#I feel really stupid in this job because I did a different type of biology and am usually lost when people discuss stuff

[floraleevee]

!!!!!!!!

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Oh my gosh so I also headcannon Jack as autistic! But im not comfortable with writing it yet because idk how. Im not autistic; my little sister is and i know a few things jack could have trouble with... but hes a grown ass man so i just dont know. Im definitely taking notes on what you write him as but could you give me some pointers?....maybe?

Im mostly referencing to Bitter with this

aaaa yeah it definitely presents differently in adults who've learned to mask, personally I don't plan to put certain things in specifically to talk about how he's autistic, I write with the background knowledge of what traits he displays, and then express them when relevant, it's relevant a lot with Jack simply due to how much it affects his life

now this is going to get long, so bare with me, because this is a whole lot more complicated than you might expect

there's really no one correct way to write Jack, since there's no one way that autism presents itself, the way I write him is based on a mix of myself and some people in my family, so I can give you a basic idea of what angle I personally come from

for one, I change the way I write about facial expressions and how emotions come across to Jack, in Jazz's chapters I'll write about the exact emotion she can see on their face, with Jack's I'll go with an obvious base emotion, but then if the person is expressing something more complicated, I'll describe their face in physical details

eg;

Jazz POV - Danny was upset, but his face was tight with frustration

Jack POV - Danny looked sad, but his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a hard line

it's a subtle difference but it's one I try to maintain throughout Bitter, Jack's POV is based on how I have trouble reading non-obvious expressions, although in my case I also have trouble looking people in the face when I talk to them, that's harder to write in an emotion driven POV story, so I made Jack better at that than I am

his interest in machines is quite obvious, since he's an inventor, and he looooves infodumping on people, he gets very excited about his passions very quickly and his mouth runs off with him, something I also have trouble with, it hasn't been a prominent trait for Jack in Bitter, because he's so out of his element he's mostly confused and in a way, almost grieving his own death, so he's been far quieter than he usually is

his special interest is obviously ghosts and machinery, and in Bitter I cover that he's got a degree in engineering, physics and mathematics. He's good at them, I like to look at it as though Jack rolled high in intelligence and low in wisdom, he's book smart, he knows things that are straightforward and have firm rules, he's less comfortable in topics that are more wishy washy and vague, biology is complicated and has too many variables, he finds it difficult to grasp, there's no one standard rule that applies to every body

I also struggle with vague and unclear directions, I need a solid structure and clear instructions, my strength is in sorting, organising, alphabetising and colour coding, I like things to Look Right, I stick to a particular routine with very specific things, and it's viscerally uncomfortable and even distressing for me to have that order disturbed, I nearly had a meltdown at work because someone had done a part of my job incorrectly, and I had to fix it, it made me genuinely upset on a personal level, it was MY system, NOBODY should be touching it, NOBODY should be moving things around, they do anyway, and I spend a portion of my shifts just frustrated and on edge because of it

Jack also has issues socially, he often says or does things that other people find uncomfortable or embarrassing, I reference that in Bitter, where Jack assumes everyone is mad at him because he said or did something stupid, this I have much experience in, while in the middle of a social situation it's easy to just do what comes naturally to you and not realise it's off putting to other people, because people often play polite and you can't tell that they're uncomfortable, even though people around you find it painfully obvious

sometimes it's easy to see in hindsight after you've been told you made something awkward or uncomfortable, but in the moment if nobody says anything about it, you can remain either totally oblivious, or become anxious and second guess every interaction you have

Jack is the oblivious type, he's fortunate to live in a family that is fairly understanding, they might get frustrated with him, or embarrassed by him, but they don't really take it personally, they KNOW he means well, they know he cares, and Jack does care, he cares a lot, he feels things a lot, he's incredibly empathetic

this is a trait that a lot of media likes to ignore in depictions of autism, because I guess it makes people with autism seem 'too normal', when tv shows always want to be like 'hey wow look at this clever asshole! isn't he clever, but also an asshole! but you can't hate him because he's ✨autistic✨ and he can't help it'

that bothers me a lot, I mean some people with autism do have trouble relating and empathising with people, my brother is one of them, but some people with autism really empathise a lot, some of us feel things very strongly, I'm highly empathetic and it's a real struggle to cope with

so yeah, it is a very complicated thing, so you need to go in with an idea of what their character struggles with, how it affects them, and when it's relevant in the story, also autism falls on a very wide spectrum, some people, like myself, are able to mask well, but that creates a big issue with identity, when you start to wonder how much of you is real and how much of you is mask, then you have to decide if you want to lower that mask and accept the social consequences of expressing yourself naturally

I have a friend who presents a little more obviously, he's very rigid in his ways and he talks like he's reading from a script, I have another friend who can socialise just fine, but will go into a total meltdown when a plan gets derailed and she doesn't know what to do next

another friend I have is highly social and incredibly boisterous, she stims with her whole body, dances around a lot, she's chaotic and that can be off-putting to people, she's had to spend a lot of her life holding that back, she's only recently started learning how to be herself shamelessly

my brother was incredibly social when he was younger, and people always really loved him, but most of that is mask, he's socially anxious and just wants to be alone most of the time, and he's a total prick to his immediate family, I don't take that personally any more, since now I understand that he's so blunt and brutally honest because he isn't masking with us, but also he still needs to be called out when he oversteps, autism might be why he has difficulty empathising, but it's not an excuse to be a complete asshole, even people with autism need to be called out on shitty behaviour, it isn't a get out of jail free card, our self expression shouldn't come at the cost of hurting other people, most of us are more than capable of learning to not be an asshole

I know this is like, A LOT, but these are the things that need to be considered when writing about autism, it is an all encompassing thing that permeates your entire life experience, I absolutely welcome people like you to try to write about it! Because I think it shouldn't be a taboo subject, and I appreciate that you asked for advice and that you want to do it respectfully, you've probably seen first hand how difficult living with autism can be, having a family member on the spectrum, so you already have some experience to draw from, I don't know your relationship with your sister or how old she is, or where on the spectrum she falls, but if possible you can ask her about her experiences in particular situations that you're having trouble writing, if that's something you and she are comfortable with

I hope this helps, just remember to keep an open mind and listen to any feedback you might get, it is very VERY easy to misrepresent autism so don't be too hard on yourself if you don't quite get it right, if someone gives you a critique, take it in stride and use it to become better ~ you can even express that in an authors note, that you want to write it accurately and invite anyone with experience to share their opinion, because like I said, it is different for everyone and my experiences are not universal, and you're welcome to run something by me every once in a while if you aren't sure about it ❤️

[antiloreolympus]

13 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats seriously what bugs me so much about LO, it never actually lets serious moments be serious, it's always lampooned by rachel's insistent need to force in her juvenile "humor" and never actually depicting how pressing things are. even the following moments from persephone's r//pe was undercut by hades making stupid puns! i understand if rachel cant write something more serious than "[x] is bad" but if thats so, then dont try it? because thats how you end up with this pretentious mess.

2. since when did lo hades have earrings??? i legit do not remember this ever being a thing??? is he trying to be hip with the kids 😭my man you still look like a crusty old man the earrings arent helping 😭

3. lo hermes looks and acts like flaky from happy tree friends and no thats not a compliment (TW for gore, blood, and violence if any of you google it)

4. Even though the earlier art style was better there are still some cursed panels from the earlier pages that still haunt me. Especially the way Persephone was drawn differently in so many of the panels.

5. lo hades has such "how do you do fellow kids" energy and im not sure why

6. im also confused on the fertility goddess stuff because how stupid is persephone if she didnt notice? she can create life and nature without even thinking and shes implied to be a genius in biology, so how would she not even notice this? if RS really wants to go with this plot, then why have her professor bring it up in class? why not show persephone going to her uni's library to research the topic and pouring over it? that's an easy way to show persephone's intelligence, yet LO doesnt even try.

7. What I wanna know in LO was how Demeter and Hestia were compensated after the war. The three brothers got to be kings and Hera is queen, but what we know of Demeter is that she had a millionaire dollar business that’s probably made it on its own (unless she was helped out) and then Hestia all we really know about her is that she runs that TOGEM and idk if there’s only 4 of them, Hestia really had a group by herself for a bit since Athena is Zeus’ (assumed) daughter, Artemis (Zeus’ assumed daughter) and persphone (newest member) which seems shitty since they won a war together

8. I think what happened with LO’s art style was RS got “lazy” (I’m lacking the right word). I feel like without the colors all of the men in LO have the same body type, and Hermès and Apollo may even have the same face if they smile the same. So to compensate for that lack of body diversity, RS doubled down on Hades’ features to make him stand out more to really show he’s the male lead. However, even in her own words he looks like Persphones’ “dusty ass dad”

The women use to be a little different but they’re all starting to blend with body types. Her was small, but now she’s short and busty like Persphone. RS makes Persphone look short and busty all the time but almost childlike. Minthe was skinny but her last moments she was busy. Aphrodite I feel was just busty but then tried to make her look small also with Ares and Hades beside her. Hestia stayed the same but is still small and busty. Athena was tall and thin (?) but now she’s tall but busty (and her relationship with Hestia looks like it mirrors HXP). Idk I just feel like the longer screen time the female characters get the more they start mirroring Persphone’s look. Like even Artemis was getting empathized on being small next to her brother Apollo. Like all the girls gotta look small but curvy as the story goes on. 

9. Demeter: watched her friend get ripped in half. Watched her friend get continually cheated on, paying the price for not hiding a mistress , watched metis get eaten, her back clawed, fought in a war. Later made a daughter who’s a fertility goddess (probably an accident) and now has to raise her. That same daughter then went on a rampage and isn’t really remorseful

Fans: Demeter is such an overbearing mother who gets in the way of our ship.

10. on regards to ace characters, asexuality is a spectrum like everything else, so a lot of asexuals actually do enjoy and have sex, so the maidens doing so isnt inherently a problem, its the fact rachel is clearly viewing it through a strict binary where she assumes asexuality is something that can be "fixed" over time/when the right person comes along. its also a bad modern reading of it, as "virginity" in an ancient sense meant via marriage, not via sex, but I doubt rachel cares to factcheck it.

11. Imagine an elf is given a job to do at a human institution. The humans think elves don’t need bathroom breaks, since they know they can hold it for days, but this elf has been traveling to reach their job, and has already been holding it to the point they are in pain. They ask for a break, but their job is important and time sensitive, so they admit they can still hold it when asked. After a full day of work, the elf tries to reach the bathroom in time, but they were never told where it is.

From OP: I think this might be a nymph allegory? Anon never specified so I'll put this here anyway.

12. ya know if hades has to lie to make apollo seem worse (who does not need much in this comic) its like??? why is he persephone's lawyer then?? lawyers are literally told not to lie, this is basic law 101. thats why they dont want their clients to mention to them if they actually did the crimes because then the lawyers have to say it in court. if hades lies so casually just to keep persephone away from justified punishment, then thats bad actually!  both in being a decent person and as a lawyer!

From OP: Hades didn’t lie but he was definitely out of line. RS liked a tweet saying that the wife thing was “subconscious” so it probably was. (Still doesn’t make it right but I doubt he’d say those things on the stand.)

13. I know Minthe was written in a way she was suppose to be unlikesable, she’s rude, she yells and she doesn’t hesistate. HOWEVER RS wrote her character badly. Minthe is so unliked? How was she able to be a bad gf to hades and Thanatos? Like yes it’s an affair but how was she able to pull 2 gods?! We don’t hear Hades or Thanatos say what they like about her BUT they both still had a fling with her. (Honestly I feel it’s cause RS can’t bare writing one nice thing about the female anatangoist without trying to make Persphone look good)

The other thing bothering me was everyone knew about her relationship with Hades after she put it on fatesbook, but everyone talked about the kiss in such a positive light IN FRONT OF HER. Aren’t they suppose to be scared of her? Why did the girls in the yoga class/dress shop had so much to say about that kiss? Because they knew persphone? Did they know every other detail too? What was their actual beef with Minthe?

I feel like realistically some more characters would have sympathy for Minthe if they didn’t know her that well because of Hera. Everyone knows Hera is a pill to deal with and she’s the goddess of marriage who hasn’t really tried bringing Minthe and Hades to the alter. That right there should let everyone know that Hera probably doesn’t help the situation.

Idk, I feel like RS could have gone deeper and made the character not such HXP shippers cause most people wouldn’t cheer for cheating nor an old ass guy getting with a 19 year old. (Idk how fast the news of the slap spread, but I doubt it made it to every place in their fictional world)

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 12

[see all chapters]

Read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

---

The alarm was blaring.

Danny recognized the noise immediately. But his eyes were still slow to open, his arms were slow to turn off the offending sound, and his brain was slow to recognize that the white ceiling above him was just his bedroom ceiling.

His body was numb. Nothing felt real.

He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and unlocked it. The screen was too bright, but he didn’t care. He’d been through worse. What was a little eye strain to him, really?

There were text messages, but Danny ignored them. The government likely already read them first, so if they were important, Danny would probably have woken up back in his cell rather than his cozy bed.

Ghosts like Danny didn’t get to have comfort. He was unpredictable. Dangerous.

“You’re a feral beast.” Operative O’s deep voice rained down on him. “You need to be trained.”

Danny opened the Twitter app only to be faced with a crushing amount of notifications and his name on the top of the trending list.

He should have felt nervous. Anxiety should have gripped his stomach. But...it didn’t.

He felt nothing.

Numb.

He clicked on his name and scrolled through the tweets. As he suspected, that damn video of him at the PHP littered his screen.

Protests have begun to break out near the health clinic Phantom is attending. [image]

I don’t understand, why doesn’t he just fly into the building or something? Can he not fly?

Is phantom over?

It’s so gross how people feel the need to harass a teenager trying to recover from trauma.

imagine being a teen trying to get emergency mental help and then THAT walks into ur class 

What the fuck did the government do to him? 

He was numb.

Nobody knew what really happened in there, and Danny wanted so badly to keep it that way. And the worst part was, he thought that if he just forgot about it, tried to move past it, then it would all go away. And no one would ever know.

Except Vlad did find out. Somehow, Vlad had managed to get a hold of classified government files about Danny, and if what he had implied was true, then he had learned everything. 

And if Vlad knew, then…

No. He wasn’t going to think about it. 

Danny knew from the moment he’d stupidly revealed himself that his life was not his own anymore. He knew that he was going to be nothing but a government possession from that moment till the day he died.

He didn’t deserve to get upset over this.

He pulled up a blank tweet and started typing. His movements were robotic. Stilted. But one slip-up, just one reason for the public to get suspicious, and Danny knew that some seedy corner of the internet would pounce on the opportunity to dig deeper into Danny’s life than he was comfortable with.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Thank you everyone for the support. I’m back home with my family and am healing.

Before he could question what he was doing, his finger was already pressing send on the tweet. He watched as almost immediately, notifications popped up in his inbox. 

But he didn’t open his notifications, he didn’t look at the replies. Instead, he closed the app and shut his phone off.

He didn’t care anymore.

Maddie knocked on the door and asked him a question, and he responded with the right answer for her to leave. He got up and started his new morning routine of sitting in the shower for ten minutes, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast before leaving for six hours of mandatory therapy.

He stared out the window, watching the morning traffic pass by him. He couldn’t remember if he shampooed his hair or if he just sat under the scalding water. But it was fine. He was just a government-issued robot now. Whatever.

There were people lining the highway when Danny pulled into the PHP center. They were shouting different things, holding different signs, their cameras armed and ready as soon as the GAV came into view. The police were there, making sure no one escaped into the parking lot, and there were therapists waiting outside.

They didn’t know. They had no idea what Danny had gone through, why he was there.

And it didn’t matter. Not to them, not to Danny, not to the police or the news stations filming the scene or to the government or Vlad or anyone else. 

Danny wasn’t in charge of his life anymore. 

He was only here because the government had decided he could stay free. 

For now.

The therapists escorted him into the building. Danny felt hollow. Sick.

No, he was fine.

Maddie hugged him, told him to have a good day, that she’d be back to bring him to more therapy after, and Danny nodded. At least, he thought he remembered to nod. He might not have, though.

There was a window in the lobby. A white van was parked along the street.

The APC news van.

Jazz was right. Danny was just being paranoid about the white van outside of their house before. He was so stupid. 

Even if it wasn’t a news van, what would it matter? He didn’t control his life, what would he care if they finished him off in some back alley? What would it matter if they snuck him into their van and held him captive for the rest of his life in some damp containment cell?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny spaced out for the morning meeting. He couldn’t remember if he managed to read off his paper for the other teens. His voice wasn’t working today. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything was numb.

They had art therapy today, run by a tall, lanky man with sandy hair and a clean-shaven face. He told the group to paint what they were feeling today, to channel their emotions onto their blank sheets of paper.

But Danny felt nothing. He had nothing to give.

He must have stared at his paper for too long, because the therapist tried to talk to him, ask him if he was alright, if he was having trouble with the exercise.

Danny didn’t respond, instead choosing to pick up the green paint and squeeze some of it directly onto his paper, rules be damned. It was too dark, so he grabbed the white paint and smeared it into the green. The color still wasn’t right, but Danny didn’t know enough about art to make it right, so he just kept spreading green across his paper. A dash of yellow, then some white, more green.

Time was up. His paper was green. 

“Good job, Danny. What do you think?” the therapist asked.

Danny stared at the paper, studying the streaks of yellow within the brush strokes. “It’s not the right shade of ectoplasm.”

The day continued with more emotion-managing lessons and group activities but Danny didn’t care and nobody could understand that. He was done with this, he was tired, it didn’t matter.

It was lunchtime, and Danny had no appetite. It felt like he had just eaten breakfast. His stomach was still full, but he had a sandwich sitting in front of him that he needed to eat or else they would tell his parents.

Danny held the sandwich between his fingers. It looked like sandpaper.

He didn’t want to eat it.

The therapist was looking at him. She was probably talking to him too, asking him questions about his day. But Danny ignored her. After all, didn’t he need to eat this lunch? How could he possibly eat and talk at the same time?

The teens were talking around him, but Danny blocked them all out too.

They were noisy.

It was like they weren’t even there.

Danny wasn’t human. He didn’t care. 

But you do care. 

He didn’t.

He was numb. 

Eat up like a good little dog. 

I’m not a dog.

Something inside him snapped, and he yanked on his cold core, channeling all his energy to his fingertips. His fingers tingled out of the tangible field, and the sandwich fell to the table.

“Whoa!” The blonde girl jumped, her eyes trained on Danny’s transparent skin.

“Danny?” 

There was an audience. Danny had forgotten about them. His core faltered, and the power faded from his fingertips. 

He should have felt embarrassed by this emotional display. He should have felt horrified that he’d allowed himself to act so inhuman and disgusting in front of these innocent bystanders.

But he was still numb.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was bored.”

“That was sick!” the brunette boy chimed in. “You can do that on command?”

“Usually.” Danny’s gaze flickered over to the therapist, who was giving him a strange look. He turned his attention back to the fallen sandwich. 

Maybe he would get kicked out of the program for this. For being too dangerous. That would probably be for the better. Then he could go free into the world. No more schedule, no more therapy, no more dissecting his emotions or talking about his trauma. 

Who cared about his trauma, anyway? Certainly not him.

“So you still have your ghost powers, then?” the blonde girl asked. “People were saying online that you lost them. The government took them or whatever.”

Danny brought his hand up to his face, willing his fingers to fade to invisibility. “They’re locked. But...I...they’re there. I’ll get them back.”

He would get them back. He needed them. 

Especially now.

Which was how he found himself sitting quietly outside his mother’s door. Waiting. He should have knocked probably, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He didn’t know why, he knew he should just go back to his room, go to sleep, stop bothering his parents about this, but he needed his core back.

His mom would understand. She was a ghost biology expert, right? She would get why he needed his core back now.

He raised his fist to knock, but he must have already knocked before because the door opened, revealing his mother dressed in teal pajamas on the other side. 

“Danny?” She frowned, her brows pulling cautiously above her eyes. “What are you doing up, sweetie? Everything alright?”

“I, uh—” His voice was scratchy. He broke eye contact, staring down at his lap. “My—my core.”

“Something wrong?”

He licked his lips, his mouth dry. “I need it back.”

“Sweetheart,” she said in a patient tone. “We talked about this.”

“No. you talked.”

She sighed. “Danny, it’s nearly eleven. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“No. No. I need it.”

“I told you, hun, your core and body need time to heal properly first before we make any drastic changes to your physiology. Just give it a few more weeks, alright?”

“Weeks?” Danny’s voice rose in alarm. 

“I promise it’ll be all worth it.”

Static rang in his ears, and a steel claw clutched at his stomach.

His mom didn’t understand. Why would she? She was human. Humans would never get it. She didn’t understand. 

“No, I can’t…”

“Danny, you need to trust me. Your body needs to rest.”

“You don’t understand.”

She regarded him for a moment before opening her door fully. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk, then. You can tell me why this is so important to you.”

Danny peered inside the door, at the surprisingly average-looking bedroom before him. He could go in, tell his mother just how wrong he felt cut off from his core, how he was being blackmailed by Vlad, how there was a distinct record of every detail of what the Guys in White had done to him, how he had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable in his life.

But he wouldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. There was no way he could put it all into words. He was a ghost, she was a human. He couldn’t explain this to her.

Skulker and Vlad may have forced his revelation, but they gave him more secrets than he could ever have dreamt of handling.

Danny turned away. “It’s fine. Good night.”

“Hun…”

“Night, Mom.”

There was a tense silence before Maddie finally relented. “I love you, Danny.”

“You too,” he said reflexively. The words tasted sour on his tongue.

She didn’t understand. If she truly loved him, she would give him his core back right now, but she didn’t.

No, he was just being paranoid. This was just his Obsession talking. He didn’t need his core, he was just as much human as he was ghost. So what if he had to be a little more human for the next few weeks? Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?

To just be a regular human?

Maybe that was what his mother wanted. Maybe that was why she was postponing removing the chip. Maybe she was too afraid to see her son as a monster. A ghost. 

But that was crazy. She loved him.

She was telling the truth. 

His parents accepted him.

---

“You seem quiet today.”

Danny leaned back against the sofa, his arms crossed and his eyes looking anywhere but at the blonde figure sitting before him. The stress ball sat untouched on the table next to him.

He didn’t feel like doing therapy today. He didn’t want to talk. 

His mom was human, his therapist was human. No one was going to get it.

“What’s on your mind, Danny?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He was fine. There was nothing to talk about. Even if there were things to talk about—and there weren’t, this was all just his Obsession going haywire—it wouldn’t matter anyway because he was defenseless and the government was going to kidnap him again. It was only a matter of time.

“You finished your first week with the PHP group today, right? How has that been going?”

“Fine.”

“Can you tell me about some of the activities you’ve been doing?”

“I don’t know.”

She sat there for a moment, as if giving him time to elaborate. But Danny wasn’t going to elaborate. He didn’t feel like talking today. 

He looked out the window. The leaves had changed color, the ripe greens fading to yellows, oranges, and reds. In another few weeks, the ground would be littered with fallen leaves.

Summer had barely just begun when he was dragged from his house, drugged, and locked away. And yet, even though his entire world had come to a halt, time still moved on.

The clatter of the therapist’s clipboard falling on a side table jolted Danny out of his musing. He flinched, his eyes snapping over to see the therapist rising from her chair. 

She stretched her arms behind her back and walked over to the closet. “You know what? It’s been a long day. Wanna play a game?”

“Um...are we allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not.” She grabbed a box out of the closet and placed it down in the center of the room.

Danny peered at it in confusion. “Jenga? Of—of all the games out there, you’re really gonna make me...make me get on the floor for Jenga?” 

“Oh, come on, it’s fun.”

“You must throw some wild parties,” he remarked, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he slid off the couch and slowly scooched himself towards the middle of the room. As long as he didn’t have to explain why he was two seconds away from ripping his own core out of his chest, he would go along with whatever game she threw at him.

The therapist carefully tipped the box upside down, sliding the lid up to reveal a tower of multi-colored wooden tiles jigsawed together.

“So here’s our marvelous tower,” she said. “You can reach that alright?”

“Yeah.”

“So normal Jenga rules. We switch off trying to remove a piece without causing the tower to collapse. Except, for this game, after you remove a piece, you’re going to pick a card from this stack—” She pointed to a deck of large cards set up next to the Jenga tower. “—and then answer the question on the card that’s the same color. So if I take a purple tile out, I’ll answer the purple question on the card. Got it?”

Danny glanced between the cards and his therapist’s eager face. He was fairly certain Jenga never involved a set of cards before.

Maybe he’d forgotten the rules. It wouldn’t have been the first time his brain had betrayed him. “Am I being quizzed?”

“Don’t worry.” She pushed up the sleeves of her blue cardigan. “They’re just basic therapy questions. Nothing too bad.”

No. This was a trick, wasn’t it? To get him to talk?

He wasn’t going to fall for it. “I thought we weren’t—weren’t doing that...today.” 

“The questions aren’t too deep. Honestly, I mostly just use this game as an icebreaker for new clients. But Jenga’s pretty fun all the same.”

He must have still looked too suspicious, because she threw him an easy smile and went, “Here, I’ll go first.” She carefully nudged a green tile out of the stack and drew a card. “Okay, so the green question on here says, ‘Describe yourself in three words.’ Well, I’d say I’m kind, I think I’m rather nerdy, and I’m a bit of a cat lady.”

That...wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would be an easy game. 

