they're stationed in. There is nothing that says that they would be traveling elsewhere over the duration of their time in the position."
….that was concerning. Add that to everything else that he had collected over the course of the week, and Max was pretty convinced now that he did have enough evidence to build a convincing case to present to Ms. Bustier. Maybe he should compose an email tonight, and have Markov make a copy of the pertinent voice and visual clips to attach to it. Maybe she already knew and an email would just be a bother. Maybe she would be annoyed that one student was recording and digging into another student's stories. Maybe she would object to the recordings altogether, even though Max had gotten permission from the class- including Lila- to have Markov in the room, with the understanding that he took in and processed information via audio and video recordings.
But it was better safe than sorry, and Max wanted to make sure that the teachers were as well-informed as they could be.
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  The email that Max got in response was- well, it was baffling, to say the least, and not nearly as concerned as he would have expected.
Thank you for the information. I talked to Mr. Damocles about your concerns, and he informed me that Lila told him that she has a medical condition that makes her sometimes tell lies. Please keep that in confidence, as we are not supposed to share any information about student medical conditions and I am only bending that rule to explain our response.
"I have done a preliminary scan of the web and found some information," Markov reported as Max scanned the email for the thirty-eighth time in hopes of getting something else out of it. "There is a condition called pathological lying- or perhaps it would be called a behavior, and it may or may not have a medical reason behind it. But if we look at the pattern of lies and include the presumed lies, the lies seem more premeditated rather than impulsive or spur-of-the-moment. And if Lila was the one who told your principal about her supposed condition…"
Markov didn't need to finish the sentence. The ending stood obvious, a glaring brand in Max's mind: she lied about that, too, to get herself out of something.
Well. Probably. After all, now they were building their assumptions on stories that they were just assuming were lies, based on related but perhaps somewhat indirect evidence. Like the fact that diplomats didn't travel from country to country when they were meant to be stationed somewhere, and the fact that Lila's photo of herself was in front of a poster. Both of those were stand-alone pieces of evidence that suggested that Lila's months-long trip "all over the world" had just… not happened. And lying about something of that magnitude- not making up a story about something that had happened before she arrived in Paris but instead actively going out of her way to create a narrative that did not line up with reality-
Maybe Max should stop questioning if Lila's lies did or did not fall under the category of typical behavior seen by pathological liars. After all, he was not any sort of mental health specialist. He hadn't had any training in diagnosing mental illnesses. But his mom had a friend who specialized in mental health services. Maybe she could answer some of his questions about pathological lying, or at least advise the school on the correct way to deal with a pathological liar in the student population. After all, something told Max that ignoring the problem and not letting any of the student population know so that they would be able to adjust their behavior and expectations accordingly was not quite what a professional would recommend.
Especially in their current akuma-prone climate. Lila had been building up a lot of people's hopes with her claims of connections, and the disappointment of inevitably being let down was bound to cause some strong akumas.
Akumas! There was another spot where Max could gather data, of course! Lila had claimed connections to the superheroes multiple times, and Ladybug and Chat Noir could confirm or deny those stories. Max might have some trouble getting in close enough to catch them at the end of an akuma attack- he wasn't Alya, getting caught up in akuma attacks had the annoying habit of giving Max nightmares instead of a 'fun' adrenaline rush- but Markov could probably slip past unnoticed.
But- well, that would just be more data points, when Max already had enough to make some strong preliminary conclusions. Talking to the superheroes wouldn't address the current issue, also known as the fact that the teachers and principal were aware that Lila sometimes (or often) lied and weren't telling their students or doing anything about the lies to keep them from becoming a problem. That needed to be addressed. Everything else could wait, at least for the time being.
After a moment's consideration, Max pulled up his list of contacts, searching through the list for his mom's friend. He had put her information in just in case, and a quick check from Markov confirmed that the information was up-to-date. He forwarded the email he had received to her with a quick message listing his concerns about how the school was treating the situation and then, after a moment's thought, also sent a blind copy of the email to Kim and Alix.
Maybe Ms. Bustier had asked him not to tell any of his peers about Lila's lying condition, but that just didn't feel right to Max. His friends deserved to know that Lila couldn't be trusted, because he knew that Lila had claimed connections that had impressed them, too, and Lila could very well use those "connections" to manipulate Kim and Alix into doing things for her.
Also, they both had big mouths and the likelihood that almost all of the class would be informed about the contradictions by Monday if he told them sat at a solid 85.7%. Max doubted that anyone would try to tell Alya- after all, she was so focused on having an in with Ladybug's best friend that she didn't even want to consider that Lila might not be telling the truth- and of course Marinette already knew, but the news would probably spread to everyone else.
Max supposed that there was a possible exception of Nino as well, just because of his connection to Alya, but- well, the exception of the two of them and Lila herself still qualified as "almost" all of the class, right?
Max did some quick calculations. If everyone but those three heard the news, the percentage of the class who would know would sit at a solid 80%, which was definitely a majority. But did it make sense to count everyone? Marinette already knew about the contradictions- and Max was willing to bet that Adrien did, too- so maybe they shouldn't be included in the calculations. By that logic, maybe Lila shouldn't get counted, either. If he took those three out…. That was still above 80%. Still a solid majority, even if Max removed himself from those calculations, too, since he would be the source of the information this time around.
But that was nitpicking, and also not completely relevant to the issue. What Max did know was that, come Monday, Lila's reputation and place in their class was likely to be very different than it had been on Friday. How different depended entirely on a number of very human and very unpredictable variables, which made making any predictions about it largely useless.
"Well, Markov, I think that's all I really can do about it right now," Max commented, checking one last time to make sure his messages had sent before closing the window and turning to his friend. "Now we can only wait."
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  Monday morning, the usual crowd around Lila had dwindled down to only a handful of people, Nino and Alya and a few people from other classes. She looked a bit thrown off by the change, particularly when Rose and Juleka hurried past with barely a glance and not even the prospect of news about Prince Ali could make them pause for more than a moment. A flash of fury crossed Lila's face at that as soon as the two girls had turned away again, her glance at Marinette a second of pure murder.
Hmm. Perhaps Max should give Marinette a heads-up about the information he had gathered and the emails that he had sent out. After all, if Lila decided that Marinette was behind the rest of the students' decision to stop listening to her, then Lila could very well try to retaliate. Considering that Lila's earlier retaliation- or assumed retaliation, to be more accurate- had consisted of an attempt to frame Marinette for cheating, stealing, and assault, some warning about another possible attempt at something would probably not go unappreciated. With some warning, Marinette could be on guard.
Max felt a little bad about that, actually. This time, Marinette had not been the source of the- well, not the gossip, because that suggested not entirely truthful rumor-spreading, but perhaps the discord regarding Lila. Max had been the source of the information that Lila very likely didn't want getting out, but Marinette would probably get most of the repercussions from the other girl simply because previously, Marinette had really been the only one calling out inconsistencies.
"Yo, dude, that was a weird email you sent out over the weekend!" Kim announced, making Max jump in surprise as his friend popped up next to him. "I can't believe we didn't notice some of that stuff ourselves!"
"Well, it's hard to remember everything people say," Max said instead of admitting that he hadn't noticed, either. Not really- not specifically. All he had really picked up on was the fact that an unidentified something was off. "Thus the data collection." He adjusted his glasses, glancing over at Kim. "So who all knows now?"
"Who doesn't know would be the better question. I know Alix told most of the other girls. She tried telling Alya, but. Uh." Kim cringed. "I think Alya just really loves the idea of having an in with 'Ladybug's best friend', because she wasn't willing to listen. I don't even think Alix got to the part where it was you that was saying anything instead of Marinette."
"I did wonder if anyone would even try to talk to Alya. She's been most invested in Lila's stories, it seems. Unfortunate, considering that that has to be hugely frustrating for Marinette." Max glanced across the gym again. Nino was starting to look a bit on edge, thrown off by the number of people who usually would be joining them in listening to Lila but who were clearly avoiding the Italian girl now. "And Nino?"
Kim shook his head. "I don't think anyone tried talking to him, considering how Alya blew Alix off. I bet he's going to be asking around now, though. Since everyone else was willing to listen, he might figure that we actually have something worth listening to."
Max nodded, in full agreement with Kim. With the rest of the class believing them, it was only a matter of time before the final couple people were at least willing to listen. "Hopefully. Should we head to class? I want to talk to Marinette before everyone comes in."
Kim snickered. "You're really going to assume that Marinette is already there? I mean, you're right this time," he added hastily. "I've already seen Marinette this morning. But considering how often she runs late…"
"I had also seen her already, or I wouldn't have made that assumption." Max led the way, away from Lila and her dwindling audience and towards the classroom. He pushed open the door to see Marinette very obviously trying to look like she wasn't paying attention to the woman talking to Ms. Bustier and Mr. Damocles in the front of the classroom.
The woman who looked very familiar. Apparently his mom's friend had been concerned enough by the email that she had decided to come in in person.
"They seem to be alternating between being happy that there's a specialist here and insisting that they can handle things and they can't disclose any part of a student's medical record without permission," Marinette murmured as Max headed up to his seat, doing his best not to look like he was listening in. Apparently someone- Alix, if he was to guess- had already filled her in on Max's investigation and subsequent emails. "Though I think the being thankful for a specialist is winning out, because she's told them what all would be required to properly handle a condition like the one Lila is claiming to have."
Max nodded in thanks, glancing back towards the front once before retreating to his seat and watching the adults' expressions as they talked. It was fairly easy to deduce from the expressions that Mr. Damocles was all in favor of handing over Lila's entire file and letting the expert deal with her "condition", while Ms. Bustier was far more concerned about student privacy. If Max had to bet, he would say that Mr. Damocles would probably win the discussion, if only because his status as principal afforded him more clout when making decision.
And sure enough, two minutes later, the meeting broke up with Ms. Bustier looking less than pleased as she sunk back down into the chair behind her desk.
""I think it would be a good idea for her to at least talk to Mrs. Lenoir," Mr. Damocles told her, heading for the door. During homeroom, if you could- I don't want to waste Mrs. Lenoir's time. And you know that we haven't had a case like this before- we didn't know what paperwork we should be asking for, or that we would need to be working with a therapist daily."
"It's overkill, surely," Ms. Bustier protested weakly, clearly well aware that she was losing the argument. "She's getting along just fine with the others in the class, she's popular-"
"And how long will that last once people realize that the stories aren't based in fact?" Mrs. Lenoir challenged. "How upset will they be about being misled? Is that a safe gamble to make with Hawkmoth still on the loose?"
Ms. Bustier fell silent. Up front, Adrien's head went up, clearly forgoing the pretense of not listening. Mr. Damocles glanced between the two of them, clearly a little uncomfortable, before Lila's arrival with the remainder of her entourage broke the silence.
"Ah, Ms. Rossi, just the person we were looking for!" Mr. Damocles announced at once, and Lila clearly startled. He gestured towards Mrs. Lenoir. "This is Mrs. Lenoir! She came by the school today to talk to you about- well." He paused, clearly suddenly aware of the filling classroom. "The condition that we discussed a couple weeks ago. You two can take my office, I can work from the library for the first hour."
