#Random Walks and Diffusion Assignment Help

[sugarbcnes]

✿ ༉‧₊ — 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. ellie williams

very random things i associate with ellie/think ellie would love in a non-apocalyptic world (hc’s). [ contains: femme reader mentioned, nsfw, sfw, mentions of drugs. ]

MUSEUMS AND AQUARIUM DATES — nerd alert! we all know ellie loves space and dinosaurs and things like that. her heart feels so full when you’re gripping her hand tightly as you both take your time strolling to each exhibition and display. she’s too engrossed in the small info boards to notice your eyes glimmering and softening as you take in the smile she fails to hide as she gets excited. even at 19 years old, as you spend your one year anniversary at the history museum, she still wows in awe as you walk into the room that contains the massive brachiosaurus skeleton.

JAW KISSES — ellie’s great at hiding how she feels most of the time. apart from when you kiss her jaw. the moment she feels your lips press to the soft skin that clings to the sharp bone of her jaw, she melts. her hands sneak around your waist as you nestle into her neck and pepper kisses all over her jaw, burning deep crimson on her freckled cheeks. “mm baby” she’ll mumble if you nip the skin lightly, causing her to let out the sweetest, soft little breaths.

HOUSE PLANTS — they’re an absolute nightmare for her to take care of at first but after a while, she grows emotionally attached to them. she specifically loves monsteras and ferns, even going as far to name them. she has a small smile on her lips as she reaches the part of her morning routine where she provides them with their extra delicate care. you can’t help but giggle from the kitchen as you hear her mumble “good morning fernado, you’re extra bright this morning” to her favorite fern.

RECORD STORES — she loves bobbing her head to the music and weirdly enough, the smell. it’s nostalgic somehow.

STICKERS AND CUSTOMIZATION DOODLES — pretty self explanatory. ellie loves to cover her shit in random stickers and doodles. her laptop, her water bottle, her sketchbook, her guitar. she has the same design as her tattoo painted on her guitar (it took her forever to do and she did it instead of completing an overdue assignment).

SHOWER SEX — it started with the soft, butterfly kisses you’d splurge across ellie’s freckled shoulder blades before you grabbed the soap to scrub her back. eventually she began to press you against the wall, kissing you deeply as the warm water hits you, hands exploring your bare, wet body. (100% is obsessed with soapy boobies too)

POST SWIM NAPS — summer on the farm means sweltering heat. nearly everyday you and ellie trek across the fields and spend all day swimming in the creek by the woods. sun kissed and hot, the both of you collapse in bed in nothing but a tshirt and your underwear, cuddled and falling into a slumber until later that evening when it’s cooler.

GRAPHIC TEES — it’s a strange obsession and she’ll hardly know what’s on the shirt but she accumulates a massive collection.

ESSENTIAL OILS — she thought they were tacky and useless at first until she got a diffuser as a birthday gift and was knocked straight into such a peaceful slumber by her soothing lavender oil.

FOLLOWING YOU INTO FITTING ROOMS — again, self-explanatory. we all know she’s awkward and very much the loser-lesbian girlfriend. so the first time you take her shopping with you, she moves to sit on the provided seats outside the fitting rooms. she’s just as confused as you are as you stand with the door half open and your collection of clothes in your arm. you tilt your head “are you not coming in?”. she fumbles to get up and rushes in. at first she was awkward, head down at the very second you’d take your tshirt off and mentally cursing herself as she peaks at you in the mirror from the corner of her eye. now, your full-fledged girlfriend, she’s got her hands grabbing at every sliver of bare skin she can see before you annoyedly swat her hands away.

LATE NIGHT SESH — it’s usually when she’s feeling anxious, escaping to the roof to smoke a little and talk to the stars. most of the time she goes alone but sometimes you go with her. you usually sit in comfortable silence, pressed against eachother as she smokes and you try your best to keep your eyes awake at 3am because even though she assures “go back to bed, sweetheart. i’ll be okay,” you don’t want her to be alone.

part 2? abby version?

[sunaleisocial]

Q&A: Examining American attitudes on global climate policies

New Post has been published on https://sunalei.org/news/qa-examining-american-attitudes-on-global-climate-policies/

Q&A: Examining American attitudes on global climate policies

Does the United States have a “moral responsibility” for providing aid to poor nations — which have a significantly smaller carbon footprint and face catastrophic climate events at a much higher rate than wealthy countries?

A study published Dec. 11 in Climatic Change explores U.S. public opinion on global climate policies considering our nation’s historic role as a leading contributor of carbon emissions. The randomized, experimental survey specifically investigates American attitudes toward such a moral responsibility. 

The work was led by MIT Professor Evan Lieberman, the Total Chair on Contemporary African Politics and director of the MIT Center for International Studies, and Volha Charnysh, the Ford Career Development Associate Professor of Political Science, and was co-authored with MIT political science PhD student Jared Kalow and University of Pennsylvania postdoc Erin Walk PhD ’24. Here, Lieberman describes the team’s research and insights, and offers recommendations that could result in more effective climate advocacy.

Q: What are the key findings — and any surprises — of your recent work on climate attitudes among the U.S. population?

A: A big question at the COP29 Climate talks in Baku, Azerbaijan was: Who will pay the trillions of dollars needed to help lower-income countries adapt to climate change? During past meetings, global leaders have come to an increasing consensus that the wealthiest countries should pay, but there has been little follow-through on commitments. In countries like the United States, popular opinion about such policies can weigh heavily on politicians’ minds, as citizens focus on their own challenges at home.

Prime Minister Gaston Browne of Antigua and Barbuda is one of many who views such transfers as a matter of moral responsibility, explaining that many rich countries see climate finance as “a random act of charity … not recognizing that they have a moral obligation to provide funding, especially the historical emitters and even those who currently have large emissions.”

In our study, we set out to measure American attitudes towards climate-related foreign aid, and explicitly to test the impact of this particular moral responsibility narrative. We did this on an experimental basis, so subjects were randomly assigned to receive different messages.

One message emphasized what we call a “climate justice” frame, and it argued that Americans should contribute to helping poor countries because of the United States’ disproportionate role in the emissions of greenhouse gasses that have led to global warming. That message had a positive impact on the extent to which citizens supported the use of foreign aid for climate adaptation in poor countries. However, when we looked at who was actually moved by the message, we found that the effect was larger and statistically significant only among Democrats, but not among Republicans.

We were surprised that a message emphasizing solidarity, the idea that “we are all in this together,” had no overall effect on citizen attitudes, Democrats or Republicans. 

Q: What are your recommendations toward addressing the attitudes on global climate policies within the U.S.?

A: First, given limited budgets and attention for communications campaigns, our research certainly suggests that emphasizing a bit of blaming and shaming is more powerful than more diffuse messages of shared responsibility.

But our research also emphasized how critically important it is to find new ways to communicate with Republicans about climate change and about foreign aid. Republicans were overwhelmingly less supportive of climate aid and yet even from that low baseline, a message that moved Democrats had a much more mixed reception among Republicans. Researchers and those working on the front lines of climate communications need to do more to better understand Republican perspectives. Younger Republicans, for example, might be more movable on key climate policies.

Q: With an incoming Trump administration, what are some of the specific hurdles and/or opportunities we face in garnering U.S. public support for international climate negotiations?

A: Not only did Trump demonstrate his disdain for international action on climate change by withdrawing from the Paris agreement during his first term in office, but he has indicated his intention to double down on such strategies in his second term. And the idea that he would support assistance for the world’s poorest countries harmed by climate change? This seems unlikely. Because we find Republican public opinion so firmly in line with these perspectives, frankly, it is hard to be optimistic.

Those Americans concerned with the effects of climate change may need to look to state-level, non-government, corporate, and more global organizations to support climate justice efforts.

Q: Are there any other takeaways you’d like to share?

A: Those working in the climate change area may need to rethink how we talk and message about the challenges the world faces. Right now, almost anything that sounds like “climate change” is likely to be rejected by Republican leaders and large segments of American society. Our approach of experimenting with different types of messages is a relatively low-cost strategy for identifying more promising strategies, targeted at Americans and at citizens in other wealthy countries.

But our study, in line with other work, also demonstrates that partisanship — identifying as a Republican or Democrat — is by far the strongest predictor of attitudes toward climate aid. While climate justice messaging can move attitudes slightly, the effects are still modest relative to the contributions of party identification itself. Just as Republican party elites were once persuaded to take leadership in the global fight against HIV and AIDS, a similar challenge lies ahead for climate aid.

[jcmarchi]

Q&A: Examining American attitudes on global climate policies

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/qa-examining-american-attitudes-on-global-climate-policies/

Q&A: Examining American attitudes on global climate policies

Does the United States have a “moral responsibility” for providing aid to poor nations — which have a significantly smaller carbon footprint and face catastrophic climate events at a much higher rate than wealthy countries?

A study published Dec. 11 in Climatic Change explores U.S. public opinion on global climate policies considering our nation’s historic role as a leading contributor of carbon emissions. The randomized, experimental survey specifically investigates American attitudes toward such a moral responsibility. 

The work was led by MIT Professor Evan Lieberman, the Total Chair on Contemporary African Politics and director of the MIT Center for International Studies, and Volha Charnysh, the Ford Career Development Associate Professor of Political Science, and was co-authored with MIT political science PhD student Jared Kalow and University of Pennsylvania postdoc Erin Walk PhD ’24. Here, Lieberman describes the team’s research and insights, and offers recommendations that could result in more effective climate advocacy.