He doubted any of the questions asked him about his core. Maybe he could loosen up a bit, go along with this icebreaker game, if only for an hour before sinking back into his internal panic. 

“Cat lady?” he tried.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised that’s never come up! I have two at home.”

Right, his therapist had a life outside of therapy. Outside of his problems.

But it wasn’t like he knew her name. At this point, it was just too embarrassing to ask. Maybe she had told him that she had cats, and he just couldn’t remember. Maybe he would forget it again tomorrow.

Whatever. It was fine. He couldn’t care about things he didn’t remember. “Uh…” Danny pushed a purple tile out of the tower. “So I just pick up a—um, a card?”

“Yup, and read the purple question.”

Danny looked down at his card and rolled his eyes. “Oh, figures. ‘If you had superpowers, what would they be?’ Well, I’m dead. Does being dead count?”

She laughed, her voice light and airy. “Of all the questions, huh? Okay, let’s modify this a bit. If you could only keep one of your powers, which would you take?”

“Probably intangibility,” Danny said, his lack of hesitation surprising him.

“Oh? Why?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Where the chip was. “It’s the most useful, isn’t it? I can just...you know...I have no physical stuff in my way. I can just phase through any—anything I need. Or—no. Almost anything.”

Not shields. Those could still trap him.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to pry further, just offering him a kind nod and a “that makes sense” before pushing out another Jenga tile. “Blue! Alright, my question is, ‘What is your favorite feature about yourself?’ Hmm...that’s a bit tough, isn’t it? But I think my favorite thing about myself is my hair. When I was a teen, I used to straighten my hair, but then when I got to college, I stopped doing that and just let it be. Now I quite like my curly hair. Okay, your turn!”

“Okay.” Danny leaned over and pushed a red tile out of the tower. “Okay...my quest—question is…‘What is your biggest hope for your future?’ Oh...”

He did want to be an astronaut. But that was before, when he was still human. And then he was caught between thousands of volts of ecto-electricity and that future vanished right before his eyes.

What did he want to do with his life? What did he hope would happen?

He wanted his core back. He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable for much longer. His chest felt like it was tearing itself apart, he needed to—

Breathe. And answer the question.

What did he hope for his future?

“I don’t know. My future’s kinda...ruined, isn’t it?”

“Try to think on a smaller scale.”

“I…” Danny ran a hand through his hair. He wanted his core back, he wanted to be Phantom, he wanted to protect Amity Park. But he couldn’t say that. It made him sound too ghostly. Too inhuman.

Humans didn’t have these kinds of otherworldly desires. She would think he was a freak if he told her. She wouldn’t know how to react.

“I want to finish PT.”

“That’s a good goal to have.”

“Your turn.”

Humming, she nudged a tile out of the Jenga tower and flipped over a card. “Okay, my question is, ‘What is something you were worried about when you were younger?’ Let me think…oh, here’s one. When I was young, my older sister moved out to live with her boyfriend. It was really scary because I had never lived without her, but we kept in touch and everything turned out okay.”

“I haven’t either. Lived away from Jazz I mean. Like—like for real. But she’s going to college next—next semester. I think she, uh...deferred a semester.”

“And you know, it’s common to feel worried about a sibling moving out. Periods of transition in life can be the most stressful for us, but it’s important to recognize that things will be okay.”

Danny looked down at the carpet. “I guess.”

Some days it felt like Jazz was the only one truly on his side. He was a lab rat, too well known and too hated to ever have a future, forever condemned to a vicious cycle of evading people like the Guys in White and Vlad for the rest of his life. Jazz was leaving him in a few months, his friends would follow in a few years, and in the end, Danny would be alone.

But he was fine with that. He’d accepted it. It was just his life now, there was nothing to say about it.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“Yup! Go right ahead.”

Danny removed another tile. “‘How do you think others view you and why?’” He paused, throwing the therapist a bitter look. “This is rigged.”

“Not rigged, that’s just a very lucky pick.”

“Lucky to who?” Danny groaned. 

What was with the universe finding new ways to torment him?

“Humor me,” the therapist said patiently.

Danny glared at his card, tapping his fingers against the edge. It wasn’t like the public opinion of him was exactly a secret, but it still hurt. Constantly. Like some scab he kept telling himself to ignore, but ignoring it was impossible because the public would never leave him alone.

“Not good,” Danny muttered. “People hate me.”

“Being in the public eye is very stressful for anyone, but to be unique in your way adds on an entirely different layer. People are afraid of the things they don’t understand, and that makes them forget that at the end of the day, you’re still a person.”

“Yeah.” Danny’s eyes were trained on the colorful tower before him, which was starting to blur as the prickling behind his eyes increased. He ducked his head and blinked, hoping to save face before it was too late. 

“That doesn’t mean everyone feels this way, though. But sometimes it can feel that way to you because the ones who are the most afraid, the most hateful, are the loudest voices in the crowd. But remember, Danny, you won that court case for a reason. You have more people on your side than you think.”

“I won it for now, you mean. I don’t...I don’t think…” His voice failed, and he pressed his fingernails into his palms. He took a few shaky breaths. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Danny. Why don’t we talk about the case for a minute?”

Tucker’s words echoed in his head, how it was televised. How millions of people all around the globe probably tuned in for it, or watched streams online, each person with their own opinion of him.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“No,” he said. “Can we—can we just continue the game?”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then that’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Alright.” She pushed a block out of the tower. “So...alright, my question is, ‘What memory do you treasure the most?’ To that, I think fishing with my dad as a child. He was a big support for me when I was growing up, and I really valued our times fishing together as important bonding moments for us.”

Danny nodded politely, trying his best to not appear like he was counting down the seconds until therapy was over.

He could feel his emotions building inside him, threatening to topple the carefully constructed dam guarding his secrets. This was such a simple game, these were such simple questions, so why did he feel like he was failing?

He pushed out a Jenga tile—a red tile—from the tower and grabbed a card, scanning the questions until he found the red one.

What are you afraid of?

The words echoed back to him, and he pushed the card away. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to read those words or hear her voice because saying the question would mean he would have to talk and he only agreed to this stupid game to get out of talking.

There was so much he was afraid of that he had no right to be afraid of. Because he deserved this. Getting revealed was his fault, he was being reckless. He deserved all of it.

The experiments with the Guys in White. The pain, the way his skin was torn apart. How they threw him in a vat of ectoplasm the next day to heal, and how the ectoplasm entering his lungs made him feel like he was drowning because even though ghosts didn’t need to breathe, he still used those organs reflexively as Phantom. But he was in too much pain and his brain was too hazy to fight back. He could only sink into the darkness.

The red bag. The way it tasted, smelled, how it haunted him every day and how he revisited those moments every night in his dreams. How he would wake up each day and the drawer on his nightstand would be shimmering in the morning sun, as if tempting him to open it up, grab the bottle inside, let it help just for one day. It can take the edge off, he can be functional. Who cares if he’s cheating? It’s just for a day...

The public. The people. Their judgments, their words. How he was, on a molecular level, so vastly different from them. How he could never be the same. He would never have a normal life, he could never have a normal job, a normal family, normal friendships, ever again. There would always be something there, something alien between them.

Even between him and his best friends. There was just something... different ever since the portal accident. It had brought them closer together, sure, but in other ways it had also driven an invisible wedge between them. Because Danny would always have his powers, he would always be a half ghost, and there would always be things now that Sam and Tucker would never understand. 

How much would change now? Now that he was in the public eye, now that he’d gone through government torture? Now that his brain didn’t work the same?

And his core. His humanity. Why were his parents so apprehensive about it?

What are you afraid of?

Why wouldn’t his parents let him down into the lab? What were they hiding? They said his core was damaged, but it had been months since he was ripped open. His surgical damage had healed, his broken bones were back to normal, and even though his nerve endings in his chest and spine were still fried, they had been slowly mending themselves too.

Ectoplasm healed faster than human physiology. His core should have been fine by now.

What was the truth?

“They accept me,” Danny said automatically.

“Who does?”

Who accepted him?

Sam and Tucker did. 

His family…

Did they?

“I don’t know.”

“You have people in your corner, Danny. Your parents, your sister, your close friends. They all care about you. We’re all here for you, even if those loud voices in the public tell you otherwise.”

But if they cared...

“Then why won’t they let me have my core back?”

“Your core?”

“My powers. My ghostliness. Ectoplasm.” Danny let his eyes flair to emphasize his point.

If his therapist was scared of his otherworldly display, she didn’t show it. Instead, she continued to look at him with her neutral expression, free of the judgment he’d come to expect from people since the accident.

And for some reason he couldn’t explain, that irritated him. 

“You mean the inhibitor chip?” she asked.

“Yes. They told me it was because my core...it was damaged but—but it doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t...”

“Have you talked to them about this?”

Of course he had. They kept repeating that his core was damaged. And they were probably right—for a time, at the very least. But that was months ago. 

Why hadn’t they scanned his core recently? Shouldn’t they be happy to learn it was healed? Shouldn’t that make them relieved?

What were they afraid of?

What are you afraid of?

“Do you think it would be helpful if I talked to your mother about this?” asked the therapist. “As a way to introduce the topic? She likely doesn’t know how much it’s bothering you.”

But that didn’t make sense either because Danny brought his core up every day. His parents knew how much it was bothering him. They had to have known, right?

So why were they doing this to him?

What were they hiding?

What are you afraid of?

---

Danny tried to remember a time where walking from his living room to his kitchen didn’t require a list of steps to be taken beforehand—a time where he could just get up and walk. But those memories were far too distant now.

And besides, this was his reality now. A reality where something as simple as walking made his head spin.

He shouldn’t dwell on the memories of how easy it used to be for him, he shouldn’t have snapped at Jazz for getting a cup of water for him because he knew the glasses were too high to reach from his wheelchair, he shouldn’t allow this irrational anger to overtake him every time the creeping anxiety of his future as Amity Park’s ghost hero came into question.

He just needed to focus on where he was now. Curled up on his couch avoiding his parents.

Everything felt wrong this morning when he woke up. For a moment, he had managed to convince himself that he was just being paranoid. That it was just his damaged nerve endings freaking out as normal. That once he took his medication, his problems would go away. 

But they didn’t. He still felt wrong. His chest still felt wrong.

It was manifesting in other ways too. He couldn’t walk as long today at PT. His physical therapist told him it was just a bad day and that his body was probably just tired from his busy week. But Danny knew that wasn’t right.

It had nothing to do with him being tired. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t anxious.

His core was the problem. His parents were the problem.

He tried asking about his core again on the way home from PT, using conversation techniques he went over with his therapist at the end of their last appointment, but Maddie just brushed him off. Said they would talk about it later.

But then later came and...she didn’t.

Danny tried asking his father, but he brushed Danny off too. Said Danny needed to focus on healing first.

But how was he supposed to heal when he was missing half of himself?

He felt wrong. So wrong. His body was too bound by gravity, it was too empty, it wasn’t listening to him.

He pressed his palms into his forehead. His hands were clammy. Shaking. Speckles of cold touched them—or was that his tears? Was he crying? 

No.

He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?

The government had him in a cage. They tormented him in ways he would rather die than live through again. But then it ended, and he was freed. He was allowed to go home, he could live his life as a legal person again. 

Except, he wasn’t free. Not at all. He was still trapped here in Amity, in his house, in his body. He had no control. Not over what he ate, when he slept, where he went, what he could say, what he could think. 

Half of him was still locked up tight with no hope of escape.

His water glass was empty. It would have been too embarrassing to ask someone to help him, but he was so thirsty and dehydrated and he just really needed this to work. He needed his body to respond to him. For one moment, please, just let his body respond.

Gripping the water cup in one hand and his walker in the other, he tried to stand, to walk over to the kitchen sink. But balancing everything was so difficult, his body was still fatigued from PT, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it but he just needed to try.

But he couldn’t do it in the end. The cup slipped out of his hand and tumbled onto the carpet, thankfully saved from shattering on impact by some last shred of luck the universe decided to pity him with.

And now Danny too was on the floor because he couldn’t bend down to pick the cup back up like a normal person, and he didn’t want to call for help, and he couldn’t use any of his powers, and he felt so trapped. So helpless. So vulnerable.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was too stubborn and he was too useless.

A tear splattered against his hand, and he gripped the floor, his body trembling.

“Stop crying. Stop it.” he hissed. 

He was weak. 

Plasmius, once nearly his equal, had so severely overpowered him the other night. It was embarrassing. On the hierarchy of ghosts, where was he now? At the bottom with the blob ghosts?

But those ghosts could still fly. They could still turn intangible. Things that Danny couldn’t even do.

Hell, he was so weak that even the Box Ghost could defeat him now.

“Stop crying.”

He crawled back to the couch, the thought of getting water abandoned on the floor along with the last semblance of his dignity. Another tear fell from his cheek, and he desperately tried to ignore it, ignore his dry throat, ignore the pain in his chest, ignore his core and the Y-scar on his body and his new place in the ghost hierarchy as lower than dirt, ignore everything. Just focus on getting back to the couch. Shut down, go numb.

He was fine, he was okay.

He just needed to push through this. Just toughen up, quit whining. Life wasn’t fair. So what if he was now just a regular human? Hadn’t he been human for the first fourteen years of his life? He needed to suck it up.

Dragging himself back onto the safety of the couch cushions, he pulled one of Jazz’s throw blankets around his body and pressed a pillow into his face.

Never in his life had he been so tempted to scream, to curse, to finally let the last brick fall and allow hell to break loose. But his parents were in the basement, Jazz was upstairs, and he was fine. 

He was fine.

---

Huge thank you to tumblr user and writer @imekitty for proofreading this chapter. She’s amazing and I owe her my life.

And as always, thanks for reading!

---

<previous chapter / next chapter>

[yuzudonut]

vexos hcs and random notes

ill update as i go, because yes i do update my masterlists every once in awhile, i should probably add them to my pinned... 

General

I sincerely hope they have a small living arrangement so I can inflict them with the pain of having to share almost everything with each other

I just want Shadow and Lync to share a bunk

Like to think that alongside Volt, Mylene and Lync were also recruited by Hydron

None of them officially joined until they were a bit older but probably trained to eventually join the Vexos; in the mean time they probably worked for Hydron or something like that

Volt recruited at 11; Lync a year later and Mylene following not long after (respectively 13, 8, 12 when they’re all gathered)

My reasoning to why Volt is patient with Lync’s antics and Mylene less so but doesn’t lash out as badly as you think she would around annoying little kids; grew up tgt moment

Spectra probably forced his way into the Vexos like “hiiii i see you dont have any Vexos members <3″ bcs obv he wasn’t using royal scientist dad privelages (i think, bcs Clay seems horrified abt Spectra being a Vexos and well, being Spectra) 

Shadow had an advantage of being a nobleman (in terms of him being accepted into the Vexos’ ranks)

the Vexos and their set of rules magent-ed on the fridge door or something and every time they go over a page they have to staple/tape a new page on

Joined in this order, Volt, Spectra, Shadow, Mylene, Lync, Gus 

Vexos being a “chance of death low but the chance is still there” type of job... they feel like idols girl help they are bakugan idol group who work for the government 

sorry the way the vestal kids talk about them... going to treat the Vexos like a kpop group now

Spectra Phantom / Keith Fermin 

[canon] son of a (royal?) scientist. definitely had it good and comfy

think it’d be REALLY funny if he already knew Shadow before he became Spectra, Shadow just doesn’t recognize him bcs of his stupid get up

throws childhood friends Shadow Spectra at you, just two weirdos 

Keith specifically keeps Shadow from ever meeting his sister which is why neither of them really recognize each other

Pre-Spectra; probably would’ve been really into bakugan biology and what not. Feels like the kind of person to talk w/ his dad about “do you think we could change their appearance if we messed w/ their mechanical ball form or would it not carry over to their released forms”

this mf looks like a biology major i feel it in my guts 

mom isn’t dead she just divorced Clay bcs he didn’t know how to balance family and work, good for her

probably lives in another city now, and it’s a bit more of a hassle to meet with her kids so they don’t see her as much but she is present in their lives (keep in contact in other ways) 

probably went a bit silent when Keith went missing

didn’t bleach his eyebrows bcs he didn’t want to harm the skin around there and he never thought he’d take the mask off around others, or about how stupid he’d look without the mask

please please please please draw him with his pink hair roots in his MS fit he should've grown out some of his bleached hair by then

daddy issues is truly the root of evil

Gus Grav

Just Some Gut background; middle class just living life

[canon?] was going on a route to being an “idol brawler”, because that’s kind of what their brawls felt like, since it was all purely for show with some competition. it felt less like a sport and more spectacle.

Gus wanting to be an idol brawler is actually such a funny string of words put together I’m making that a thing, if he didn’t join the Vexos he would’ve been an idol brawler

I like the Gus needs glasses hc (shoutout to @marmeladebois ‘s post on that) 

The hc of him being half human and Runo’s half brother is so good 

Cooks well but refuses to help cook fr the Vexos (unless Spectra specifically asks) --> that job is usually left to Volt

not related but reminds me heavily of yugioh vrain’s Spectre (or other way around... Gus was the blueprint) 

Shadow Prove

[handbook canon] a vestal nobleman 

has an older brother (oc; Lux- casual Haos brawler)

inferiority complex or whatever, the only thing he bested his brother in was Bakugan

the Prove family being typical prim proper noble family and forcing Shadow to be repressed is something, but the Proves having the same kind of wavelength as Shadow but in different variations is funnier. They’re just Like That.

Probably not a military family, does work closely with the government still; um im thinking somewhere under the Fermins but not by much

Considered running away from home several times 

Unwillingly has knowledge on Vestal classic literature/ music

hard clutching a wall whenever he wants to join in on discussions about it bcs he knows this stuff but no way is he going to make himself look like a nerd + hes not actually that interested

*debates you for fun and bcs i hate u <3* 

You know how he doesn’t take his job as a Vexos member super seriously, I wonder:

did his parents force him to be a Vexos since he wasn’t interested in the political side of his family and probably against taking up anything related to it, so they had him do something that’d still be beneficial to the family?  

joined to pursue a freedom he didn’t have as a nobleman and is now just taking it really easy?

has clowns > jesters debate with volt; obv he’s team clown, volt is team jester

incredibly irrelevant but if he was a human he’d be chinese, i’ve claimed him, prodigal son older brother and fail son dynamic is there 

Mylene Ferrow

While I like the idea of her being from a military family, I want to make her like Ling Wen (TGCF) in the sense she started from the bottom and climbed to the top... it fits her ambitious nature of grasping for more, she hasn’t reached what she considers the top just yet... 

[very Ling Wen specific but Mylene being put in jail fr crimes unknown to me and being recruited  by Hydron bcs she kicked serious ass is an entertaining thought] 

I like to think she’s closest to Shadow due to the fact he kind of forces his presence onto her so... not her choice in that matter. “annoying” to “endearingly annoying, you still aren’t getting special treatment though”

Ofc Volt and Lync are on the same level, but I think they all know when to give each other space so they’re more of a “we hold each other at a distance, but we’re aware of out closeness which is enough for us”

Then its Spectra and then Gus in the “closest to Mylene” scale; she just straight up hates Gus and it’s mutual

whoever made the “Mylene and Spectra were exes” hc I think it’s really funny so I’m adding it here 

terrible fashion, she’s the one who chose the outfits when she and Shadow went to earth; her fashionable armor look she usually has was designed with Volt’s help, she just voiced what she generally wanted 

Her red lipstick look was bcs she thought it’d make her look more serious/ intimidating (Volt and Lync approved, it rlly does work on her)

Shadow matches w/ her (via his red nails) after they get teamed up tgt several times bcs he thinks they’re basically the go-to duo matchup whenever they’re assigned work n it’d be cool

Very forthcoming about the fact she used to be considered a criminal and was from same rundown area Volt and Lync come from

She’s grateful she got out of jail but she still has no respect for Hydron and despite how much she tries to hide it she does make it pretty clear to him she doesn’t really like him

I wish I had more to say about her... but It’s all relationship esque, i think in general she’s enjoyable and good so what I want more out of her is character dynamics

Lync Volan

[eng dub] he has grandparents; whether they’re still alive or not is...? 

was part of the same area Volt is from

probably aware of each other but didn’t really know each other

you sound like you have mommy issues 

came from the same area as Volt, but lived further out and closer to those areas where there were some bits of nature left 

ill expand on why he got picked up by Hydron another day lazy rn

Volt Luster

[canon] he’s from an area that just straight up looks like yugioh 5ds’ Satellite, and Hydron was the one who pulled him out of there  

He says Hydron pulled him out of there when he was a kid? I’d assume at youngest it’d be like Hydron (8) and Volt (11)

has a neat collection of handmade jester dolls 

lot more artistic than he seems 

Had his guardian bakugan with him the longest; had Brontes even before he met Hydron

Would the others consider him weird fr having a talking Bakugan that acted friendly with him n cracked jokes? 

[choco-mark]

[10:06pm] ♡ ✹

“what do you mean we’re not doing it?!” boyfriend!renjun asked with huge eyes bulging out of his sockets. “i think it’s an absolute perfect time to bake cupcakes and i really don’t see the issue in general.”

you sighed, closing the laptop that was on your lap as you looked over at him, an annoyed expression etched on your face. “the issue is that i have a report due tomorrow and it is nearly midnight and i really don’t see why we have to do that right now.”

it was weird, seeing someone like renjun get all excited about doing something simple, but he had recently gotten so into baking since quarantine started and always felt that something was left out in his delicious results: that being you. and you, being the procrastinator that you are, had decided to leave your important biology lab report till the last minute and you had been working on it all day. to be fair, renjun only wanted to give you a break.

when you reached for your laptop again, you heard a sigh from beside you, and the next moment you were over his shoulder, having a nice view of his ass (that he had ‘been working on’ according to him). “renjun, what the fuck?! put me down!”

“no,” he said calmly, giving a sharp slap to your ass to shut you up. “i’ve been waiting all damn day to spend time with you, and i don’t really care what time it is. we are making the fucking cupcakes right now, and you aren’t objecting or i’ll throw your laptop out the window.”

“you do realize that we live on the ground floor—”

“besides the point!” he continued, placing you down on the island counter. “i want to do something with you, y/n. it’s sunday and you’ve been doing shit for the whole day, just give me an hour. that’s all.”

renjun turned around, handing you the recipe he had printed out earlier. “i have everything out already, we just need to—” you eyed him from behind the paper, gulping as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the veins trailing up his arms.

he stopped halfway in his words, watching how you were getting turned on by the slightest thing and he sighed, giving a slap to your thigh. “focus, babe, don’t you want to get back to your work?”

putting down the recipe, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him between your legs close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. “or, you know, we could do something else?” you looked at him with anticipation, but his expression didn’t change a bit.

“i’m not dicking you down, y/n,” he whispered in your ear, pinching your waist slightly to make you yelp. “i am trying to prove to the both of us that we can do something other than work and have sex.”

“but you’re hot,” you whined, pulling him back as he walked away. “how am i supposed to concentrate when you’re out here looking like the hottest thing in this kitchen?”

there was a moment of silence, right before you and renjun burst out in laughter. “y/n, i understand that i’m irresistible, but please control yourself.” he leaned in carefully, placing a kiss upon your lips that left you pouting for more. “behave, babe, let’s actually do something.”

the actually preparation of the cupcakes wasn’t that long of a process, since the both of you were decent enough at cooking that it wouldn’t burn down the apartment (it made you think back to the last time you two allowed mark and jeno to prepare celery sticks and dip, which led to a confused disaster).

while the cupcakes baked in the oven, the two of you had attempted to make your own icing for the first time in three different colors. it turned out well, better than you had expected, except for the fact that it ended up all over your hands as you put it into the piping bag.

considering you had been focusing on renjun’s (very clean, hicky-less) neck, you swiped some onto his skin, making him jump back. but before he could wipe it off, your tongue was already doing the job and your lips had very nicely produced a mark. 

“you horny creature,” he said, attacking your neck with a force that would have had you collapsing if he hadn’t held you. his teeth nibbled on your skin, making you giggle at his annoyance. “i swear, you really make me question my sanity sometimes.”

thankfully, the oven screeched at the two of you, telling you to take the cupcakes the fuck out before they burned to inedible smithereens. excitedly, you reached for the hot pan, but retracted your hand immediately as you touched it. “ow!”

“stupid,” renjun teased you, making you stick out your tongue at him in response as he pulled out the pan with an oven mitt. “did you burn yourself?”

you looked at the finger that had touched the pan, watching as it grew in color and pain. “yeah, i think so. it doesn’t hurt that—bad though.” your boyfriend gave it a small touch and you winced.

“liar.” he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand under cold running water as he turned on the faucet. “wait here, i’ll get the burn pads.” he turned away, walking to the medicine cabinet.

“we have burn pads?”

“yeah, they’re like the small bandage type things,” he returned with a small band-aid looking strip, pulling your hand out of the water. “well, these are technically mark’s that he bought after he burned himself. but since that happened in our kitchen, i kept them. plus, he probably has a hundred of these at his house considering his horrible cooking skills.”

you snorted as renjun dried off your hand, applying the bandage to your finger. “more like non-existent cooking skills.”

finally, after making another mess while frosting, the cupcakes were finally done and perfect. you clapped your hands at the masterpiece, looking at renjun who had a soft smile on his face as he watched you. “let’s taste them!”

you had to say that those were probably the most delicious thing you had in a while (other than some renjun di—), and you probably could have eaten the entire batch in the next hour if you didn’t stop yourself. as you took another one in your hand, renjun wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing his head on your shoulder. he opened his mouth, signaling for you to give him a bite.

lucky enough for you, the cupcake smashed right against his nose as you tried to aim for his mouth, making the frosting smear all over his face. gasping, he attacked your stomach, tickling you mercilessly.

the cupcake fell from your hand (thankfully onto the plate) as you leaned back, your fits of laughter increasing as you tried to break yourself out of his grasp. “babe—i didn’t—do it on—it was an accident!”