"Oh, that's fine, I don't need to talk to anyone!" Lila tittered at once, and now that he was looking, the level of fake in her voice made Max cringe. "I've already seen experts back home, you know-"
"And yet we don't have records on file here, so I'm afraid that until we can get those, we'll need to start from scratch," Mr. Damocles told her kindly. "It won't take long now, and Ms. Bustier has already agreed to excuse you from homeroom. Now, if you please?"
Lila glanced between the adults, a small frown on her face. "Is this really necessary? I mean, my mom's just been too busy to ask that the files be sent, I'm sure, I can just remind her tonight-"
The smile on Mr. Damocles' face gave way to a frown. "Now, Ms. Rossi."
Max didn't miss the tiny flicker of outright panic on Lila's face as she was ushered out the door.
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  By the end of the day, Lila had been expelled from Dupont and reported to the school board. Several eye witnesses said that the elder Rossi had come to collect her daughter in a huff, with a police officer accompanying her. Whether or not Lila would even be staying in Paris sounded like it might be up for debate, because Hawkmoth's presence meant that Lila could still last out.
Frankly, Max hoped that Lila would be removed from the city. Her akuma forms had a high potential for causing catastrophic confusion and danger, and she was crafty enough to use the powers to their full advantage. With her mom and the school board (and the police) on her trail, Lila would just get plan after plan disrupted, which would no doubt frustrate her to the point of akumatization. Who she decided to go after when that happened… well, that was about as close to a wild card as Max had ever seen, and he didn't like the odds of Lila targeting all of her old classmates, simply because she didn't know who had gotten Mrs. Lenoir called to the school.
Presumably Mrs. Lenoir hadn't given Lila any specifics during their short but fateful chat. She would know how bad of an idea that would be, what with Hawkmoth around and far more opportunities than usual for revenge (however temporary) available.
The class was still reeling from the deceptions- exactly how many of Lila's stories were made up was still being investigated- but Max suspected that it wouldn't be long before something else came along and pulled everyone's attention away again. They would move on, Lila would be forgotten, and everything would go back to normal. Or at least as normal as Paris got these days.
Max smiled at the thought. Maybe his next data-collection project could have something to do with Hawkmoth and his akumas. It would be interesting, and anything he found- well, it could potentially have some pretty serious implications.
Yes, Max decided, that sounded like a good idea. It would be a challenge, particularly figuring out how to approach his study and data-collection in a way that would actually produce meaningful results- after all, surely the police already were looking at the available data to try to find Hawkmoth- but Max rather fancied a challenge. Figuring out what was going on with Lila had been just a touch too easy for his tastes, and figuring out Hawkmoth would be much harder. Still, Max was convinced that it was doable.
After all, well…. Hawkmoth might be doing his best to keep his identity secret from all of Paris, but he was still a mere man. He was prone to making mistakes, to leaving clues that might be overlooked, to falling into familiar patterns. All things that could be collected, could be analyzed, could be built into a bigger picture that, with any luck, would lead them to Hawkmoth.
Maybe most superheroes didn't fight their supervillains using metadata, but there was always a first time.
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softestsaddestbitch · 3 years
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December TC Challenge
stole this from @elder-edda (sorry for creeping! just, given the usual demographic of the tc community I was excited to find another 20-smthg)
1) what color is your tc’s hair?
He has just, simple brown hair but he’s starting to go grey which, no lie, is 100% doing it for me.
2) is your tc married?
Yes? He doesn’t wear a ring and I believe she kept her last name which makes me think it’s more of a civil partnership since they’ve been together since the early 2000s at least. But he also will refer to her as “my wife” and was telling me once that they waited until “after they got married” before moving in together.
3) if yes, do you care? would you do something with them regardless of their marriage?
I know these questions are general but I do take offense at the idea of being a homewrecker/other woman. I’ve met his wife, she’s really nice.
4) what’s your worst memory with your tc?
I put my foot in my mouth SO OFTEN. Good lord. Especially my last semester at that school? He was acting weird and I had just realized after fucking ... four years?? that I romantically liked him. So I kept bringing up my weird age fixation and other bs bc I have adhd and am possibly autistic?? and can’t read a room to save my life.
5) what’s your best memory with your tc?
One year we had a really bad snowstorm, so bad in fact that I had my first-ever snow day. The college that I used to go to has four campuses across as many cities, and C has to drive in twice a week to my (old) town from his. Now, morning classes had been canceled but afternoon classes had been given the go-ahead. C, who does not check his emails until he arrives at campus, evidently did not get this message until he was already in town and therefore didn’t have a morning class, but did have an afternoon class. On this day I had a late morning class that had been reinstated, but my prof didn’t get that memo so I also was on campus but didn’t have a class. So I went to visit his office, which I had been doing throughout the semester (I didn’t have a class with him at the time) and we just ... hung out for like 2 hours. It was so nice and one of the anecdotes he told me still haunts me lol.
sidenote: at the time, I hadn’t yet realized that I liked him, but I still went out of my way to visit him. Damn I was a dumbass.
6) does anyone in your school know how you feel?
ish? I told a classmate but in a “haha joking” kinda way. And a friend who went to that school knows. No one at my current school knows.
7) does your tc know how you feel?
I think he might? might have a lil inkling which would explain why he started acting so weird my last semester. Or at the very least was told/realized how bad it could look that he was getting so chummy w/ a student.
8) do you think there’s any chance your tc reciprocates your feelings?
He and his wife have been together for around 20 years now. No. No, I don’t think so. Maybe in an alternate universe.
9) are you getting your tc a christmas present? if so, what is it?
I have in the past! Specifically like, a tin of cookies lol. I’ve also given him an actual present when I left. I do intend to send him a Christmas card every year but not this year because ... you know ... the apocalypse.
10) have you ever flirted with your tc?
Flirtation inherently has intent. So, no. How he interpreted our interactions I don’t know.
11) how long have you had a crush on them? what began it all?
SO! TIMELINE!
I was at my old school from September 2014-April 2019, I had C for the first time in September 2015. Like I mentioned above, I did not realize I had a crush on him until literally the middle of my final exam of my class with him December 2018, so I’ve only consciously had a crush for about two years now. However, as I also mentioned, I went out of my way to stop by his office, even when I didn’t have a class with him. And my relationship with/feelings towards him are complicated so I’m not going to say I did so solely because I like him, but I would put it maybe closer to somewhere in 2017. You don’t plan your schedule around someone you don’t feel strong feelings for.
12) do you believe you’ll get over them shortly after you stop taking their class/have the chance to spend time with them?
As of today, it has been been exactly a year and a half since I last him in person. In the time since, I have cried over missing him, routinely gone back to keep up with his current research projects, and made his picture a part of my home screen. I almost exclusively listen to the playlist I made for him -  so much so my Spotify Wrapped is pretty much that playlist with a few extras.
13) what kind of grades do you get in their class?
Haaaaaa pre-supension I was failing his classes. My first semester back I got .... a mid/high 70? and I finished my last class with him with an A+ and the essay I had written for his class had the highest grade between the two classes so..
14) does your tc ever do any tiny, little things that you adore?
When he puts a hand in his pocket and leans against the wall. When he tucks his hair behind his ear because he keeps falling in his face (he has long hair, a little past his shoulders). When he can’t stop himself from googling something even if its in the middle of class. How you can ask him anything at any time. The way he would chuckle at my jokes. How his handwriting hasn’t improved in decades. How easily he brushes off toxic masculinity. His candidness and willingness to share little anecdotes. The way he used to always smile whenever he saw me. That he goes home everyday to have lunch with his wife.
15) are you their favorite student?
I was! And it was obvious to other students that we had a friendly, casual relationship too. For a time, if his other students had questions about him they would ask me, and I usually had the answer. I didn’t matter in the long run, but I was. 
16) do you two share any tastes? movies, books, music, etc.
He’s a legal historian, I’m a baby legal/political historian. We also like the same historical cooking youtube channel.
17) is your teacher religious?
I doubt he would say he’s religious, but I feel like we have a similar relationship to religion which is to say no formal association, but had profound effects on our childhoods and subsequently, presumably, how we view things as adults.
18) do you masturbate to them?
Yes.
19) do you communicate with them outside of school?
I sent him a meme once. And asked about the socialist uprising scandal he was apart of. I also almost emailed him while at a museum exhibition with my history friend. These are all through email.
20) do you have any tc songs or songs you relate to your tc? what are they?
SO my number one song this year was “You are the Reason” by Calum Scott because, you guessed it, of him. But also:
I Lost a Friend - Finneas When You’re Ready - Shawn Mendes You Are in Love - Taylor Swift Break My Heart Right - James
& given the season, especially w/ what transpired last year, Last Christmas by Wham!
21) what’s your favorite thing your tc has said/memory you have with them?
One time he kinda trailed off in the middle of lecture after stating that he thought of xyz a particular way which contrasted one of the popular schools of thought, and the way he plainly said, “well, yeah, which I guess ... is I’m arguing it” almost like he was semi-surprised with himself has always stuck with me. 
But also, in addition the memory I shared earlier, we spent an hour and a half talking about grad school and what to expect and how to get there. 
22) do you plan to continue a relationship with them after you leave school?
I trid, I really did. But he doesn’t “socialize with students part or present” so I can’t exactly see him. But I did get some academic-related from him at the beginning of the year.
23) how will you deal during the summer? will you see him/her?
He’s a hermit who used my last vacation before I moved to go on all the vacations he had to postpone because he was working on his last book. And this past summer ... Covid. This question is obviously directed at high school students, but in general, he lives in the back of head always, and when I’m in my hometown for the summer my heart aches because theres a none-zero chance I’ll see him, but I know I won’t.
24) does your tc support gay rights?
Yes. He’s never been put in a position that I know of where he had to outright condemn homophobia, but in one of his classes, he actively made the choice to make the very first reading of the semester about how women in ancient times had more agency than assumed, and also how the woman in the case study was a lesbian.
25) what class do you have with them? And what period? Do you have them every day?
History classes. I won’t get into specifics because it’s kind of an eclectic mix and I’m paranoid someone from the area could come across this. But I had him twice a week every semester that I had him. Again this kind of question is more so applicable to high school students, not so much university students.
26) have you ever drifted out during a lecture thinking about them and missed information?
No. In his classes he is too enthralling, and I’m a good student otherwise.
27) have you stalked them online? what did you find out?
In theory. He’s a fifty-year-old history professor whose reaction to a description of the big lipped/tiny face filter on snapchat was “that sounds disgusting.” The man doesn’t have social media, and if he does those privacy settings are on so students can’t find him he thinks he’s very professional. I do visit his mini-bio section on the college website fairly often tho.
28) have you ever run into them outside of schools? what happened?
I did once. He introduced me to his wife, who said “oh you’re E! C has talked about you” and it apparently he had done so positively, and blew my mind because this was back when I was failing classes and also, as a person, I don’t believe that people think about me when I’m not there. They gave me a restaurant recommendation and afterwards his wife surprised me a they were leaving the restaurant because ... we had listened to them, and they also went there for lunch that day.
29) has your tc ever spoken of teacher-student relationships? what did they say?
It had recently come out that it had been found out that another professor had been in a relationship with a student and he’s the one that brought it up before class one day (with all of us not just me). He didn’t say anything for or against it, just that it was generally discouraged, but that most schools did have policies in place to handle the situation.
30) do you regret telling anyone about your tc? if you’ve kept it a secret, why have you done so?