Q: What are the key findings — and any surprises — of your recent work on climate attitudes among the U.S. population?

A: A big question at the COP29 Climate talks in Baku, Azerbaijan was: Who will pay the trillions of dollars needed to help lower-income countries adapt to climate change? During past meetings, global leaders have come to an increasing consensus that the wealthiest countries should pay, but there has been little follow-through on commitments. In countries like the United States, popular opinion about such policies can weigh heavily on politicians’ minds, as citizens focus on their own challenges at home.

Prime Minister Gaston Browne of Antigua and Barbuda is one of many who views such transfers as a matter of moral responsibility, explaining that many rich countries see climate finance as “a random act of charity … not recognizing that they have a moral obligation to provide funding, especially the historical emitters and even those who currently have large emissions.”

In our study, we set out to measure American attitudes towards climate-related foreign aid, and explicitly to test the impact of this particular moral responsibility narrative. We did this on an experimental basis, so subjects were randomly assigned to receive different messages.

One message emphasized what we call a “climate justice” frame, and it argued that Americans should contribute to helping poor countries because of the United States’ disproportionate role in the emissions of greenhouse gasses that have led to global warming. That message had a positive impact on the extent to which citizens supported the use of foreign aid for climate adaptation in poor countries. However, when we looked at who was actually moved by the message, we found that the effect was larger and statistically significant only among Democrats, but not among Republicans.

We were surprised that a message emphasizing solidarity, the idea that “we are all in this together,” had no overall effect on citizen attitudes, Democrats or Republicans. 

Q: What are your recommendations toward addressing the attitudes on global climate policies within the U.S.?

A: First, given limited budgets and attention for communications campaigns, our research certainly suggests that emphasizing a bit of blaming and shaming is more powerful than more diffuse messages of shared responsibility.

But our research also emphasized how critically important it is to find new ways to communicate with Republicans about climate change and about foreign aid. Republicans were overwhelmingly less supportive of climate aid and yet even from that low baseline, a message that moved Democrats had a much more mixed reception among Republicans. Researchers and those working on the front lines of climate communications need to do more to better understand Republican perspectives. Younger Republicans, for example, might be more movable on key climate policies.

Q: With an incoming Trump administration, what are some of the specific hurdles and/or opportunities we face in garnering U.S. public support for international climate negotiations?

A: Not only did Trump demonstrate his disdain for international action on climate change by withdrawing from the Paris agreement during his first term in office, but he has indicated his intention to double down on such strategies in his second term. And the idea that he would support assistance for the world’s poorest countries harmed by climate change? This seems unlikely. Because we find Republican public opinion so firmly in line with these perspectives, frankly, it is hard to be optimistic.

Those Americans concerned with the effects of climate change may need to look to state-level, non-government, corporate, and more global organizations to support climate justice efforts.

Q: Are there any other takeaways you’d like to share?

A: Those working in the climate change area may need to rethink how we talk and message about the challenges the world faces. Right now, almost anything that sounds like “climate change” is likely to be rejected by Republican leaders and large segments of American society. Our approach of experimenting with different types of messages is a relatively low-cost strategy for identifying more promising strategies, targeted at Americans and at citizens in other wealthy countries.

But our study, in line with other work, also demonstrates that partisanship — identifying as a Republican or Democrat — is by far the strongest predictor of attitudes toward climate aid. While climate justice messaging can move attitudes slightly, the effects are still modest relative to the contributions of party identification itself. Just as Republican party elites were once persuaded to take leadership in the global fight against HIV and AIDS, a similar challenge lies ahead for climate aid.

[cobaltusami]

Superhiro

bleh! Finally It's finished! This took so fricking long to write- But It was a lot of fun. It reminded me of when I was a kid and would play heroes and villains with my friends. I could have fleshed out the ending t word scenes more but I was afraid It would be too long because I could literally go on forever. Besides, I think there's going to be more installments to this with more focus on a single villain instead of multiple ones. That's my plan anyway!

Word count: 4467

Characters: Ler!Hiro, Switch!Chihiro, Lee!Leon, Switch!Taka(briefly), Lee!Mondo(briefly), Lee!Makoto(briefly), Ler!Hina(briefly), Ler!Sayaka(briefly), Sakura, Celeste, Byakuya

The air In the school was heavier today than usual, and the atmosphere was filled with negative energy. Everyone seemed to be affected by It, being less cheerful and more agitated than usual.

Even people like Makoto weren’t impervious to it’s lingering effects. Apparently he and Byakuya had gotten into an argument in the dining hall in front of the other students.

Hiro hadn’t witnessed any of It, having slept In this morning. He was just on his way to join his classmates when he spotted Chihiro exiting the hall. He waved to them but they seemingly didn’t notice. “Hey Chihiro!” He greeted cheerfully in spite of the looming negativity.

That’s when he noticed It.

Chihiro looked up at him with tears in their eyes, stuttering and trying to greet him back. They gave up on their failed attempt after a moment.

“Chi? What’s wrong buddy?” He asked, concerned as he approached the smaller student.

Chihiro shook their head and went running past him, most likely to the solitude of their room.

Hiro was about to go after them but heard yelling coming from the dining hall, he sighed. So that’s why Chihiro was so upset. He took a calming breath and entered the room.

“You fuckin dumbasses! Will you stop fighting!? You scared Chihiro!” Mondo yelled at the two students in question.

“It’s not my fault! He started it!” Makoto pointed a finger accusingly at the affluent progeny.

Byakuya opened his mouth to say something but Taka interjected first. “I don’t care who started the yelling, I am giving you both an order to STOP YELLING!” He snapped.

“Jeez, The hell did I just walk In on?” Hiro muttered under his breath, still going unnoticed by his classmates. He lingered In the doorway for another moment before deciding to turn around and go after Chihiro.

“Chihiro? You In there?” He asked through the door after not getting a response from ringing the doorbell. “It’s me, Hiro.”

There was some shuffling from inside the room for a moment before silence, As if they were hesitating on whether to let him in or not.

“If you don’t wanna open the door, I’ll just sit here and wait until you’re ready.” He said reassuringly, Leaning against the wall next to the door.

Leon approached the Clairvoyant, coming from the direction of the dining hall. He nodded a greeting to the taller student and knocked on the door in a short random tune. “Yo, Chi. It’s Leon. I’m here too.” He announced.

Hiro smiled at the red head and sat down on the floor, Leon followed his lead and sat on the other side of the door. “Mondo was gonna come check on you too, But he didn’t wanna scare you because he’s pretty mad right now.” The Aspiring rockstar said.

“What were those two fighting about anyways?” Hiro asked.

Leon sighed and rolled his eyes. “Stupid shit. Byakuya’s being…”

“Byakuya?”

“I was gonna say a total dick, But yeah.” Leon snickered. “Anyway, He was being a dick and came in insulting us. Mondo started to get mad but Makoto’s the one who got In his face. And Chi tried to diffuse the situation but Byakuya…”

“Lemme guess, He said something really mean didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Leon replied with a soft sigh.

The door unlocked and slowly opened, revealing a shaking and tearful Chihiro. “H-He said… No o-one asked me, a-and n-no one wanted m-me there. He-He said… He...” They shook their head and backed up into the room, leaving the door open for the two students.

Hiro was the first to spring up and go Inside the room, pulling the programmer Into a hug. Leon was only a few seconds behind him. He closed the door as he entered the room, hearing the yelling picking back up in the dining hall.

He sat down on the foot of the bed quietly, trying not to outwardly show how angry he was for how his friend was treated.

“It’s okay Chi…” Hiro said softly to the crying student.

After a few minutes they pulled back from Hiro, wiping their eyes with their sleeves. “He said… That no one likes m-me...” they choked out.

“Hey! That’s not true! Since when did Byakuya have a good take on anything?” Hiro retorted, picking the programmer up and setting them on the bed next to Leon. “We all love you!”

Chihiro sniffled, Looking up at Hiro with hopeful eyes. “R-Really?”

Hiro crouched down so he was at eye level with them. “Really!” he smiled, ruffling their hair.

“Yeah, That prick doesn’t speak for us! You should know that by now.” Leon added.

Chihiro wiped their face with their sleeves again, tears still leaking down their cheeks.

“That doesn’t mean It doesn’t still hurt to hear things like that.” Hiro interjected. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“Right.”

Chihiro nodded wordlessly.

Hiro looked at Leon silently, trying to come up with a way to cheer the programmer up. The rockstar offered a small shrug as a response.

He racked his brain for a minute before coming up with an idea, He grinned and stood back up to full height. “I got It!”

Chihiro jumped at the sudden exclamation. “W-What?”

The eldest student grabbed the sleeves of the jacket draped over his shoulders and tied them in a knot around his neck, mimicking a superhero’s cape. “I think It’s about time I revealed my secret identity to you!”

Chihiro and Leon exchanged confused looks. “W-What Is he talking about?”

“You’re asking me as If I know?” Leon retorted.

“Well, My name Is still Hiro… But I’m actually a superhero! Ooh! Superhiro If you will!” Hiro grinned, making a superhero pose.

“Oh booooo! That was horrible man!”

Chihiro, to both the mens surprise, giggled at this. “W-What’s your power?”