“you’re such a bad liar,” renjun said in chuckles, letting go of you to wipe off the icing on his face. “i’m surprised you didn’t try to lick it off my face this time.”

“do you want me to? because i—”

the last words never came out, because his fingers found your ticklish spots, abusing them until you were on the floor. now damn, you were so glad that you had gotten off your bed to spend time with your boyfriend, since the little moments were the ones that you loved the most.

renjun is SO boyfriend i want to cry my lord and this turned out to be a lot longer because i was in my renjun feels i miss HIM

[dreaming-of-assclass]

Do you have any science project group headcanons like for groups like Nagisa, Kayano, Maehara, and Kataoka that were grouped for science class like in season 1 episode 5 (Assembly Time)

Oooooh! Love asks like these!!! 💚

And thanks to this post by the awesome @/greengargouille, we know all the canon groups!

Itona and Ritsu aren’t in official groups, so I put them in where I thought they’d fit in best!

1. Isogai, Mimura, Nakamura, Okano

Wow...I forgot that Nakamura and Okano were ever in the same group

But I love it because I HC their friendship to be a casual but hella fun one

Isogai and Mimura are old friends from last year! I imagine there’s slight awkwardness on Mimura’s side given that they’re in different friend groups now. But Isogai is very friendly and aware, so it passes pretty soon

Nakamura is one of the biggest causes of Isogai’s headaches lmao. But hey, at least they’re on the same wavelength academically.

POOR OKANO. SHE IS A JOCK SURROUNDED BY ACADEMICS.

Well at least she’s interested in science and it’s her best subject. She still feels bored unless they’re dealing with physics, then she’s completely on top of her game.

Nakamura and Okano are the chaotic half. Isogai and Mimura are the ones who wanna get shit done. Unless the girls manage to drag poor Mimura into doing dumb stuff

Have I ever told you guys that once in my Chemistry lab, one of my friends and I managed to break the sink faucet? Like we destroyed it lmfao

That is Nakamura and Mimura friendship energy ngl

Okano is one of Isogai’s most dependable close friends, but she also loves to annoy him for no reason sometimes.

So she’ll ask obvious questions with a smug smile, trying to watch his patience explode. But jokes on her because Isogai has an infinite amount of patience sadly

2. Kurahashi, Yada, Takebayashi, Kimura

They’re a...fairly productive group lmao

Tbh I don’t think Kurahashi is the type to really pay attention to any science outside of biology like me

So she’ll be a BEAST when it comes to that and get 100′s on everything. But like in chem and physics, she’s not as great

Yada is the best at design and organization, so she always takes that job. Making colorful presentation slides? She got it. Need to type up the final report in a google doc? Yep, she’s your girl

Kimura is a gremlin, like I always say. He’s the clown of the group lmfao and will spend more time stalling and messing around than doing actual work

He also tends to lowkey distract Kurahashi with unrelated convos. He tries to talk to Yada too, but she goes into girlboss mode and ignores him

Guys, everyone give it up for Takebayashi. King is hard carrying this entire group

He’s the one who stays the most focused but on occasion can be distracted by Kimura bringing up topics they’re both into, like certain comics or something.

Kurahashi and Yada also can get caught up in their own conversations since they’re besties. Also they will roast the boys all they want, if they feel like it.

All around, they’re kind of a mediocre group haha

3. Nagisa, Kayano, Maehara, Kataoka, Ritsu

Woah I LOVE this combination of students

I couldn’t help but add Ritsu here hehe. I also like the idea that she’s kind of attached to Kataoka in the beginning, considering all their moments together in canon.

Nagisa and Kataoka act like parent friends, as usual. They’re the ones who wanna work diligently and just get things done.

Maehara and Kayano are the more lenient ones haha. They’ll claim that they have low attention spans. Both Kayano and Maehara much prefer labs and getting to do cool science stuff, at least. 

Also!! It’s good that they’re in this group because they’re social types who can reach out to other groups and get help/answers from them ^^

Kataoka, sighing: “Well, Maehara, at least you have a talent for networking, I guess.”

Ritsu is in between the lenient side and the diligent side. She’s very good at science and can do her work very well!! But sometimes she gets swayed by Maehara and Kayano’s fun attitudes and doesn’t concentrate haha

Kayano keeps getting flustered whenever she’s sitting right besides Kataoka haha. Bonus points if their arms brush or she has to lean over her or something.

Also best believe there’s lots of Big-brother-Maehara and Little-brother-Nagisa moments

4. Kanzaki, Hazama, Yoshida, Muramatsu, Terasaka

So...this is basically just AU where Kanzaki joins the Disaster Squad lmfao

Hazama, Yoshida, Muramatsu, and Terasaka are already besties, we know this. They’re probably totally used to working together.

Enter Kanzaki. A newcomer.

Lmao I don’t think she’d be totally friendly at first. I think she’d be polite but distant, and barely speak up unless they were discussing.

Sgsjhakdj who thought putting the squad together was gonna lead to productivity, they’re probably gonna create so much chaos lmao

Something definitely explodes at least once.

They’re dealing with an acidic chemical and literally the whole class manages to not get burned, except for Terasaka. 

Yoshida voice: “dude you had ONE job”

After a couple classes, Kanzaki breaks out of her shell more and more, and she gets pretty chill with them.

She’s closest with Hazama, and they like to roast the boys at times. Also have random literature discussions that drive Terasaka crazy. “Can y’all not? Like this is literally physics class?”

The squad teasing Yoshida about his crush on Kanzaki whenever he blushes or stutters talking to her

Idk why but I really like the idea of a Kanzaki and Muramatsu friendship

5. Hayami, Okuda, Karma, Chiba, Okajima

AWKWARD

THIS IS SUCH AN ODD GROUP LMAO

My bestie Nao made a post on them before which I love

And yeah...I don’t have much to add lol.

Chiba and Karma definitely join forces to insult Okajima at some point

Okajima kind of constantly digs himself into a grave with stupid comments. He almost dies after pointing out how Karma and Hayami act like cats

Okuda doesn’t have to carry the group that much since they’re all fairly smart for the most part. But if you want verified answers, then yeah definitely check in with her

6. Sugino, Fuwa, Hara, Sugaya, Itona

I think this is a really cute and funny group

Sorry, couldn’t resist adding Itona mainly because Hara is in it, and I would love their interactions in a schoolwork-group setting

Tbh?? None of them are very sciency lmao, so they’re that one group you always see in irl class that are very lost. And they’re super vocal about how confused they are adjkhjda

Sugaya, yelling across the room: “Can someone help us? Please?”

Hara takes the reins as leader but more in like a “getting everyone organized and harmonious” way

Sugino takes the charge in the actual lesson work and lab stuff, but he really shouldn’t lmao. I love the boy, he’s a talented genius in so many ways, but he leads them to chaos

Fuwa surprisingly isn’t as vocal in these groups as she usually is. In fact, it’s a little concerning how quiet she- WAIT FUWA ARE YOU REALLY WRITING FANFICTION IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR LAB

#fuwagotexposed

Itona, as usual, is around to make blunt and sarcastic comments that are in no way helpful. If you voice this to him, he will insult your intelligence even more while still looking adorable

He especially comes at Sugino and Sugaya, who feel very attacked. Like?? WHAT DID I DO TO YOU ITONA?

I feel like...while the group descends into confused chaos, Itona just watches with blunt criticisms. Then in the very last seven minutes of class, he takes over and finishes the assignment with 100% accuracy

Sugaya: “YOU LITTLE BASTARD GENIUS-”

Sugino: “WHY DIDN’T YOU DO THIS EARLIER?”

[jalapeno-princess]

What if I Never Get Over You?

(He’s so pretty ugh God really does have his favorites)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst (A lot of curse words) (Angry Mark) (God bless)

Word Count: 8.9K

Summary: Mark was just seconds away from falling asleep after a long, exhausting day of work until Jackson comes over to his place, angry with the fact that Mark has been avoiding all of their many attempts to get him to move on. However, Mark has come to the realization even in the beginning of your break up that there is simply no getting over you.

A/N: Hey guys! So, this imagine is based off of the song “What if I never get over you” by Lady A and honestly it is one of my favorite songs ever and I’ve been listening to it on repeat for the last couple of weeks so I highly recommend that you listen to it while reading the lyrics hit me so hard for someone who has never been in a relationship once in the 22 years of my existence and I just found myself unable to stop typing this specific story. I’m currently in the middle of finals so I will be able to focus more on writing (If I’m being honest, I focus more on writing than I do on my education who am I even kidding LOL). This one is a little more on the sad side but the ending (I don’t know how I feel about it) but I consider it happy I guess? Please enjoy!

It's supposed to hurt, it's a broken heart But to movin' on is the hardest part It comes in waves, the letting go But the memory fades, everybody knows Everybody knows

What if I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye? And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you?

“Mark Yi-En Tuan—open the damn door. I have a bone to pick with you.” 

The word exhaustion couldn’t even describe half of what Mark was currently feeling. He had just finished work less than half an hour ago and against his friend’s pleas to grab a drink with them at the bar they normally frequented, he made a beeline back to his apartment. All he wanted to do was change out of his scrubs and sleep for the next twelve hours. 

Being a registered nurse was actually the last occupation Mark would’ve thought he’d ever get in to. As a young boy, all the way up until his senior year in high school, he never cared about anything other than playing baseball, video games, hanging out with his friends and eating junk food. He desired to “live in the moment” as much as he possibly could while he was still young and he decided he would worry about his future once he graduated from high school. Even when he did move on to college, he had no idea what his plans were. 

Like a lot of his friends, he was attending university in order to please his parents and to get a degree. In what—he didn’t care. Honestly, he thought about studying many different majors—engineering, kinesiology, biology, criminal justice and at one point—culinary. But he could never see himself settling in to any of those careers. His younger brother Joey knew that he wanted to be a pharmacist and unlike Mark; his soul purpose was to be successful in his education. 

At the time, Mark considered the younger boy to be a loser. He wasn’t living his high school life to his fullest potential—or at least that’s what Mark thought. On the day of his graduation, his principal began announcing each and every one of his classmates; what college they were attending, whether or not they received any honors and what they planned on majoring in. When it was his turn and the principal called his name, he was excited to finally be over with that chapter in his life. 

He expected to take the diploma and walk back to the bleachers like everyone else was. However, he felt exceptionally stupid when it was made aware that he had no idea what he was going to do after high school. Even his good friend BamBam—the class clown and the student with the lowest gpa in his graduating class had plans to go to college and major in hospitality. It made him feel pathetic and although the audience clapped right after he shook hands with his principal, he couldn’t help but feel as though some people were probably laughing at him. 

Hell, if he were to be sitting in the crowd and someone were to be in the same situation he was in, he would’ve laughed too. How could someone who was eighteen years old have no clue what he wanted to do for the rest of his life? That made him realize that Joey wasn’t the loser—Joey was extremely intelligent and planned for his future before he even realized what a future was. He was also the reason why Mark ended up going in to the medical field seeing as how his goal was to become a pharmacist and open up his own pharmacy one day. 

The younger boy; along with his parents and his friend Jinyoung coerced him in to attending med school because they witnessed how much of a people person Mark was and they felt like he would be very successful in whatever career he were to obtain. It wasn’t an easy road to success—in fact, he found himself wanting to give up more times than he could count on his fingers. 

College was already frustrating as it is, but majoring in nursing was one of the more difficult fields and a lot of the students who started off in nursing did not end up graduating with a nursing degree. Mark had no idea how he ended up getting his bachelor’s—let alone his master’s degree; especially because he felt there were so many students who were smarter than him and had more knowledge than him when it came to nursing who ended up getting kicked out of the program. 

Whenever he felt like giving up; when the multiple all-nighters he would pull in order to study for exams that he never seemed to be able to pass no matter how hard he tried, or the numerous amount of nights he found himself crying because he was afraid he wouldn’t make it and become the successful nurse everyone was expecting him to be—he remembered why he was going through all of that pain and suffering in the first place and it only gave him the motivation to continue until he finally achieved his goal. 

It took him almost six years, but it was worth it. He loved his job; although it could get very hectic almost every single day, he would get yelled at by patients for things out of his control, he got thrown up on, urinated on and even had families of patients threaten to get him fired, he also witnessed many miracles throughout the walls of the hospital and he got to meet a lot of people who would change his life. One person in particular that was the sole reason why his younger friend was currently pounding on his door—wanting to reprimand him for something he did a few days prior. 

Mark sat on his couch and weighed out his options; he could just let Jackson continue knocking on his door until he either got tired or came to the realization that there was a chance Mark was fast asleep by now. As good as that idea sounded, he was afraid that he would get noise complaints from his neighbors and the last thing he needed was to get evicted from his apartment over a ruckus he wasn’t even causing. 

Mark took in a deep breath and prepared himself for any confrontation Jackson might let out. He was expecting his rowdy and extroverted friend to bother him sooner, but then again —it’s not like Mark ever really hung out with his group of friends all that much in the last few months. If only he could say it was strictly because his job was working him to the core and making him exceedingly tired; if only it were that simple. 

He took a look in the peephole; curious as to whether or not Jackson was alone and if there was a chance he was drunk. The older boy released a sigh of relief when he saw Jinyoung and Yugyeom with him—he knew they would probably act as the mediators of Jackson went too far and said something to infuriate Mark. 

It’s happened many times in the past; Jackson Wang—bless his soul; but he had to be one of the most attention seeking and loud mouthed people that Mark knew. He also had no filter and said things like they were; he wasn’t afraid of hurting people’s feelings. Especially if those people just so happened to be his six good friends. As soon as he opened the door and saw the aggravated look on Jackson’s face, he had to stop himself from slamming the door and heading back to his room. 

“It’s almost midnight. I’m so fucking tired Jackson, this couldn’t have waited till the morning? Or at least an hour where I’m not drained of all my energy and won’t be able to fight back if the situation called for it?” 

Jackson ignored his comment and walked right past him—plopping himself on to Mark’s couch. The two other boys gave Mark apologetic expressions; it was obvious that they felt bad for bothering him at such a late hour—especially seeing that Mark was ready to knock out at any second. 

Neither of them wanted to be there, but when Jackson gets drunk—which he was currently plastered at the moment; heightening his confidence that Mark was quickly growing irritated with, he has a tendency of admitting things he would never say when sober and because their conversation at dinner consisted of Mark and his personal life, the five other guys knew leaving Jackson alone with Mark was not the best idea. 

One of them would end up with a black eye and a busted lip and there was a ninety-five percent chance that it would be Jackson. Mark was never a physical person; he never believed in violence and he tried his best to solve problems verbally before having to get physical. He’s been best friends with Jackson for almost sixteen years now—this meant that he was extremely comfortable with putting the younger boy in his place if he had to. 

There were only a couple times that Jackson and Mark either disagreed or actually fought over something and it was usually Jackson who’d instigate a lot of their quarrels. One time, Jackson said something that really got under Mark’s skin and he ended up with a busted lip. It wasn’t like the two of them stayed mad at each other for too long though; all it took was a few apologies, a couple of beers and some takeout that would get the both of them back on speaking terms. 

Jinyoung and Yugyeom weren’t too sure about what would happen between their two oldest friends tonight. Jackson was furious with Mark—he went in to great detail about how he was going to give him “a piece of his mind.” They didn’t completely agree with the points that Jackson made; especially because Mark was old enough to make his own decisions and nobody, not even his really good friend could tell him how to live his life. 

“Why did you tell Sophia that you weren’t interested in a long-term relationship? She called me crying this morning saying that you no longer were interested in her—“ 

Mark rolled his eyes at Jackson’s complaints. He knew he would get an earful sooner or later about how he’s been avoiding Jackson’s and even the rest of their friend group’s many attempts at trying to set Mark up with someone they knew—whether it was a coworker or a mutual friend. A couple of weeks ago, Jackson introduced Mark to a friend of his girlfriend. 

He wasn’t going to lie, Sophia was very pretty; she was also very smart—had a bachelor’s degree in family law and she was still in school trying to get her master’s. However, Mark wasn’t interested in her—or any of the girls that the rest of his friends tried to get him to go out with. He understood that his friends were only trying to help him “get back in to the game” or whatever BamBam said—but the eldest boy did not want anything to do romantically with anyone his friends were trying to set him up with. 

“Because I’m not. I was never interested in her to begin with. I was just going on these dates with her to get you off my back. She’s a nice girl; all the girls you guys tried to introduce me to are nice girls—but I don’t want a relationship right now Jackson nor do I even have the time to focus on another person, I barely have time to take care of myself. I know you guys are worried about me, but I’m fine. I’m twenty-seven years old; sure I’m not as young as I used to be, but settling down in to a relationship is the least of my worries. If you’re just bothered by the fact that I’m the only single guy in the group and you pity watching me sit by myself while you’re all accompanied by your girlfriends, I just won’t go out with you guys anymore.” 

When Jackson let out a scoff, the two younger boys looked at each other cautiously. Shit was going to hit the fan soon and they were afraid if they didn’t leave within the next five minutes, punches were going to be thrown. They also grew worried that if both Mark and Jackson were to argue, especially over the topic of Mark’s love life, that it might actually ruin their friendship with no promise of reconciliation. 

“Stop giving me that shit Mark. It’s not because you’re busy—you’re still hung up over y/n! That’s why you’ve been pushing away everyone from your life and I’m sick of it! It’s been almost seven months Mark, you need to move on. She obviously isn’t coming back. If she genuinely still loved you, she would have never left in the first place. Stop trying to look for y/n in other girls and stop letting another chance at being in love again slip through your fingers because you have this stupid hope that one day, she’ll realize that she made a mistake in breaking up with you—“

“Jackson, shut up—“

“For all you know, she’s already moved on—“

“Jackson, if you know what’s best for you, you would shut up—“

“Maybe the reason why she left is because she found someone else—someone who would give her the love and attention you failed to give her towards the end of your relationship and that idea alone is what’s messing with your head. Thinking about her loving someone else, finding solace in someone else, fucking another man—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP JACKSON. YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT. YES, I STILL LOVE Y/N. I’M ALWAYS GOING TO LOVE Y/N—IT’S ALWAYS GOING TO BE Y/N. I HAD THE FUCKING RING AND EVERYTHING SO DON’T YOU THINK FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND THAT I’M EVER GOING TO MOVE ON TO SOMEONE ELSE. I TOLD YOU ALL AFTER THE SECOND FAILED DATE YOUNGJAE TRIED TO SET ME UP ON THAT I HAD NO INTEREST IN CONTINUING THESE BLIND DATES. I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP IN FINDING ME A RELATIONSHIP BECAUSE I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO BE IN ONE AT ALL IF IT’S NOT WITH HER. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD.” 

Once those last few words fell out of Mark’s mouth, the entire room fell quiet. Yugyeom and Jinyoung were stunned—Mark was a very soft-spoken and timid individual. Most people who were newly introduced to him could get a couple of words out of him if they were lucky. A lot of his patients at the hospital could go on and on in conversation and he would simply just him or nod his head as a way to communicate with them. 

However, whenever it came to his friends and family, the eldest boy could talk up a storm. Mark was a very kind-hearted person; he was known for having a lot of patience and understanding—but he also had a huge temper. It took a lot for something or someone to piss him off; especially because he didn’t want anyone to look at him in a negative light. Normally, he could keep his ill-feelings at bay, but there were a few occasions where he allowed himself to yell or grunt in frustration. 

Your relationship was a very touchy subject. Sure, it’s been over half a year since that night where you told Mark you no longer could handle being suffocated in your toxic relationship and usually most men were known to bounce back after a week. But Mark wasn’t like most men and you weren’t just any ordinary woman. You were the love of his life—his soulmate, his best friend, his person, the one he wanted to settle down, start a family and spend the rest of his life with. 

He was devastated when you told him you were leaving and he even tried his best in to getting you to change your mind. He made so many promises of bettering himself in order to be a boyfriend you were proud of. He repeatedly told you that he would be nothing without you and that he would do anything in his power to get you to change your mind, but it wasn’t enough. Mark was well aware that his job play a huge role in your breakup. 

Most of his time was spent at the hospital—but you were very considerate and understanding that his career was one of his main priorities other than his friends, his family and you. However, during the small amount of free time that he had, Mark had a tendency of spending that time either playing video games, going out to bars with his friends or playing with his dog Milo. As his girlfriend, you’ve witnessed how exhausted he could get from work; he was constantly on his feet for ten to twelve hours a day. 

It was only natural for him to want to relax and unwind doing the things he was interested in. You wanted to be there for your boyfriend in whatever way you could, but you also had your needs and desires—not necessarily sexual, but there was a point in your relationship where you went weeks and even months without being intimate with Mark because he was always so tired and never had the energy to love on your body in the ways that he used to. 

There was a time—a long amount of time in your relationship where the two of you could never keep your hands off of each other to the point where your friends would purposely have to sit between the two of you on nights you would all go out together in attempts to get the two of you to stop kissing or simply just showing any kind of affection towards one another. Unfortunately, towards the end of your relationship, you were only getting a peck on your lips if you were lucky. 

Your relationship no longer had the spark that would send flames to your entire body just being around him—you no longer felt butterflies in your tummy whenever you looked at him. Sometimes when you’d gaze at him, you felt as though you were looking at a stranger, not the man you spent four years of your life with. You never understood where it went wrong; it just felt like the love and adoration Mark had for you just stopped out of no where. 

He no longer called or texted you on his breaks to check up on you and see what you were doing, he stopped complimenting you on your outfits or if you did something new to your hair and the two of you could no longer hold a conversation for longer than five minutes without it feeling forced. You wanted to believe that he was just acting like this because work took up his entire being—physical and mental health. But he would go out with his friends right after a shift and sometimes he’d stay out for hours on end. It made you wonder if you were the problem. 

Maybe he stopped loving you or your relationship became a chore to him and was no longer a priority to him as it used to be. The constant need to be around each other, the comfort you felt from being wrapped in his arms and the happiness that came from just knowing that he was yours no longer existed. It disappeared completely along with any kind of feelings you harbored for him and you didn’t think there was anything that could bring it back. 

The thought of no longer having Mark in your life; no longer waking up to his devastatingly handsome face—no longer getting to kiss his pretty, pink lips, and no longer being the lucky person who got to love him—it slowly tore your heart apart, but what could you do? You felt as though the only reason why Mark continued to stay with you was because he grew comfortable with the routine in your relationship. Having to go out and start another relationship with someone new wasn’t something you even wanted to think about. 

Deep in your heart, even if the two of you were going through , Mark Tuan was the only person you saw yourself wanting to get married to. All you ever wanted and could ever need was Mark. He owned you entirely; your mind, your body, your heart and soul—it was all his and it would always be his. But you couldn’t continue going on like this. Your relationship was slowly tearing you apart; it was suffocating you to the point where you felt as though you were going crazy. 

Every now and then, you’d find yourself going back to that fateful night where you told him you were leaving. It took you weeks to come to that decision; hell, even months really. Every time you built the courage to finally give up on Mark entirely, you’d look at him as the two of you were lying down in bed and time to time, you would cry. He seemed an entire world away even if the two of you were just inches apart. 

He might have been in the bed with you—but it genuinely felt like the bed was so spacious and empty. However, as you would gaze at him while he slept soundly, there was a little voice in your head begging you to wait a little longer. Something told you that things were going to get better and your life would turn out miserable if you were to break up with him. 

You prayed and prayed that the voice was telling the truth; you wanted your relationship to work so badly. He might not have been giving you much attention these days or treating you the way he used to, but you would rather continue to stay with him and try your best to fix your crumbling relationship than to be happy with anyone else. When he saw your luggage lined up at the door he didn’t even flinch. It’s as if he knew this was coming; and it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. 

That’s what hurt you the most; his blank expression only confirmed your worries—he no longer loved you or cared enough about you to even ask why your bags were packed or where you were going. He just simply stared at you for a couple of minutes before tilting his head in the direction of your bags. 

“Where are you going?” He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that you were seconds away from walking out of his life completely. 

“I’m leaving you.” 

The words were bitter on your tongue—there were a few times in your relationship where the two of you argued and it would end up with him sleeping outside on the couch—but that’s the worst it’s ever been. This was the first time you were actually throwing in the white flag; you were mentally exhausted. You refused to continue fighting for a relationship that was barely even existing anymore. If you were to continue putting your time and effort in to Mark knowing that he no longer did the same for you, you would probably develop some form of depression. You loved yourself too much to allow him to continue breaking your heart and taking advantage of your love. 

“Why?” You scoffed—he had to be joking right? Did he think that the two of you were okay? Was he fine with the fact that your relationship was no longer what it used to be? Did the lack of intimacy or time spent together not bother him at all—the way it was quickly ruining you? 