Absolutely not. I can’t tell my best friends because they’d do nothing but give me shit for it and it would call every time I mention him into question. But the friends that I have told ... its been so freeing, and like a weight has been lifted from my heart. One friend in particular I unloaded on her all my emotional shit pertaining to him this past summer and she was so understanding it legit since then I’ve been less distraught when thinking about him. It still hurts, but it feels less like I’m suffocating now.
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bolbianddolanhouse · 3 years
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Book 3 FAQ!
Need to catch up? Heres all the previous FAQs 1 * 2 Heres the master post of all three books 1 * 2 * 3
Wow...you would think that with the whole pandemic that I’d get these chapters out faster. But alas this year got the best of me too. I’ve been a lil vulnerable in the tags with y’all and the check-in messages really touched me. So thank you very much to everyone that has checked up on me and enjoyed the chapters! I appreciate all of you :3 So lets roll out the questions!
Q: Who is Iwata based off? A: Iwata is based off my self-insert, which is also me. I know that sounds a lil narcissistic but it’s that real life reference that you’re a spitting image of your parent. Iwata was designed to look and act very similar to his mother based off that. What made him a little more original and not a copy of my self-insert is the tropes I added. I mirrored the trope of that of the relationship between Steven and his mom in Steven Universe; where he adored, then hated but then came to terms that he is not his mom but someone better. A whole journey of self-discovery and self-worth.
Q: The representation is amazing! How did you come up with these queer characters? A: Glad you liked them! Like I’ve said in previous FAQs and in the tags, all these characters were dreamt and I just build upon them in writing. So yes, most of my characters were created queer in my dreams but I make them more in depth by setting up how they discovered they’re queer. I did a bit of research on coming out stories and self-discovery epiphanies to have these characters more relatable so a fellow queer reader feels seen in a way. There’s already too much hetero works out there, I just want to gay it up in a respectful way. 
Q: The culture mixing is really good and consistent, how do you do it? A: For starters, I am latina. But the culture mixing stems from my knowledge about other cultures through language. I’ve been studying Japanese for almost a decade now and Chinese for about 4 years, so it’s no surprise that I’m referencing them in my work. Maybe what I depict isn’t what other half-Japanese half-Latinx families do, but it’s what I’d do if I started such a family. Plus there’s some overlap within those cultures and it makes it easy to put into writing.
Q: So. much. drama! Why is this book more dramatic than the previous two? A: Book 3 is were main on-going plot gets picked up more and shows signs of resolution. In book 2, it was to focus on not only Lili and the family dynamic but to remind the reader that life moved on with little resolve for the self-insert character. Iwata has a HUGE role in the resolution but in his own special way. And I’m not saying the answer is love...but it’s leaning there. 
Q: You reference specific food and snacks in this AU/ what are your favorite Cheetos? A: Like I said, I’m latina! Of course I write in the food of my home culture. Mainly the home cooked meals my mom would make for me and my siblings. It might not seem like much to the reader, but those simple meals add to the narrative of being home and traditions that help them embrace their mixed heritage. The reference of Cheetos are all over this AU because they’re my favorite hot chip. Naturally, my favorite Cheetos are the Hot con Límon with chamoy. 
Q: Love that there’s no canon character deaths in this book so far, but are there any major deaths planned? A: Just one but it’s not a tragic, hero fallen type death. It’s a natural death but it’s gonna be a tear jerker. That death won’t come until the WAY end of this AU, so I’m not gonna spoil anything yet.
Q: Can’t believe you predicted Dabi’s true identity. A: It was obvious tho. I didn’t really predict anything canon if you’re an anime only for BNHA. In this AU (without spoiling too much) there’s no Endeavor redemption and Dabi doesn’t cause that big drama on live TV. So if you’re an Endeavor hater like me, you’re gonna love what I have in store for them in the next book!
Q: I love Tenya being a dad and loving husband in this AU! Will we see more dad moments? A: Glad you like those snippets of dad Tenya! I love writing them for my own indulgence since there isn’t enough love for this character in the fandom. Plus I see a whole lot of consistent readers are Iida-stans and that makes me want to write more married fluff whenever I can.
Q: Beizu is best boi/Who is Beizu based off of? A: Beizu is the genius trope in this book. I made his character a more chill version of his mom but with that ‘who is my dad’ trope. Beizu is part of a trio that’s to mirror the agent trio of Ita, Jin and Mimi. The third member is yet to be revealed but they’re a BIG plot device in the coming book. But Beizu is one of my favorite OCs, maybe I’ll do a ranking of my OCs when everyone is introduced. 
Q: The villains and Hawks plot has me SHOOK! What’s going to happen to hero society when this case gets solved? A: Without spoiling it, the truth is going to expose the corrupt higher ups in hero society. The kids in the household has a part in taking down hero society as well but in their own, special way. Iwata has the biggest part in closing the case (but it’s spoiler if I say how), Lili and twins help tearing down minor things like education systems and laws. I will say though, the case gets resolved after the trio retires because Ita gets to return to America and found an heir to the company before they could draw to a conclusion. Which is a happy ending at the end of the storyline, no major deaths!
Q: Confirmed weddings? A: Yes :) because Lili and Iwata deserve good things and love. The twins have it easy in the coming book. Lili’s comes first and Iwata’s comes later than expected (can’t say why yet, gotta keep reading :3). I guess I can say that all of them get married but Lili’s and Iwata’s are the only queer ones. All the spouses that marry into the family take the Iida name, so Lili and Hanaka don’t change family names when they get married! Y’all already know those wedding chapters are gonna be lavish and take up most of the chapter, you’ll love them.
Q: But are the kids Joji stans? A: Oh jeez...they are the same way we like 80′s music. It’s pleasant to listen to but kinda cringe when you see your parents dance to it. I don’t really portray it, but the family digital library has all of Joji’s music in a playlist called ‘Sad hours Soundtrack’. If you ask Mr Muffins 2.0 who last listened to the playlist, they’ll snitch who and how many times it has been looped. That’s how Tenya knows who needs cheering up.
Q: I love the little references to their childhood, what else can you tell us about their pre-book childhood? A: As I said a few times in the tags, I cut a ton of stuff that isn’t relevant to the plot. Most of it was their childhood and how they manifested their quirks. Lili really liked to scream before she learned to talk, a very fast learner and at 3 years old got her engine quirk and later that year showed signs of a second quirk. Iwata was very quiet child, hardly cried or gets upset but latched on to mom a lot. His first words were in Spanish but struggled a bit with Japanese before entering kinder. Tensei was born first, then Hanaka followed 10 minutes later. Hanaka’s fire quirk manifested after the first breast feeding when she was getting burped by mom in the hospital. Mom likes to believe Tensei came out first to warn everybody that Hanaka can breathe fire. Tensei didn’t manifest his metal quirk until the age of 7, making him a very late bloomer. Though very different in personalities, Hanaka and Tensei get along and get very creative when it’s playtime. Up until the age of 5, mom would place Hanaka in kindling to get the BBQ grill or bonfire started. Hanaka has been known to randomly burst into flames as a baby, so Tensei had to sleep in a different crib for his safety. Tensei spent more time reading as a child because everyone was focused on managing Hanaka’s flames, thus making him a very studious boy.
Q: Not an AU question, but how are you doing?/ We don’t mind waiting for the chapters! Please take your time. A: I’ve been getting check ins and validation in my asks for the inconsistent schedule. Too many things came at me this year, both good and bad. I was doing well in speech and debate that I went to nationals and prepared myself for some serious competition, leaving no time to do chapters. Then I fell in and out of depressive episodes during lockdown where I’m from. In the summer my grandmother passed away from the virus in Mexico, then my beloved dog Mr Muffins passed away of old age. Those deaths hurt me and my family the most that I was having a hard time trying to cope plus trying to be responsible by adhering to CDC guidelines (I’m in the immune-comprised group). In my want to get over my grief, I trained and received my certificate in ordained ministry (yea I know that’s not the best first step, but I just needed to feel like I’ve achieved something being cooped up at home). I’ve very grateful that theres some readers that see the tags and check up on me. All your kind words gives me a little strength to write and finish every chapter at my pace.
Q: More art please? A: Yes :3 I have one coming up real soon! After the end of this book is where I’ll be releasing some art as a sort of place holder.
Q: Is the the estate drama eluding to the ending? A: Yup! And it will show up every now and then in the next book.
Q: This is a really good self insert AU! There’s complexity to your character and others...how do you write these interactions/relationships really close to actual ones? A: Thanks for the complement :3 When I first started this AU, I was in the middle of my semester of a creative writing course. Near the end of book 2 was when I finished the course work for it and by then you could see the progression in writing. ALSO, I’m a communications major as well! Writing these relationships and other social things were things that I remembered learning in my interpersonal communications class. I was a bit on fence on whether or not to start this AU because I didn’t think my writing skill was at all that good. With some encouragement from my classmates and friends, I pushed myself to write this whole AU out. I don’t plan on stopping until I finish the storyline, plus I hate leaving things unfinished.
And that wraps up this FAQ! Hopefully I got everyone’s questions since most were check-ins for me. But expect the last chapter for book 3 in the next few days. After Book 3, I’m going on a lil hiatus until the end of February. I have so many life events happening in the upcoming weeks that I’m gonna need time to recharge before resuming this AU. Y’all know I bounce back as promised, in the meantime, I have some art things queued to remind y’all that Book 4 is in the works. Only 2 more books to go! Thanks again for reading and I’ll talk you y’all again later in the tags~
-Love, Palma-sama
P.S. Heres the end of Book 3 for your connivence :3 other links are at the top of this post! 
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ice-connoisseur · 4 years
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ten faves
Rules: name ten favorite characters from ten different things (tv, movies, books, etc.)
This came from @thegirlwholied nearly...3 weeks...ago now, but I am slow, and indecisive, and time basically has no meaning at the moment anyway, so. 
1.       Sally Lockhart (the Sally Lockhart quartet)
First name I wrote down.  I met Sally in my early teens and I’ve never quite given up on wanting to grow up to be her. I love each and every member of Garland and Lockhart a ridiculous amount (and my love of the found family trope can probably be traced back to their door), but Sally, with her grit and her stubbornness and her fierce indepenance, captured me in something special from that moment in the first paragraph of the first book when all I knew was her name and that she was about to kill a man. 
2.       Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice)
I considered shying away from the stereotypical here, but that would just be lying to myself as well as anyone else.  I relate more to Jane, or Charlotte Lucas, or even Mr Darcy – at least in terms of social awkwardness, not finances, sadly – but, like him, I can’t remember the first time I fell in love with Lizzy Bennet, I was in the middle of it before I even knew I had begun. 
(Jennifer Ehle probably had something to do with it though.)
3.       Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)
Look, I was an introverted, bookish, rule-abiding adolescent, and Hermione was suddenly someone I could recognise myself in.  I wanted to be Ginny (and Sally, and Lizzy, and several others on this list); I already was Hermione, in a lot of ways, and she made that a bit more ok.
4.      Carrot Ironfoundersson (Discworld)
I wanted to put a Discworld character in here, and I’m a little bit sad at myself for not picking a woman – especially since this is inadvertently turning out to be a very female-heavy list.  I even started the process of trying to choose between Sybil Ramkin, Tiffany Aching, Adora Belle Dearheart, and Angua, to name but a few.