“I sense when people are feeling down. My superpower Is…” Hiro suddenly scooped up the programmer, cradling them in his arms. “Cheer up tickles!”

He lightly began tickling Chihiro’s sides and belly, causing them to squeal and erupt into bright giggles. “Hehehehe! Hiro! stooop!” they giggled, playfully pushing at his hand.

“Sorry buddy, No can do! I can’t stop until you’ve been effectively cheered up.” Hiro grinned, pinching at their side.

Chihiro’s giggles soon turned into happy laughter as they squirmed.

“Squirm all you want, You can’t escape!” Hiro sang teasingly, spidering his fingers along their ribs. “Another power of mine Is keeping sad friends trapped while I tickle them happy again!”

They laughed harder and gently pushed at his hand. “Okahahahay! H-Hiro plehehehease! I’m hahahappy!”

“Are you sure? Because Superhiro doesn’t like being lied to.” He chuckled.

“I-Ihihihihi’m sure!” they tittered.

“Alright,” He paused, withdrawing his hand. “One more thing though!”

“W-What?”

Hiro readjusted his hold on the still slightly giggling programmer, now holding them bridal style instead of holding them with one arm. He lifted them higher into the air closer to his face, and blew a long raspberry against their belly.

They shrieked and pushed at Hiro’s head, dissolving into fits of loud laughter in his grip.

After blowing a second one, he relented, laying Chihiro down on their bed as they recovered from their fit. “You feel better now kiddo?” He smiled as he untied his jacket sleeves.

Chihiro nodded, still giggling breathlessly. “Yehes… Thank you H-Hiro…”

As Hiro held his jacket In his hands, about to drape it back over his shoulders, an idea struck him. Maybe there was a way to help with the negativity problem…

“I have an idea.” He hummed, throwing the article of clothing over one shoulder as he knelt down on the floor. He leaned against the foot of the bed facing the other two students. “I think I might be able to fix everyone’s bad moods.”

“R-Really? How?” Chihiro asked, their face lighting up as they sat up.

“Don’t tell me…” Leon sighed. Already seeing where this was going.

“Maybe Superhiro should go pay the grumpy students a visit.” he winked, confirming Leon’s suspicions.

Chihiro giggled. “I think so too!”

“I’m not sure that’s gonna work, I mean, There’s no changing Byakuya’s mood from what I’ve seen.” Leon mumbled.

“You know,” Hiro started, seemingly ignoring Leon’s reasoning. “I’m gonna need a sidekick If I’m gonna take down all these evildoers…”

“H-Hey! Are you even listening to me??”

The answer Is no. Not that anyone should be shocked that Hiro isn’t listening to reason.

“What do you say, Chi? Wanna help me get the negative meanies?” He asked.

Chihiro’s eyes widened with excitement, a big smile overtaking their features. “S-Sure!” they beamed.

Leon sighed, throwing his hands up as he was continuously ignored. “Why do I even bother?”

Chihiro bounced up off the bed excitedly and retrieved another sweater from their closet, draping It over their shoulders and tying it at the sleeves just as Hiro had earlier. “I’m ready!”

Hiro laughed at the unusual behavior from the normally meek programmer. “Now you need a super name…”

“Hmm… How about The Decoder?”

“If that’s what you want, that’s fine with me!” He smiled.

Chihiro nodded, giggling happily as Hiro stood and tied his jacket into a cape again. “Well then, Decoder! For our first assignment…”

Hiro spun around on his heels, facing Leon now. “We must defeat the Red Rocker!” He declared, mimicking a superhero voice.

“Th-The Red Rocker?” Leon parroted, feeling a wave of happiness flood him at being recognized as a rockstar. Though that was short lived once what he said sank In. “W-Wait! Nonononono!”

Leon shot up and went running for the door but Hiro was right after him, hooking his arms around his waist and carrying him back over to the bed with ease. “Not so fast, Evil doer!”

“Hiro! I swear to god, If youhuhuhuhuhu-- Hahahahahaha!” Leon burst out laughing as he felt Hiro’s hands descend upon his sides.

“Okay Decoder, Help me vanquish this evil doer!” He grinned. “Through my super vision, I can tell his feet are pretty ticklish.”

“Dohohohon’t you dahahahare!” Leon laughed, struggling in his grasp. “I wihihill burn your cohohohomic collection you neheheherd!”

“No you won’t.” Hiro laughed, squeezing his hips.

Leon shrieked, throwing his head back laughing. “SHIHIHIHIHIT! HIHIHIRO STAHAHAP!”

“Hey, That’s Superhiro to you, Villain!” Hiro grinned, massaging his thumbs in circles against the dips of his hips.

Chihiro pulled off his shoes and socks and started lightly wiggling their fingers all over his right foot. “Yeah, Don’t disrespect Superhiro!” they giggled.

Leon tried to kick Chihiro’s hands away, but couldn’t thanks to Hiro sitting on his legs. All he could do was wiggle his feet in vain and laugh. “HEHEHE HIRO! CH-CHIHI! NOT THEHEHEHERE!”

Between his feet and his hips he couldn’t decide which spot was worse for him.

Hiro snickered, speeding up. “We’ll only stop If you give up being a criminal and come to our side!”

“WHAHAHAHAT THE HEHEHEHELL ARE YOU TAHAHAHALKING ABOUT!?”

“I think what he means Is, Help us and we’ll let you go…” Chihiro explained.

“THEHEHERE’S NO WAHAHAY IN HEHEHELL I’M HELPING YOU!” Leon laughed, sending the best glare he could to Hiro.

‘Superhiro’ smirked and rolled his eyes, reaching back with one hand and targeting his left foot, specifically his arch, a spot he knew would make the redhead convulse with unapologetically loud laughter. “You sure about that?”

Leon screeched, his body jolting sharply at the sensation. “FUHUHUHUHAHAHAHAHACK!” He swore, trying to wiggle his foot away from Hiro’s skilled fingers.

Chihiro took notice of the reaction and mimicked what Hiro was doing, making Leon’s laughter turn silent.

“Are you going to give In now, Red Rocker?” Chihiro smiled, their question was met with frantic nods from the baseball star.

“Are you suuuuuure?” Hiro teased, Still torturing the poor redhead.

“IHIHIHIM SUHUHUHURE!” He choked out, tears welling up in his eyes from laughing too hard.

Hiro relented and signaled for Chihiro to stop as well. Chihiro giggled and stood up. “Who’s our next target, Superhiro?”

Hiro stood up too, humming thoughtfully as he considered their options. “Got any Ideas, Red Rocker?” He asked with a playful smile.

“Oh, I have a few ideas alright…” Leon panted, glaring tiredly at the older man.

“Watch It… Unless you wanna go for round two.” He wiggled his fingers threateningly at the rockstar who flinched and hugged his knees to his chest as he sat up.

“U-Uh… Makoto?” Leon suggested, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

Hiro looked at Chihiro, whose eyes seemed to light up at the mention. “Alright, The Lucky Charm It Is.”

“Th-The lucky charm…?”

“Duh, Everyone has a super name.” Hiro snickered, handing Leon his shoes and socks back. “C’mon Red Rocker, pull yourself together.”

After that, they headed back to the dining hall to retrieve Makoto, but he was nowhere to be found. It looks like the altercation had broken itself up and most of the students had left the hall.

“LifeGuard! Where did The Lucky Charm go?”

“What are you three doing?” Celeste asked, confused.

“Who needs a lifeguard?? And why??” Aoi asked.

“They’re playing super hero.” Leon explained. “He’s talking about Makoto.”

“I’m assuming he’s referring to Hina when he says LifeGuard?” Sakura asked, to which Hiro nodded.

“Ooh! I want a super name!” Sayaka giggled excitedly.

“Hmm… How about… The Platinum Siren?”

“Oooh! I like It!”

“Um… right.” Hina smiled in exasperation, rubbing the back of her head. “Anyway, Makoto went back to his room so try checking there?”

“Thank you, LifeGuard!” Hiro said In a superhero voice. “Come, Decoder and Red Rocker. Let us go apprehend the criminal!”

He turned and left the room, Chihiro following closely behind, Leon sighed and hesitated. Why did he get involved in this silly game again?

He followed not so enthusiastically behind the two joyous students as they hurried down the hall, their jackets flying behind them like actual capes from how fast they were running.

Chihiro rang the doorbell while Hiro and Leon hid on either side of the door against the wall so that Makoto wouldn’t immediately spot them.

After a few minutes Makoto opened the door. “Chihiro, Hey… Are you okay?”

“Mhm. I’m doing much better now.” They smiled up at the lucky student.

“Good… I’m sorry about earlier, Byakuya was way out of line with what he-- ACK! H-Hey!” He yelped in surprise as Hiro suddenly came into view and scooped him up, carrying him inside his own room and dropping him on the bed as the other two followed and closed the door behind them. “What the hell!?”

“Evil doer, Your fight earlier with Byakuya upset The Decoder so I’m here to help them exact revenge!”

Makoto blinked, absolutely lost as to what was going on. His eyes flickered to Leon, who seemed uninterested. “What is he going on about now?”

“They’re playing a game.” Leon explained in a deadpan manner. “They’re superheroes and you and Byakuya are the villains.”

“Oh.” Makoto couldn’t help but smile a little at how happy Chihiro seemed, It seemed like they both were having a lot of fun… Who was he to ruin it for them? “Well, Foolish heroes. I won’t be thwarted by the likes of both of you!”