“You don’t love me anymore. I don’t know when you stopped—but all I know is that you did. Our relationship turned it to this toxic partnership. I don’t know what happened or what went wrong, but I’m so fucking unhappy Mark. I look at you and I don’t see the love of my life—I don’t see the aspiring nurse I met all those years ago who showed me and taught what love is. All I see when I look at you is a shell of the person you used to be. You’re like a stranger to me Mark and I hate—I fucking hate that things turned out like this and what’s killing me the most is that it doesn’t seem to bother you. You hardly make time for me—for us. It’s like you have to force yourself to genuinely enjoy being around me these days. Go look at your missed calls and all of your text messages. It’s all me. I’m practically begging for your attention and any kind of reaction out of you and nothing—literal nothing. I don’t know what to do anymore; I don’t want to leave Mark. I don’t want to be without you. But why should I continue putting in effort to a relationship that is just moments away from ending completely—“

“What makes you think that I no longer love you—wait—don’t answer that.” 

He took a deep breath in before walking towards you and doing the unexpected; he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and gently placed his forehead against yours. This was the first time in such a long time that you were this close in proximity with him—having him hold you, touch you, looking at you in such an apologetic way; you honestly didn’t know how to feel. You wanted to be happy; anytime Mark would touch you, kiss you, hold your hand or your waist, wrap his arm around your shoulder—any form of intimacy with your boyfriend always made your heart flutter. Unfortunately, you felt nothing and it broke your heart. 

“I know, I haven’t been all that great these days, I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I’m so fucking sorry baby—so fucking sorry. There’s no excuse—I can’t say it’s because of work or come up with any other logical reason. I guess I just got used to us doing our own things. I was content just having you around. I don’t know how I went so long with the distance—or being absent even if I’m physically there. I just—fuck, I know it sounds wrong but I just assumed because I plan on spending the rest of my life with you that a little bump in the road wasn’t going to do anything to hinder our relationship. If I knew that it was going to cause you to question the love I have for you and even get you to pack your bags with the intention of leaving me, I would have done something—“

“But you didn’t Mark. You knew something was wrong but you didn’t do anything about it. You just assumed that whatever we were going through was normal. News flash—it wasn’t. Our relationship is falling apart at the seams Mark. Did it not occur to you even once that the distance—the fact that we could no longer hold a decent conversation, that we haven’t had sex or been intimate in the last few weeks—it’s not normal? You obviously never put my feelings in to consideration. I’m dying Mark—mentally, you’re breaking my fucking heart.” 

You allowed yourself to take a quick breath; you could feel your tears continuously building up at the brim of your eyelids. As much as you didn’t want Mark to see you cry because you didn’t think he deserved it—it was too hard for you to keep your crying at bay.

“The love you have for me—that’s a joke right? You no longer love me. I don’t know what you think you feel for me but it’s definitely not love or at least it’s no longer love. If you still loved me, you would continue to show me and tell me like you never failed to do before. Showering me with your love, attention and care shouldn’t stop just because you have me—I don’t care if you’re used to our relationship or if you’ve grown comfortable where you don’t feel the need to contact me or check up on me—I don’t even care if I’m not your main priority. I’m completely understanding that your job takes up your time and energy, but I need you to know how shitty I feel every time I see you staying up to play video games or going out with your friends. I never wanted to be that girlfriend; I want you to be happy—your happiness is all that I care about, but it would be nice if I could be your happiness. Tell me Mark, when did you stop caring about me? When did you stop caring about my mood, my thoughts, how I was feeling, how the state of our relationship was? I can’t even remember what your lips feel or taste like, does it not bother you at all?” 

You saw him inch closer to you; you assumed he wanted to try and pull you back in to his embrace but you found yourself stepping back. When Mark saw you try to get away from him, that’s how he knew it was over. Once you were to get everything from off your chest, you were going to leave and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He could continue to persuade you to stay—he could promise you that he’d change and that your relationship would return back to what it used to be, but there was no use. Hearing to confess how lonely you felt; how heartbroken he made you and how you didn’t even feel like you were in a relationship with him at all shook him to the core—he knew you were leaving, no matter how hard he’d try to get you to change your mind. You were the kind of person that when you set your heart to something, it would always prevail. A break up was no different. 

“Y/n, please. I can’t—I can’t do this without you. I need you. I’m nothing without you. If I lose you, God I don’t think I’ll ever love again. You’re it for me baby, I mean that. You’re all I could ever want and need for the rest of my life. I’ll do better, I’ll be a better boyfriend—I’ll make up for all the lost time and I promise you, we’ll be okay again. Please baby, find it in your heart to forgive me. Everybody makes mistakes, we’re only human—“ 

As soon as he felt your dainty fingertips cup his cheek ever so gently before you placed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, it felt as though his soul left his body. You didn’t have to say anything; your actions spoke volumes for you. Your fingers were featherlight on his skin; it took every bone in his body not you pull you closer to him and hold you as tightly as physically possible. He didn’t know he was able to actually feel his heartbreak. Whenever someone would describe suffering from a broken heart, he thought they would be hurting mentally, psychologically or spiritually but right now, he could feel his heart crying—begging for you to give him one more chance. 

“Y/n—please—“ 

You could have sworn your heart sank to your stomach once you heard his voice crack. Your bags were already packed and you made the decision to finally leave months ago, why were you suddenly regretting your decision? You mentally prepared yourself for this reaction although you’d be lying if you said you expected him to break down and beg you not to leave like he currently was right now. If anything, you expected complete silence—with the way he’s been acting in the last few weeks, you just assumed he no longer cared about your presence or being in a relationship with you. To see him on his knees crying and begging for you to change your mind—you wanted to just say fuck it and pull him in to your embrace. 

He was trying—he promised he would change and do better; you wished his words could be enough for you. There were so many doubts in your mind telling you that he was all talk. That—he would try and put more time and effort in to your relationship, but it wouldn’t last long. He would get tired of having to prioritize you—tired of having to please you. You couldn’t put yourself through all that unnecessary pain again—the pain of not feeling good enough for him to want to spend and make time for you. 

You couldn’t force him to love you the way he used to—you loved Mark, God, did you love Mark. Honestly, you would do anything to make him happy; you would sacrifice your own happiness to make sure he was always smiling and thriving. But during the distance, since you didn’t feel like you had a boyfriend to love, you began to fall in love with yourself. While you were losing Mark, you were finding yourself.

“I have to go Mark. One day, you’ll see why I made this decision—why I felt as if this was the only choice I had. I love you Mark. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I don’t think you will ever be able to fathom just how much I love you and how I would go to the ends of the earth just to make sure you’re well taken care of. Your happiness and well being is all I care about. You are all I care about—I just—I need time to heal. I need time to grow and to rediscover happiness. I need to learn to live without you. Who knows, maybe being apart will lead us to want to come together again. I love you and you love me—if it’s meant to be, we will find our way back to each other again. I’m really going to miss you. Please take care of yourself.” 

With one more kiss on his lips, you took your luggage and left. Mark couldn’t describe just how heartbroken, helpless and genuinely miserable he was now feeling. He wanted to run after you and yank your bags out of your hands—he knew he could try harder to get you to stay, but he didn’t want to make things worse. The first few weeks were the hardest; Mark felt as if he could die from a broken heart. He couldn’t eat—he had no appetite. 

His mind kept replaying the way you left so easily—taunting him like a bad dream. He felt like he was having a nightmare that reoccurred every single day. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—how you were going about the entire breakup, where you were staying, if you were suffering even half as much as he was or if you were regretting your decision even just a little. 

As the months went by, nothing changed—even if he tried his best to move on, he felt in his chest that there was no getting over you. He meant what he told you on your last night together, he was genuinely afraid that he would never be able to find closure nor would he ever be able to fall in love again. He didn’t want to be in love again if it meant with someone else. You owned Mark entirely; his mind, his body, his heart and his soul—they all belonged to you and they always would. 

Jinyoung and Yugyeom knew it would be best to get their older friend out of there before Jackson said even more things he probably shouldn’t or before Mark grew physical. 

“We should uh—we’ll get going here. Mark, man I’m genuinely sorry this happened tonight, we shouldn’t even have come here. I should have tried harder to stop him but you know how Jackson gets when he’s drunk. I’m really fucking sorry dude about everything. You know what Jackson said isn’t true and I’m sure he doesn’t even know what he said. He’ll probably wake up tomorrow morning completely brainless about everything—“ 

Mark gave Jinyoung a sad smile before pulling him in for a hug. If anyone understood what Mark was going through, it was Jinyoung. Mark wasn’t the type to tell people of his problems—no even the people closest to him. If something bad happened to him, he would suffer all by himself because he didn’t want other people to worry about him. 

However, Jinyoung was the only one Mark allowed to see him in such a vulnerable and fragile state. Sure, Jinyoung also tried to set him up with one of his friends, but that’s only because he wanted Mark to get another chance at love. He hated seeing Mark so sad—so dejected and moping around, living but not really existing. Although Jinyoung really liked you for his older friend and believed that the two of you were soulmates, he also believed that if you still wanted to be in a relationship with Mark, you would. 

No matter how hard relationships could be sometimes, you never give up on someone you picture spending the rest of your life with. If you genuinely love someone, you’re going to fight for them even if the battle can be too much to handle. He saw Mark through so many phases of depression and grief; he’d witness Mark finish bottles of wine in one sitting while crying at every single thing that reminded him of you. Unlike Jackson though, he wasn’t going to force Mark in a relationship if he didn’t want to be in one. He was a grown man—he could make his own decisions himself. The last thing he or anyone in his situation needed was for his friends to get involved in his personal life. 

“Jinyoung, do you think you could do me a favor? I um—I think I want to be alone for a couple of days. Do you mind telling the other guys to let me be for a little while? I just—tonight was too much for me. I don’t want to get angry with any one of you. I can’t say how long I plan on being away I just—I don’t need this right now.” 

There was so much Jinyoung wanted to say—he didn’t think it was a good idea for Mark to be alone and he wished Jackson just kept his mouth shut, but he also knew that nothing he could say would get Mark to change his mind. He nodded in agreement—not wanting to make the older boy even more upset before motioning for Yugyeom to pick up Jackson’s sleeping figure from the couch. 

“Promise me you will call me if and when you need me. Oh, and please look after yourself. If you’re not going to allow me to come and check up on you can you at least make sure you’re eating all your meals and getting enough sleep?”

“I promise. Let me know when you get home alright? Thank you Jinyoung, I really don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Mark didn’t know if he liked it better now that the three boys were gone. He might have been angry with Jackson’s obnoxious outburst, but now he was alone with the thought that you might be seeing someone else. You did mention that you would always love him; but if you missed him the way you claimed you would, wouldn’t you have come back running to him a long time ago? There might have been distance between the two of you while you were still together, but no longer being in a relationship was a extremely different scenario. 

At least while the two of you were still together, he knew you were his and that he could come home to you. But now, he didn’t know anything that was going on in your life. For all Mark knew, you could have moved to another state or even another country—and now Jackson’s words were messing with his mind. Were you seeing someone? Did you already move on to somebody else and if so, did you see a future with that person? Did your mind ever wander over to Mark and how he was doing? 

His skin began to crawl at the thought of you being intimate with someone else—he knew he had no right to, you were no longer his to get jealous over and he was the reason why you could now go out and start dating whoever you wanted. He wanted to scream—he was already doing so bad as it was, why did Jackson have to make him feel even more shittier than he currently was? 

He found himself looking through his cupboards for any kind of alcohol, he honestly didn’t care at this point. Mark was not a heavy drinker; he never understood why his friends enjoyed wasting their money on alcohol only to get drunk, not remember a single thing and wake up with an extremely painful hangover. He wanted to take his mind off of you and the only way he could do that was if he was inebriated. 

These last few months, his mind seemed to be filled with the thought of you every single day, but never did he feel like he wanted to stop thinking about you. Now that he knew there was a chance you had another man in your life, he wanted to completely rid you from his thoughts—at least for the time being. When he found a bottle of tequila way in the back of the cabinet, he released a frustrated sigh. Mark hated tequila—it had to be one of the worst kinds of alcohol there was. Not only did it taste nasty, but it felt even more horrible going down.

At this point, he didn’t care—it was all he had and he was going to take what he could get. He pulled off the cork and took a few big gulps. It made him gag a little—drinking straight from the bottle wasn’t something he was used to. Especially because tequila was meant to be either mixed or taken as shots, not to be consumed like it was water. He could feel tears building up at the brim of his eyes at how hard it was to drink it, but slowly and surely, he could feel himself getting lightheaded and moments away from completely being plastered. 

When his vision grew hazy and his movements slowed down, he decided he would make his way to his room with the intention of falling asleep. It took him a while to get up from the floor and he was grateful that Milo was fast asleep in his doggy bed. He loved his little puppy more than anything and for the last few months, Milo was his own personal therapist. He made Mark smile when Mark didn’t think he was capable of that motion anymore. 

However, he didn’t think he was in the right mind to take care of himself—let alone a dog. Walking in the direction of his room felt like such a hassle. What usually took him a good ten seconds felt like hours—his feet were heavy against the hardwood floor and finally, once he opened his door and flopped on top of his bed, he hummed in content. Luckily he was already changed in to his pajamas before the guys came over so he didn’t have to do anything. He didn’t realize just how much tequila he consumed; his eyelids felt heavy and he was dozing in and out of sleep. 

Right as he was about to completely enter dreamland, he felt something vibrate. The buzzing noise sounded so far away, even if he knew his phone was nearby. It was probably just Jinyoung telling him he was home now—it could wait until the morning. He continued to try and fall asleep; ignoring the constant buzzing that seemingly wouldn’t stop. With a grunt, he went on the search for his device, moving his hand all around the bed until he found it. He knew whoever was trying to get in touch with him didn’t seem like they were going to stop anytime soon, so he rubbed both his eyes in attempts to break him out of his exhausted and drunken haze before checking his notifications. 

Once he saw your name, he had to do a double take—there was no way you sent him a message, he had to be hallucinating. How high was the percentage of alcohol in the tequila? His mind was definitely playing tricks on him—or maybe he was actually asleep and it was his conscience coming up with what he wishes would happen? He abruptly sat up; causing him even more dizziness, but he had to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he did. Seeing your name in his phone after seven months of not hearing you sent so many emotions and feelings to his chest and he felt overwhelmed. 

Was he happy? Sad? Angry that you took so long? Excited? He couldn’t help but feel as though something was wrong. Were you okay? Did something happen to you? Did you finally come to the realization that you missed him and that you were willing to give your relationship another chance? A part of him—probably the part that was still upset with you for breaking his heart told him to ignore the messages—he wanted to lie and say he didn’t care anymore and that he was genuinely going to do whatever he could to forget about you completely. But who was he kidding? There was no getting over you. Ever. His heart begged him to click on your contact and that’s exactly what he did.

Babe: Hey. 12:54 A.M.

He mentally cursed himself for not changing your name in his phone but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. He didn’t have the right to call you any term of endearment anymore, but once he were to change your contact to your actual name, it cemented the idea that things were actually over and he wasn’t going to give up on you just yet. Until he were to find out you were seeing someone else or that you had no intentions on getting back with him ever again, he was going to continue holding on to that tiny string of hope that one day, you’d be back in his arms again.

Babe: I’m sorry it’s so late. I mean that in more ways than one. 12:54 A.M.

Babe: I—I honestly don’t know where to begin. Let me just start by saying I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mark. And I miss you. I miss you so much. 12:56 A.M.

Babe: I know it’s been a while and I don’t know why I felt like I could just text you out of nowhere. I understand if you’ve moved on or if you want nothing to do with me anymore. 1:02 A.M.

Babe: I’m not going to lie and say that I made a mistake breaking up with you. I knew it’s what was best for the two of us at the time. But I will admit, I’ve thought about you every single day since I left. I’m sure you’re wondering what took me so long to come to the conclusion that I’m still so in love with you—which, I am by the way. I love you and I don’t think I ever really stopped. 1:05 A.M.

Babe: If you’re in a relationship or seeing someone else, please disregard all of these messages. I hope you’re doing well and I hope you’re taking good care of yourself. Well, Goodnight. 1:06 A.M.

Maybe months go by, maybe years from now And I meet someone and it's workin' out Every now and then, he can see right through 'Cause when I look at him Yeah, all I see is you

What if I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye? And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you? Ooh yeah What if I never get over? What if I never get closure? What if I never get back all the wasted words I told ya? What if it never gets better? What if this lasts forever and ever and ever?

As soon as you sent the last text message, you allowed a couple of tears to fall but brought your hands up to your mouth in attempts to prevent yourself from sobbing. The last thing you needed was to wake up the man who was currently sleeping in bed right next to you. You felt as if you made a complete mistake trying to get in contact with Mark—you should have just left him alone. It was you who initiated the breakup in the first place. 

You’ve stayed away for seven months; what person in their right mind would respond to your messages and want to take you back with open arms? You had to be crazy to think Mark still wanted anything to do to you—he probably deleted your messages as soon as he received them and you couldn’t blame them. If the roles were reversed and he did to you what you did to him, you would have blocked his number entirely. You placed your phone back on the nightstand and turned over to look at Minho; releasing an exhausted sigh before gliding your finger along his cheek. 

Trying out a new relationship and seeing someone new sounded like a good idea in hind sight. He was a friend of a friend’s—your friends tried to set you up with so many different guys similarly to Mark and his group of friends. They hated seeing you so sad and heartbroken yet they didn’t understand why you were still so hung up over Mark when you were the one who decided to call it quits. Minho was very soft spoken and gentle; in a way, he resembled Mark and that’s why you felt you were attracted to him.

He was quite the gentleman—he’d always ask you how you were doing, he’d ask you if you were okay with him kissing you and holding your hand and you were sure your friends must’ve told him about your past because he was very adamant on taking your relationship at your pace. Looking at him right now, lying in your bed made you realize just how quickly things were going between the two of you and you didn’t know how you felt about that. It took you a while to sleep over Mark’s apartment and he didn’t see yours until five months in to your relationship. 

However, you were beginning to believe you were rushing things because you missed having someone around all the time; you missed having the presence of someone you loved—you missed Mark. You also assumed that you were acting this way because you wanted to force yourself to like Minho so you could completely move on from Mark, but you didn’t understand why you wanted to get the thought of him out of your mind completely. 

The more time you spent with Minho, going on dates with him, calling him when you couldn’t see him; you’d find yourself picturing Mark in his place. You really missed how Mark used to treat you like you were the most important person on the planet. You missed holding him and being held by him, you missed playing video games with him and coming home from a long day of work with a table full of your favorite food. Even if you were doubting his words when he told you he was going to do better, you wondered how life would be like if you did give in to him that night. 

As much as you liked Minho—or at least felt like you did, a huge part of you believed that you were only staying with him for his sake. He was such a nice guy who genuinely seemed to care about you, but nobody was ever going to be Mark. You weren’t going to ever care or love anyone the way you did with Mark and you didn’t want to continue leading him on knowing that your heart belonged to someone else. You decided that you were going to call it a night, you didn’t expect Mark to get back to you any time soon if at all for that matter. 

After placing a gentle kiss on Minho’s shoulder blade, you curled up in to your pillow and slowly closed your eyes. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep; your mind was too busy thinking about whether or not Mark read your messages and if he did, how he felt about hearing that you missed him and that you still loved him. Taking one last look at your phone, you felt your heart swell up as a small smile rose on your face.

Mark: I’m all yours. 1:36 A.M. 

What if I never get over? What if I never get closure? What if I never get back all the wasted words I told ya? What if it never gets better? What if this lasts forever and ever and ever?

I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you? What if I gave you (what if I gave you) everything I got? What if your love was my one and only shot? What if I end up with nothing to compare it to What if I never get over? Oh, if I never get over What if I never get over you?What if I never get over you? Oh, what if I never get over? Over you

[realcube]

the heart || kei tsukishima x reader

 summary: modern au! you and tsukishima are supposed to dissect a lamb heart in biology but it doesn’t go to plan

tw// cussing, the dissection of a lamb heart, blood, biology 🤢

my excuse: this is based on a true story and i wrote it at like 3am - read at your own expense. this is probably the worst piece i’ve every written.

“Geez, why are you complaining? You literally just play Cool Maths Games during every period of Biology and now that we actually have to do something you become a whiny bitch.” Tsukishima clicked his tongue, slipping his phone back into his pocket while adjusting his headphones so they hung around his neck, rather than having to take them off because they were apart of his look at this point.

You tossed your head back upon hearing the news that you’d actually have to do something in class for a change, “Exactly! Biology is supposed to be the one class where I am not bombarded with work. Just last period, I drew at least fifty stupid fucking graphs! For what? To find x? To hell with your x !” You cried, running a hand through your hair to make sure you didn’t mess it up because you spent way too long straightening it this morning for a swift movement of your neck to mess it all up. 

Tsukishima sighed, hesitantly rubbing your back as you genuinely seemed quite stressed, “It’ll be fine, and it’s not like we’re learning anything new. We have already studied the heart, I think it was last year; we’re only doing the experiment now because we couldn’t to do it last year for some reason.” Tsukishima mumbled, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed that he was doing a decent job of reassuring you as your hair was no long standing on its ends. 

“Plus,” He said, flicking his pencil with his fingers, “This’ll be cool! The heart is quite an interesting organ, it’ll be fun to actually get hands-on and see the chambers and valves up close, don’t you think?” He added, seeming a bit too enthusiastic about dissecting a lamb heart - it was kinda creepy.

After you finished loudly judging him, you pulled out your phone from your pocket and absently went to snapchat, to send your streaks. “Yeah, whatever. Get in ‘ere with me Tsukishima, will you?” It was hardly a request as before he even had time to process what you had just asked him, you had taken a selfie of you and him with the indie filter, wrote ‘streaks’ on it and sent it to your whole best friend’s list. 

It took him a moment to react to what you just did but when he noticed you typing away to your friend, he let out a breathy sigh. Usually, he’d be fuming by your action but he had to admit, he looked pretty good in that picture - especially because he barely had any nice candid photos of himself. “Send that to me - but without the stupid caption.” Was all he could be bothered to utter.

You hummed in agreement, “Will do.” You replied, immediately finding the photo in your saved pictures and scrolling down your friends list until you found Tsukishima; he wasn’t too low down since you recently asked him for the answers to the Maths homework - he said no, of course, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m feeling kinda bummed so y’know what I am gonna do?” You spoke and without giving Tsukishima a moment to respond, you answered your own question. “Check your Snapchat username, it always makes him laugh.”

Tsukishima’s blood ran cold and his eyes widened at the mention of his username on Snapchat, “(Y/N). Do not--”

“Dinoguykei!” You exclaimed rather loudly, tears of joy pricking at the corners of your eyes as you cackled upon repeating his username to yourself - absolute gold.

“I was, like, 11 when I made it! Give me a break.” He spat, sticking out his bottom lip momentarily before pulling his headphones back over his head to clasp his ears so he no longer had to listen to your ‘annoying-ass laugh’, as he called it. There was clearly no music playing from his headphones and he acted as if he couldn’t hear you when he had them on despite the fact that they were clearly not noise-cancelling - this was a move he pulled often which you liked to call ‘blocking out the a haters’ as he would do that exact thing whenever you said something to displease him..

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, flicking his fake-ass SOMY headphones but since they were made of wurtzite boron nitride or something like that, they hit you right back, resulting in your hissing and quickly pulling your hand away. “Do you think that your crusty, dollar store headphones can prevent my noise from reaching your ears? I think the fuck not.” 

“I-”

“If you want me to buy you new ones, just ask. How much were they? Or are they hend-me-downs?” You inquired without missing a beat, it wasn’t often that you managed to tease Tsukishima which such flow consecutively so you were obviously going to make to most of this opportunity while you had it.

“They are from the dollar store but I didn’t buy them.” Tsukishima mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, he lowered his head and desperately tried to resist the sly grin which tugged at the corners of his lips as all the memories came flooding back to him. “You were there, weren’t you?” 

“No.” You replied simply but immediately realising what Tsukishima was talking about and leaning in closer to him, “Is Tsukki a criminal?” You sung while wiggling your eyebrow playfully at him. 

Tsukishima scoffed, once again lowering his headphones from his ears back down to his neck. “As if you aren’t, with all the stuff you stole from the supermarket.” He hissed while trying not to laugh as he recalled the time you tried to sneak out passed security by shoving food under your shirt so you looked pregnant - and they fucking fell for it! Or  maybe they were just too lazy to bother calling you out, either way you got away with it though. “And this is what you said before bolting out of Forever21 with sunglasses in your bra - verbatim: ‘If it is a chain, it’s free rein.’.” 

You wiped an imaginary tear from your eye as you heard those words leave Tsukishima’s mouth, “Beautiful-” You mused, about to go on to tell him about the other economic benefits of stealing from large corporations until he cut you off to correct you as always.

“So, you were wrong. These headphones were not a dollar, they were free.” 

Of course, Tsukishima never talks to you without the intend of either insulting you or proving your wrong in some way/argue with you. So why would this be any exception?

“Anyway,” Tsukishima began, his gaze shifting around the room rapidly in search of the biology teacher, “Where is that bitch? I’m ready to dissect the fuck out of that lamb heart if he just gets his ass over here immediately. He always does this.” Tsukishima huffed as this was far from the first time he had been let down by the biology teacher, as well as all of his classmates.

In fact, the whole class had basically mutually agreed that the biology teacher was shit as almost everyone in the class was failing due to his horrible teaching - or lack there of. Tsukishima was the only one passing because he had a tutor but he was still averaging 60% - a C - which was way too low for his liking. 

Also, the biology teacher had a habit of making false promises - for instance, there was that one time he said the class could use whiteboards to create model cells so he rushed out the room to ‘go get the whiteboards’ and didn’t come back. Instead of getting the whiteboards, there was a rumour going around the school that - with the assistance a foreign language teacher - he conducted a different kind of biological experiment in the janitor’s cupboard. 