But the thing is, I made the fatel error of first trying to read the Discworld in publication order, and it took me years to venture any further than the first 50 pages of Colour of Magic.  Even in later books the Wizards just.  Aren’t my thing.
And then, at some point – and I’m a bit hazy on the when, to be honest – I picked up Guards Guards and spent the entire book blinking at Carrot, reading and re-reading; I kept wanting to turn to someone else and nudge and point, because is this guy for real?! And then, again, a page later, for completely different reasons and in completely different tones, is this guy for real AGAIN?!  Terry Pratchett’s books are richly populated with wonderfully rounded, flawed, individual characters, and at first glance Carrot is comparatively straightforward. I hope I never lose that quiet moment of glee I feel at realising that, of course, he really, really isn’t. 
5.       Titty Walker (Swallows and Amazons)
Consider Titty a bit of a catch-all for the tomboy girls who filled my childhood reading – George Kirrin, Maia Fielding, Kit Russell and the rest – but she’s the one I thought of first.   I was not an adventurous child - I am not an adventurous adult, for that matter – but these were the books that meant I could be.  I think Titty’s adventures always felt the most tangible, somehow, and the image of her tacking up the field home to read her father’s telegram cemented something in me at an impressionable age that I don’t think I’ve ever quite shaken off.
6.       Leslie Knope (Parks and Recreation)
Again, I love each and every character on this show, but Leslie Knope; annoying, overbearing, forthright Leslie Knope, who cares so damn much about everything that she makes everyone else care more too, who never once considers being anyone other than who she is, who makes mistakes and faces up to fixing them, who will always, always use a favour to help other people…Leslie Knope, folks.  I love her and I like her. 
7.       Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)
It’s a pretty close call between Rose and Donna Noble, to be honest, but Rose got there first.   Unapologetically, unashamedly working class Rose, from the council estate, with no A-levels and no prospects and no expectations that anyone will ever give a damn about her, who saves the world in so many different ways, who grows up and laughs and loves and changes but never in the fundamentals of who she is – brilliant, compassionate, brave.   Her life is fantastic because she marches through it punching literal holes in the universe to make it so. 
8.       Lyra Silvertongue (His Dark Materials)
Lyra, who loved her world of Oxford rooftops, and ran from it.  Lyra who loved Roger, and killed him.  Lyra who loved Pan, and left him.  Lyra who loved Will, and lost him.  Lyra who lies.  Lyra who left home and came back different, and that was only just the start of her growing up. I’ve been reading Lyra for 20 years and I read her a little bit different every time, but I never love her any less.
9.       Phil Coulson (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
I’m probably stretching things a bit here, because when I say I love Phil Coulson, I’m referring to Phil Coulson of the MCU up to and including 2012, and the subsequent fanon interpretations of him.  I tried Agents of Shield early on and it didn’t stick.  But I saw Avengers Assemble in the cinema with no prior Marvel knowledge (comic or film) and spent the next three days watching the rest of Phase One (hilariously, at the time, five films felt like a lot).  I was in my very early days on Tumblr when #Coulsonlives was a thing, and I still remember the absolute explosion of joy that was.  Every now and again (like right now, actually) I go through a phase of re-reading an unhealthy volume of Clint/Coulson fic – and I do love Clint, and I love Gamora, I love Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff and Pepper Potts - and it’s dry, snarky, utterly unflappable who Coulson hooks me every time. 
10.       Georgiana Lestrade (The Least of All Possible Mistakes)
Look, I have a lot of feelings about every person on this list and quite a few who aren’t, but if I had to pick the one who felt the most…real, I suppose…then Georgiana Lestrade is my easy answer.  She’s the person I would always want fighting my corner.  George has no false ideals, no delusions about either herself or her world; she is completely grounded in herself and her London – which is almost a character in its own right, one of my very favourite things about Pru’s writing.
Competent, practical, fiercely unphased George, who carries a taser and throws stationary at her underlings; who is gloriously, unashamedly pragmatic; nearing forty and glad of it; as honest and self-aware of her own nature as I think a person can be; and above all else who is damn good at her job.  She might give one hoot about what other people think of her, but she’s certainly not going to waste a second.  That she is surrounded by wild, dangerously intelligent men is almost incidental, but she is, and that is a part of her story – though far from the whole of it - and she takes no more shit from them, never doubts her own right or ability to stand beside them, than she does any other person. 
One of the saddest truths of my fandom life is that Pru will never finish the Regency spy AU of this AU, and I mourn this far more often than is healthy XD
***
This was fun and hard in equal measure, and there are so many more I could have listed - Jack Robinson, Violet Baudelaire, Brienne of Tarth, Leia Organa, Theo Hart, to name but a few - but I’m as happy with it as I’ll ever be.
Tagging @firesign23, @kiraziwrites, @angel-deux-writes and @ajoblotofjunk, and also anyone else who wants to give this a go, because I would love to read more of them. 
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mystery-deer · 4 years
Text
Nuclear (b99 kevin/holt)
The phone call from Debbie came deep into the afternoon. It was a dismal day and rained for the better portion of it, the kind of rain that didn’t dissipate only waxed and waned.
“I’m pregnant Raymond!” She exclaimed happily. He could hear her pacing around her house, picking things up and putting them down again like she always did when talking on the phone. He remembered she almost choked him with the cord doing that. “My senses are so strong I threw up because I saw someone ELSE eating relish on a hotdog!” She continued.
Raymond shuddered. RELISH on a hotdog? It was one of the only preferences they had in common. He could recall (though he didn’t at that moment) a great many family barbeques and picnics where they’d be offered the accursed condiment and both pulled faces their mother chastised them for. “Is senses heightening a part of pregnancy?”
“Hell yeah it is!” She declared.
“Ah, I see.” He nodded, sure she must be an expert in the matter. “Well, I’m very happy for you. Please keep me updated.”
As he hung up he heard the door open and his fiancee step in. The moment they'd gotten the house it was decided that they were fiancees. “There’s no legal way to prevent us from being engaged to be married.” Kevin had stated simply, ever the romantic.
“Who was that?” He asked, shrugging off his soaked coat and slipping his shoes off at the door. He looked like a drowned rat when he was wet, his thin hair sticking to his paler-than-average forehead. He would often bemoan how 'perfect' Raymond could look even after being in the rain or having just taken a shower.
Raymond smiled, feeling fond of him. As an afterthought he said, “My sister, she’s pregnant.”
How wonderful!” Kevin said, voice lilting slightly. Raymond honestly couldn’t understand why people said it was monotonous. It had so many soft depths to it, the slight upturn when he was especially pleased by a piece of news never failed to warm his heart.
“Every pregnancy is not good news.” He said suddenly, surprised as he had not planned to say it. “People often default to saying that but there are plenty of instances in which a pregnancy is cause for alarm and panic.”
Kevin nodded and shook out his umbrella. “I see. Good news for her and not for you?” He asked, hitting the nail on the head.
Raymond looked at the nail and did not recognize it as his own. “I’m not- I am perfectly...fine. With the information.” Kevin silently communicated his doubt at this, setting his umbrella out to dry. “It’s not that I’m upset, I just feel...odd.”
Kevin kissed his fiancee’s temple and placed an extremely cold and wet hand on the back of his neck, making him jump. “Please feel free to collect your thoughts while I make us tea, it’s pouring and I know you neglected to take your umbrella.”
“The weatherman did not indicate it would rain.” Raymond protested. He had had to throw his entire outfit in the dryer and change into pajamas despite it not being nighttime. He deserved it, it was his day off.
“I told you it would.”
“You are not the weatherman. Speaking of which, the deli counter clerk referred to me as ‘the rain man’ today when I went in.”
“Which one, Rodrigo?” Kevin asked. He did not like Rodrigo the deli counter clerk. Rodrigo had once, when Kevin ordered a sausage, winked at him and chuckled a notably slurred "right on man!”
“Yes.” Raymond had had no such interactions with Rodrigo.
“I see.”
“It’s a movie.” Raymond clarified for him, thinking that the source of Kevin’s frustration. “I believe the main character has the same name as me.”
“I’m aware.” Kevin remarked, opening the cabinets and taking out their favorite mugs. He was certain Raymond would deny having a favorite mug in front of company but Kevin had noted that he would only use other mugs if that particular one was not available. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, a bluish gray. “Oh, I got your text and I bought more honey.”
“Bought more what?” “More-” Kevin turned to see his fiancee raising an eyebrow slyly and smiled, that was his Raymond. Always playing jokes on him.
“Very funny.” He said, meaning it. Raymond smiled as well and went to retrieve the bear-shaped bottle along with several other items he had realized he’d forgotten after coming home from his errands. And he certainly had no intention of going back out in that veritable storm, he had on his pajamas for chrissake.
“I don’t understand why you buy this brand and not the honey with the normal container.” He said, putting the bear down on the counter as Kevin filled the kettle.
“It’s cute.” He replied. “If you think it’s cute why would you purchase it? You’re meant to drain the honey from it. It is morbid and the same reason why I am against latte art.” “I know your stance on latte art intimately.”
(Flashback: The two of them in a Parisian inspired cafe of Kevin’s choosing, both of them in suits, Raymond’s sleeves rolled up because of the rant he’s worked himself into though he’s not yelling. It's a private quasi argument between the two of them. Kevin is drinking from his cup and Raymond's lays untouched on the table.
“I’m just saying it’s fiendish! It’s undrinkable!” “Because of Mr.Cuddlesworth?” “Don’t give it a name for chrissake!” “He’s delicious Raymond try him.” “You’re a monster.”
Flashback ends.)
“I still can’t believe you drank him.” “You’re adorable.” _______________
They had tea a few minutes later, sitting in their living room and watching the fire. Kevin had prepared it and Raymond had remarked that it made the home feel rustic.
“Rustic?” Kevin asked in disbelief, smiling for a moment. “City boy.” “You’re a city boy too now.” He pointed out. Kevin stood and clapped his hands off. “I’ll carry the scars of suburbia in my heart always.”
They sat in silence for the time it took to finish their drinks and they savored the time spent together more than the taste of honey.
“Kevin, do you want children?”
Kevin turned to look at his fiancee, startled by the question. He was staring down into his mug at the leaves left over. “Children?” He asked. “As in having children of our own?”
“Yes.” Raymond said, narrowing his eyes slightly to express his extreme confusion. “Was I unclear?”
Kevin turned to look at the fire and then up at the art hanging above it that was evocative of a starry sky. They'd bought it to christen the house and he remembered the moment vividly. “We can’t have children Raymond.” He paused. “I know some couples adopt - but not AS a couple and even then It’s difficult to adopt as a single parent.”
“I do not have any particular want to have a child.” Raymond admitted. For a brief moment he pictured his mother- looking stoic but clutching her purse so tightly her knuckles paled as the doctor spoke to her in a low consoling tone. “I am far too focused on my job and have never had a want to raise one.”
He pictured Kevin in the hospital when he got shot a few years back. Kevin waiting, hands in his lap, looking stoic except for how they shook there. He told him later that he’d asked at the front desk if Raymond Holt had been admitted and the receptionist peered up at him through horn-rimmed glasses. “Are you family?” She asked.
“I’m-” He’d paused. Thinking of the man he’d seen sitting in a chair near the entrance with a bulls hat and an American flag t-shirt. Hearing a woman by the coffee vending machine talking loudly on her phone, phrases like ‘alternative lifestyle’ and ‘not around my children.’ buzzing in his ears. The room seemed spring-loaded with violence.