Makoto leapt off the bed and made a break for the door.

“He’s getting away Superhiro!” Chihiro gasped.

“Stop him, Red Rocker!”

“Why do I gotta do It?”

“The Red Rocker Is no match for me!” Makoto grinned, grabbing Leon as he sprinted out the door. “In fact, I’ll take him with me!”

He gave his best evil laugh as he pulled the door shut and went running with Leon down the hall.

He pulled Leon Into the Gym with him and doubled over to catch his breath. “Man, I need to start working out…” He wheezed.

Leon leaned against the wall, also catching his breath. “Y-Yeah, I’m not really used to running anymore either.”

“It’s really nice of you to play along with them.” Makoto smiled, standing up straight again.

“Y-Yeah well… I didn’t have much choice. They kind of forced me Into It.” Leon blushed, recalling how he got into this mess to begin with. “It was nice of you to go along with it without being coerced.”

“I can tell they’re having fun, I didn’t wanna ruin it.” He replied. “So, let me get things straight… You’re the Red Rocker, He’s Superhiro, Chihiro Is The Decoder… Who am I?”

“Hiro called you The Lucky Charm, I think he was thinking of cereal.” Leon chuckled.

“The… Lucky charm? Ehh, Not exactly the worst name I’ve heard…” Makoto smiled and shook his head. “Is anyone else playing along villain wise?”

“Nope. Me, You and Byakuya were the only villains. Apparently Hina and Sayaka are heroes.”

Makoto smiled mischievously. “Let’s go recruit some baddies then, Red Rocker.”

“Aye Aye, Captain.” Leon smirked in response.

The two set out on their sneaky mission to rope their friends into the silly game, they managed to avoid Chihiro and Hiro quite easily, surprisingly to the both of them.

“You want me to do what?” Mondo asked, blinking in utter confusion.

“Join in on our game as a villain.” Makoto repeated.

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“For Chihiro.” Leon replied. “Hiro started this goofy superhero game to cheer them up after this morning’s blow up. It’s working so far.”

“We need some backup, Because by now Hiro’s probably convinced Sayaka and Hina to join in-- Maybe more.”

Mondo sighed. “Alright. But only because It’s for Chihiro.”

“Let’s go get Taka onboard too.” Leon grinned.

They went off In search of said student, But they were too late. Somehow Hiro and Chihiro had convinced the strict student to join in on their game as a hero.

So they went back to the dining hall to see If Hina would join them instead but didn’t find either of the girls there.

Though they did find Sakura and Celeste drinking tea.

“Where’s Hina and Sayaka?” Makoto asked curiously.

“They went running off with Hiro and Chihiro, saying something about apprehending the villains?” Celeste recalled. “I’m assuming they meant you three.”

“Yeah.” Leon confirmed.

“Celeste? You wanna--”

“No.”

“Hey Sakura,” Mondo leaned against the back of her chair, whispering something to her. She made a confused face, asking him if he was sure, expecting him to change his mind. But he doubled down, asking her again.

“I do not wish to be involved in this chaotic game of yours.” Celeste smiled, taking a sip of her tea.

Sakura sighed. “If you’re absolutely sure you want me to…”

Makoto and Leon exchanged confused looks. “What?”

“Hell yeah I do, Sakura’s gonna join us.” Mondo grinned as she stood up.

“Alright Sakura!” Makoto beamed at the unsure Martial artist. They went back to her room (Makoto cheesily referred to It as their ‘lair’, Sakura politely asked him not to call her room that again.), since the heroes would be less likely to find them there, and they devised a plan.

“Hmm, They appear to be really good at hiding.” Taka frowned.

“You can say that again.” Hina said after checking a closet.

Hiro hummed thoughtfully as he went over every spot they’d checked. “Maybe they’re hiding in a bedroom?”

“Oh heroes~ This Is a school announcement,” Leon’s voice bounced off of the walls, He had set up his amps In the main area outside the dining hall and spoke through a microphone. “We villains are gonna kick your asses!” He smirked.

“Where’s that coming from?” Sayaka asked.

“Sounds like It’s coming from the commons.” Chihiro answered. “Let’s go!”

The four took off running towards the commons area but only found Leon’s amps with no sign of the rockstar around.

“They’re totally messing with us.” Hina huffed.

“Yeah-- Hey, Where’d Taka go??” Hiro realized they lost the red eyed student and scanned around looking for him.

Little did they know, Mondo had been hiding around the corner and nabbed him when they were heading to the commons, The Biker dragged him back to their ‘lair’. “M-Mondo! How could you betray me bro!? We could’ve been heroes together!” He frowned as Mondo taped his hands with bandage wrap.

“Oh, I’m not Mondo. My name Is The Crazy Diamond.” He winked, Taka seemed unimpressed.

“Seriously? Your gang name? That’s sort of lame…”

“Yeah? Well what’s your super name?”

Taka smiled defiantly at the ‘villain.’ “My name Is The Hall Monitor, Villain!”

Mondo was going to diss on his name, But Taka seemed proud of It and he looked like he was enjoying this game too, So he let it go.

“Alright Hall Monitor.” Makoto started his villainous monologue. “Here’s what’s going to happen… We’re going to capture every one of you lousy heroes and torture you. Once you’re out of your minds, There will be no heroes left to stop us!”

“You won’t be able to catch all of us! I assure you of that!” Taka said confidently, though his confidence wavered once he looked around the room. “W-Wait a minute… Where am I?”

“Oh, This? You’re in our secret lair.” Leon smirked.

“But Sakura asked us to stop calling It that so… You’re In her room.” Makoto added.

Taka flinched in surprise. “W-What?! She’s a villain!?”

“That’s right, Kyoudai…” Mondo hummed evilly. “And the others have no idea.”

“You dastardly fiends! How could you do this!?”

“Quite easily, Actually.” Mondo smiled, jabbing his fingers into Taka’s sides. “Just think, all you guys had to do was ask her nicely and she probably would have joined your side.”

Taka shrieked and convulsed with laughter, trying to squirm away from Mondo’s wiggling fingers. “Nohohoho! Mondo! Stahahahap tihihickling me!”

“Sorry bro, There’s no Mondo here.” Mondo chuckled darkly.

“Thihihihis isn’t fahahahahair! I cahahahan’t move!” He complained.

“Since when have villains played fair~?”

While this carried on in their lair, Sakura had grouped up with the other heroes under the guise of helping them. She suggested that Hiro and Chihiro check the boys locker room while the girls would check over the commons area again. Chihiro and Hiro didn’t suspect a thing so they did as suggested.

“That’s really weird, It’s like they vanished Into thin air...” Sayaka pondered.

“They’ve gotta be hiding in either the boys locker room or a bedroom, We’ve checked everywhere else.” Hina said, turning to her best friend. “I think we should start checking rooms, Where should we start?”

Sakura pretended to think about It. “They could be In any room, Even one not belonging to them.”

“What would be the point of that?” Hina asked, walking towards the dorm rooms with the two girls.

“To throw us off, We should check any open room.” she said, smiling in amusement as Hina nodded In agreement, They began checking for unlocked rooms when they heard Taka shouting.

“HINA! SAYAKA! DON’T TRUST--” He was abruptly cut off, Most likely by someone covering his mouth.

“Taka??” Hina listened carefully for his voice again but heard nothing.

“I think It came from down the hall…” Sayaka said as they hurried down the hall towards Sakura’s room, finding the door was slightly open but It was dark inside so they couldn’t tell If anyone was In there or not.

Hina pushed the door open and crept In, feeling along the walls for a light switch. “Taka? Are you in here?” She whispered cautiously.

She finally found the light switch and hit It, finding Taka on the bed with Makoto covering his mouth. “Heya, LifeGuard.” He grinned.

Hina whipped around hearing shuffling behind her, not really to her surprise but definitely to the shock of the villains, Sakura had Mondo pinned to the floor with a knee in his back and his arms above his head against the floor.

Sayaka had also pinned Leon down.

“W-What?! No way! You betrayed us!?” Makoto gasped.

“Sorry, Makoto.” She smiled. “They had already asked me to join the heroes.”

Hina grinned victoriously as she tackled Makoto onto the bed, pinning him easily. “It was a good strategy, But did you really think Sakura was going to betray me? Seriously?”

“Sakura, I swear to god… When I get out of this hold, You’re soooo gonna get It.” Mondo growled, sending a glare over his shoulder.

“You don’t fight girls.” She reminded him cockily.

“DECODER! SUPERHIRO! WE’RE IN HERE!” Sayaka called upon hearing their voices down the hall, They came running in and looked on in surprise at the scene before them.

“Wow! You girls kick serious butt.” Chihiro giggled.

Hiro went over to Taka and undid the bandage wrap around his wrists. “You okay, Hall Monitor?” He asked.

“Y-Yeah, Crazy Diamond over there was tickling me.” he huffed.

Hiro looked over at Mondo and grinned. “Is that so? Well, You should return the favor.”

Sakura nodded at her cue, removing her knee and flipping him over onto his back. She pinned his arms above his head firmly, there was no way he was getting out of her hold.

“This Is such bullshit.” Mondo sighed in defeat. “Sakura, I promise you as a man, I’m gonna get you back for this.”

“Goodluck.” She smiled in amusement, Her tone borderline teasing. “I’m stronger than you.”