Be that as it may, all my homies hated the biology teacher..until today, when he actually pulled through with the goods.

He came marching into the class holding a pale bag filled with a dark, red substance and quickly placed it on his desk. “Right, troops. Get yourself a partner, come ‘ere and grab a lamb heart then remove the tricuspid valve for me, will ya?” He panted, rubbing his forehead and bringing attention to his bright red face. He was seemingly out of breath yet nobody has ever seen him run before; was he that tired from walking to the storage cupboard and back?

“Sir, do we dissect it with out hands or?”

The teacher shrugged, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder before rushing out of the room. “I don’t know, sure? Or maybe use a spatula or something. Right, BRB, guys.” Just like that, he was gone. Probably to go rail Tsukishima’ foreign language teacher in the privacy of his own home or something. ‘Ew.’ Tsukki shuddered at the thought. 

“I’ll go get us a heart.” He said, getting up from his chair and about to make his way over to the teacher’s desk until you giggled, asking, “Who said I wanted to partner up with you?” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, checking the time on his phone and spoke without averting his gaze from the path in front of him, “You’ve not got much of a choice.” With that, he slinked off to the front of the class to grab a heart and hopefully a spatula too. 

Your mouth was left agape at his comment, mostly because you were unable to decipher what he meant by that; curse his naturally sarcastic-sounding tone! Perhaps that was his way of trying to hit on you by saying he wouldn’t allow you to partner up with anybody else - or it could be a jab at the fact everyone in this class hates you for one reason or another.

“Some knob took the last spatula so I guess you’re using your hands.” He grumbled, dumping the heart which was packed in a thin, clear plastic bag onto your desk. Crossing his arms over his chest before sitting back down at his own table, pulling out his phone and about to start playing some music until you realised what he was trying to do and instinctively flicked his arm.

“What?” He hissed, jerking his head around to shoot you a deadly glare. You stuck your bottom lip out to form a pout but then you remembered that he finds your pouty face funny and right now you were trying to be intimidating so you quickly switched to a scowl. “You’re the one who wanted to dissect the stupid thing, you do it!” You roared, slamming the lamb heart onto his desk then leaned back in your chair, folding you arms over your chest in a bad-tempered manor.

Tsukishima’s expression softened slightly as he looked over, doing his best to stifle a chuckle at how silly you looked with a scowl on your face - like grumpy cat, in a way. “Why are you so mad?” He asked monotonously, shifting his gaze onto the heart on his desk, hesitantly reaching out to unzip the plastic bag which it was packed inside. 

You shrugged your shoulders, biting your lip as you looked down at your hands, shocked at how white your knuckles had become from holding a fist for so long. “My bad, Tsukki.” You said in a low voice, embarrassed at how his simple actions had pissed you off so much. “I guess I am just kinda frustrated with this whole class - mostly the teacher. I mean, we’re literally all doing horribly and instead of helping he just gives us a fucking lamb heart to dissect like what good does that--”

Suddenly, you felt something cold and slimy splat against your elbow, leading to a small gasp escaping your mouth as you instinctively whipped your head over to see what it was - however, as soon as you laid your eyes on it, you wished that you hadn’t. 

A high-pitched shriek left your mouth, immediately gaining the attention of almost the whole class but once the turned heads realised how uneventful the situation actually was, they went back to what they were doing prior to your scream. 

Tsukishima winced slightly in reaction to the shrill sound that left your mouth - “Oh, shut up.” He snapped, rolling his eyes at your - in his opinion - melodramatic reaction. “It’s just a bit of lamb heart; here, I’ll get it off for you.”

As soon as you realised what you had just done and the reaction it had evoked, you slapped your spare hand over your mouth but without averting your gaze from the god-forsaken piece of meat which clung committedly to your forearm. “Tsukki.” You tried to sound angry but the fear was still clear in your voice, “Why would you do that?” Although you hadn’t seen him do the deed, you were almost 100% this was the work of him flicking the wretched lamb muscle onto your arm - this theory was reinforced by the fact the plastic bag was lying wide open on his desk.

Tsukishima laughed, leaning over to pick the bit of heart off of your arm then proceeded to flick it away to some other poor soul’s desk. “There we go. Happy now?” 

You growled - something your friend had taught you to do whenever you were mad - shooting daggers at the lanky megane sitting in front of you while he wore a sly grin which just made you want to punch him right on the nose. “What the fuck was that for?” You snarled, “You know how much I hate blood.”

Tsukishima wheezed, he genuinely couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not, “Then what are you doing in a biology class?” His question was barely audible through his gasps for as well as the sound of him slapping him knee.

You clicked your tongue, wiping the excess lamb juice off of your arm, “Joking.” You droned, turning to eye the heart on his desk. “Go on, dissect the thing.”

[icecoldflames]

Gold Star (Sanders Sides)

Human AU

Romantic Analogical

Background Romantic Royality

***

Virgil’s eyes flashed open. His alarm went off. The sun streamed in through his window. It’s going to be a good day today, he thought to himself as he heaved himself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He padded over to his closet and opened it, eyeing his clothes. Virgil didn’t often care about his outfit. Usually, he just wore his usual hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Nothing too loud. But today he wanted to try something new.

Virgil’s eyes glanced over to his fancy clothes. He ran his hand over his purple tie but then immediately dropped it. No, that wasn’t the look he was going for.

He eventually settled on a purple plaid shirt with a black tee underneath along with a pair of jeans. Good, he thought to himself as he looked in the mirror. Something different but not too different.

Forty five minutes later, he climbed aboard the bus and sat down next to his friend, Roman, who looked him up and down appreciatively. “I see you’ve upped your style today. What’s new?”

Virgil shrugged, a grin creeping up on his face. “Oh, nothing.”

Realization dawned on Roman’s face. His eyes widened. “You’re getting your Math test and English essay back today, aren’t you?”

Virgil nodded in delight and his heart fluttered.

“I swear, Virgil,” Roman began, “if you get a higher mark than Logan, please don’t shove it in his face and if he gets the higher mark, don’t start a fight. I’m begging of you.”

“I can’t promise anything.” Virgil said, dropping the smile and putting on an annoyed expression. “Logan just gets on my nerves so much. Who does he think he is?!” He griped.

Roman sighed and crossed his arms. “Alright but I’m not going to pull you out from a fight again.”

The bus came to a halt and some other kids boarded the bus.

“Don’t worry, Ro. That was forever ago.” When I did hate Logan, he added in silently. “Besides, he started it.” That wasn’t true but Roman didn’t know that.

Roman huffed. “I think I know what it feels like to be an exasperated mom…”

When the bus finally arrived at the high school, Virgil told Roman he’d meet him at his locker in a bit.

Virgil’s locker was right next to Logan’s. Virgil knew Logan arrived at school at promptly 7:30 and stayed in the library until five minutes before the bell where he would head to his locker to pick up his books for first period.

As Virgil neared his locker, a pair of feet caught up to him and began to match his pace. “Virgil.” Logan said with a curt nod. He had a book under his arm: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

Virgil’s heart fluttered. Logan was wearing his usual black-collared button up with a blue tie. Most of the other kids thought he was a bit excessive with his tie but Virgil really liked it. It suited him really well. Virgil put a disinterested look on his face along with his signature scowl. “Logan.” He was early—it was ten minutes before the bell, not five.

They both arrived at their lockers at the same time but Logan was the first to unlock it and swing his open.

Out of his peripheral view, Virgil watched as Logan carefully placed his book on the top shelf before methodically grabbing his Math textbook and binder. He put his pencil case and book on top of that.

Virgil began unpacking his bookbag which didn’t have much in it—just some random stuff like gum and his Chemistry homework. Logan took Biology.

Virgil, just slightly, wished he had chosen Biology even though he was terrible at remembering terms and parts of a cell. Just seeing Logan again for another hour would have made up for his cruddy mark in that class. Then again, if he took Bio, he would lose a lot more in their competition.

Their competition started last year when Virgil moved here. He and Logan were put in the same Math class and the teacher would give out a sticker to the top grade every test or assignment.

Roman told him that, last year, he had heard that Logan had received the gold star every single time. For the entire year.

Virgil had called the whole thing stupid when Roman explained. “What are we?” He had asked Roman with a scoff. “Kindergarteners? A gold sticker?” The whole thing had sounded absurd.

Virgil liked math. It was weird, but he found doing equations were therapeutic. That first unit, Logan had gotten the two gold stars. Virgil hadn’t minded. Again, gold stars were childish in his books.

But then the second math unit was trigonometry. And Virgil loved any type of math that had to do with shapes. And, that first assignment he had scored a 100% and gotten the gold sticker. He experienced great joy that class feeling Logan’s fiery stare boring holes into him.

Virgil had turned to Logan with triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Feeling glum there, Logan?” He had goaded. He hadn’t gotten an answer.

Virgil received the gold star on the trig test too. A 97% while Logan had gotten a 95%. He found that he enjoyed that golden star that the teacher had probably bought at a dollar store.

The next unit was algebra and Virgil was just half percent away from Logan’s 99% and gold star. Logan had looked so triumphant as he flashed the gold sticker in Virgil’s direction. He made a dramatic frown as Virgil scowled in the corner.

And so it went on like that for the rest of the year: Logan and Virgil trying to out-do each other and receive the gold star.

At one point, maybe during the quadratic unit, it had gotten so intense that Virgil almost started a physical fight with Logan after the tests came back and Logan had received the gold sticker. The teacher stopped giving them out after that.

But that didn’t stop anything. Both Logan and Virgil were far too gone to let that stop anything. While the gold sticker was no longer there, their percentage still was.

That summer, Virgil got a job at a LGBTQ+ youth camp with Roman as counsellors. And, lo and behold, Logan had gotten a job there too as a lifeguard.

That was when something changed between them. And not because Virgil often saw Logan shirtless up on that lifeguard chair or walking out of the shower.

It was nighttime when all of the campers were gone to sleep. Or, at least, they thought.

Logan and Virgil had been paired up to do one last sweep of the main campground. It was, understandably, tense until they heard a child’s whimpering off in the distance.

It was terrifying. It had been dark, the paths in the woods filled with tree roots, and the only flashlight they had had run out of batteries. So they were looking for a child in the woods using only the moonlight. Thank goodness it had been a full moon.

Once they found the child (he had gone off to pee in the woods because all of the other stalls had been filled and apparently he really had had to go. He had gotten lost once he had finished), Logan and Virgil had been inches away from each other outside of the boy’s bunkhouse. Virgil had been sure that they were about to kiss but then Patton, another counsellor, had poked his head out of the bunkhouse, asking if they were alright.

They didn’t bring that moment up again.

This year, Virgil shared two classes with Logan: Math and English. They didn’t have the gold star teacher. The competition was still there, maybe with even more vigor, but something else was behind their jabs at one another.

Virgil prayed that Logan felt it too because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found that Logan didn’t harbour the same feelings as he did.

He grabbed his math books and stuff and then left to go find Roman before the warning bell rang. “Good luck,” he sneered as he passed Logan.

“You’re going to need it,” Logan retorted, not even glancing up at Virgil.

“Please tell me you’re feeling calm,” Roman said as he saw Virgil.

Virgil took in a dramatic breath and breathed out loudly. “I’m fine.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “So, how was last night?” He asked, changing the subject. Patton and Roman had gotten together recently. They had met at camp last summer but that was when their friendship was formed. Their romantic relationship had started just a couple of days ago.

Roman didn’t seem to notice the subject change. “Oh, it was amazing. To be honest,” he said in a whisper, grinning, his face flushed pink, “I could hardly concentrate on the movie…we were holding hands and his laugh whenever there was a joke was just so cute. I can’t wait until you get a boyfriend and then we can all go on double dates!”

Virgil thought about Logan and just smiled. “That would be so fun.”

***

When Virgil made his way into Math after the bell rang, Logan was already sitting in his assigned seat. Virgil found his own, across from Logan and against the wall.

Logan didn’t even acknowledge Virgil as he sat down, just kept reading his book. Every so often he would push up his glasses when they slipped too far down his nose.

As soon the teacher walked in the two of them immediately straightened up and Logan put away his book with a bookmark filled with old gold stars. Probably just to spite Virgil.

But that was okay. Virgil had his phone case decorated with his gold stars.

When the last student trickled in and the bell rang again the teacher began passing back the tests they had done last week.

It hadn’t been a difficult test but it hadn't been necessarily easy either. The only thing Virgil was worried about was that last word problem where he wasn’t sure if he had plugged in the numbers right.

Logan’s test was passed back first. Virgil stretched his neck and straightened his spine even more. 99%. Logan grinned over at Virgil, his eyes twinkling. ‘Beat that,’ he mouthed.

Virgil pursed his lips. He had to get a 100 if he was going to win. Then again, he still had the English essay later on in the day so even if he didn’t get a 100% he might beat Logan with the essay.

The teacher walked over to Virgil and he held his breath as she placed the test on his desk. 100%. Yes.

He didn’t even bother waiting for Logan to crane his neck at an awkward angle. He pulled up the side of his test with the mark on it and gave him the middle finger with his free hand. Virgil grinned over at him.

Logan scowled.

“Got a little overconfident there, didn’t you Logan?” Virgil said, rubbing it in. His cheeks hurt from so much grinning.

Calm settled on Logan’s face. He pushed up his glasses, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “We still got one more today, Virgil. Don’t get too cocky. I do write a sublime essay.”

Virgil chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

***

Their research essays counted for quite a bit of their English mark. It could be on anything they wanted but they had to take a side. Of course, it had to be appropriate for school. They had started preparing for it almost a month ago and now it was the moment of truth.

Virgil had decided to write his research essay on how cellphones have a positive impact on youths (maybe not always positive but they weren’t 100% bad). Logan must have seen Virgil’s topic somehow although he couldn’t figure out how because Logan’s topic was on how cellphones have a negative impact on youths.

Virgil wasn’t even sure that Logan believed that.

Their English teacher was known to be a hard marker so, when Virgil got his essay back and saw the 85 he mentally fistbumped the air. He was going to win this. He lifted his paper so Logan could see his mark behind him.

When the teacher gave back Logan’s essay Virgil spun in his chair and snapped his head down to look at Logan’s mark: 89. Logan smiled triumphantly up at Virgil. “Look who’s overconfident now.”

“Draw,” Virgil sniffed. He had won Math, Logan English. It would have been nice to win both but one was better than none.

Logan smiled as he put his test in his binder smugly. “Sure.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and turned back around to face the front.

***

When the last bell rang Virgil saw Logan already at his locker, piling in books into his blue bookbag.

Virgil pursed his lips as he neared his locker and Logan. He opened his locker and began packing his backpack as well. “Hey,” he finally said, swallowing his pride. “Can I read your essay?”

Logan glanced up at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Suspicious eyes. “Why?”

Virgil shrugged. “I just want to see what arguments you used. Do you even believe that cellphones have a negative effect on youths or did you just choose that because I was doing the opposite?”

Logan grinned but didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his essay and handed it over to him.

“Well?” Virgil prompted. He wanted to know how Logan figured out his topic. It wasn’t like they shared their topics before writing them.

“Oh, I’m pretty neutral on the debate on cell phones. I could have gone either way, to be honest. But I overheard you talking to Roman about your topic outside of the library and,” he shrugged and gave a toothy smile that made Virgil remember that night at camp, “I just thought it would be fun to do the opposite argument that you were doing.”

Virgil had no recollection of speaking to Roman about his topic but it sounded about right. But then a memory resurfaced and he scrunched up his nose. “Hey, no. I told Roman about my topic when we stayed behind to help Ms. Morrison organize her textbooks to get volunteer hours!”

Logan flushed a deep pink and Virgil’s stomach did a little flip.

“I don’t think so,” Logan said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I was in the library.”

But the memory was becoming clearer now. Virgil’s eyes widened in realization. “You were spying on us!” He breathed.

“No—”

“—Yes,” Virgil cut Logan off, nodding his head vigorously. “Or you overheard us…whatever. No difference.”

The crowds around the hallway were beginning to thin out. Logan sighed. “Okay, fine. I was just running back into school because I forgot my book and I overheard you in Ms. Morrison’s class.” His face was still pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Virgil grinned as he shut his locker. “Okay.”

“It’s true!” Logan exclaimed hotly, closing his own locker and swinging his backpack onto his back.

Virgil began to walk to the bus line. Roman was probably wondering where he was.

He knew Logan walked home so he was surprised to hear his footsteps trailing behind him. “Hey, listen. I got something for you.” Virgil was so used to their witty banter that he was caught off guard when he heard how genuine Logan’s voice was.

Virgil spun around in surprise and waited for Logan to catch up. “What? Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s-it’s nothing really,” Logan fumbled, digging around in his jean pocket. “It’s just a little trinket I saw at the store and thought…” he shrugged and pulled out a gold star keychain.

For a long moment, Virgil stared at it. “But I tallied it up last week, overall you’ve won!” He had gone through all of his old tests and assignments, curious to see who was in the lead. Logan had been ahead by two tests. “I mean,” Virgil amended, “thank you, but why?” Why would Logan give him a gold star keychain if he wasn’t winning?

Logan ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Because I think you’re intelligent.” He pushed up his glasses and coughed awkwardly. “And I really like you.”

Virgil froze but then hesitantly took the keychain from Logan’s hand. He looked at it closely before carefully clasping it onto his bookbag. “Truce?” He asked, holding out his hand.

Logan smiled and took Virgil’s hand. “Truce,” he repeated. He cocked his head to the side. “So does this mean you like me too?”

Virgil grinned. “What do you think?” He laughed and intertwined his fingers with Logan’s. By now, the entire hallway was empty and Virgil was sure that the busses had already left.

They walked down the hall hand in hand.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #328

okay i’m going the fuck to bed now. @_@

Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? No; the only time I ever will will possibly be my wedding, if even then. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I think I'm capable, but I don't believe it will happen. Who’s the last person you video-chatted with? My therapy group via Zoom. Do ski lifts make you nervous or do you like them? Never been in one, but they seem cool. Have you ever had dandruff? I have dandruff AND a dry scalp. Nice combo. Do you think sleeve tattoos look trashy? Please explain to me how ANY tattoo inherently equates to being "trashy." I actually love sleeve tats. Have you ever gone through a phase of crushing on EVERYONE? No. I experienced a few crushes my freshman year of high school, but they weren't just anybody. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? I may or may not get a tattoo of Darkiplier doing his i c o n i c debut smile somewhere, but idk. I already have one tattoo related to Mark and would kill for another with his handwriting, so having three would be a bit... wild, haha. Do you have any stickers on any of your electronic devices? No. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? Usually. Can you remember what you last clapped for? Yes; everyone in group clapped for one of the women taking a big step against her agoraphobia. Is your hair damaged? No, it's actually super healthy. Are you in charge of cleaning anything in your household? The litterbox and my room in general. Ever carved/written anything on a park bench? No. Most interesting place you’ve ever visited? Chicago was a big shock to me. I am FAR from used to cities that incredible and stocked. Do you keep your eyebrows more thick or thin? I don't groom them, so they're on the thicker end. Do you always wear a bra? Not at home and if there's no company. Do your shoulder blades protrude? No. Have you ever won on one of those grabber machine things? Yeah, a few times. Are you gonna French kiss your hubby at your wedding? Who says I'm marrying a man? But whatever, no. Keep that behind closed doors. How many bananas have you ever eaten in a row? No more than two. I usually don't even have two. Have you ever had sex outside? No. Have you ever been outside naked? No. Have you ever been in a shrubbery maze? No. You ever like someone who liked you back, but didn’t want a relationship?: That's pretty much where I'm at now. Have you ever fallen for someone who didn’t feel the same? No. Are you financially stable? No. Mom can barely afford rent right now; I had to pay it last month with gifted money. Are you emotionally stable? hunny Do you think kids these days are growing up too quickly? I kinda think so, yeah. It's funny how different kids are now compared to when I was whatever age they are. I try to be open-minded about it, though; times change, and I don't expect my generation to be the only "right" way to have grown up. I just think kids are chasing the power of "maturity" with much more vigor. Are you a rebel? Not really. Do you like when people use proper grammar on the Internet? Yeah. I like conversing with people who type just how they talk, like me. Have you ever driven or been a passenger on a motorcycle? Neither. I don't want to ride one. Do you use standard time, or 24 hour time? Standard time. Do you enjoy NASCAR? "HE'S MAKIN ANOTHER LEFT TURRRRRRN!" Lol no, I really don't. Who is the most fascinating person you’ve met? Probably Sara, honestly. What amazing adventures have you been on? What's this "adventure" you speak of? What would you do if had enough money to not need a job? Lots of traveling with my camera, still selling art anyway. What TV series do you keep coming back to and re-watching? None. What would your perfect vacation look like? Y'know, one of those glass dome ceiling cabin... things in the mountains with Sara would be so, SO cool. So much nature for us to explore. What are some obscure things that you are or were really into? Most of my interests honestly, haha. The strangest is probably "vulture culture," in which the remains (typically the bones) of a naturally deceased wild animal are basically recycled for some sort of artistic purpose. You could consider my roadkill photography an example. What are some things everyone should try at least once? I dunno, man. Depends on what you're into. What would your perfect morning be like? Cuddles with an s/o watching some funny videos or something like that to get in some morning laughter. What are you always game for? Video games, haha. What do you do to unwind? Watch YouTube. What’s your favorite piece of furniture you’ve ever owned? I don't have a fave. What would be the best city to live in? I don't want to live in a city. What would you like to know more about, but haven’t had the time to look into it? Time isn't an issue; I just haven't. There's lots of stuff. I'm a very curious person. How have you changed from when you were in high school? I'm less depressed, but more confused, scared, and much less motivated. Imagine a chicken wandering around with its head chopped off. Where is the most fun place around where you live? Nothing, really... Where would your friends or family be most surprised to find you? Like, a strip club or something. What’s expensive but totally worth it? This depends on what's important to you. For me, a quality DSLR camera. When do you feel most out of place? Whenever I'm some place fancy. What’s the most recent thing you’ve done for the first time? No idea. What small seemingly insignificant decision had a massive impact on your life? Accepting Jason's friend request on Facebook because I thought it was a different Jason I actually knew. What did you do last summer? Nothing, just stayed indoors trying not to melt into a sizzling puddle. What are you most grateful for? My mom. What’s the most essential part of a friendship? Trust, maybe. When was the last time you walked for more than an hour? Many, many years ago when I used to walk outside for hours with my iPod. All modesty aside, what are you better at than 90% of people? It doesn’t have to be useful or serious, it can be something ridiculous. 90% is a lot, man. Maybe bonding with animals? What’s the strangest phone conversation you’ve ever had? I don’t know. What do you like but are kind of embarrassed to admit? If I'm embarrassed by it, I have no interest in sharing it. What skill or ability have you always wanted to learn? Even just a smidge of social skills. What’s the best meal you’ve ever had? Probably the spicy shrimp fritas at Olive Garden. I adore those sooooooooo so much. Where was your favorite place to go when you were a kid? The zoo. We didn't go often at all, but I would frequently nag Mom about going. What’s something that most people haven’t done, but you have? Fed a freshly severed rat to a vulture. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I wanna go back to that bird rescue... What says the most about a person? How they treat others. What machine or appliance in your house aggravates you the most? The dryer. It can take a few rounds to fully dry something. What places have you visited that exceeded your expectations? Chicago, that I actually remember. Disney World probably did, but I was just a little kid and only have faint memories of the trip. What’s the worst advice someone has given you? I don't know. Besides your home and your work, where do you spend most of your time? People leave their houses? What are your top 3 favorite things to talk about? Mark, meerkats, and video games. When you were a kid, what seemed like the best thing about being a grown up? No one could tell me no for "stupid" reasons. What’s the strangest way you’ve become friends with someone? Strange way? I haven't got a clue. What’s your favorite band NAME (not necessarily your favorite band)? Maybe Cradle of Filth. Badass metal name. There are a lot of good ones, though. What’s your favorite thing to do outdoors? Take pictures of flowers or animals. How often do you dance? Silly/ironic dancing counts. Essentially never. Who besides your parents taught you the most about life? Jason, I guess. What’s been the most significant plot twist in your own life? The breakup that I thought was physically impossible, entirely unfathomable. Where did you take family vacations to when you were younger? We didn't really go on vacations. If you could instantly receive a Ph.D. in any discipline including all the knowledge and experience that goes along with it, what would your Ph.D. be in? Biology. What are the top three social situations you try to avoid most? Anywhere where I have to speak publicly; parties/get-togethers involving people I don't know; anywhere that is extremely crowded. Just social situations in general, really... What friendship you’ve had has impacted you the most? My friendship with Sara. What’s something you’re interested in that most people wouldn’t expect? Uhhh I don't know, really. What’s the hardest you’ve worked for something? My recovery from the breakup. What took you way too long to figure out? The only person who had any right to control my happiness and will to live was myself. What nicknames have you had throughout your life? If you include online ones as well, there's Britt, Britt-Britt, Twinkie, Bee, Flower, Ruby, Mozart2, Ozz(y), Alessa, and uhhh... I wanna say that's it? What do you do differently than most people? I deconstruct my breakfast biscuits to eat one part at a time... haha. Where’s the last place you’d ever go? Prison. What fact floored you when you heard it? That my dad did some hard drugs before us kids were born. I was entirely speechless. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin? Yeah, it doesn't bother me. Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? No. Does weed smell good? Or no? Ugh, no. It smells awful. Do you blow dry your hair or do you let it air out? Air dry. Do you catch lizards? No; I don't like the idea of catching wild animals just to pick up and check out. That poor critter is terrified. I'd rather just take pictures of it and let it go about its day. Would you rather get a big tattoo or small tattoo? I want my next tattoo to be a big'n. How many pills do you take every morning? I absolutely do not want to count. A whole lot. What was the last parade you went to? /shrug What theme would you choose for a baby’s nursery? If I was hypothetically having kids, let's see. A son, absolutely dinosaurs. A daughter, maybe meadowy with baby animals. My baby blanket was full of baby animals, so it'd be kinda cute, that connection. What color would you paint a baby girl’s nursery? Not because of gender norms, but by personal choice, pastel pink. Does your first crush know that he/she was your first crush? No. What is the last thing you missed out on that you wanted to go to? Hm. Who do you wish were your best friend? I am perfectly happy with who already is my best friend. Who do you wish you could go on another date with? She knows. Who was the last friend of yours to have a baby, and what’s the baby’s name? I'm not sure, but my high school friend Megan is due to have her daughter Persephone soon! She won the naming game. Like damn, how badass would it feel for your name to be Persephone. Do you have a favorite M&M? Just the classic ones. Is it easy to make you cry? OHHHHH YES IT IS. Have you ever snuck out? Nah. Who was the last person to comment you? On Facebook? My friend Lyndsey commented on a photo I shared. What song reminds you of being in middle school? "All Signs Point to Lauderdale" by A Day To Remember is the anthem for going through puberty in school and trying to figure yourself out. What was the first thing you learned how to cook? Scrambled eggs. What’s something really basic that you’re terrible at? Cooking. Are you pale or tan? I'm very pale. When’s the last time you were kissed? On the lips, like two or so years ago. Do you like the movie Grease? Never seen it, actually. What’s your favorite Jim Carrey movie? The Mask, probably. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? I think a fawn. Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? No. What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? I meeeaaan... Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? Yes and yes. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? Well, it's complicated. I don't, but I also want to be a freelance photographer, so I kinda would. I like the idea of having an office in my house purely for productive activities to prevent becoming lazy because I'd be at home. Would you ever be an organ donor? I am one.