“-No. We’re very close friends." He hesitated, voice cracking softly. "We’ve known each other since childhood just...please let me know if there’s any news.” He said and the woman nodded sympathetically because he looked like a wreck. He looked brokenhearted.
Raymond had woken up in his hospital bed alone. Had had to buzz the nurse in four times before she finally got around to fetching him. She kept "forgetting."
He pictured a funeral with not only Kevin but a smaller them- though they couldn’t procreate his imagination supplied a child which was composed of their halves. A mixed boy, brown skin and red hair, crying for his father.
A black boy, brown skin and black hair, holding his baby sister in his arms. Their mother bent at an odd angle, body shaking. It was sunny the day of the funeral and he remembered feeling wrong about it. Debbie couldn’t even talk then - could only babble and repeat if prompted.
Kevin looked relieved. “I must confess I also don’t have any particular want of children.” He said. “They’re fascinating and can be quite adorable but I do not have it in me to raise one.” They were both people who worked long nights. Kevin imagined taking a child to work, leaving them at the daycare (a child could not be trusted to stay quiet in class, even one that was theirs). He would either worry ceaselessly about them or they would grow distant because of the time apart.
He pictured his father- the back of him. He was sitting at his desk at home shifting through medical journals and loose papers. “He’s not to be disturbed.” Said his mother, ushering him away. “Come now.”
He pictured himself, sitting in the study, surrounded by books and grading papers. Saw himself not even noticing his son- an adopted boy who miraculously looked like them, perhaps not in his physical features but in the way he walked and talked and looked at things - lingering at the half open door.
“Come now.” Raymond would say gently, leading him away by the hand. “You will see him when he’s finished.”
“I was thinking of Debbie.” Raymond admitted, though Kevin had already guessed this was the source of their conversation. “I remember when she used to be so...small. It surprised me that she could be pregnant. That she is at the age where being pregnant is a natural thing.”
He remembered her as a child. Both of them in their father’s study. He sat in the middle of the room and watched her run around spinning all of the globes and listing fake facts about wherever they landed. The joy on her face made him want to cry and he hoped she would happy forever. Dust flew around them. He was sure that as she grew she would dim into normalcy but she only grew brighter and brighter.
He remembered her bringing home her future husband, a teacher at that time. He remembered how she shone that day and when she asked "Isn't he just the cutest?" He'd responded "Yes, he has eyelashes." He went into their father's study that day to escape the noise and spun one of the globes lazily with his finger.
“If I were heterosexual would I be married by now? Would I have children?” Raymond and a faceless woman were sitting in the same house - same fire in front of them. A smaller version of him and Debbie were running the background. A child who looked like Kevin sat with his back to them, singing. He felt a weighted sadness settle on him for a moment.
“I don’t want you to feel that you are missing out on some wonderful part of life because you’re with me.” He finished, setting his mug down. The sound transported him back to a night years and years ago. Raymond and Kevin on one end of a dining table and Kevin’s parents on the other. Classical music seeped in through the corners of the memory.
“You’ve done this.” Kevin's father growled, one eye blue with oncoming cataracts. Raymond remembered feeling sorry for him- he was a surgeon after all. “You’ve done this to our son.” And he felt like he’d murdered someone.
("Do not stand at my grave and weep." Kevin's voice read that night, raw with rage and sorrow. "I am not there, I do not sleep.")
He’d told this to Debbie on the phone and she’d succinctly said. “Fuck that old bastard! But I bet you WISH you were good enough to turn a man gay.” And just like that he was innocent again.
“Raymond I don’t feel that I’m sacrificing anything by being with you.” Kevin said. “Even if I was with a woman - and somehow enjoying it - I don’t believe I would want children. I’m perfectly happy with spoiling various nieces and nephews as they pop up.”
They both pictured themselves, older and grayer, in the middle of an intimate but large family. The image was comforting and felt right. They were complete with just the two of them, they didn't need or want anything other than to spend the rest of their lives together.
Raymond smiled, content with this answer and feeling very much the same. He relaxed against his fiancee and hummed in thought.
“What do you think she’ll name the baby?” “Perhaps Dan?” “Yes.” Raymond said, apparently enjoying the thought. “Perhaps.” "Maybe we should get a dog." Kevin suggested and smiled slightly at his fiancee's dismissive snort. "Heaven forbid."
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Slenderverse Highschool AU Character Descriptions
Warning: Real Long Post
(I think I caught all the typos last time I read through this but honestly who knows)
Part 1, because as I have just learned, Tumblr does have a limit on the length of posts.
Slender/The Administrator
• The Principal
• No one remembers what he actually looks like because they're too distracted by the fact that he's wearing a super fancy business suit
• Seriously, what's with the suit?
• Absolutely terrifying without having to say a single word
• Alex Kralie's dad
• Stan Frederick's uncle
• Gives Alex special treatment
• His nickname has been in use so long he doesn't even bother giving out his real name to students any more. There is literally no student in the school outside of his family who knows his real name.
Alex Kralie
Junior
• Has been friends with Jay since 5th grade
• Was a pretty cool person in middle school but became a huge manipulative jerk by high school
• Has a tendency to get in fights with people, only wins about half the time
• Get's away with basically anything because of his dad
• Gets along particularly badly with Patrick, who has threatened to fight him if he ever comes anywhere near Micheal
• Was friends with Brian from childhood through Middle school but is no longer on good terms with him
• Basically hovers over Jay constantly
• Neutral in terms of his feelings on Stan, but treats him better than he does most others since they're family.
• Has probably threatened Alex Koval more than once, definitely meaning he's not on good terms with Jeff
• Wants to be a director, but has trouble working with others since they don't like him much
Jay
Sophomore
• Makes A's and B's
• Basically always hanging around Alex
• Does whatever Alex says
• Low on self confidence
• Used to be good friends with Brian but has grown distant from him because of Brian's bad relationship with Alex
• Wants to be a writer
• Really wants to approach Tim but is too scared of rejection and what Alex might do if he did so
• Lowkey gay for Tim but doesn't realize it
• In search of an after school job
• Major Insomniac
• Kinda paranoid
• Band kid, plays the clarinet
• Enjoys hiking
• Has done a couple of projects with stormy, but never became particularly close with her
Tim
Junior
• Literally just wants high school to be over
• Spent most of his childhood in a psych ward, eventually being diagnosed with schizophrenia, which he now takes meds for
• Only really close to Brian
• Worked on a project with Alex once, it did not go well, they're not on good terms
• Smokes but doesn't want anyone to know
• Works at the gas station down the road from the school
• Thinks Vinnie is alright
• Not on good terms with Noah
• Would probably fight Habit in a Denny's parking lot if given the chance
• Failing more than one class, doesn't exactly care
• Is in theater with Brian, but only really because Brian wanted him to be
• Skips on a regular basis
Brian
Junior
• Theater kid
• Literally constantly on the verge of fighting Alex
• Wants to help Jay get away from Alex but knows that Jay is too far involved with Alex to really help, so has decided to back off
• Bestfriends with Tim
• Get's along well with Jessica
• Kinda worried about Micheal, but doesn't know if it would be the right idea to approach him or not since he seems so jumpy and Patrick is pretty agressive
• Worked on a couple of projects with Noah, still can't quite figure out what's going on with him, but met Milo through him, and they get along well
• Runs an aesthetic poetry blog under the name ToTheArk
Jessica
Senior
• Photographer
• On the school swim team
• Jay's older cousin
• Would literally fist fight Alex if she got the chance
• Good friends with Brian and Steph
• High key worried about Tim, but knows she won't get anywhere by being straight forward about it
• Tries to encourage Michael to get out of his shell a bit
• Not Patrick's favorite person in the world
• Thinks Habit is an overly violent, edge lord wannabe and would probably say that directly to his face if given the chance
• Wary of Stan because of his relation to Alex, but would probably get along well with him if they talked
• Has a girlfriend whose in her first year of college
• Thinks Jeff is pretty cool, but isn't super close to him
• Hangs out in the art room with Steph before school
• Not a huge fan of Eric
• Owns one of the few working brain cells found at the school
_______
Vinnie
Senior
• Goes to the gym with Evan sometimes
• Doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life so he's currently just following after Corenthal by taking psychology classes
• Has known Habit for so long that he isn't scared of him anymore, but fears for others who may be left to deal with Habit alone
• Cares a lot for Evan
• There's some animosity between him and Shaun and Micheal and no one can figure out why
• Best friends with Jeff
• Gets along well enough with Tim when they have class together, but literally can't figure out what's up with him, wishes he would open up more but doesn't have the confidence to try and get him to do so
• Tried to talk to Stan once but caught him in the middle of a paranormal research session and got too freaked out to approach him again
• Was in choir at one point but quit
• Eric makes him uncomfortable
Evan
Junior
• Fitness expert
• Loves hunting
• Works as a trainer at the local gym after school
• Not great in terms of grades, but passing
• In the wrestling club at school
• Best friends with Vinnie and Jeff
• Would like to be closer to Noah but has trouble doing that since Habit and Noah are on such bad terms
• Curious about Micheal and Jay
• Will fight you if you tease him about his height
• Not one to stray away from violence, but doesn't like being associated with it because he doesn't want people to think of him the same way they do Habit
• Punk rock/emo aesthetic
• Gamer, probably plays with Kevin and Noah on the weekends
Habit
Junior
• Evan's twin brother
• Probably a drug dealer
• Has been known to attack kids who mess with him but even the teachers are too scared of him to do anything about it
• Enjoys teasing Noah and Jeff
• Has a collection of knives and other weaponry
• Super over dramatic
• Moves his hands a lot when he talks
• Avoids Alex Kralie
• Big gay
• Feeds stray cats to the point where they follow him around campus
• Skips class and hangs out in the theater
Jeff
Senior
• Really good at math and puzzle solving
• Total book worm
• Takes care of his younger brother, Alex, since their parents are dead
• Good friends with Evan and Vinnie
• Literally can't stand Habit
• Planning for college
• Loved by teachers
• Can almost always be found in the library outside of class
• Would like to be friends with Jay but doesn't want to approach him with Alex Kralie around
Alex Koval
Freshman
• Sticks close to his brother
• Loves his dog, Sparky
• Strugles with mental health in reference to the death of his parents
• Pretty scared of Habit, basically avoids him completely
• Probably doesn't get along well with Alex Kralie
• Very smol, please protect him
• Likes English and writing in general
Damsel/Steph
Sophomore
• Evan's girlfriend
• An artist
• Dislikes the rain, has a fear of drowning
• Wants to go to art school but is being pressed by her parents to pursue something more lucrative
• In medical classes for the above stated reason
• Had some problems with Jeff in the past but has moved on
• Gets along well with Brian and Jessica
• Probably tries to talk to Stan but fails to get him to open up
• Total scene kid
• Friends with Stormy
Dr. Corenthal
Staff
• The school counselor
• Habit, Evan, and Vinnie's adoptive father
• Not exactly on the principles good side, but good enough at his job to keep it
• Has weekly sessions with Milo that Mary doesn't know about
• Tries to talk to Micheal every once in a while but can never get him to talk about his problems
• Has tried to get Tim to come talk to him multiple times but has never successfully brought him into his office to talk
• Helping Jeff plan for college
_______
Noah
Sophomore
• Quiet around people he's not close to
• Has a scar of his left shoulder from a fight he was in with Habit
• Avoids Alex Kralie
• Pretty good friends with Vinnie
• Best friends with Kevin
• Mostly hangs with Kevin and Milo
• Likes old video games
• Would like to hang out more with Evan but doesn't to avoid Habit
• Very confused by Micheal and Patrick
• Judges people he's known for a long time without ever really talking to them
• Not as socially aware as he would like to think he is
Milo
Senior
• Noah's cousin
• Best friends with Kevin
• Literally can't stand his mom
• Can't figure out why Karl hates him but knows it has something to do with his mom
• Camera shy
• Keeps a journal
• Takes art classes but doesn't plan on pursuing it as a career
• Has struggled with on and off Depression as well as anxiety for the majority of his life
• Sleep walks
• On a lot of meds
Kevin
Junior
• Wants to be a game developer
• Hosts a coding club after school on Friday's
• Enjoys memes, probably quotes them a bit too often
• Best friends with Milo and Noah
• Keeps trying to convince Milo to be the artist for his games
• Can't see anything without his glasses
• In orchestra, plays the cello
• Super involved in school activities and organizations
• Tutors kids after school, including Micheal
• Has never met Habit and fully plans on keeping it that way
• Has talked to Jessica once or twice, would like to get to know her more
Mary
PTA Parent
• The overly involved PTA mom
• Very controlling of Milo
• Thinks Noah and Kevin are bad influences on her son
• Probably juggling multiple men at once
Karl
Teacher
• The advanced German teacher
• Very agressive
• Doesn't speak any English
• Tells old war stories
• Will fail you for even the most minor mistakes
• Has a grudge against Milo
• No one knows his full name
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How to Write a Paper in One Night
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Being in college is a chore. It takes a lot of work, carefully planned over the course of a week, or a month, or a quarter to make sure everything gets done with the full attention it deserves….are you laughing yet? No one puts in the time "required" to properly complete their college work. No, rather it's a rush at the end every week or two to complete a 10 page paper or learn 200 years of ancient Roman history overnight. You all do it, I did it. It's probably a better training skill than all the random stuff you "learn", because honestly in real life do you think you'll have the time to sit and schedule everything that pops into your life ahead of time. Yeah…thought not.