Before Mondo could further threaten the Martial artist, Taka pounced, digging his fingers into every ticklish spot he could find, Making the Biker shriek with laughter.

“It’s okay LifeGuard, We got Lucky Charm. Go help Siren remind Red Rocker why It’s a bad idea to conspire against us.” Hiro smirked as Leon yelped.

“You got It, Boss.” Hina giggled, Hopping off the bed giddily, approaching the struggling Leon.

“Nononono-- NAHAHAHAHA!”

Makoto tried to escape but Hiro caught him in his arms and pinned him down. “Nice try! You gave us a lot of trouble today, Lucky Charm.”

“W-Wait, H-Hiro, C’mon… You don’t have to--” Makoto squeaked as he felt fingers wiggling against his ribs, He looked over to see Chihiro smiling mischievously as they tickled him. “Hehehehey! Ahahahahaha! Don’t tihihihickle me!”

“You were one of the main villains who was being super negative earlier, So yes, We do have to do this.” Hiro sighed dramatically, using one hand to tickle Makoto’s belly while the other still held him down.

“WAHAHAHAIT! WHAHAHAT ABOUT BYAKUYAHAHAHA!?” Makoto laughed, trying to squirm his stomach out of reach.

“Oh, Don’t worry. We’ll get him too.” Hiro smirked. “But not before we completely wreck you.”

This went on for a while, Mondo was pretty pissed at them when he could think clearly again, But seeing the happy looks on Chihiro and Taka’s face's calmed him down immediately.

After that, The negativity that plagued the school seemed to evaporate. Everyone was in much higher spirits.

It seemed like one thing was for sure, when everything was upsetting and everyone was feeling down, they could count on a Superhiro to save the day and lift everyone’s spirits.

[scarpool-gmk]

7

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 7 (9/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Gibbs's command to 'bring them all' was still ringing in Tony's head as he finished dropping off the Kahale kids in the conference room. Their father was waiting for questioning.

The elevator dinged, signaling Ziva's and Gibbs's arrival. They lead Patricia Kahale in, Ziva taking point and escorting her to interrogation.

Tony walked next to Gibbs to report. "One in interrogation, the rest in the conference room."

Gibbs nodded and glanced around the bullpen. "Where are they?"

The long Island Agents. "Uh, don't know, Boss. They weren't here when we came back."

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow but stayed silent.

"So, how do you want to do this, Boss?"

"Let's start with the father."

Tony snatched the case file as they passed his desk. Then, not because he had an urge to share his current opinion, Tony said, "And the evil step-mother?"

"Let her stew."

"Right, Boss. How about the kids?"

"Have McGee bring them down. He's in charge of any incoming calls."

"Right." Tony started for the center stairs.

"Hey!" Gibbs called out. "You're with me. Write to him or something."

Tony frowned as he followed Gibbs. Although interrogation was way more fun than dealing with McProbie and the kids, Tony was uncomfortable that Gibbs wanted him to send a postcard through the building.

"Write to him?"

"Through your phone," Gibbs said.

"Oh! Er, you mean send a text."

Gibbs stopped in his tracks. Tony cringed. "I'm writing to him, Boss."

Gibbs continued on, leading them to the interrogation wing and pushed open a door even though he was never told in which room the man was being held in. Tony shuddered. The Gind. What power it beholds.

"Hey, what's going on?" Johnathan Kahale questioned as they entered. "You said this was about my son? What's going on with the investigation?"

"Mr. Kahale," Tony said, "This is Special Agent Gibbs."

"Hi," Kahale said and, after a brief hesitation, held his hand out. Gibbs shook in greeting.

"So, you are also on Michael's case? I had only met two other agents before being picked up by Agent David and Agent DiNozzo here. I didn't realize how big your teams are."

"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled, "I'm getting that a lot recently."

"Oh," Kahale said, unsurely. Tony understood. He would have said the same thing to that.

"So, how long is this going to take? With the kids here, I should really speak to my wife."

"Your wife is also here, Mr. Kahale," Tony said.

"Really? Can I please see her?"

"No," Gibbs said.

"What? Why not?"

"You are both suspects," Gibbs said.

"Excuse me?! I don't know how you came to that conclusion, Agent Gibbs, but I assure you that neither of us had anything to do with my son's death."

"Then I'm sure you can account for your whereabouts during that time," Tony said.

"I was home."

"Asleep?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes."

"Your wife?"

"Right beside me."

"Did you know about Michael's presence in the area?" Tony asked.

"It's like I told the other agents. No."

"And your wife?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

Gibbs reached into the case file and placed a sheet down.

"Explain," Gibbs said.

"I don't understand," Kahale said. "Are these my phone records?"

"Yeah," Tony said, "There were three calls during the night. One of which you made. You called Michael."

"How do you know it was Michael? It could've been anyone."

"Like who?" Tony asked. "Who would you call at one in the morning that used a number that magically disappeared after use?"

There were a couple of 'um's and 'well's as Kahale fished for an answer. And Gibbs was able to fill in Kahale's awkward moment. "Adrian Rodriguez."

Johnathan Kahale blinked. "Who?"

"Don't know him?" Tony said, hoping to get any sort of recognition, although it was apparent the name was meaningless to the man. "First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez. He was assigned to the same ship as your son. He used the same technique Michael used. Make a call. Dump the phone. You have quite the phone history. Remarkably, so do the First Lieutenant's parents. In fact, most of the calls you received from out of service numbers align perfectly with the First Lieutenant's folks. Gap lengths and all. Same day. Same hour. Same location."

Kahale sighed heavily. "It was Michael."

"Why'd you call him?" Gibbs asked.

"Wanted to set up a place to meet?" Tony suggested. "A place to kill him?"

"No! Never!"

"So why lie about contacting him?" Tony asked. "Was it your wife? She doesn't like him. That much is obvious. So what? Keep it hidden? Keep the son you had with another woman a little secret?"

"Michael wasn't some dirty secret!"

"He went missing," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," Tony said, adding some interpretation to that topic. "Why did he run away?"

Kahale shifted in his seat. "He didn't run away," he said. But his posture displayed the doubt he had. Interesting. If he had communicated with his son, shouldn't he have known the answer to that?

Gibbs opened the file again and placed down pictures of Michael's body in autopsy. He also placed down Ducky's official report. "He had tissue and muscle scars old enough to have been done before he disappeared," Gibbs said.

Kahale's eyes flashed up at Gibbs. "You imply that he had ever been beaten in my home, Agent Gibbs?"

"He was different," Tony said, hoping to diffuse the situation and redirect some of the clear revulsion from Kahale onto himself. "No pictures. No social life. Behavioral problems. No steady school. Mother doesn't exist. Who was she? Just some random chick?"

"She wasn't random. And she wasn't just some chick. She was intelligent. Exquisite. Knowledgeable about every subject. Well-travelled. Skilled beyond measure. She knew me before I even laid eyes on her. She's a goddess. And I fell for her, even knowing the consequences."

Wow. Tony might be jealous if his partner lit up like that about a previous flame that had no records. Not to mention, bringing a kid into the picture.

"I loved his mother. I still do. No matter how much she may now despise me. And I love Michael. I could never blame him for any of the things he brought with him. How could I blame him?"

'Blame him?'

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Why'd he leave?" Tony said.

Kahale let out a breath. "He wanted to find his mother's relatives."

"Is she dead?" Tony asked.

Kahale shrugged. How helpful.

"You didn't know where they were?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

"So, what," Tony said, wrapping his head around this idea. "You just let a ten-year-old kid travel the country? Unsupervised? Alone? With not a clue where to go?"

"It wasn't planned," Kahale said, "He didn't say anything; he just left."

"But," Tony dragged the vowel out. "You were okay with his disappearance?"

The silence was the confirmation.

This was crazy! Who would do that? No, scratch that. Tony knew the answer to that. But these people just didn't fit that profile. This guy had to be lying. He was just following the given story, hoping that it would pan out.

"Well," Tony said, "that would explain why a couple of lawyers sent a missing person file knowing nothing would happen."

"Get someone to review his statements," Gibbs said, packing up the case file. "You're not charged with murder yet, but you will be charged with a list of other crimes."

Tony flung the door out dramatically. "Yeah, like child neglect."

Gibbs walked out, and Tony started to close the door, slowing down so it wouldn't close too fast. He waited for Kahale to plea. To bargain. To let loose.

But he didn't. And Tony had to eventually close the door. The click as empty as the amount of nothing they had gotten from that interrogation.

-Ζήβα-

Ziva sat on the corner of the table as Gibbs took up his spot on the chair.

Patricia Kahale sat on the other chair, hands folded and eyes pointed straight at the one-way viewing glass. She had remained silent on the car ride over. Interestingly enough, she had not requested a lawyer even though promising she would when last questioned.

Gibbs placed down the profiles of the two children, Jeremy Swallar and Natasha Hibashira.

"Last time you were here," Gibbs started, "You told me you did not recognize them."

Gibbs waited for a reaction. Mrs. Kahale did not so much as avert her gaze.

"Mrs. Kahale?" Ziva asked. 'If this is how it's going to be, we might as well just cut-'

"Who's on the other side?"

Ziva blinked, forced out of her thoughts.

"Another agent," Gibbs said.

"One of yours?"

"Yes."

"No one else?"

"No, just my guy."

"Good."