[docholligay]

A Degree of Pride

A Patreon release in preparation for my Favorite 12 Fics of the Year post. Originally commissioned by the great @yamadara87, so please have some tender MaS feelings?? 2100 words.

For most of her young life, Haruka Tenoh had considered herself stupid.

She would not have admitted this, at seventeen, sitting cross-legged on the broken couch Haruka could never get clean, not really,  in front of the window in her apartment, a magazine on her lap that she was only half-reading, her school notes tucked into her bag, far away from prying eyes. As if her mother would care, even if she left it pinned to the empty fridge.

She wouldn’t have needed to read them. Haruka certainly didn’t. They always said the same things, and had since she was a little girl. Oh, it always started out with compliments. Haruka was eager. Haruka was very gentle with the class guinea pig. Haruka tried to help the other girls with their backpacks and muddy boots. But they always went the same way, descending gently down the slope, and her grandmother’s smile always turned into a frown.. Haruka seems to struggle with reading. Haruka has trouble with her temper and gets frustrated easily. Haruka’s test scores need to be discussed.

All of it boiled down to a simple fact that Haruka had come to learn very well: She was stupid.

Michiru had never accepted any of this. From the time she had come to know Haruka, and more importantly, to love her, Michiru had always expressed admiration for Haruka’s mind. She was quick to point out Haruka’s skill in the garage, the way her mind looked at machines and seemed to instinctively know where the gears went, where the belts connected. She would point out pictures of Haruka as a child, noting how she created such beautiful structures from the patchwork of bricks and legos and tinkertoys Haruka had managed to gather. The way a car or a motorcycle or any such thing seemed to mold with her body instantly, responsive.

Not all of intelligence is found in a laboratory or a recital hall, she would say, and Haruka would believe that she believed it, but that didn’t make it true, anymore than it had been true that Usagi could save the world without hurting anyone or anyone being hurt. Usagi believed that too, with her whole heart.

But it didn’t matter that she was stupid. She was handsome and athletic and independent and got to work with cars, and this would carry her as far as she needed to run.

And then, she wasn’t anymore. Usagi’d been wrong, you see.

It had been thirteen years since Usagi had been wrong. Since her whole world had burned to dust, the few blooms that she had in her favor withered and dead. Since Haruka Tenoh saw the big red mark at the top of her life and had quite nearly considered dropping out of it altogether.

But because she was stupid, she hadn’t realized in that moment that things do grow back. Gardens can come to life again. She’d figured out how to take care of herself again, and even more so discovered that sometimes it was no sign of weakness to let Michiru lower a kitchen countertop or Mina grab her a soda from downstairs. She’d designed her garage to be played in once more, and smelled of oil and grease and contentment. She had found she quite liked playing basketball, and was better at it that she’d thought she’d ever be, and once more a jersey rested in the corner of her room.  She even caught herself, from time to time and more and more, looking in the mirror and smiling at what she saw, her warm Papa aesthetic softening her edges to a gentle but undeniably handsome effect.

Color had reentered her life, and these things combined with the unspeakable joy of her children had made her life a happy one, and mostly Haruka Tenoh would say that her life was a pleasant one, minor frustrations be damned. But still there remained the bare spot that had ever been, as much as Haruka nodded and agreed when people said she was gifted in a mechanical way, it never meant anything to her. She had barely graduated high school. She was not meant to be a smart person.

Why she had written in to Tire Track, she wasn’t entirely sure. Well, she was sure, they had been wrong about the discussion of grip between asphalt and concrete on race tracks, but why she’d written an entire rebuttal over her keyboard while Kimi had napped instead of doing the laundry, that was less certain.

What had been even more surprising was Tire Track’s request that she form the rebuttal into a one-off column.

It had been one audited class in Writing for Journalism, just one vain hope that she could maybe write a few more pieces, that she could have a little side job. That it wouldn’t just have to be hobby mechanics anymore, but that she could have a small paycheck that they never needed.

If it had just been about money, Michiru wouldn’t have gone to work for the symphony. It was about pride, too.

M.A. had been five when Haruka’s journalism professor talked her into enrolling. She’d wheeled through the front doors as a freshman, and she’d pored over her Algebra and Biology and English books every night, and Michiru had beamed from the door of their living room, and Mina had practiced English with her every day, though Haruka still wasn’t sure if every word she taught her was completely the way Mina seemed to define them.

At the end of her first semester, Haruka had come home from her last final to find Michiru’s studio spirited up the attic stairs, and the room she had been using with a lovely dark wood desk in the corner, a soft a comfortable couch up against the wall with a neat table and lamp next to it, low, long, bookshelves opposite them.

She’d tried to protest. This was Michiru’s studio, and the room in the attic was smaller, and she didn’t need an office, all she did was type out a few articles here and there and take a few classes. But Michiru would hear none of it.

“Haruka, my darling, don’t be absurd. We can hardly have a columnist and a scholar in the family without a proper study.”

Haruka could still hear her. The strength and pride in her voice, the smile as she looked about the office she had so obviously taken such care to customize for Haruka.

Haruka moved from her thoughts, and studied herself in the mirror. M.A. was thirteen now, and full of vinegar, and while she would never be so young again to call Haruka Papa (Haruka was rather grateful when she moved to Pop, after a brief attempt to call her Haruka was immediately answered with Michiru’s quick correction,) and while she would claim that her parents made her crazy, she still sometimes flopped down on Haruka’s couch to text her friends or read a magazine, Kimi and Haruka quietly studying across from each other at Haruka’s desk. Haruka could not have imagined that her little two year old would prove be such a genius, but here she was, ten years old and already tackling the algebra that hadn’t reached Haruka until she was thirty.

Haruka was no genius. It had taken her eight years of slow work, but here she was, sitting in front of the mirror in their bedroom wearing a graduation gown. Here she was, an official columnist for a top car magazine. Sometimes, now, when they went to events and galas, it was because Haruka had been invited, and Michiru was the plus one. Haruka had gone to Germany, something not even Ami had ever managed to do.

And yet, she could not quite get that flower to bloom, the one that believed that she wasn’t stupid after all. It still seemed like they would take her degree and claim they’d made a mistake, Haruka hadn’t passed after all. She rubbed at her pants, straightening them once more under her gown. Why it seemed to matter that they weren’t wrinkled when no one could see them, she wasn’t sure, but it suddenly seemed crucial.

The tie looked ugly. Why had she picked that tie? She pulled it off her neck and tossed it on the bed, sighing heavily as she rolled back toward the closet. Why was she even going? She should just have them mail the certificate instead of showing up there, a nearly forty year old woman among a bunch of kids who were younger than she’d been when she’d had a kid.

“Haruka?” Michiru’s voice preceded her into the room, and its owner followed as elegantly as as a whisper of perfume.

Haruka stared at her ties for another moment, and then wheeled around to face Michiru, unsnapping the button at her throat.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

Michiru paused a for a moment and looked at Haruka, who did not meet her gaze. “Well,” she continued kindly, “Makoto will be disappointed, she’s made quite the cake for the occasion.”

Haruka shrugged and ran her hands along the rims of her wheels. ‘We can still go out to dinner or something. I know you’ve got it planned.”

Michiru sat down on bed and delicately crossed one leg over the other. “May I inquire as to the sudden disinterest in the ceremony? We can, of course, simply go to the dinner, but I do believe there are a great many people looking forward to seeing you recieve your degree.”

Haruka wheeled over close to her and shook her head. “I dunno.”

“Haruka, please.”

She sighed, but did not argue. It was silly to play games, when she and Michiru knew each other so well and for so long.

“I just--I’m old to do this, and it makes me look--I” She huffed, but then put her hand up and allowed herself a moment to collect her thoughts into an expressible condition. “I feel stupid. I feel like this was way harder than it should have been, and I’m, you know embarrassed.”

“Hm. Yes.” Michiru thoughtfully glanced up at the ceiling, and then took Haruka’s hand, placing her other on top of it. “Haruka, you and I have never had a conventional life, or a conventional course. Would you not say that is fair?”

“Yeah.” Haruka rubbed her thumb against Michiru’s hand.

“If we believe this to be true, why should this be any different? You were rather occupied with raising a family, and, might I add, creating a career for yourself, both of which you have done successfully.” She slipped her hand away to touch Haruka’s cheek. “Even after all these years, you struggle to see what you are. You are a writer and an athlete and a wonderful wife and mother. They are only students, and have a great deal of growing to do. When I think of you, I think of your many, many, talents, and how you chose to pick something a bit harder. Because you, as always, are ever so brave and tireless.” She kissed Haruka softly. “I am so very proud of you, Haruka Tenoh. You are a wonderful example to our girls. And to me. To our friends, all of which are so delighted to support you today. And I imagine you are to your classmates as well.”

“I love you so much.” Haruka nuzzled her forehead against Michiru’s, and blinked back a tear. She leaned back, and nodded. “I want to go.”

“Now, you old softie,” Michiru giggled, “I do admit this tie was a bit of a misstep. You have so many lovely ties, there’s no reason we can’t find something striking.”

Haruka pictured herself wheeling up the stage, of shaking the dean’s hand and taking her diploma. Usagi would be there snapping pictures, as Mina grinned, a gleam in her eye. Rei would huff and glower but she would have a neatly wrapped gift, the card reminding Haruka of how she’d tutored her in communications and math and attempted to tutor her in literally every other subject, including ones she had never taken before. Her girls would see how hard she tried, and how much she worked to be a Papa they could be proud of.

She would look at herself, and see someone she could be proud of.

Somewhere, in that little patch of earth that could be called Haruka’s heart, a flower bloomed.

[thecloserkin]

book review: C.J. Hauser, Family of Origin (2019)

Genre: the most literary of fiction

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: kinda

Is it endgame: no

Is it shippable: if you’re into unhealthy ships

Bottom line: i hate literary fiction. ok i don’t hate fiction obviously i just hate when it tries to be too literary?? u feel me fam

Two estranged half-siblings spend a week tying up loose ends on the remote island where their father died (it is unclear if he committed suicide). The “loose ends” are that they had sex once, as teenagers, and now it’s weird. The island is populated by cultists and nut jobs who are convinced it’s the end of days and evolution is going in reverse. I have… many equivocal feelings about this book. On the one hand there are so many lines that just peel me like an orange, lines like “There was nothing more humiliating to Elsa than her own desires” or “Elsa was never surprised when someone killed himself. She was only surprised by her own animal perseverance day after day.” Plus I think this book really gets the dynamic where they’re constantly needling each other and every interaction is doused in fifteen gallons of repressed attraction. I think this is a novel that accomplished everything it set out to do with assurance and aplomb; I’m just fundamentally uninterested in what it’s trying to do. It’s about damaged people who learn to heal but the problem is the healing is much less engaging than the hurting.

Here’s the difference between speculative fiction and literary fiction: SF/F presumes zombies are literal zombies. Instead of assuming the zombies metaphorically represent something abstract, you just take them at face value ok? You spot a time machine or a vampire, you take it at face value and you add additional layers of meaning later. Which puts me in a pickle because Family of Origin is decidedly not a genre book, so what am I supposed to think about Famous Bigshot Biologist Ian, Elsa and Nolan’s dad, and his reasons for relocating to this island? There’s no cell phone service; it is quite literally removed from civilization. When I said nut jobs I mean it’s populated by secessionists, survivalists, doomsday preppers, anti-establishment types of all stripes. And they have some kooky theories about ducks. Which Ian apparently subscribed to. If this was SF/F I would just go along with it because maybe Elsa and Nolan, having arrived on the island, will finish Ian’s life’s work and find this elusive duck and prove Charles Darwin wrong haha??? But it’s fucking literary fiction which means I have to look for SYMBOLISM gahhh kill me now.

C.J. Hauser knows what she’s doing. Her bio says she’s a creative writing instructor and you can see why. It sucks that “what she’s doing” only glancingly aligns with “what I want her to do,” but c’est la vie. I was immediately taken with her choice of island setting (remote islands breed intimacy!) and the familiar configuration of type-A older sister paired with a younger brother who begs for a scrap of notice or attention. From the get-go Elsa’s priority is control. Nolan’s is acceptance. This quote sums it up pretty handily:

The problem was that Nolan wanted answers, and Elsa wasn’t sure what she would do with answers if she found them.

Like, I personally identify more with Nolan than with Elsa, because there’s this sense of learned futility that I find kind of charming in him but everyone finds annoying af in me:

Nolan wished he could return to a time before anyone had any expectations for him.

Elsa, otoh. Here is Elsa thinking about her ex, a relationship she clung to well past the expiration date merely because he loved her more than she loved him back, and she wasn’t willing to give up that bargaining position:

As long as his side of their love had more ballast to it, she felt in control and like he would not leave. Everyone left Elsa, so she had to be sure.

Nolan and Elsa are certified disasters. They’re both so burnt-out, and twisted up inside with shame and guilt and impossible desires, and the island is the ideal backdrop for them to resolve their issues:

There was so much that was not allowed that the island seemed willing to permit. Things underwater. Things offshore.

That night, they made no pretenses about the sleeping bag and slept cupped like shells in their father’s bed.

Jesus Joseph and Mary this woman can write. I’ve even seen lines from this novel quoted in those tumblr compilation poetry posts.

Anyway Elsa and Nolan’s dynamic is they do not get along and they’ve never gotten along. It starts with Elsa’s resentment at being displaced by a new sibling, which was compounded by Elsa’s mom being divorced and replaced by Nolan’s mom. These kids have spent all their lives probing at each other’s weaknesses and I am reminded of a very apt line from a book that has absolutely jack shit to do with incest: “When siblings spar, the true cause is proximity.” This seems to apply to Elsa and Nolan’s situation more potently than most.

Will you just LOOK at this god-tier sparring though:

Nolan touched a drop of rain that hung by her ear, letting it spill onto his fingers. Elsa smacked his hand.

Don’t— Elsa began, but Nolan, dirty water dripping from his fingers, grabbed Elsa around the ankles and shook her, groaning, Graaghh! like some B-movie Swamp Thing from the deep, ready to pull Elsa into the pool. Elsa considered Nolan’s hands around her ankles.

It’s one part goofing off, one part competitive banter, and one part violent sexual tension . Elsa takes meticulous mental inventory of every instance of skin-to-skin contact and I’m like—girl you know it only means something if you let it? Who the hell pays that much attention every time their brother accidentally brushes shoulders with them?!

There was a knot between Elsa’s shoulders that twisted taut when she saw him.

Nolan is shiftless and aimless, doesn’t even have the balls to break up with his girlfriend, his internal monologue is a constant refrain of “Nolan wished there was some more-adult adult whose job this could be.” Child you are TWENTY-EIGHT years old and need to start owning your choices. I think this hypothesis that’s sorta floated in an early Elsa POV is pretty conclusively disproved in the course of the novel:

But people didn’t change. They just ran away from everyone who knew them too well so they could start over and do a better job of obscuring the worst parts of themselves.

Because they do change, both of them change and mend their ways and they become a family again and ok here’s where I have a problem with C.J. Hauser: Her idea is that you have to choose—Nolan is either Elsa’s brother or her lover:

And he understood then that he could have kept Elsa as a sister or slept with her. It was a choice, and what he’d just done was to have given her up.

It seems her whole motivation for seducing him was as a big fuck-you to their father. I’m not saying she was not attracted to him I’m saying her field of vision is dominated by Ian:

Everyone here is insane, Elsa said.

They have their reasons, said Nolan.

They have stories, not reasons.

What if you’re my story? What if the story of why I’m on this island is you?

What’s my story?

Your story is Dad.

Go to sleep.

Tell me a story.

Which is really sweet and I am a fiend for these callbacks that deliberately echo the older sibling interacting with the younger one as a baby, but Ian’s stature is such that he takes over everything?? We find out that he wasn’t that great of a scientist. That he wasn’t a great dad was clear from the start.

So the really interesting thing from a craft perspective is the climax of this book occurs in the middle of it instead of at the end. The only other novel I can think of that does this is Cloud Atlas but that has a very unique structure. The film The Talented Mr. Ripley also kind of does this?

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

It’s revealed that Elsa isn’t Ian’s biological child. Her mom had an affair and when Ian found out he divorced her and married Nolan’s mom. When Elsa learnt the truth, she took the radical step of sleeping with Nolan to prove a point, I guess? To wit: If she wasn’t Ian’s daughter then it wasn’t actually incest. If Ian was troubled then it must be because she was his daughter:

But you are this kid, her mother said. You’re so totally his kid that you think biology is the only way you can be his kid.

I’ll admit that the “they’re not related” reveal does in this instance actually serve a purpose, unlike in some other books (yup this is a Wasteland callout post). And it ties into the theme of biology, and the stupid elusive ducks that supposedly inhabit this godforsaken island:

”We’re no longer good at adapting to things in the natural world because it’s too hard to tell which parts are real anymore so we don’t know what to adapt to.”

So there you have it. Family of Origin is not a book that spoke to my soul but it is a devastatingly exquisite book, and it has a number of really shippable scenes even if the relationship taken as a whole is not one I was rooting for. Here’s Nolan trying to get laid at college:

He didn’t know what to do because there had only ever been Elsa that one time before and Elsa had known what to do.

And then he has a breakdown so bad that he calls Elsa??? For emotional support??? Even though she’s at least 50% of the reason he’s so broken. When Elsa shows up she says ”I drove over two goddamn hours so you could yell at me in person” lolololol every single line of dialogue is so on-point. Oh oh and Elsa biting his ribs and his neck while they’re lying half-naked in bed is another pearl of a scene.

I saved so many quotes from this book and half of them have nothing to do with incest but they’re SENSATIONAL so I’m going to end this review with an assortment of quotes:

that she was afraid to ask for small things like this because the need in them did not seem big enough to draw attention. That she was afraid her small needs would go unnoticed, and so she made plays at bigger ones instead.

Whatever inner thing guided normal people in their choices … Elsa’s was broken. Nolan had been her first wrong choice, years ago, and as much as she’d have liked to pretend she was different now, that it had been a stupid teenage mistake, there was too much other wrongness that came after. Dozens of dubious choices that all seemed to bloom outward from that first moment.

But no, there was a difference between realizing how wrongly he’d been made and the moment the wrongness actually happened.

Because it wasn’t perfect. Because she couldn’t tell the difference between unconditional and infallible.

Maybe the sooner Elsa stopped trying to hunt down some class of people who had all the answers—adults, scientists, Mars missions, Ian—the sooner she could stop the cycle of trying to win. Could look around and decide what kind of game might actually be worth playing.

[leo-blackwood-rp]

Character Interview II: Growing Up

UI: Alright, are you ready for the second part of the interview, Mr. Blackwood?

Leo: Yeah, let’s get started. And please just call me Leo.

UI: Okay, Leo, you mentioned that your parents, Ellis and Laura, their jobs and what they were like generally. How do you think they were as parents specifically?

Leo: They have been great parents, to be honest. I know being in the industry there’s always a lot of talk about how famous people might spoil kids too much or not be around a lot; I think there’s no way to fully know what you’re doing, it’s not like there’s a manual of how to raise your kids. But I have to say my parents did a great job balancing their work with having a family and a normal routine for us.

UI: Were your parents strict?

Leo: Not really. I mean they were strict enough with generally normal things; keeping up with school, having good grades, being a good kid. They definitely made a lot of emphasis on making both me and my brother that we are very lucky and privileged and know that all of this takes hard work; they didn’t want neither me or my brother grow up to be, you know, the typical rich spoiled rich kid.

UI: Which of your parents dealt with bad behavior most often? What did they prefer when it came to parenting?

Leo: Probably mom, I mean they both did in different ways but mom was… I guess you can say the first one who would take action if we ever got in trouble; she would be the first one to give me a lecture and ground me. While my father is generally the quiet, calm one; he would wait a little bit before he talked to me alone to make me understand whatever I did wrong.

UI: Did they ever get psychical with you or your brother?

Leo: No, never.

UI: Did you get in trouble a lot?

Leo: Not really, I mean I’m not perfect; I was a teen, I’m sure I was stupid at some point but it was never something huge.

UI: Okay, we’re doing the same dynamic we did before; can you close your eyes and tell me what the earliest memory that you can remember is?

Leo: Oh I don’t even need to close my eyes, (smiles); it’s the day I got to be in one of my mother’s films, I was about six years old I think and my mom was in this film and they needed a kid to play her kid and immediately she thought who else would be more perfect than her own kid. I remember reading lines with her, I didn’t have many dialogs; I didn’t even think it was a real job, I just though “Oh cool, I’m playing with my mom.”

I remember watching her perform as the camera started rolling, I had a seat next to the director and I just remember seeing her… and thinking how amazing she was, how graceful. The director glanced at me and let me see the screen he was looking at; you know to see his perspective and I remember feeling important; in my head I thought I was directing for a minute. And when her scene ended she looked at me and gave me a big smile as she walked towards me and called me her little director. I didn’t know then I would end up exactly that… she still calls me that some times.

UI: Can you list all of the schools that you went to? What was each like?

Leo: Sure. I went to Brentwood School for all my basic education from Elementary to High School; it was a normal school really. It’s one of the best private schools in Los Angeles area, my parents thought it was the best choice for my safety and everyone else. Being the child of famous actors can be difficult, so my parents thought it was just the best to be in a school that were more used to these things. It was a nice school, I can’t say much really; school is school, kids hate being stuck in a classroom for the most part. But I made good friends and had all the normal experiences a kid can have at school. It was good. (Laughs).

UI: What was your favorite subject in school? Why?

Leo: Other than the arts workshop, I took a course we had in school for photography and obviously that was my favorite thing in the world but I feel like that’s an obvious answer. Other than that I would have to say English and literature, I love reading; I tended to create a movie in my head for every book we had to read or every essay we had to write.

UI: What was your least favorite subject in school? Why?

Leo: Biology; it’s not that I hated all of it but I dreaded the times we had to dissect frogs and stuff like that. First of all, that’s animal cruelty and second of all I’m kind of squeamish with animal’s insides. (Chuckles)

UI: As a kid, how do you think people would describe your personality?

Leo: Generally nice? (Laughs) I don’t know, I mean I had friends, I loved to run around all the time and joke but I wasn’t like a class clown; I suppose people liked me for the most part, I never had issues with anyone that I can remember at least.

UI: As a teenager, how do you think people would describe your personality?

Leo: Well I won’t most likely to bright up your day in High School, does that help? (laughs) As narcissistic as it sounds, I swear I’m not trying to, (chuckles), I was a popular kid; I liked making friends and helping people when they had issues if I could.

UI: Would you say you were the most popular kid in school?

Leo: Uhm… I suppose I was somewhere in that area.

UI: Did your class voted for you on that? Were you prom king or anything like that?

Leo: Yeah… (laughs) This is weird. I don’t mean to sound like an asshole.

UI: You’re not (laughs)

Leo: Okay, great. (chuckles)

UI: How did you do socially in school? What ‘cliques’ did you socialize with?

Leo: I was never like a clique type of a guy or at least I didn’t care too much for it; I was in a sport’s team so I got to hang out with the jocks, I was also in arts so I was around artsy kids obviously. Generally, I just like to be friends with people I shared things in common and you know, I could get along with. I did hated people who thought were bullies or liked to make others less; I went to a good school though where people got along, there were one or two people who liked to create issues but it wasn’t as bad as other’s schools could be.

UI: Who were your friends as a kid?