Anyways, for those of you just entering college from the snore inducing boredom and ease of High School, you're probably incredibly unprepared for the shear amount of work you'll have to pull out in the last second. I'm not saying it's easy just because you'll procrastinate. No, it's still hard. You really should take the time to do your work properly. You just won't, and so you need to learn how to procrastinate. It's a fine art, in which I feel I've become something of a Renoir.
First off, make sure you've got all your books and notes. If you don't go to class, which is entirely likely for those of the procrastinating ilk, make sure you get them from a classmate. Also, double check and make sure your professor doesn't have a website. They'll usually tell you, but more than once I've found a class's notes sitting in an archive online, especially now that 90% of them put everything they teach you into PowerPoint presentations and then just read it to you for an hour every day (yeah, lazy). It's usually only an extra 30 seconds out of their day to put the stuff online, and then when they receive twenty plus emails a week asking for the lecture notes, they only have to point you to the website. Well, some are a bit more facetious about their pupils not even bothering to come to class and don't openly offer said notes. However, for sick students and whatnot, they'll put them online to save paper and all it takes is a couple of quick Google searches or an email to a sick student and you've got your notes. Or…just ask a classmate. But then you're relying on them actually paying attention.
You should have your books too. If you never bothered buying them because you would just take notes or go to sparknotes, then you'd better go buy them, because BSing your way through a paper is going to take at least some resources. You can't magically ascertain the information from just being near smarter people. School would be much easier if that were the case.
So, sit down and start reading. Yup, you're going to be reading a lot the night before your work is due. But, this is better than doing all the assigned reading, because now you're searching for specific information. Instead of general learning (which would only stick around and clutter up your brain later) you're doing targeted research. An eighth the time, and none of that pesky remembering it. You should have your topic at least. If not, start surfing message boards and snag one from someone smarter than you. Don't ever take their work though. The last thing you need is to get kicked out of school for plagiarism. It's lazy and embarrassing. Steal concepts, but never words. And if you steal a concept from the middle of their work, cite them. Your university will not take kindly to cheating. You'll be so red taped and black listed, you might as well go and get an application at Jack in the Box, and trust me you don't want to work in fast food.
You can't procrastinate now. You've done that for three weeks, so I'm sorry (I know it hurts), but in terms of actual physical writing time, you'll need at least three hours to type your paper, which speaks nothing of writing it. And writing it involves finding quotations and that ever so pesky chore of thinking. Sit down, grab an energy drink and a bag of chips, close your door and put some headphones on. No television, and put your phone on the charger. Now open up the word processor and just start typing.
You probably think you have writer's block. But, writer's block is completely unrelated to having absolutely no idea what you're talking about. You're stuck with the second one right now, so just keep on reading on your topic and finding bits and pieces to put together.
The thing here that most people don't realize is that the standard writing process isn't in effect for you. You're not drafting, or brainstorming. That's the stuff you should have done two weeks ago. No, you're writing your paper, so make sure you've got your idea and just start writing and keep writing until you create a thesis somehow.
I usually start as broad as possible, and just start talking about something. If I'm writing about the Hero Quest of Pip in Great Expectations, I start by talking about Greek Mythology and the origin of the classical hero. Working my way down, I'll talk about the modern hero, then about the alterations made in the industrial age, and how Dickens rewrote archetypes for his comedy, and finally start talking about Pip. By now you should have a general idea about what you want to say. It might be general but you'll clarify in your next few paragraphs, and then come back and rewrite the first paragraph.
Paragraph one is almost always trash. Especially with this method, because your weary, angered professor after reading 30 of these lovely last minute essays will put a big red X through anything that doesn't have to do with your paper, and those first few grasping sentences are completely unrelated. But now you can start stealing from the text. Snag a quote and make a point. Snag another quote and make another point. If your thesis ends up as something incredibly broad and useless like "Pip's quest from anonymity and worthlessness into a position of wealth and power in London mirrors the classical hero quests, but works through Dickensian views of industrial England" you're still good. It sounds intelligent and has a lot of promise. Now just find specific quotes and build a narrative. Start at the beginning of his change, talk about his childhood, then go to when he changes, then compare to the Hero quests of old, then show how they're different.
Almost any paper, if written quickly can boil down to something simple and incredibly easy to write, a compare and contrast paper. You choose a prominent theme from the book you just "read". Find a source that mirrors or better yet foils this theme and compare the two. Don't just list how they're different though. That's high school stuff right there. You'll want to write exactly how the outside source changes what you think of your book. It sounds hard but jus think about it. You've got Great Expectations. It has a main character who goes on a kind of quest. Now you have a classic archetype of which there are hundreds of sources to draw on. You take a basic outline of this archetype and apply it to Pip's quest and how he fits it, and when he doesn't fit it. Now you finish your paper by describing why he doesn't fit it sometimes. Which gets you back to the Dickensian views part. You've just pretty much written a paper that says, Pip's quest is classic but different because Dickens was writing about a different time in human history. Incredibly simple; you're not telling anyone anything new, but three things will guarantee a good grade.
If you write well at all. You've got to be a halfway decent writer, which if you're in college I'll assume you are.
Professors love outside references. It shows initiative and research and makes it seem like you did extra work (which you didn't). I've written papers overnight without drafts and without ever reading them back to myself and received comments that I must have spent hours working on it. Not quite.
Confidence in your assertions. Say everything with absolute certainty, and back it up with a quote. Do this enough and even if you're wrong, it'll seem like you've made a decent point, which gets you brownie points.
Writing a paper is a tumultuous task but it's also a scalable task that can be made incredibly quick and easy if you know how. My second to last quarter of college, I wrote three order thesis  papers in two days; two of them 10 pages, and one 25 pages, and received a 3.8, and two 3.7s. It's a matter of confidence and above all else an unmitigated fearlessness to be incredibly lazy.
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memoirs-to-myself · 5 years
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The World Can Be Tricked Re;DUX
This has been one lackluster journal, blog, whatever, hasn’t it? What started as a simple way to cowardly way to vent, went to daily reports, occasional pics and posts, and long absences due to actual journaling in late 2014-early 2015 (which are sadly lost, more on that later), then lack of interest, computer availability, and last but not least, tumblr taking the crapper (yes 2011 me, I know, insane right?)
What was my point, again? I had a point writing this, right? Oh yes, the memoirs, right. 
I’ve always been, well, kind of different. I experience the world in a different sense than most people. If you’re reading this, chances are you already know that. One of the ways I like to view the world, ever since I was a little kid, was like a book series. Sometimes video game series, or a long movie series, but book series seemed to appeal to me more. Probably because of the length. I would always wonder to myself as a kid,” Is this my backstory? How many books am I already in? Has my story begun?” The thought has never really left me. “If my life were a book series, where would the first book start” Kind of a hard philosophical question of you think about it. Well, I think I have an answer, or at least one to give a purpose to this blog and possibly give it a future. 
Let’s say my story started the moment I created this “secret blog”. I know, I know, there are plenty of important defining moments before I created this blog, and for all intents and purposes, those can all be my prequels. But the actual start of my mind library, or memoirs-to-myself (get the blog name? My mind’s been secretly planning this for years) is February 2, 2012. Excellent, now we have a starting point for my first book. And it just so happens be the starting point of this blog, oh my goodness, how convenient. 
You might be asking yourself, “Hey Zach, How does this book series metaphor even work?” and I say, excellent question, trusted friend and/or future Zach! (Thanks for playing along buddy) I think of the “series” as my entire life, from start to finish, the “books” are the major stages of my life, possibly as childhood, adulthood, and retirement for example, “chapters” to being long stretches of time, “pages” being big moments on a smaller scale. That’s normally how I structure my life as I think back on it. I know, I’m a weird one, right?     
But why start the books here, almost 17 years into my life already? Well, this is around the time I believe I started thinking for myself and becoming my own person. The start of who I am today, so to speak. However, I know I’ll want to chronicle the 16 years prior, and for that, I’ll probably view that as my prequel or backstory, if you will, so it stills stays within my book series motif. That story is for another time though, because I need to get to my point and I’ve already spent 45 MINUTES (oh my god) writing this part up and I don’t think i’m even close to done. 
God have mercy.
The point being is that I believe the first book of my life is over. And if this blog is all a representation of that, then it is a poor one. I would like to fill in some gaps, clarify a few moments and memories that need proper spotlight. After all, I didn’t know I was in some of the best times of my life. And some of my worst. How could I? I want to use this blog as a library of sorts for my memories for as long as I can, and to do that, I need to redo the chronicling of my first book “The World Can Be Tricked”. Hence the ReDUX in the name of the title. This post will be a timeline of sorts of the important events that happened in that book. Everything before this post was written from me from the perspective of that book. This a retelling of the events after time has past. I plan to do these for all my “books” as a therapeutic way to reminisce and grow.