Ziva remembered how Mrs. Kahale reacted to Agent La Rue and seemed to dislike Agent Jackson. Did she know something they did not?

Gibbs tapped on the pictures. "You said you didn't know them."

Mrs. Kahale glanced at them. "I did."

"You lied."

"A mistake, surely."

"You were seen talking to them at a bar," Ziva said.

"What did you say to them?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn't say anything to them," Kahale stated. "Besides, aren't they a little young to be at a bar unaccompanied?"

"Who said they were unaccompanied?" Ziva asked.

"Was that not what you implied? Why would I talk to them, if they had their parents with them?"

Ziva had to hand it to Kahale. She could dance. Ziva gave her a little smile. If only just.

"They were looking for a ride," Ziva said, "We believe you suggested them to go to Tarsibo. He is your client, after all."

"I did not speak to them."

"You don't want to talk about them. Fine," Gibbs said, "How about we talk about your stepson. You haven't seen him for years?"

"No."

"You haven't spoken to him?"

"No."

"Your husband was," Gibbs said.

"N-" Mrs. Kahale stopped and threw them a questioning look. "If he was, I have no knowledge of that."

Ziva frowned. "So, you did not know that your husband was in regular contact with Michael?"

"No."

"Did you know your husband called him right before he died?" Ziva asked.

"No."

"You told me you didn't know he joined the Marines. Did you not know what happened to him? That he was even alive? Did you not care? Your husband never told you anything, and you never asked?"

"No," Mrs. Kahale said.

Ziva leaned back. One word for all of her questions. She was used to it, but Gibbs at least cared.

"I suppose it was his way of respecting my desire to not be a part of it," Mrs. Kahale said. She scoffed. "His way of shielding me from that side of his life."

"His ex-wife," Gibbs clarified.

"She was never his wife," Mrs. Kahale said.

Gibbs shrugged. "Your husband had a kid with her. He speaks very highly of her. I would understand if you were resentful."

Mrs. Kahale glared at him. "I don't hate her, Agents," she said, "But if she's so smart, why does she make so many rash decisions? I'll tell you why. Selfishness. Pride. She doesn't have to deal with the consequences of her actions. Someone else always deals with them."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. Yes. Definitely resentful.

"Sounds like you know her," Gibbs said.

"No. But I've heard plenty of stories."

"What kind of stories?" Ziva asked.

"Dramas."

Gibbs hummed. "You would describe them as tragedies?"

Mrs. Kahale lifted her chin. "I would."

"Like the epic stories of the Greek myths," Gibbs said.

Mrs. Kahale said nothing.

"Your husband said she was a goddess. So, was he a part of some cult?"

Mrs. Kahale kept silent.

Ziva narrowed her eyes. The woman obviously did not like whatever it was her husband and this mystery woman were a part of. Why keep silent?

"You can tell us what's going on," Ziva said, "We will help you. Why don't you say anything? Are you being threatened? Your children are here and safe."

Mrs. Kahale swallowed. "It's nothing like that."

Oh, but it was. There was a response at the indication of being threatened and her kids, just as clear as to when Gibbs mentioned Greek myths.

"The kids," Gibbs said, tapping the pictures. "How do they fit in this?"

The woman looked down and took a breath, collecting herself. Ziva sat back. 'Just when we were making progress.' Were they looking at this wrong? Were the kids simply an unrelated event?

Patricia gave an annoyed huff. "As I already told you-"

The files flew from the desk. Gibbs was frustrated. Ziva did not envy this woman. He slammed his hands on the table, glaring down at her. "Then tell me something new. And make it the truth."

No. Ziva did not envy this woman at all.

The door clicked open.

Gibbs turned his death glare at McGee.

"Um, B-Boss," he stammered, "you really need to know this."

Ziva quickly followed after Gibbs. Although apparently suicidal, McGee was still a dear friend, and Ziva wouldn't like to see Gibbs murder him.

Gibbs growled. "What."

McGee nervously wet his lips.

"Well, Ducky has already released his findings. All these reporters who were following the case got them and reported the info to their respective medias. Reshaun Sachs, the bartender; you knew that, of course- well know, you haven't forgotten. Well, he decided to find out what was going on since his business is obviously involved and-"

Oh no. McGee was rambling. And Gibbs's face was darkening with each word. Would her gun be helpful? Or perhaps her knife would be more practical. She decided on simply clearing her throat. Loudly. McGee stuttered to a stop. Ziva gave him a pointed look.

Ziva was relieved when she saw his face alight with understanding.

"Patricia Kahale was at The Drowsy Owl during the time of death. She could not have killed Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale."

-Αντώνης-

Tony did not like this.

He watched as Gibbs and Ziva entered the interrogation room.

"You are free to go, Mr. Kahale," Ziva said.

"Thank you. If I can just see my wife, then we can-"

"Your wife isn't cleared," Gibbs said.

"What?"

"She admitted to killing your son."

"What?! No! She couldn't have."

"How do you know?" Ziva said, clicking the door shut behind her.

"She was at home."

"Weren't you home as well?"

"Yes, but- she just couldn't have done it."

"We know," Gibbs said, taking a seat. "Although not in your house, she is witnessed being at a bar during the time of the murder."

"Then you know she didn't do it. That she's innocent."

"Mr. Kahale, aren't you curious as to why she would be at a bar so late at night?" Ziva asked. "Not telling you and lying that she was?"

"Maybe she was meeting with her friends. I trust my wife."

"Have any idea as to whom these friends might be?" Gibbs said.

"No, I did not see them."

"What did they tell you?"

"Nothing. As I said. I did not see them."

"But you spoke with them. You received a call before and after you spoke with Michael. A blocked number."

"You had to be awake to answer your phone. You had to have known your wife was not lying asleep next to you. Why did you lie?"

"No, I-"

"Did you follow her?" Ziva said.

"Were you at your house?" Gibbs asked.

"Ye-"

"We have your kids here," Ziva said, "We can ask them."

"How about you ask them?" Gibbs said.

"Stop, please-"

"Maybe," Gibbs said, "you can tell them why you killed their brother."

"THEY HAD HER!" Mr. Kahale screamed. "They had Patty! And they were going to kill her! Unless��unless…"

"Unless you killed Michael," Ziva finished for him.

A gasp broke Tony's attention away from the interrogation room to the reason he was placed behind the glass. Patricia Kahale stood next to him with her hands over her mouth, staring intently at the scene before her.

"I warned him. I called him. They gave me a car and a bullet. I needed to save my wife. I wanted him to help me. But he said there was no time and that there was no one in D.C. that could help."

He bowed his head. "They had my wife," he sobbed.

"No," Patricia whispered.

"She's not part of this life," Mr. Kahale said, "She shouldn't die from it. How could I have brought her into it?"

"No," Patricia said again, and the look in her eyes gave Tony a bad feeling. "John, no!"

Tony was a half-second too late. The woman ran out of the viewing room. Tony sped out after her to see her flinging the interrogation room open.

"How could you do it?!" She cried.

"Boss," Tony said, "I'm sorry she just…" He stopped as Gibbs held a hand up.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Kahale said, "But I couldn't let you be involved. I couldn't let them have you! And you came back home and didn't say anything, acting fine-"

"I was always involved! Michael's stench led them to our family even after he left. They threatened to take me, you, our kids. They told me what they did to people."

"You took up a deal," Gibbs said, "You help them get what they wanted, they leave you alone."

Mrs. Kahale nodded.

"How many are there?"

"Too many. It's a nest that has grown through some sort of pact between them all, and nothing is killing them."

"Why didn't you call the police?" Ziva asked her.

"That would just make things worse. Besides, Michael has obviously delivered a message to his people."

Gibbs froze for a second.

"Boss?" Tony asked. What was going on?

Gibbs snapped out of it. "You two," he told the Kahales, "Stay."

He stalked out of the room. Ziva and Tony followed, having to jog to keep up with him. Tony quickly texted McGee a heads up and to send the Kahale kids back upstairs. When Gibbs took the stairs, they knew whatever he figured out was bad.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked. "Search the Long Island team."

"But I already- okay," McGee easily complied, after looking at his boss, "Looking up Lima."

McGee shared his screen on the plasma as he loaded up the federal database.

"No," Gibbs said, "Not Lima. Don't go through any federal sites."

"Um, okay? Doing an internet search of Percy Jackson."

"News sites," Gibbs said.

"Boss there are hundreds of Percy Jacksons," McGee scrolling through articles, "We'll never find-"

"That one," Gibbs pointed.

It was an article from a few years ago. "Percy Jackson, Criminal or Victim?" The photo had an image of a young, disheveled Percy Jackson. And by his side…

McGee was freaking out. "Boss, I'm sorry. Their profiles should have-"

"Her," Gibbs pointed, "Age her up to now."

"Right. Aging."

McGee cut out the photo of the blonde and plugged it into the program. He had wisely shut his trap. As the image began to come into focus, Tony felt his heart stop. There was no denying it.

"Gibbs," Ziva said, quietly, "That's-"

BANG! Gibbs slammed his desk drawer closed and shoved his firearm in its place at his hip. There was utter silence in the bullpen as Gibbs strode off.

A few seconds later, Tony was the first to move. No matter how angry Gibbs was, Tony was still a cop. The rest of his teammates quickly followed.

They left the image of Annabeth Chase, otherwise known as NCIS Special Agent Anne Lima, on the screen behind them.