Leo: Toby Jenkins was my best friend from like Elementary school up until now really; we’ve been great friends ever since we were kids, our parents are in the Industry and they are actually friends so we grew up to be like brothers. There was this other kid called Samuel Hill, we were really close up until we were like twelve years old because that’s when he moved to Japan because of his father’s job and we kind of lost touch. Emma Moore was also a good friend of mine, she moved to New York when we were around thirteen or fourteen; we still keep in touch, Toby used to have the biggest crush on her (laughs).

UI: Who were your friends as a teenager?

Leo: Toby, obviously. Aaron Wood, he moved from Canada when we were around sixteen, we got along pretty well; we’re still pretty close. I was also really close to Danielle Avery; she was a student at my school and also and actress, she was a friend and we dated in High School.

UI: Are you still close to Danielle?

Leo: Not really, sometimes we run into each other but we don’t have a really close relationship anymore; it just happens with relationships but it’s not something dramatic.

UI: What did you think of school generally speaking?

Leo: I don’t really have much thought about it. Of course, it’s important to get your basic education and that’s kind of a way you learn to socialize; it’s the place where you start trying to find out who you are, I suppose. I had a general good experience; I made great friends and gathered great memories. But I won’t lie and say that I loved sitting for ours during class every day. I was a normal kid. (Chuckles)

UI: What is your worst memory from school?

Leo: I don’t really have any sort of traumatic memory or experience from school, I think I was lucky enough to not get bullied and even if someone tried I was the type to not let people mess with me. So yeah… if anything a sad moment I believe would be my first heartbreak which was me breaking up with my first girlfriend, I was fifteen and she basically decided she liked basketball guys instead of football so she dumped me for another guy and that hurt. Teen years man (chuckles).

UI: What is your best memory from school?

Leo: Prom and Graduation for sure; that sounds so cliché I know but It was probably the best part of it; you know after studying hard so many years you finally are over with that part of your life, I was so eager to start with my life and going to college to prepare for something I knew I loved. Seeing my parents proud and obviously celebrating that with my friends, it’s just a wonderful experience.

UI: What did you think that you wanted to be while growing up?

Leo: Uhm… I know when I was really young like five or six I wanted to be Spiderman, you know he’s very strong and can climb buildings and he loved taking photographs so it kind of checked all the awesome boxes for me. (Laughs) As I got older I thought I wanted to act like my parents but soon I realized I didn’t have the heart for it and realized I was really interesting in photography and filming, It didn’t take me long before deciding I wanted to be a director.

UI: What was your favorite thing to do as a child?

Leo: I loved playing video games and running around outside, I started loving photography pretty early on, I think I was seven or eight when  I got my first camera and I carried that with me everywhere I went.

UI: What was your favorite thing to do as a teenager?

Leo: Hanging out with my friends and girlfriend, video games and photography. Nothing changed much (laughs)

UI: Do you think that school properly prepared you for your job? Why or why not?

Leo: I mean… I guess it might have given me some basic tools for it but it was really me learning on my own cuz I loved it and also when I went to college that was like the real in depth learning process for me.

UI: Do you think that you got most of your skills or abilities from school? How so, if so? If not, where did you get them?

Leo: College definitely thought me a lot but I’m also a very curious person so I taught myself a lot of things simply because I liked to do research on things I was curious about or saw other directors or photographers doing when I was around my parents’ jobs.

UI: Who did you look up to while you were growing up? Why?

Leo: My parents, they are very passionate about their work but acting is not the only thing they did; they knew how privilege they are and they always made sure to use the platform and the voice they had to create change and give to people who are less fortunate; I just think they are amazing human beings and that’s exactly the type of person I want to be.

UI: Who do you think from the past had the most influence on you as a person now?

Leo: Uhm… that’s a hard question to answer. I think every single person you came in contact with through your life leaves you a lesson; good or bad, it helps you shape into whoever you are today. If I had to pick anyone it would be my parents for the same reason I mentioned in the previous question.

UI: You’ve talked about your immediate family. Is there anyone in your extended family that you were in contact with or were close to? Why or why not?

Leo: I have an uncle, brother of my mother who’s a photographer; he’s won awards for it and he shared his passion with me when I was a kid. We got really close because our common interest. He’s always around all the time; he’s always been there for us.

UI: Is there anyone outside of your blood that you consider family?

Leo: Love Bryant. We’ve known each other for a long time now, we’ve seen each other and supported each other in the best and worst moments of our lives; she’s like a sister to me.

UI: Have you had your first kiss already? If so, when? Who did you have it with? How did it happen?

Leo: My first kiss was with a girl named Jenny, when I was around eleven; it was during a spin the bottle game. A little awkward you know, we were little kids and it happened in front of a lot of other kids who kept teasing us. Childhood. (laughs)

UI: Have you had intercourse? If so, when was the first time? Who did you have it with? How did it happen?

Leo: Like most American man my age, yes I’ve had sex before.(chuckles). My first time was with my high school girlfriend, Danielle, we were sixteen or seventeen years old and my parents had to go away for a weekend and trusted me enough to look after myself for two days… Danielle came over to hangout, one thing led to another and we ended up losing our virginity that night.

UI: To close out now that you’ve looked at your growing up, how would you describe your childhood in general?

Leo: Happy, I honestly don’t have anything to complain about; I was… I am a lucky guy. I never lacked anything, I didn’t have any really terrible experiences; except for the way my previous relationship ended but I see those things as normal things that might happen in life. So yeah, I’ve had a good life so far.

[dreaming-of-assclass]

AssClass OC

*SOBS* SHE’S FINALLY DONE!! 😭

Trying to replicate the Lerche style was...painful and took forever lmao

I’m just gonna info-dump a lot about her under the cut! Honestly less than half of this is relevant, but I figured I’d include as much as I can so you can get to know her.

I’m not making a fanfic for her or anything: but she will pop up a lot in mini drabbles, art pieces, etc.

Kamiya Mai (神谷舞) - Possessing charisma and a knack for navigating around any type of terrain; Class E’s Investigator

“Bravery doesn’t come from nowhere. You have to be scared first to have courage.”

Description

One of the class moodmakers, Mai is fun, witty, and cares deeply for her peers. She puts her all into everything she does and isn’t afraid to stand up for others.

She has an extremely strong photogenic memory and a natural knack for exploring new places, gathering information and memorizing routes with ease.

She’s a skilled athlete as well, very quick, agile and able to use it to her advantage in assassinations.

Codename: Honeybee (ミツバチ/Mitsubachi), Sugino’s Idea

He’s been struck with disbelief after having breakfast at her house once and finding out she puts honey on her pancakes instead of syrup. Also the name is fitting overall, as her short temper and cute looks remind him of a honeybee.

Birthday: April 2nd

Height: 155 cm

Weight: 51 kg

Bust Size: C

Blood Type: B

Favorite Subjects: Art, Biology, History

Worst Subjects: Classical and Modern Japanese, Math

Interests and Special Skills: Skateboarding and exploring new places

Former Club: Calligraphy Club

Treasured Items: Her hat collection and art journal

Favorite Food: Iced Coffee

Bento or Snacks: Snacks

___________________________

Stats

Physical Ability: 4

Mobility: 4.5

Close-Range Assassination: 4

Long-Range Assassination: 2

Academic Prowess: 3.5

Characteristic Skill (Spy-in-Training): 4

___________

Karasuma’s Assassination Aptitude

Strategy/Planning: 2

Commanding/Leadership: 3

Execution (ability to carry out plans): 4

Technique (traps, weapons, preparations, etc): 1

Scouting/Intelligence Gathering: 6

Politics/Negotiations: 5

____________

Bitch-sensei’s Fashion Check

Mai has a very tomboyish, soft grunge style. She seems to be equally fond of pants and skirts, although prefers the former for the sake of mobility. Overall her style is street-savvy, and she’s most fond of pink, white, black, red, and gray tones.

School Uniform

With summer being the exception, Mai wears thigh-high black stockings with her uniform. She wears the uniform with little change besides that. Mai changes her hair up very often, but some common styles are space buns, pigtails, or half-up. She’s quite fond of hair clips and wear them everyday.

Street Clothes

Mai wears hats very often, and it drives me crazy. Why cover up that cute face of hers all the time?? She’s very fond of Doc Martens, and usually pairs those with leggings. On her girlier side, skater skirts are a good look for her. And paired with whatever, she seems to really like hoodies.

______________

Relationships

(All of these have so much depth, I’m gonna have to make a separate post o_o)

- Sugino Tomohito (addressed as Tomohito)

He was the first friend she made once she joined Kunugigaoka. They’re best friends and stick to each other often. She greatly supported him during the baseball game against the main campus, to the point that she joined it herself to keep an eye on him.

- Okano Hinata (addressed as Hinata or Lesser Hina)

They hit it off instantly, but upon learning they shared the same birthday, Mai joyfully declared them sisters. They’re very close and bond over a lot, especially sports and thrill-seeking. They can clash at times with their similar temperaments.

- Kanzaki Yukiko (addressed as Yukiko)

Their relationship had a very rocky start. Neither of them liked each other and had very differing natures. It wasn’t until the Kyoto Trip that they began to understand each other. After that, their friendship steadily grew and they became very close. They balance each other as opposites.

- Asano Gakushuu (addressed as Asano or President-kun)

After the first semester mid-term exams, Mai’s family decided to request tutoring for her, so her grades could stay fine/rise. Who else was assigned to her but Asano Gakushuu? It’s a challenge keeping 3-E a secret, but Mai enjoys teasing him and having conversations about anything. And Gakushuu won’t admit it but he does enjoy her company. They grow to have a friendship over the course of the year.

- Kurahashi Hinano (addressed as Hinano or Superior Hina)

They started out as casual friends for a while, but still got along super well. Then summer break began and they found each other to be great bug-catching partners. They have a lot in common, being excitable and chatty. Their conversations never end. Mai is glad there’s a biology nerd besides herself.

- Akabane Karma (addressed as Karma or Satan)

They’re very good friends, and surprisingly clicked fast! They have a lot of similar interests and occasionally, Mai will volunteer to help him in pranks. Karma loves to ruffle/mess up her hair, half out of fondness and half genuine enjoyment at her ire. He calls her “May-chan” in an exaggerated American accent to make fun of her. They can disagree at times but when push comes to shove, they’re there for each other.

-Kayano Kaede (addressed as Kaede, later Akari)

They’re definitely close friends and it’s just so obvious to everyone how much Mai adores her. She’s constantly hugging her, getting her pudding, etc. But more than that, Kayano was someone she could confide in and felt comfortable around. The reveal hits Mai hard, and she needs a while away from her. Once her anger fades, she feels more empathy towards Kayano than anything else. Their friendship repairs and grows stronger afterwards.

__________________

Members of the Kamiya family:

Mother: Professional Choreographer

Mai gets along with her mom and they’re quite close, being each other’s only immediate family. But they don’t have much in common and her mother’s demanding job doesn’t allow them to spend much time together. Mai has grown relying on outside friends more for company.

________________

A hidden side of Mai Kamiya

She loves biology...but anatomy and anything human body-related makes her very squeamish. She especially can’t handle the sight of blood or needles before feeling dizzy.

_______________

Extra notes:

^^ Actually that ties into a lot about her. She has really awful test anxiety, which is how she dropped down to 3-E. She either did poorly in the exams for her worst subjects...or in the final exam of 2nd year, she skipped school to avoid the test all together. That’s how scared she was.

She gets very nauseous and feels sick under a lot of academic pressure, especially in exams.

She’ll never admit this though. No, in every other aspect of her life, she tries her hardest to keep a brave face, look independent and strong and everything she doesn’t feel she truly is.

Before I forget to mention this, she transferred to Kunugigaoka in her second year! She met Sugino since they were in the same class, and he was the first friend she made. 

She has a lot of pride in things she is good at (sports, art) and it can push to the point of arrogance sometimes.

Will take any chance to prove herself, even if it’s reckless or stupid or ruin things. For someone who’s a moodmaker and loves people, she’s not the best team player but that improves over time.

Generally is easygoing and goes with the flow of the mood...but she can have a short temper, and go from 0-100 fast. Only if someone is insulting her or her loved ones though.

She’s pretty confrontational, but don’t be fooled: she’s more bark than bite. She’s a sweetheart deep down, and all her classmates know it.

She’s bubbly, cute, and a total chatterbox once she gets comfortable around people, and can drop her “cool rebel” facade

Very creative and resourceful UwU. Super quick-witted too.

But she also can be incredibly ambitious and has big aspirations for the future. She’s fairly realistic though.

Her biggest flaws are that she can be self-centered, very stubborn, rash, short-tempered, overdramatic, and slightly arrogant. She has little confidence in herself.

Her name “Mai” means “dance” and it was given by her mother, a professional dancer. She wanted to name her daughter after her greatest passion. Even though Mai grows to have absolutely no interest in dance lmfao. She complains about this but stops when she learns of poor Kimura’s plight.

She grew up speaking a lot of English within her family since her mother used to live in America so her language skills are great...but she is far from perfect at literature. She mostly just lacks the patience to analyze it and finds it boring.

And...that’s it UwU. Also just gonna drop this transparent version because I worked really hard on drawing her and I’m proud 💜

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 7: Celebration

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunkenness (they’re just chillin’ with some drinks)

Word Count: 8,129

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Connor is just leaving the office area with Ritch right at his heels when someone suddenly pops up from around the corner. Connor jerks into something resembling a fight stance, then just as quickly relaxes with a huge sigh and small smile. It’s just Simon. The blond smiles apologetically, while the rest of the crew starts standing up after leaning up against the wall behind him.

    “Well? What’s the news? Are you staying or going?” North asks impatiently.

    “We’re staying.” Ritch informs in a tone he hasn’t heard in a while. When Connor turns to look at him, his twin has a small smile and a light in his eyes that he thought Amanda successfully destroyed long ago; one of content and relief.

    The four trainees all cheer at once, and Simon hops over to hug Ritch in one arm and Connor in the other. Connor short-circuits for a moment, but Ritch immediately gives a gentle hug back. Before he can copy his twin, though, Simon is letting go and Markus is taking his place, leading them away with one arm over each of their shoulders.

    “This is a cause for celebration!” He calls, making both twins cringe at the volume right by their ears.

    “Yeah! We already have people bringing drinks and snacks to Simon’s and Markus’ bunker!” North cheers.

    That catches Connor’s attention. “Drinks? As in, alcoholic drinks? Aren’t those prohibited?”

    “Maybe for pilots they are, but not for us normal people and trainees, it’s only looked down upon!”

    Josh elaborates a bit further. “Technically we’re not supposed to get drunk, but I’ve been getting close with some of the people who work in the lab downstairs, and they’re all allowed to have drinks every now and then, or they can do this weird petition thing to get a larger supply if there’s some kind of thing they’re celebrating. I just asked a couple of them if they could get one going so we could have a few drinks tonight.”

    “You were that confident we were going to stay?” Ritch asks.

    “Eh,” Markus says unsurely, “We figured you probably wouldn’t be sent off, not with how perfect you guys are for this job, but could’ve been a sending off party if things went downhill. Now stop asking questions and let's get back to our bunker!”

    Markus then unloops his arms from their shoulders and sets off at a faster pace. Connor and Ritch quickly catch up to him. It doesn’t take too long to make it to Simon’s and Markus’ bunker, and when they do, there’s two other people waiting in front of it. One look at Ritch proves that he doesn’t know who these people are either, but they’re holding drinks, so they must be Josh’s scientist contacts.

    “Did you guys bring any snacks?” The tanned woman waiting calls amicably. 

    Simon shakes his head, “No, the cafeteria was completely closed, and no one was willing to donate to our cause.”

    The woman shakes her head with a sarcastic frown, “The greedy fucks.” She smiles, “Lets get all of this inside, then, shall we? I don’t want Hank or someone coming around the corner and seeing this.” She lifts up four bottles of amber-colored alcohol.

    “Why not?” Connor didn’t mean to ask out loud because he has a feeling why she would say that, but there’s no taking it back now.

    “Because this is his favorite stuff.” She walks through the door that’s been opened by Simon, “He used to always try to leech this off of me until what’s-his-face came along and was happy to give up his small ration. And now he’s on complete prohibition by the orders of the Marshal.” She sets them on the desk connected to the wall. “Honestly, it took him long enough.”

    Connor simply nods and makes a note of the brand while looking around the room. It’s an exact copy of his and Ritch’s shared room, except Simon and Markus have photos and drawings hung up with sticky-tack and little trinkets and other small souvenirs on the higher shelves, along with plenty of fictional books among their brand new study material.

    Where Ritch and Connor decided against paying extra to get the study material, they signed up to bring their own (which was almost free because Amanda had most of the books needed). Most people wouldn’t have that kind of luxury, and it makes Connor almost feel guilty for just a moment, then it goes away just as quickly when he spots a family picture on the shelf. Younger versions of North, Josh, Markus, and Simon are all posing around an older caucasion man in a wheelchair outside under a tree. It’s very nice, and it makes Connor wish he somehow had taken pictures of him and Ritch as they were growing up.

    This room makes the twins’ bunker seem empty and lifeless, but Connor doesn’t even know where to start in getting their room to look this lively, besides being cheesy and hanging up Jaeger posters when there’s a loading dock of them in the same building. Maybe he’ll try drawing one of the newer models to hang up if it’s allowed– not that he can draw well, but it’d be a nice challenge on one of his slower, emptier days.

    “Let’s get this started!” North suddenly shouts, making everyone cheer and Connor glad that these rooms are pretty much sound proof with all of the metal and concrete everywhere. 

    Instantly, there’s a bottle and a small cup pushed into his hand. The cup is partially filled with the amber alcohol that that woman, Vanessa apparently, told him was Hank’s supposed favorite. Connor tries a sip of that first and finds it disgusting, plus the burning sensation down his throat is too off-putting for Connor, so he sets it aside. The second bottle is something pink that Simon put in his hand with a wink. A sip of this is like drinking some kind of fruity soda with a certain zip to it. Connor decides he likes it, and grabs the same brand in the four other flavors after reading it barely has 3% alcohol in it versus whatever the hell is in that amber stuff.

    A few hours and many, many drinks later, almost everyone is some degree of drunk and has split off into two groups. Markus turns out to be very tactile when he’s drunk, and is currently cuddling Simon while the blond and North are giggling about anything and everything over where they’re sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. Josh is sitting on the lower bunk, gushing about something he can’t understand to Vanessa and Riley, and Ritch seems to be following along well enough from where he’s sitting calmly on the ground. It makes sense. Ritch was always more into the tech and psychology side of science, and Connor was more interested in biology and first aid. Neither of them really loved science, but those were their preferred types when they had to choose one for schooling.

    Connor gets up from where he’s leaning against the desk with all of the drinks. Over the past few hours, he started a game with himself; how many bottles can he hide somewhere on himself before someone notices. It slowly grew more challenging the more bottles he was stashing away, and he almost got caught twice, but now he has a total 13 bottles of different-colored wine coolers stashed in the fluffy jacket he’s wearing (everyone got hot and lowered the thermostat, so Connor was given Markus’ jacket to keep warm after refusing to drink the beer and whiskey to keep warm) and in various pockets of his cargo pants, and everyone is too drunk and/or preoccupied to notice him taking a 14th one.

    Well, Ritch might be noticing him, but if he has, he’s made no move to stop him. He’d like to think that his brother has secretly joined in on this little game, or made his own in some way. It’s more likely that he just doesn’t care what Connor’s doing, though, and he tries to tell himself that it’s perfectly alright. It actually kind of works, this time.

    The point is, this was all fun earlier when people could still talk, but were stupid and loose enough to do and say ridiculous things. Now, though, he’s the only one sober enough to walk in a straight line (except for Ritch, who only choked down a beer or two after deciding wine coolers are too sweet for him), and everyone else is too shit-faced (North’s words from earlier) to properly hold a conversation. 

    There were four bottles of whisky and two large packs of beer and a thing of wine coolers when this all started, so Connor’s a bit worried that, between six people, there is only half a bottle of whiskey and a six spare beers left (not including the 13 wine coolers poorly hidden on himself). That whiskey is supposedly strong, and he has absolutely no clue how much alcohol an adult body can take before bad things start to happen– he mainly learned about injuries, not drunkenness or illnesses. He doesn’t really trust North around this stuff, since she looks the closest to going into a coma and had been going back for more drinks more frequently than anyone else.

    With that, a sudden idea pops into his head.

    He still needs to thank Mr. Anderson for talking to Marshal Fowler and for everything else he’s done for him, and if what Vanessa said earlier is true, then he won’t be able to get access to any alcohol for a long while, if ever. Connor may not know much about anything outside of injuries, but he does know that completely cutting someone off suddenly when they have a drinking addiction as strong as Mr. Anderson’s is not good. It can lead to worse things, and he doubts he’ll stop drinking just because of the threat of not getting anymore. Maybe he’ll slow, but not stop. He’s pretty sure that’s not how it works.

    Connor glances at the clock, which glows the numbers “1:07” in bright blue. Although, if this whiskey is really Mr. Anderson’s favorite drink, then he shouldn't mind if Connor brings it over this late– or this early– as a quick thank you, especially so if he isn’t supposed to have this kind of thing anymore. Connor knows this isn’t a good idea, but quite frankly, he trusts Mr. Anderson with it more than North at this point. He at least should know how to handle his drinking so he doesn’t immediately die from alcohol poisoning, and Connor wouldn’t be surprised if she already has poisoning to a certain degree.

    Now that he’s finally convinced himself that this is, indeed, what he wants to do, he carefully unloads some of his bottles of wine coolers (he wants to bring some back to his bunker to put in his and Ritch’s mini-fridge because they’re delicious in smaller, occasional doses). That makes just enough room for the several beers he stashes in their place. It takes just over fifteen minutes of shuffling so he isn’t being completely obvious, but no one seems to have noticed yet, not even Ritch, who’d surely be giving him a very strange look by now if he did.

    Now the trick he wants to use for the whisky bottle (shove it in a pillowcase with a pillow and carry it just right, so it looks like it’s just the pillow he’s holding) won’t work because everyone is hoarding the pillows, and the bottle is a bit too square-shaped for that. He can’t even use the balled-up-blanket trick because the only two in the room are occupied as well. Hiding it under his jacket would make the whisky bottle clink against the beer and wine cooler ones, and there’s no way to keep it up in his jacket and look natural at the same time, anyway.

    Unless it didn’t need to look completely natural.

    All it would take to get it out of the room is tucking it under his jacket, and who is going to be walking down the bunker halls this late at night (early in the morning?)? Connor highly doubts that there are guards stationed in a hallway filled with people whose entire job is batting and killing giant aliens that destroy cities for fun. The only other people he could think of that could be out at this time are people working the night shifts, and he doubts anyone focused on their own job will notice or care that he has a bottle in his hand, even less so if the label is covered by something to make it less obvious that it’s alcohol and not some kind of juice or tea.

    Therefore, Connor looks around to make sure that no one is watching– Josh and Ritch are still talking quietly, but Riley is asleep and Vanessa looks about there too, with Markus, Simon, and North following her close behind– then takes three napkins and the bottle and shoves it all under his jacket carefully. He takes two experimental steps towards Ritch both to test how loud the bottles are and to tell his brother that he plans to leave. There’s minimal noise as long as he shuffles “tiredly” rather than taking actual steps. He stops right by Ritch, who looks up questioningly at him.

    “I’m gonna head to bed. It’s getting late for me.”

    Ritch nods, “Alright. I planned on leaving soon as well. I want to get everyone situated and comfortable before I do.”

    Connor nods a single time, then turns and leaves silently. He keeps his arms curled around himself as if he was still cold despite the jacket as he opens the door. Again, if Ritch has noticed anything, which he must have by now, then he doesn’t say anything. Connor keeps his arms like that until he decides the coast is clear, then pulls out the bottle and napkins, loosely wrapping the napkins around it and holding the covered bottle like he would any old water bottle.

    He passes his own bunker on the way to Mr. Anderson’s, but decides against going inside to drop off his wine coolers. Even though less bottles would allow him to move more naturally, the time it would take to dig them out and put them away isn’t worth it, since he’s to get back before Ritch does. He moves on a bit quicker at the reminder of his self-set time restraint. 

    While Connor hopes that Mr. Anderson is still up, he knows the chances of that are rather low. As he approaches his lunch companion’s door, he realizes he needs to come up with some kind of plan of where to keep this stash if the retired pilot won’t wake up or won’t let him inside to unload everything. He doesn’t want Ritch to know about this any more than he probably already does, after all.

    He quickly decides that he’ll put the alcohol under his own blanket. His reasoning is that the mini-fridge is out of the question for anything except for his own colorful alcohol because there’s just no room in the ridiculously tiny thing. Plus, because Connor is on the top bunk, it would be difficult to see unless someone climbs up there, and no one would do that, especially not between now and lunch. No one has even been in their room before, not unless Ritch brought someone in there without his knowledge, but he’s more protective of their space than Connor is, so that’s very unlikely.

    As Connor raises his hand to knock, Connor realizes what it may look like for someone to knock on the known-alcoholic’s door in the middle of the night with a covered bottle in hand. He quickly tucks the whisky bottle under his jacket carefully and hugs his left arm to his chest to pin it in place as he finally knocks.

    He waits a few moments for any sign that Mr. Anderson is up, then knocks again, this time more firmly. When there’s still no response, Connor turns to go back to his room. He doesn’t want to wake him up if he’s still asleep, after al. He pulls out and readjusts the bottle and napkins in his hand so it doesn’t slip from his grip and keeps his stride at a tired shuffle. He makes it five steps before the sound of a door opening stops him in his tracks.