So without further ado, Let’s ReDUX:
2012- Wow. What a year. ZachZachMoore at his finest. I actually take back what I said earlier, this is a great place to start my story. The year I turned 17, the height of my high school career, the year I thought I fell in love. Already best friends with Jeffrey, Bloo at the time. Thats when I met Alex, Duff, Satiel, and even Kieth. Being a teenager was wild. Back then, I was still heavily involved with my youth group, wanted to be a youth pastor, was Prof. Plum in Clue, star performer in show choir, and was section leader when our marching band did Mechanize, the most successful show DCHS ever put on. It’s the year I became a senior, which is eventful on it’s own. Minecraft came out, friends had cars. It’s also the year where I didn’t get a lead in my last musical but all my theater friends did, the year I got my heart broken, and the year I started smoking pot. A year of beginnings alright and the peak of my teenage years. I had no idea where my rollercaster life was going, but I knew I was on top of the peak. You can say I was not ready for the first loop
2013- The first month of 2013 of was pretty normal. I was transiting from PC gaming from my ancient XP (rip sims 3) to modern (ish) console gaming due to my new XBox 360 and 3DS. My terrible school future had a light at the end of the tunnel, with moving going to the DEC, giving me a easy way to catch up on  credits and not having to be at school all day. Things were looking good for me. Then Mom and I lost our home. Due to new management, and my mom having a terrible payment plan with the old management, we were evicted on the spot, had 24 hours to move. It was traumatic to say the least. I had lived there for over 7 years, it was the closest thing I had to a childhood home, that and my grandparents house. And in a night, it was gone. I didn’t even get to truly say goodbye. After that, Mom and I moved in with Grandma Judy, and Aunt Tami. It was not ideal. I kind of just shut down the rest of the school year after that. I barely talked to my family, started partying when I could, slacked off on my studies, lost faith in my religion (found Danganronpa and Nico B, but didn’t fully engage in them. Yet) . And then I was 18, laying in a dorm bed at Olivet Nazarene University for Celebrate Life 2013. I was laying there, thinking about my future. If things went as I had planned up to this point, then by this time next year, I would be laying here. but as a student, in the next stage of my life. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel right. Then I had graduated. I still missing some credits but I essentially scammed my way through and got a diploma anyway. That marks the start of the summer of 2013, my post graduate summer. Yes, I got fucked up. That was also the start of the Dope Fam, a collection of friends we had in school and just people that were in our class. They taught us to smoke cigs, party hard, and “trip” on triple C’s. Bad influences to be sure but hey. So were we. Then, on July 19th, I had on of the worst experinces of my life. I refer to it as the incident, and I plan on giving it a whole post in itself at some point. For now, now it was a “bad trip” of sorts, and it truly terrified me to the core. This whole first book is about me transitioning for a child to an adult, but this moment truly gave me a head start. It is definitely the start of my depression, even if I didn’t know it at the time. Moving on, this cycle of partying and staying at Papaws continued all throughout the year, I even practically moved in during the fall. But by the end of the year, I was back at my Grandmas, with my mom
2014- Once again, the start of the year was pretty much the same as last year. There wasn’t a real change til around April, when I officially moved into Papaw’s camper with Jeffrey, and started working with him in Landscaping. That lasted until it didn’t. We had sorta moved out of Papaw’s at that point, and were staying at a value hotel, when we weren’t partying at D-Mo’s, but without jobs, we couldn’t afford to stay there anymore. We stayed at Alex’s a bit, starting the three of us calling each goons (showed us death note, started my love on anime), re found Danganronpa and binged it to it’s sequel, securing my taste in Japanese storytelling, bought my iphone 5s, my first phone I 100% bought for myself, and moved into Jennifer’s garage in Ingalls in the middle of the summer, in the middle of nowhere, to the point where I didn’t get service for my new phone. At this point, Alex got us a Job working at the Marriott. Satiel worked there also. Around September, my depression was in full swing and I was convinced I was going to die at 19 because I was going to kill myself (Only thing that stopped myself was that I haven’t played KH3). Dark times indeed. Jeffrey wasn’t faring too hot either, with every girl under the sun taking advantage of him. He even got a cat, Jamenson. We needed a change or we were going to suffocate. So we did. On the final days of November, Jeffrey and I moved into our first apartment together, off of Ditch Road, at the Northwest Retreat, bare bones and broke as fuck, referred to now as “THE apartment”. We viewed it at the start of a new chapter. We had no idea how right we were
2015 Part 1: Part 1? As if this wasn’t long enough?!?! I’m sorry, but there’s such a drastic shift in my life in the middle of 2015 that I have to split it up. It’s also a good place to visualize the middle of my first book, so that’s a plus. Anyway, sometime in January, Eric started working at the Marriott. We befriended him immediately (Do you smoke? Smoke What?) and invited him over to the apartment. We quickly learned that his best friend named Richie lived in the same apartment and also invited him over. This is the start of the Goon Squad, a pre-evolution of the family I have now. For the majority of the first half of the year, Alex, Eric, Rico, Satiel, Jeffrey, and I spent our days chilling and smoking, not giving a damn about anything. This is when we decided we all true friends for each other. But working at the Marriott was brutal, non rewarding, and ridiculous and after 8 months, I caved and quit, promising a new job. After awhile, everyone quit, Alex moved in for a month, and we partied even harder. But we dropped all responsibilities, started acting like kids again. At this point in my depression, I was convinced I was trash and didn’t have a personal reason to exist in this world, except for KH3, which wasn’t much. So I just ran with my life at that moment, living for the Goon Squad. It was enough for me so I didn’t think of the Consequences. And so, in July, we were evicted from THE apartment. Jeffrey moved back to his mom’s. And I, along with Jamenson, who I essentially adopted at that point, moved back to mine, who had gotten a small one bedroom apartment, and had poor communication with me, which was all my fault, due to me being upset that all of my childhood belongings were lost, which was also my fault really. It was not a good time. Then it was June.
2015 Part 2: My mom asks me to get a job. I pretend to try and don’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything, for anyone. I felt abandoned by the very people I started to live for, though I now imagined they felt the same way. My relationship with my mom had changed  drastically with me being 19, and I hadn’t felt fully comfortable with that change, let alone living with alcoholism again. I couldn’t enjoy any of my interests anymore, and I had no reason to move forward, even to help my mom, which I knew was selfish and I punished myself for it, causing an endless cycle of self hate. My depression was in full swing again. My friends weren’t faring better. Eric and Rico could barely show up to all our gatherings when we could have them, so they felt as if they were being forgotten. Satiel thought we were all moving on, Alex felt like a cheafur, I felt abandoned, and Jeffrey felt so thrown away, he dated the worst girl alive. ugh. Then Jeffrey got sick. Very sick. It was very possible he could die. It brought us to our senses that we were being petty and needed to come together. It was frightening and eye opening. When Jeffrey woke up, we all promised again to always be there for each other. I felt like things were looking up. The next night, I watched my grandma die. Yeah. The next night. My family was a mess of emotions. I could barely feel a thing. As I've stated, I sort just shut down when I can’t process things. That wasn’t an option this time, as I had my mother to think about. So I only turned off part of myself, except I don’t know if I ever turned it back on again. I’ve never enjoyed celebrating my birthday after that, since they’re so close. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over it. I don’t know if I ever will. My mom got some money back and wanted to do something great with it, so at least something positive can come out of this dark time. So, she fulfilled my long time childhood dream of owning a laptop. With that, I was back into the PC world. To be strong for my mom, I knew I had to sort something out with myself. so I found new interests, mainly Danganronpa and Nico B, learning that I can be passionate about something nerdy and not be alone, raising my spirits greatly. At this point, Jeffrey broke it off with {nameredacted} and moved in with me and my mom, and we all started moving forward again.
2016 - Oh boy. I knew 2016 was one of the books when I was living it but hot damn, this might be the best year of my life so far. So many good memories, friend building, family making, litest time ever. It’s the year Jeffrey met Krista, Rico met Rachael, Alex found Nico, Duff officially joined the group, Keith came back for a bit, Taylor showed up in our lives, I turned 21, and so, so, many snapchats. Raccoon Lake, Duff’s garage, Rico’s parents house, Alex’s car in my parking lot. We all hung out as much as we could. 2015 is when we became friends, a squad. 2016 is when we became family. So many memories that I could go on and on and on. Zero Time Dilemma came out that year. Nico played Kingdom Hearts and fell in love. I found Steins;Gate, arguably the greatest story ever written. 2016 wasn’t without it’s bad though. I still couldn’t keep a job, and I wasn’t doing my mom any favors by letting her take care of me. 2016 was the year I “dated” Cheyenne and stopped looking for something romantic, feeling that it wasn’t for me. I was so caught up in trying to like my life again, I didn’t realize the sacrifices people were making for me to even get the time to think about it. Alas, I was blissfully ignorant, living in the glow of 21-ness. The year passed with no real page turners. Just good memories.
2017- Kingdom Hearts 2.8 is coming out, the final piece of the puzzle before Kingdom Hearts 3. I need a PS4 to play both, so I guilt trip my drunk mom to buy me one, even though she definitely couldn’t afford it. At this point, I was still feeling like my mom still owned me something due to her alcoholism in my life, without realizing that even if that was true, she had paid that due and i was practically stealing from her at this point. Not gonna lie, I was kind of a shit this year. I just couldn’t see it at the time. With my PS4, I could play with mostly all the Goons, starting the co-oping time of my gaming life, directly leading me to Paragon, starting my competitive part of my gaming life, which I was sorely behind on. I was working warehouse to warehouse to appease my mom but not staying long enough to actually help her at all. Triple C’s weren’t cutting it anymore so Rico and I tried Acid, and Jeffrey and Krista tried Molly and we shared our results with the class. We finally found our party drug, and I finally got some closure on the incident. Jeffrey and Krista moved in together, after he proposed to her, and we made it our new trip central. I started streaming my gameplay and actually giving serious thought towards a future career in gaming. Then, in October, my mom and I got into a fight. A really bad one. I named it “The fight that ended” and I’ll probably explain that name and the event in detail in a later post. For now, It was a fight that made us realize that we couldn’t live together anymore. “We weren’t good for each other” she said. So she threw me out. Jeffrey and Krista took a shattered me back to their place. They said I could stay there but their lease was up in a month  so we would all have to make quick plans. I knew at this point that I had changed into something I didn’t want to be, someone that hurt the ones he loved. That had to change. And now was a good as time as ever. So, the Goons made plans to move in together. And by plans, I mean threw all their chips in the pot and hoped for a flush. I got seriously employed, sold my laptop so I could have move in money, hardened myself for the journey. I was still shook from the fight with my mom but I had to grow so I stopped feeling and just moved. Through some divine power, we got our wish, and on November 22, Duff, Alex, Rico, Jeffrey, Krista, and I moved into the “Goon Pent”, a penthouse apartment in Castleton. A dream we all shared since THE apartment, had finally been realized. We were at an all time high, we were adults and we were making it work, together. After a rocky end, we were looking towards the future with hopeful eyes.