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[ironforgedrp]

Hi! I'm a (hopefully) first time admin and I've got everything ready to go and set up but I'm really nervous that it won't get off the ground, and you guys have been open for so long do you have any tips for me how to make my RP be as successful as yours? It looks like such a good place, I hope it's not weird to ask this

        hi there friend,  thank-you so much for your compliments, and don’t stress… i’m happy to offer some advice, i’m no expert whatsoever but i’ve run a few roleplays over the past decade or so.    the key note firstly is to think of your RP as your kind of group ersatz family, as the admin you’re the head of that family.   you keep everyone on course, you’re the gatekeeper and it’s your standards that set the tone for what happens in your family’s house.  and i first want to tell you honestly that it is a little bit of a responsibility; you have to be willing to sort out problems, make decisions, mediate, diffuse and sometimes be on the receiving end of anon hate or the occasional jaded RPer, you have to be motivated and encouraging and dedicated -  but if you are, the people who you write and create with will give it back to you tenfold & it will never become a drag.    i hope this helps you a bit!

decide if you want a co-admin or you think you can handle it yourself - i personally have done solo-adminning, lead admin with moderators & co-adminned with up to four people. though i’ve found that, if you want to work with a team of mods/admins, having an odd number can be really helpful as you’re never tied.  also, if you decide to bring in a co-admin or moderator, have a clear idea of how you want to operate as a roleplay and what you expect of them as admins, and whether or not they have an equal say as you, the creator of the roleplay.  if they do, make that clear and if they don’t, make it clear what things you need to have a look over and what things they are able to handle alone (i.e. asks, applications, major plot changes).   honestly, the worst thing that can happen is if you’re not on the same page because it confuses you, them and your muns.

don’t jump the gun, patience is key.  if you’re hoping to have a long running roleplay then i would expect at least a month of work to be put into it before it’s trotted out, but it sounds like you’re already ready to go. make sure, before you open for activity, you have enough muns & characters to get the roleplay off to a healthy start and have the dash reasonably active.

set rules that are clear, but don’t be a dictator - make sure you have expressed clearly what your rules of conduct are (such as dash conduct, mun age restrictions [if any], activity standards, god-modding, banned/acceptable faceclaims, etc.)

set up an ads blog, and queue ads to post semi-regularly with varied but relevant tags and an eye-catching graphic &/or summary of your roleplay

set up a discord server or another way for your muns to communicate and plot OOC, it really helps muse and communication and also can be a fantastic way to build plots with existing characters and muns.  and, lets be honest, it’s nice to be able to chat with the folks you’re writing with.

check in with everyone! make sure your muns are comfortable and happy and no one is falling by the wayside or being left out. also, it’s nice to make sure that your muns are alright personally - by no means pry, but be an open ear if someone needs to talk. you’d be surprised how many in the RPC are often too shy or anxious to admit to an admin that they need time for their mental health, work, study, etc. but if you make it clear from the beginning that you actually do care and are willing to help work with people it makes all the difference.

the most important to me: build rapport!!!   the best thing for your roleplay, as an admin, is to do your absolute best to be approachable and have a relationship with your muns. you obviously don’t have to be best friends with everyone and talk every day, but believe me, what makes a roleplay last is the community you build behind it. i love having made such talented and varied friends in ironforged - we have voice chats and some of us facetime and/or text, we watch tv shows together and even help each other out with anything from personal problems to university assignments.  our community is  what helps us withstand all the trials and tribulations, and it’s what has given our roleplay such fantastic plot drops and progressions.  the main point is, from the get-go, make sure your muns know that your DMs are always open if they have questions, queries, rants, concerns, ideas… all of the above.

trigger warnings, which obviously depends on the genre you’re in but, i personally would suggest to offer your muns the ability to tell you what their triggers are privately and list them somewhere on the main blog for the other members to see.

embrace being an admin, and don’t get walked over. don’t forget that this is your roleplay, you created it and put the work in and no one (anon or not) can tell you how to run it. don’t be scared to call out people for breaking the rules, don’t be scared to issue warnings, don’t be scared to reject people if they haven’t read the rules or aren’t the right fit for your roleplay or make you uncomfortable, don’t be scared to say no.  it’s okay!

have open eyes, ears and mind; listen to feedback and concerns, hear out grievances and be willing to be polite even if people are being rude but don’t entertain pointless anon hate. speaking of anon hate… don’t turn off the anon ask option unless you honestly feel like it is the right route for you - it shuts off the ability for people to contact you whilst maintaining some anonymity and privacy, which can be discouraging.

crucial to any roleplay is the world-building, have a page with some key locations that are applicable to your roleplay (such as cafes, taverns, gyms, shops, housing locations), also i’ve honestly found that it helps setting the scene. consider where your roleplay is located (real place/fictional place) and make those details clear. paint the picture, immersion is a fantastic thing and it’s something both you and your muns can work on and collaborate on in the future. we have an inspo blog, pinterest boards, spotify playlists, youtube playlist, ambiance playlists, regional locations and business…. and a very colourful NPC list that has been collaborated and expanded upon throughout the life of ironforged.

have clear direction and at minimum a loose idea of where you want to go with your roleplay.  even if you don’t want to have a very plot driven roleplay (like ours is with plot drops, random events, character/mun interwoven plots - which requires a long-form type of roleplaying) and would rather have it open world (you set the scene, and everyone just goes with the flow - which can be both long or short form types of writing) - it is so important to have some tricks and surprises in your bag. the best and easiest is having a few muse-boosting tasks lined up, perhaps a group event to bring people together (a party, a fight, a ball, a wedding, etc.) otherwise, 8.5 times out of 10, you’ll find muse flatlining.  ask your muns! ask other rps! make a poll! hit up the RPC tags and roleplay helper blogs!

the finer details; pick a timezone to mark the roleplay with (eg; here i post in AEST on the roleplay because i am australian and it’s easy for me to queue and schedule things) but it’s crucial to ensure you include the timezone equivalent for other people in other timezones to be able to quickly understand (eg; AEST = GMT+10). you can always link an external timezone converter page if you’re unsure!

and, of course, be organised. make sure you have your pages set up and linked properly. the main that come to my mind to start off with are; navigation, plot, taken FCs, IC & OOC rules, a masterlist, blogroll/follow list, application/application page, application counts, ask & submit are open and an ooc page.

         and LASTLY,  this is my personal advice from one admin to another; if you really want a roleplay to work and you really want it to last for (hopefully) years, then you have to put some heart into it.  our roleplay, as a group, has seen some bad times and good times galore. we’ve had people become seriously ill, we’ve had engagements and weddings, graduations, a fair few birthdays, hospital trips/emergencies, international internships, personal problems, personal triumphs…  our communication as a roleplay isn’t always perfect, but we continue to do our best - and working on our communication is what allows us to keep going on through everything.

         also, as an admin, do your best to make sure you are not the most powerful character and not center of all the roleplays controversy, drama and plot drops (if applicable), it’s become a kiss of death cliche, and also can alienate potential muns because they feel like background players to your show.    but seriously, involve everyone and give a shout out for peoples interest, and the ideas that come flowing back from your muns will amaze you, trust me!

       best of luck!    admin tee.

[statsonlineassignhelp-blog]

Random Walks and Diffusion Assignment Homework Help

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Random Walks and Diffusion  Homework Help|Random Walks and Diffusion  Assignment Help| Random Walks and Diffusion  Project Help

Random Walks and Diffusion Online Help goes for helping students in finishing of their work and offer their homework load which can give a lot of alleviation and enable them to center around getting ready for exams or seeking after various courses at once. Along these lines we guarantee that learning happens during the time spent taking our administrations and not simply giving our customers with finish arrangements which toward the end could make a few issues them including not having the capacity to finish their viva or answer or clarify the inquiries that their educators and personnel put over.

[huangels]

the universe works in mysterious ways - haechan

a/n: happy birthday to the shining sun, haechan!! this scenario is dedicated for hyuckie’s bday but it’s not june 6th anymore in korea but in america it is so-,, i didn’t expect this to be so long sorry dkshdh. i’m making a tag for birthday dedicated fics btw, (also i wanted it to be all in haechan’s POV butttt it didn’t turn out well so it’s half and half)

summary: Haechan bumps into you at the cafe you work in, and grows fond of you so he visits more often. Every visit is full of shining smiles and glowing eyes, until one night, he trudges in with a gloomy storm cloud above him. 

genre: fluff, if you squint there might be light angst?

warnings: none

word count: 3.1k

[ HC's POV ]

The buzzing small cafe is filled wall to wall with people. As expected, since it is breakfast time. Haechan is lucky enough to get there earlier than the breakfast rush hour to find an empty small table near the corner. At least, the table is by the window (he likes to people watch).

Haechan's next class doesn't start until noon, so he has time to relax and study his notes, mostly out of spite (his friend Mark says he crams studying before an exam). His laptop, every inch of the back filled with random stickers, is spread out across his small round table, along with his textbooks full of stick notes and notebooks. It isn't that Haechan is a bad or inadequate student who doesn't take notes, he's just a professional procrastinator. While his eyes skim through his bullet-pointed notes, he feels the on-building regret of waking up 4 hours before his first class of the day just to study in the chatty and stuffed cafe.