    “Connor? What the fuck are you doing? It is 1:30 in the morning.”

    He spins around as quickly as he’s silently able to with all the bottles tucked into his waistband. It ends up not being very fast.

    “May I talk to you? Inside?” he asks boldly. He notes the other’s disheveled appearance, with the stained shirt and holey sweatpants. 

    “Fuckin’– What?” he shakes his head incredulously. “Could this not wait until a decent time to be awake? Why now in the middle of the night?”

    “I just wanted to give you something as my thanks, and I’d rather do it without people around to poke their noses into it.” he replies genuinely, “But I guess it can wait until after lunch–”

    “Wait a minute.” he interrupts, “What do you mean, ‘give me something as a thanks’? A thanks for what? And why would people not mind their own businesses?”

    “I mean, I’m sure they would, but I’d still rather not talk about this in the middle of the hall.” He swings the whiskey bottle in his hand, hoping the other man will figure it out on his own. If the way Mr. Anderson tracks the movement with his eyes says anything, he definitely did.

    “Fuck’s sake, get in here.” He turns and disappears behind the door, leaving it open behind him. Connor hears him mutter “not like I was actually sleeping anyway…” before he makes a move to enter.

    Connor can’t help but notice that the room is cleaner than it was last time he was in here. The top of his desk is empty. There’s only one bottle Connor can spot out in the open, versus the several before. All of the clothes that were once in one large pile are now in two piles and a folded stack, which Connor elects to assume means “unwearable”, “not clean”, and “clean” based off of Mr. Anderson’s habits and normal wardrobe. He carefully shuts the door behind himself and eyes the older man, who’s leaning against the desk tiredly, now. It looks like he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, but he looks more tired despite that.

    “You cleaned again.”

    He really didn’t mean to say that out loud– hell, he didn’t even mean to say it the last time he was in here–, but Mr. Anderson doesn’t seem as bothered by it as he was before.

    “Yea? You gonna say that every time you come in here and I’ve made progress? What about when it gets messy again, hm? ‘Cause I guarantee it will.” he challenges.

    Connor just shakes his head calmly with a nervous smile. “If you’ll believe me, I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud. And this isn’t my room, it’s yours, so I don’t see why it’d be any of my business what you do with it beyond keeping potentially harmful bottles off the ground.” He pauses to eye the desk Mr. Anderson is leaning on. “Do you mind if I use your desk for a second?”

    It’s a rough topic change, but it’s one that Mr. Anderson takes silently. He simply moves out of the way, overplaying exasperation of having to as he waves to it. Connor nods a silent thanks and walks over, mentally cringing at the feeling of the bottles in his waistband rubbing and clanging together with each step. Apparently his lunch companion couldn’t tell that he was hoarding bottles until now because he’s suddenly extremely interested in what Connor has.

    He puts down the whisky first and uncovers it, discarding the napkins on the ground for now. Mr. Anderson is immediately at his side to investigate, obviously surprised to see the brand.

    “What the fuck? This is full?” he whispers, then continues the same way as if someone will overhear him if he speaks too loud. “Where the hell d’ya get this? And how?”

    “I heard that Marshal Fowler suddenly went from somewhat tolerating your drinking to cutting you off completely,” he answers partially, ever-so-carefully unzipping his jacket so the bottles barely tucked inside the inner pockets don’t slip out and crack or shatter. “And strictly from a medical point of view, it’s not healthy to cut off an addiction like yours like that so suddenly, so I decided to help out as thanks for talking to the marshal about giving me and Ritch a second chance. But don’t expect me to do this again, I was only able to this time because I was at a celebration and everyone was extremely inebriated.”

    Once Connor has his jacket unzipped, he slowly pulls out the two beer bottles in the most danger of falling. The one on the left side makes his wine cooler bottle almost fall, so he has to pin it under his left arm so he has time to put the beer in his right hand down and catch it. He then digs out two more beers and sets them down, realizing there’s no good way about unloading Mr. Anderson’s alcohol without making his own fall out. 

    “Jesus. How many bottles did you take?” He picks up one of the beer bottles, studying the label.

    “I had 16 bottles on me, plus the whisky–”

    Mr. Anderson’s head snaps to him, “Wait, what?–”

    “–and I think the only bottle people will notice missing is the whisky, since there were only four of them and there wasn’t enough room to stash them in the recycling with the beers and wine coolers. Though I doubt they’ll really care or question why there’s only three bottles left in the room.” Connor pulls out the last beer in his jacket pocket, then starts the process of freeing the one in his waistband, which is going to require taking them all out then resizing the belt. “Oh! And the wine coolers are mine, so you can’t have any.”

   “I don’t like fruity drinks anyway.” he answers, staring at Connor as if he has a second head or a third leg. Connor ignores this easily, it’s a look he’s very used to, sadly. 

    He moves to pull out one of the two beer bottles from under his belt and immediately realizes his mistake. The wine-cooler bottles carelessly tucked in the biggest pockets are heavily weighing his pants down, and he doesn’t feel like flashing anyone. With a defeated sigh, he pulls the two bottles from the pockets over his calves (People rarely look down when they have somewhere they need to be, so the chances of someone other than Ritch noticing those two and the two lumps in his nearly-untied boots then commenting on it are lower than people seem to think). He then tries to get the bottle out again, but the three in the back start slipping, but if he tries to keep them from falling, then the bottles in the front will fall.

    Realizing how stupid this delema is since it’s his bottles that are about to go down his pants and not anyone else’s, he simply pulls out Anderson’s bottle and lets the rest drop down his pant legs. He tightens up his belt, then removes the two from in his boots and lets the fallen wine coolers in his pant legs slip to the ground unharmed.

    “Jesus fucking christ, you actually had 16 bottles tucked away.” Connor looks up and sees Hank shaking his head in disbelief. “How in the fuck did you manage that? Actually, why would you try to do this in the first place?”

    “I got bored, and despite what everyone thinks of me, I’m not a rule-following teacher’s pet.” He sits on the ground and starts working on lacing his boots properly. “I just make sure that my ‘crimes’ aren’t serious and are done without anyone noticing.” He finishes tying boots onto his feet, then looks up to smirk up at the ex-pilot. “Like hiding 16 bottles of alcohol in various places and delivering seven of them to someone who’s supposed to not have them.” He starts stuffing the coolers on the ground away in his pockets, not wanting to impose on the other man too much longer.

    “And where did you say you got all of this from? A celebration?”

    Connor nods and stands up. “Some of my and Ritch’s mutual friends had a small gathering with copious amounts of alcohol because tonight we found out we’re staying!” Connor beams. It feels very strange on his face after so long of being in a tense or panic-like state. “And with the way Marshal Fowler was speaking, it sounds like we’ll be able to graduate as soon as we find partners to pilot with. So that’s what all this is,” he gestures to the bottles, “It’s a thanks for that, because he mentioned in passing that you spoke to him, and he trusts your judgement of people.”

    Connor sees Mr. Anderson’s expression of surprise, and doesn’t try to work out if it’s a good or negative type. He just waits patiently, knowing that he’s probably trying to figure out a way to say something. That’s what these lengthy silences meant most of the other times, anyway.

    “You do realize that you’ll get in big trouble for this if you’re caught. After all the paperwork stuff and everything.” It’s not the kind of thing Mr. Anderson has to work himself up to say before, but Connor is the last person to push someone for withholding potentially sensitive information or opinions.

    “Then it’s a good thing I won’t be,” Connor states confidently, “I may get anxious or uncomfortable with a lot of things, but these past couple of weeks of adjusting to how things work around here are not how I usually am. I’m not normally that fragile or easy to upset. Besides,” he leans on the desk casually, “if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s yoga and stealing food and drinks. I’ve had more than enough practice growing up to feel confident in my abilities to get away with tonight’s heist, Mr. Anderson.”

    He stands up straight again before blinking in shock at himself. He just mentioned a detail of his childhood and isn’t affected by it. Hell, now he’s actively thinking about how he and Ritch had to sneak out of the house with stolen money if they ever wanted any kind of junk food and he’s still completely unbothered by the memory. There must be more alcohol in his system than he thought. Just how many wine coolers did he have to drink in order to get loose like this?

    “It’s Hank.”

    Connor snaps his head up, not knowing when it lowered in the first place. He’s extremely glad all of his bottles are tucked safely away because if he was still holding one, he might have just dropped it on the hard floor.

    “I’m sorry?” he asks politely. There’s no way the Mr. Anderson is asking Connor, the annoying kid with the fucked up head, to call him by his first name.

    It’s extremely disrespectful to call someone older than you anything other than Miss, Misses, or Mister, even if they’re only older by five years, Amanda’s voice informs in his head.

    Never judge a person purely based on their age. Some people, like you, are completely mature despite their age still being a comparatively small number. Some people, like Howard over there, still act like children even though they’re older than me. Treat a person with a careful balance of how they act and what social standards require, the same voice scolds louder.

    “Look, if you’re still going to bug me during lunch and dinner, then I’d rather you just call me Hank.” He sighs and looks away. “Having someone like you call me ‘Mr. Anderson’ makes me feel old, and honestly? A little fuckin’ creeped out too. Mister and miss or whatever is reserved for children, and you don’t look like a fuckin’ child to me.”

    For the first time in a long while, Connor chooses to ignore Amanda’s irritated voice in his head. He’ll only call him Hank because the other wants him to, and he has a feeling that they’re something he calls “quiet friends”. Friends without stating it and never mentioning as much for one or both people's sake, but still friends nonetheless. But in the end, it doesn’t matter because either way, Connor feels accomplished. He just made his first friend that didn’t tie in to Ritch at all.

    Connor realizes too late that he hesitated for a tad too long, so he tries to break the growing tension with a very bad joke.

    “Well then, Hank, you can just call me Connor, now. No ‘Mr. Stern’ necessary anymore.”

    It takes Mr. And– Hank a second to understand the joke that he never once called Connor by his last name before, then he’s shaking his head at the ceiling with a huff of amusement.

    “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

    “Most likely. Hopefully it won’t be too painful, though.” Connor smirks.

    Hank looks back down with a scowl, but Connor swears he can see mirth in his eyes.

    “Just get out of here and go to fucking bed before anyone gets any wrong– or right– ideas.” he nods to the door.

    Connor nods and quickly gets to the door. However, he pauses just as he’s about to open it, then turns back to Hank.

    “As I said before, I won’t be doing this again and feeding your issue, Hank. I’m just acknowledging that quitting cold turkey like Marshal Fowler wants you to can be dangerous. You still need to work on slowing down with the goal of stopping.” He pauses to see if the ex-pilot has anything to say, which he doesn’t besides a sigh. “Good night, Hank. If, uh, you ever really need sleep one night, I’d be willing to give you some of the oil that allowed me to sleep for two days during my mood dip.”

    Was that only last week? Or was it the week before?

    “Thank you, Connor. I may take you up on that.” He sounds surprisingly genuine, and the trainee can’t stop the small smile from appearing. “Now get out of here before I decide to hate you again.”

    He nods quickly, not bothering to hide his elation that Hank basically admitted that he likes him, and opens the door. “I hope your night gets better.” he says as he shuts the door.

    Ritch is already in bed by the time he makes it back, but he doesn’t question Connor about his whereabouts. That means he probably knows exactly what he was doing and confirms Connor’s assumptions that he knew about the hidden alcohol bottles. Oh well; Ritch probably isn’t too put off by it since he never said anything despite obviously holding off sleep until he got back. They both sleep soundly that night.

    The next morning, Connor is in the training area doing his morning stretches with Ritch at his side when he sees the Jericho Squad walk in, very obviously hungover. Simon and Josh don’t look as bad, but North is in the worst shape, unsurprisingly. She squints against the lights of the room and stumbles directly behind Markus, who doesn’t appear to be miserable, but also isn’t smiling and chatting along with Josh and Simon like he usually does. North suddenly turns her head and immediately spots Connor.

    “How the fuck are you two not miserable?” she shouts across the room.

    She opens her mouth to probably yell again, but Connor quickly stands up from his spot in the corner and moves over to their group so they won’t call anymore unnecessary attention to themselves. He doesn’t hear echoing footsteps behind him, so Ritch must have stayed behind to properly finish his stretches.

    “I’m not miserable because I kept my drinking under control.” He answers quietly as soon as he’s close enough to. “Besides, once you’re jaeger pilots, excessive drinking isn’t allowed anymore, so you guys should start practicing prohibition.” Connor scolds in a teasing tone.

    “Well,” Simon begins, “lucky for us, we aren’t actually pilots. Only trainees, so we can do what we want for now.”

    “But Ritch and I probably will be as soon as we find suitable partners, so I don’t expect us to–” Connor’s teasing is interrupted by North.

    “Woah, woah woah woah. You mean to tell me that not only are you guys sticking around, but you’re graduating early too? And you didn’t even tell us? How skilled are you exactly? What the hell...” 

    Connor thought someone who is this hungover would be quieter.

    “Did Ritch not tell any of you last night?” Everyone shakes their head. “Oh... Huh. Well, as soon as we retake evaluations and find partners, we’ll probably be graduating and moving on as pilots.” Connor pauses, “I think that’s kind of a problem, though, because as far as I know, there’s only one more jaeger, and by regulation, each pair needs their own in case of an emergency where every available pilot is needed–”

    “Wow, yup. Already boring me.” North bluntly states.

    Connor makes a mental note to not talk about jaegers and regulations while she’s around. It’s odd that she wants to be a jaeger pilot but doesn’t want to hear anything about the jaegers. Maybe that’s part of the reason the passing rate of this training is so low? Some have the skills and drive to fight kaijus, but not enough desire to keep up with the less exciting things (if putting one’s life in danger by fighting ginormous aliens can even be considered “exciting”).

    “North!” Markus chides, ”Just because you hate memorizing all of this stuff doesn’t mean everyone does. Leave him be! Besides, you’re gonna have to know all of it if you actually wanna fight kaijus.”

    “Connor’s right, you know.” Ritch’s voice points out from behind him suddenly. “About everything. I don’t know what Fowler plans to do with two possible new pairs and only one known jaeger, unless he has some prototypes hidden up his sleeve, but those would have to be in testing stages now, not available for pilots to use quite yet.” He crosses his arms and looks to the side, a tell that Ritch is thinking through something carefully. “The only thing I can think of is that he has one that’s almost out of testing that we just haven’t heard of yet for whatever reason. Or he just didn’t want to miss a chance having at least two more pilots around here and compromised with whoever about this, despite only having one available jaeger.”

    Josh nods, shifting his weight onto his other leg, “I think it’s more the second reason than the first. There haven’t been nearly as many people looking to be jaeger pilots since the propaganda stopped standing a chance against the horror stories on the internet and news.”

    Everyone silently nods their agreement.

    “Either way,” Connor begins, “I don’t actually know how often we’ll see each other outside of meals now. With us having to redo our evaluations and partner hunting and stuff.”

    “I doubt they’ll keep us out of the class, Connor.” Ritch doesn’t bother to turn to look at him like he would with someone else, knowing he wouldn’t be put off by it. “I don’t know if we’ll still be top of the class, since we’ll likely be overqualified for what stage everyone here is at, but I don’t see why Luther and Chloe wouldn’t let us stay and help, even if it isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

    Connor shakes his head with a shrug, “It really isn’t. I don’t like leadership roles like you do.”

    Ritch nods. Connor has a feeling they’re both thinking about how Amanda didn’t mind this particular dynamic between them, even though it took a bit of time for her to warm up to it. Before Connor can get too wrapped up in his head, North snaps him out of it.

    “So you gonna show us what you can really do today, since you were supposedly holding last time? Which I still don’t believe, by the way.” she challenges with a certain glint in her eye that he has grown to dislike.

    “No.” he retorts at the same time as Ritch. Everyone goes quiet.

    Connor continues quietly, “We weren’t holding back as much as we have with everything else last time. I don’t want to have to do it again and get hurt worse…”

    “I agree. I don’t like fighting against Connor.”

    “The only things I want to fight are kaijus and assholes.”

    “Snobbish, biggoted assholes.” Ritch specifies.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Connor spots a few other students entering the training area, so instead of correcting Ritch that he would fight any asshole if they did something to warrant it and have his brother inevitably push back against that, Connor just huffs. Ritch will understand that he means it as a show of disagreement; and he does, if his version of an eye roll is anything to go by.

    “Well, I suppose I better go off and try to find some kind of jaeger partner. I’m going to need a lot more time than Ritch because… Well, you all know exactly how I was when we were trying to get to know each other.” Connor smiles genuinely. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s turn his short-comings into jokes or some form of amusement for himself.

    Although, everyone except Ritch smiles awkwardly, so Connor immediately knows that these people don’t really do self-deprecating jokes. Ritch simply frowns sympathetically probably because he already figured out that they don’t use that type of humor, and he takes that as his cue to actually leave. Before he can turn to leave, however, Chloe shouts Connor’s and Ritch’s names. When they look to her, she waves them over with a smile. They say a quick goodbye to the group as they calmly walk over. Connor is painfully aware of all the silent attention they’re getting.

    “Just as Marshal Fowler said yesterday, you need to start reevaluations today. Would you prefer to do them over in the gym, or in here? I can’t promise we’ll have the gym to ourselves, but it may be less crowded than in here.”

    He looks to Ritch, who gives him a sort of curious look. It’s up to Connor, then. He turns back to Chloe and shrugs with a polite smile.

    “I guess in here is fine. It seems more convenient than going all the way there then back again in a few hours.”

    “Are we going to have to do the combat evaluations again?” Ritch cuts in, “Because I will not fight against Connor again if that’s the case.”

    Chloe blinks, her features turning into a careful balance of blank and attentive. She blinks again when neither Ritch or Connor expand on the request.

    “Did you hold back that much the first time?” she half-jokes lightly, but he sees the slight concern in her eyes.

    The only responses she gets for several moments are Ritch’s shoulders tensing and Connor looking away nervously. Although, it’s obvious she’s waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation.

    Ritch sighs and finally answers quietly, “It’s dangerous for us to not hold back when we’re not fighting to kill.”

    Connor only nods solemnly in agreement.

    Chloe takes a deep breath before speaking, “Okay then, you won’t have to do that over again.” She flips through her clipboard of papers and marks something down quickly, “So let’s skip to flexibility, okay? Go ahead and line up against the wall.” She nods her head to the area next to the doorway where some basic equipment is.

    They go through the basic stretches. For the sit and reach, they use the block, adjusting the measurements to their size, and start with both legs on it, then just one at a time with the other bent. Ritch does above average, and Connor does extremely well if Chloe’s expression means anything.

    Next is the v-sit, so Chloe has Ritch put his feet against the wall and lean forward down the middle, then lean to each side. It turns out that he’s a bit more flexible on his right side than left for whatever reason. He’s then told to bend to the middle and touch his toes, which he does relatively easily. When Connor starts, he foregoes the wall, despite the confused look Chloe gives him, and lets Ritch hold his feet in place while he leans forward. He can almost put his forehead on the floor, and when leaning to either side, he lightly rests it on his knees. Chloe starts marking on her clipboard again, and Connor has to ignore the numerous stares he feels from the other side of the room.

    The rest of the stretches go similarly. Next they stand and touch their toes (Ritch manages to do so, but Connor is able to put his palms flat on the floor and bends his arms), then they move on to the butterfly stretch, calf flexibility test (they both pass this one with flying colors), side bending, and trunk rolls (this is the easiest one for both of them). Before they know it, almost an hour and a half has gone by and they’re done with their official stretches.

    “Hey guys,” Chloe calls the twin’s attention quietly. She continues when both of them look at her. “Do you mind if I do just a couple more stretches? We did the same thing for North and Traci. It’s to see if we should start designing a jaeger that has more rotation and flexibility for our more bendy pilots.”

    Connor looks to Ritch, who answers. “Sure, whatever you need.”

    She smiles. “Can you do some lunges?”

    They both nod and get into position and hold it easily. Chloe marks something in her book before she tells them to sit on the ground and spread their legs as far as they can go. Ritch raises an eyebrow at Connor for whatever reason before attempting to do the splits. Connor easily does it, then holds the position as he puts his chest to the ground, then sits back up. When Ritch gets up to shift the direction of his legs, leaning into something close to a lunge, Connor doesn’t get completely up, instead just sitting then shifting his legs over. He leans forward towards his knee then, too, just as he taught himself, then sits up, torso perpendicular to the ground and his legs.

    “Surprising,” Chloe states in a praising tone, jotting something else down on her clipboard.

    Ritch gets up and smirks down at Connor. He can’t stop himself from smiling back a bit as he gets up too. It’s nice to actually be praised for something that he had only gotten huffed at for in the past. Now he’s kind of glad that he missed this evaluation altogether while he was going through his mood dip because he wouldn’t have wanted to hold back. Plus, having to rush off to let the next person go and/or having everyone’s undivided attention on him would make this nerve-racking, even if he would’ve held back.

    A sudden wolf whistle from across the room shoves him out of his thoughts.

    “Yass Connor!” North yells obnoxiously, gathering most people’s attention to them, “Show ‘em who’s queen!”

    “North, why are you like this?” Connor shakes his head, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. That question is better than what he actually wants to ask; are you still somehow drunk?

    “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.” She then winks and blows Connor a kiss and a winks, the entire act overplayed and an obvious show of teasing him. Maybe she’s overplaying being okay so people don’t suspect her actual hungover state too much.

    Connor just sighs and shakes his head again, watching Ritch as he does his equivalent of an eye roll.

    “Alright boys,” Chloe says behind them, “do you want to do stamina and cardio next or strength and weights?”

    Ritch and Connor glance at each other, then nod simultaneously.

    “We’ll do cardio today since we’re already stretched for it, if we can push strength to tomorrow?” Ritch answers, the end sounding like a question rather than a reply.

    Their instructor smiles, “Sure, that works for me! Let’s head over to the gym for the equipment, then.”

    The rest of their time before lunch is spent doing various cardio and stamina tests. Most of their time is spent on the treadmills and exercise bikes for sprinting and and different kinds of endurance. Chloe gives nothing away about how well they did this time, and they return to the training area just as the rest of the class is finishing up punching techniques with Luther. They’re all released at the same time to go shower before lunch. Connor and Ritch are told to head to the testing room instead of here when they finish lunch so they can retake their written evaluations.

    Connor lets Ritch have a shower first and picks up their room a bit. It’s not really messy, just a few stray clothes in a pile on the ground around the hamper instead of in it, but it gives him a reason to do some very-needed organization in their desk drawers. He spots his journal in the third drawer and suddenly remembers several things from last night and this morning he wanted to write down.

    He writes down North’s hatred for regulation and technical talk. He then adds that he thinks Josh will probably transfer over to the science section of this entire operation, and that North may pair up with Traci if that’s the case and she’s not let go for her lack of interest. He notes that Traci used to be a dancer and is ranked at least third in their class, if not first or second, so she may be a good partner candidate. With that, he starts writing down everyone’s personality and the likelihood that they’ll leave or their partner will leave, and the probability of them leaving if their partner does. He immediately crosses out a bit more than half of the names in the class just from this, knowing he would never work well with them, so he moves on to the active pilots.

    He writes that Gavin is much more likely to partner up with Ritch than himself, since they apparently know each other already, and crosses that name off without writing anything about his character down. Pretty much everyone else he knows of has a partner they work well with, and even with insufficient data, he knows that the chances are low to none of them wanting to suddenly switch partners or share.

    He makes a quick note of Hank’s favorite whiskey and how Hank used to have a dog and probably still loves it according to Marshal Fowler. He’s finishing jotting down the fact he’s probably Connor’s “quiet friend” while idly wondering if Hank would ever consider getting another dog when Ritch steps out of the bathroom. 

    “You’re writing in that journal again?” Ritch says almost immediately, crossing his arms.

    “Yes, because I’m going to screw up if I don’t, especially now that I need a partner.” He closes his book with a thump.

    “Connor, despite what you think, you really don’t need that.” Ritch nods to his journal, sounding softer than usual, and it’s somewhat disconcerting.

    “Yeah, I really do. You’re welcome to read through it if you like.” He makes a point of putting it on the desk. “So far it’s just basic temperaments of different people and the probabilities of the other trainees graduating.”

    Connor walks past his brother into the bathroom to wash up, reflecting on everything he wrote down, trying to figure out if he missed anything. He doesn’t think he has.

    This is going to be a lot harder than I thought, Connor thinks to himself, At least I kind of know what I’m looking for now, though. The only problem now is finding this perfect type of person within the next few weeks…

•◊•◊•◊•◊• 

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊• 

A/N: Hey guys! I am so so sorry for the huge delay for this chapter. Life decided to creep up on me and bash me over the head with a bat there for a second, plus I wanted to make some kind of art for my new TDBU masterlist, but now you should be getting updates faster from now on! I’m hoping to get back on a weekly or biweekly update schedule because I have a ton of other things I want to write, but I refuse to until I finish one of my WIPs 😂😅 Also, sorry for the ton of Connor POV recently, I promise that next chapter will be more Reed900 action!! And with that, I hope you all have a good day/night! Until the next update!

P.S. I have actually played the bottle game that Connor did. It started at one of my dad’s promotion parties when I was 15, and I wanted to see how many beers I could stash away (I wasn’t going to drink them, yuck) before an adult noticed. My high score is 12, and the only reason it isn’t 14 is because my aunt noticed me retying my boots to secure the bottles in them.