2018 - For the first 3 months of our lease, everything was cream and peaches. We all had jobs we were serious about, we were drinking or tripping every weekend  in our own place, we kept the place clean and every one was one their own shit, Alex started dating Shelby, we even re branded the Goon Squad, to Goon Tang Clan, adding more members and friends we made along the years. Then I had an observed pee test which I couldn’t do, quit my job as a result, and wound up in the same place mentally as I was 3 months prior. I realized I hadn’t changed at all and in a cycle of self hate, I started doing the same thing I was doing at my mom’s: nothing. Duff fell into the same strut, Rico had an unreliable job, Krista and Jeffrey couldn’t find a job they could tolerate so they sold pot to make up the difference, which was also unreliable, making Alex having to cover the differences all the time. Things were starting crack, figuratively and literally, as we learned out penthouse wasn’t so luxurious as it was made out to be. We learned that while we were all great friends, we weren’t the greatest roommates to each other. We distracted ourselves with a month long stream, Taylor moving in, Paragon’s death, but by May, we were starting to get shitty with each. Me really getting shitty with me, cause at this point I had pawned all my stuff, and owned all my friends money. I had nothing to show for it and it was my birthday soon? No. I’ve had enough of doing nothing to just do something for a little while to make me feel better to just quit. I wanted to be someone my friends could depend  on, after all the time I had depended on them. I didn’t need to be some superstar person to be of use to them. Even if I was a shitty person, I could still do this. I realized this world can be tricked, that I could have issues and still make it through life. And so, for the first time in a long time, and truly did something. On the eve of my 23rd birthday, I got employed and worked all summer. I cleaned up the house without compliant. I helped others with bills and help found jobs for others. I paid back all my debts and got my PS4 back, albeit with no games, forcing me to truly build a gaming library all by myself with no ties to my mother, I was never late or missed a day at work during that time, using my self hatred as fuel to work hard. In the summer of 2018, I finally changed for the better. Then we got some huge news: Rico was going to be a dad. So Rico moved out (though he’s over allllll the time), Shelby moved in, and we all agreed to one more year here, making the end of the lease in December 2019. In September, we were doing we but I was starting to get tired of cleaning all the time. My self hatred could only take me so far and it had died down quite a bit over the summer. It’s hard to be depressed when you’re always busy and actually tired. Though Kingdom Hearts 3 delay to January didn’t help any. The house was being divided though, with me on all sides. It was going to blow to a head soon so I tried to mitigate everything I could. From Duff’s Alcoholism, to Krista’s friends being over ( Newdell is the only important one to note), To Eric just being over, we were complaining about everything. It was at this point that I fully realized that our dream of living together, had an expiration date. This great moment of my life was starting to end. On Christmas that year, I was left wondering where would that leave me? I wasn’t afraid of the Squad breaking up, but if we all moved forward right now, what would I do? Could I exist on my own? And then it was
2019- I stare at my TV screen, the timer on it draining ever so slowly. Less than 5 minutes were on it but it might as well been years. Funny, considering how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, how long could 5 more minutes be. Very long in fact. Long enough to rethink your whole life to moment. It was 11:56 PM on January 28th, 2019. 4 minutes til Kingdom Hearts 3 was out. I had called off for this. I didn’t know it at the time but I was going to be temporarily fired for this. My friends were sitting in my room with me. They weren’t caught up on Kingdom Hearts but they were to watch me react. I’ve been waiting for this game for over a decade. I stayed alive for this game. I existed these past 7 years for this one wish, to play this game. In 3 minutes, that dream will come true. And I was terrified. For some reasons, understandable. Will I enjoy playing it, Will my favorite characters survive, Will it live up to all it’s hype. All rational fears to be sure. But one was screaming louder than the others. What now? All my life, I hadn’t have many personal goals for myself, choosing to live for others rather than myself. But with everyone slowly moving on without me, I have to learn to have hopes for myself. However, the few childhood dreams I had, I had already achieved. I found a family where I could be myself. I got my laptop, found nerdy games, moved in with the goons. The only one left was about to be delivered in 2 minutes to my PS4. “Are you excited?” someone says. “Yeah, I’m speechless” I stammered out, not quite a lie but no where near the whole truth. Am I excited? It’s the end of an era. End being the key word. I realized that I can no longer call myself a child anymore. I was an adult. What does that mean? A minute left of this time, this moment. How do I feel? What do I do now? Can I live on with everyone on my own strength. Am I strong enough? It was then I noticed my phone was buzzing. An alarm was going off. It was for the release of Kingdom Hearts 3. It was out. Before I could even blink, the moment was gone. I existed post Kingdom Hearts 3 world now. A world I never thought of living in. The song I chose for the alarm was reaching it’s chorus. I had a choice here, a choice that’s been present this entire first book. To finally move forward and change, or return to endless cycle that will doom me. It’s never been much of a choice. Either I stay in this moment pretending it’s perfect or I live to beat of the song thats been playing. To face your fears. I turn off the alarm and turn towards my PS4, with KH3 waiting to be played. A choice to make here. “Well are you going to press play?” 
Not much of a choice at all
I faced my fears and pressed play
Ending “The World Can Tricked”
A book on how I learned to face my fears: myself 
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berniesrevolution · 6 years
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JACOBIN MAGAZINE
In September 2017, feeling the first twinges of labor, I walked beyond the ten-block radius my ob-gyn had prescribed me, defying her bed-rest orders for one reason: to tour day-care centers and get my unborn kid on as many wait lists as possible.
I knew I had to take the risk only because I’d worked for three years on youth and family programs at a high-quality New York nonprofit.
When I’d started in 2012, our preschool had a two-year wait list. By the time I left, the wait list had swelled to almost four years, which meant that most children who had been added to the list never got into the program. We had at least twenty applications for children in utero, and two for children who hadn’t yet been conceived. Sometimes mothers mentioned to me that they’d miscarried, but would like to keep their application open, and did in fact conceive again before receiving an offer of admission. One baby died while on the list.
My program was unusual in that it featured a first-come/first-serve “need blind” admissions process and substantial tuition assistance to families who could prove that they needed it — but its $37,000 a year price tag was all too typical for American childcare.
For the Church, life begins at the moment of conception. For an American baby, life starts much sooner — the moment a parent (almost always a mother) begins to think about how and when she can afford to have a child, and who will care for the child when she returns to work, as the vast majority of parents must do. If she has been in the same job for a year and worked at least 1,250 hours for an employer who also happens to employ at least fifty people within a seventy-five-mile radius of her workplace, then she will be eligible for twelve weeks of unpaid time off and continuation of health benefits under the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA). She may be able to extend that slightly further with unused sick time — assuming she has any.
FMLA is an accommodating piece of legislation passed during the labor-punishing Clinton era, which applies to a little over half of US workers. It was the Democrats’ polite throat-clearing sigh, a gentle nudge in the general direction of our bosses, asking “Please sir, can I have my job back after taking care of my dying daughter?” when working families needed a paid family leave program comparable to the rest of the world’s, and a universal, federally funded childcare program. Since 1985, the majority of mothers of preschool children have participated in the workforce, and in the thirty years since, unprecedented growth in wealth inequality has transformed an urgent need into a moral and economic crisis. Now, as Baby Boomers age and a smaller percentage of the population has young children, there are fewer adult advocates for their needs.
”At the same time we thrust new parents back into the labor market, we also insist that they comparison shop for childcare in a country with no national standards for quality, accessibility, or safety.”
There is no reason we can’t have nationally subsidized, paid parental leave and childcare today. At present, public spending on early childhood education and care in the United States represents less than 0.5 percent of GDP, less than any OECD country besides Croatia, Latvia, and Turkey.
At the time of its bipartisan passage in 1993, the Chamber of Commerce warned that FMLA set a “dangerous precedent,” and John Boehner muttered something about “the light of freedom growing dimmer,” but twenty-five years later, a vast majority of employers report that complying with FMLA is easy and has had a positive or neutral effect on their workplaces. It is the sole non-means-tested federal provision for American families in the first few weeks of their children’s lives. Still, the burden is on parents to obtain doctor’s notes and coordinate it — and even it can hardly be called universal.
Employers approve, but how has it turned out for families? Many of those who are eligible can’t actually afford to take it. A full quarter of American mothers return to work less than two weeks after giving birth. Marissa Mayer aside, those who return soonest are most likely to be working class. Mothers who do not have housekeepers or nannies are constrained in their parenting choices, such as whether and how to breastfeed, and are more susceptible to depression.
One factory worker described breaking down in tears of exhaustion while pumping in a parking lot after a twelve-hour shift. The cheerful slogan “breast is best” is more likely to produce heart pangs than an eye-roll in the 88 percent of women who have no paid time off.
Nurri Latef, an early childhood teacher who I spoke to about her experience returning to school when her son was two months old, says, “I hated it. I felt like I was leaving my child at such a critical bonding time for the two of us, and he was premature. He spent a month in the hospital, so … I was only at home for one month with Nasir before I had to jump back into toddler-teacher mode so I could keep a roof over our heads.” No parent in any job should have to feel this way, but there’s a unique cruelty to forcing women to leave their own children before they feel ready to take care of other people’s children.
Meanwhile, Apple and Google employees get eighteen weeks of paid leave and backup or on-site day care. Googlers are awarded $500 cash referred to as “Baby Bonding Bucks.” Of course, not every worker shares in the benefits even at these seemingly enlightened firms: tech companies often outsource security, food service, and janitorial work by hiring private contractors, who are not eligible. Overall, about a third of American workers in management and other professional 
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Here’s how Julia Roitfeld, the daughter of the editor of French Vogue, describes impending motherhood: “It was like a detox — I ate healthy, I slept a lot, and I didn’t drink. All of my hormones were at the perfect levels. I was super-happy, and I really didn’t give a shit about work. Usually I’m so on top of work, but I was in a little cloud. But in August I thought, ‘Okay, I need to go back to work and start making a living again.’”
How long can a parent stay in that “little cloud” and “not give a shit” about the cost of diapers, formula, and rent? That depends both on one’s class and nationality. Brazilian mothers get seventeen weeks of leave to take care of their little ones at their full salary; Canadian parental leave was recently extended from one year to eighteen months at about 55 percent pay; Russia offers mothers twenty-four weeks paid. I could go on. The United States, Papua New Guinea, and Lesotho are the only countries in the world that don’t guarantee all workers paid time off to care for a new child — here, parental leave is a luxury reserved for the rich.
At the same time we thrust new parents back into the labor market, we also insist that they comparison shop for childcare in a country with no national standards for quality, accessibility or safety. Nearly 11 million children, including over half of children below the age of one, spend an average of twenty-seven hours a week in some kind of childcare setting, yet the burden is on individual parents to assess the risks and benefits of a confusing, unaccountable, generally private system pieced together state by state for the care of our littlest and most vulnerable children. In essence, giving birth or adopting a child in America means you also take on the job of government regulator. It’s an impossible task, with occasionally tragic consequences.
In 2013, a day-care worker in Mississippi handed a ten-week-old baby boy over to his father at pickup time without noticing that the child’s skin was blue and he was unresponsive. The father directed the staff to call 911 while he performed CPR — none of the staff knew how — and his son was finally rushed to the emergency room, where he died. After an investigation, the state concluded that the childcare center met all legal requirements for operation. It remains open.
In 2014, Kellie Rynn Martin suffocated at the age of three months in a day-care center run out of a middle-class suburban home in South Carolina, where her mother suspects she was put to sleep in a bassinet with a blanket or even another infant. When forensics searched the house, they found fourteen children playing “the quiet game” in the eighty-five-degree basement under the supervision of the owner’s daughter. In an interview, Martin’s mother stressed that the day-care owner’s home had appeared clean and the owner appeared competent when she toured the program only a few weeks earlier.
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