Haechan debates on whether he should get up and stand in the lengthy line to wait for a large cup of caffeine. Although, his head unknowingly falling from his hand and almost hitting the table answers his question. To save his table, Haechan places his red backpack on his seat, making sure his valuables are hidden from prying hands (his computer closed and hidden under an opened textbook and his phone safely in his pocket).

Though the line is long, looping around the small range of the cafe, the employees work fast to cater to everyone's orders. In no time, Haechan reaches the front of the line.

In place of his friend, Mark, who is usually working behind the cashier in the mornings, stands a new face. A very attractive new face.

"Good morning! What would you like?" you ask, meeting the slightly wide-eyed Haechan. The friendly smile that spreads across your face causes Haechan's heart to speed up, losing track of how long he's been staring at you. Not wanting to come off as creepy, Haechan shakes his head away from the distractions that are you. His usual order (a large caramel latte with whipped cream and a cherry) is on the tip of his tongue, but he freezes before it leaves his mouth.

What if my usual order seems too childish? Haechan thinks mentally. He doesn't want you to think he's younger than he is, ordering the sugariest drink in the cafe, especially since the customers previously in front of him ordered dark coffees and shots of espressos. Remembering the order of the student before you, Haechan decides to change his order, just for today (hell, maybe he'll actually like it).

"A large - Americano," Haechan orders, dubiously. You press a few buttons on the screen attached to the cashier on the counter.

"For here or to go?"

"H-here."

"Okay, that'll be $4.79."

Haechan digs his pockets for his wallet, pulling out a five dollar bill. You ring up the bill before grabbing the exact change, holding it out with the receipt. Haechan involuntarily swallows while he grabs the change. As he comes into contact with your hands, his fingers feel like putty. He retracts fast, stuffing his hand into his front pocket to drop the change.

"Your drink will be with you in a moment," you inform him, then calling next. Haechan trudges back to his seat, thankfully still untouched. He removes his hand from his pocket, sure that it is melting on the spot.

Knock it out, you weirdo, Haechan hits the side of his head lightly. He looks down at his notes once more, trying to distract him from that fact that he's found his true love (Mark always says he's way too overdramatic, in which Haechan dramatically reacts by shoving him away).

His mind is filled with information about the British colonial system, when a beige plate with a matching large mug is placed next to his notebooks. Haechan looks up to quickly thank the waiter until he is lost for words once again. His eyes beeline to the cashier and standing behind the counter, taking orders, is Mark. Haechan's eyes return to yours, still as wide as ever.

"Hey, if you don't mind me asking, why did you order an Americano when you usually order a latte?" you wonder, carrying the metal plater to deliver the mug behind your back. Haechan's mouth becomes dry from holding it open for too long.

"Oh - erm - because I just wanted to...try something new, yeah," he answers after regaining his state. "Wait, how did you know?"

"I usually work behind the counter making drinks. But since it is so busy right now, we had to call in more workers, so today I'm a waitress."

"Then why were you behind the counter earlier?"

A faint blush paints the tips of your cheeks but you shift your head so your hair covers it as you peer to the ground. You toy with the platter behind your back, "Mark - he had to get something from the back...so I took over for a few orders."

Haechan isn't sure if you're telling the truth or not, since your voice is so quiet and the bustling cafe isn't helping. But he lets it slide, afraid that if he opens his mouth to interrogate, he might say something embarrassing or uncomfortable.

"Oh well thanks for the coffee," Haechan says instead, holding it up before bringing the rim to his parted lips. It's burning hot, no doubt, but the mixture of espresso and water with barely any milk to diffuse the bitterness causes Haechan's face to twist in a peculiar way. A laugh escapes from your mouth as you use your free hand to cover it (Haechan thought it was adorable). Before you walk back to the counter, Haechan catches a glimpse of your name tag, Y/N.

He'll be sure to remember that for next time.

And sure enough, he does. Haechan frequents the cafe you work at almost every day before and after his classes. He even goes as far as waking up hours before he usually sleeps until, to visit you. With his progressive visits, Haechan gets the chance to talk to you more, getting to know you little by little, and he grows fond of you.

[ Your POV ]

It's a Thursday evening, not many customers as it is the end of spring semester and everyone is home with family or out on vacation. The only people left in the cafe are students taking summer courses, trying to stock up on caffeine in order to finish up assignments and exams. You wipe the empty tables, getting rid of crumbles or coffee spills. Soon enough, the cafe empties out once the clock hits 10 PM, the students packing up and heading back to their dorms or such. You're now alone in the abandoned cafe, not even other employees are working since you're the only one that signed up for the night shift for tonight.

As you mindlessly clean around the shop, you wonder how Haechan is doing (he seems to be on your mind a lot recently). He visited earlier today, around noon, but there appeared to be something bothering him. When you took the seat in front of him and questioned why the long face, he would just brush it off, saying he had a bad day. Hopefully, that is untrue because today is a very special day. You hope that Haechan's mood has turned a full 180 and he's enjoying his day with his loved ones.

After clearing the round tables, you pull out the mop from the back room and drag it across the floor to clean any stains or dust. It's the routine for whoever works the night shifts, to clean up. Though, there are usually more people working to help out. But tonight, it's just you and the whirling of the coffee machines cleaning themselves. The ticking of the clock perched on the far wall continues, 10:52 PM, almost closing time.

You push the large tub of cleaning water and mop back into the break room before hanging up your beige apron. The sound of the opening entrance activates the bell, signaling that someone has entered the cafe.

"Sorry, we are closing in 5 minutes," you inform and turn around to let the customer out, but stop in your tracks as Haechan plops down in his usual seat. His expression is still gloomy, causing your heart to contort in an unpleasant fashion. "Haechan, what are you doing here?"

"A slice of vanilla cake, please," Haechan ignores your question, ordering the dessert with a gravelly and ruffled tone. He places his head on the table, chin resting on his folded arms.

"Cake? Don't you have cake at home?" you ask, but walk behind the counter to grab a slice from the display.

"I don't want to talk about it."

That seems like the go-to phrase of the day, with every question pertaining to his rainy mood, that is the response you are met with. With a sigh, you carefully transfer a slice of vanilla cake onto a plate and set it in front of Haechan. He grabs the small fork provided and just as he is about to dig in, you shout out for him to hold it. Confused, Haechan retreats his fork and watches as you scramble out of your seat in front of him to the counter once again. You dig around in the cubby under the counter where you keep your backpack, pulling out a box and grabbing some things from the drawers as well.

You shuffle back to him, holding the three items behind you back. Haechan raises an eyebrow, a question of 'what' about to spill out of his mouth. But before he can do so, you place the box on the table next to the slice of cake. Haechan's eyes switch from watching you to staring at the box in front of him. It's neatly enveloped in red and gold wrapping paper, a big golden bow taped on top.

"For me?" he asks, a finger pointed at his chest.

You roll your eyes teasingly, "No for the ghost behind you."

"Should I open it now?"

"Up to you."

Haechan reaches for the box, hand on the bow, but sets it down afterward. Your face drops, does he not like it? Is it too much to gift him something even if the two of you only met a few months ago? The beat of your heart matches you breathing, sporadic.

"Sorry, Y/N. Thank you so much for the gift. I really appreciate it. You're the only one who remembers," Haechan voices, though it's faint and full of gloom. He sets the box down, probably planning to open it later (you hope, that is).

"What? No way, I'm sure there's just a misunderstanding," you suggest, but the lack of response tells you to move on. Instead of prying further, you pull out the other two items from behind you. A package of used candles and a matchbox. Delicately, you stick a few of the small candles on the cake before taking a match to light them. Haechan follows you with full glassy eyes, he tries not to cry. You wave the match around to extinguish the fire.

"Happy birthday to you," you sing with a smile that illuminates brighter than the flames on the cake. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Haechan...Happy birthday to you!"

You clap gingerly, not wanting to blow out the candles with your movements. A tear rolls down Haechan's eyes before he quickly reaches to wipe it away, acting as if nothing happened. He leans forward with his eye closed, cheeks puffed, about to blow out the candle when you lightly clamp a hand over his mouth.

"You have to make a wish first, silly!"

Haechan scoffs nonchalantly, but the tint of his cheeks give away his cool facade. He closes his eyes once you withdraw your hand. The warm tones of the fire bring out the rich caramel color of Haechan's skin. You think it's beautiful, giving compliments every time the sun rays beam in through the window to kiss his vibrant skin. His shaggy brown hair falls over his forehead, lightly brushing his eyelashes. He opens his eyes, the chocolate-colored orbs gleaming down to blow out the candles. Snapping out of your unexpected trance, you cheer and urge for Haechan to eat the cake or else his wish won't come true.

After Haechan finishes the cake, you clean up the dish and silverware, not wanting your boss to scold you for leaving dirty dishes in the sink before closing the shop. The older boy moves to pay for the cake but you reply that it's your treat. It's his 18th birthday after all, he can't pay for his own cake.

Haechan and you walk side by side back to the dorms in the windy but humid night once you closed up the cafe. The silence is peaceful but there is something off about it as well, it bugs you. Haechan acts normally, but it seems as if there is something in his head that's bothering him. He keeps spacing out (walking into the road when the red stop light is on, missing a turn, almost hitting a stop sign). You have asked what it is that's troubling Haechan today but he doesn't want to share. Yet, you still feel the urge to question it. On one hand, you don't want to upset the latter, especially on his birthday. But on the other, he is already upset and there is a possibility you can make it better.

"Haechan?" you beckon in a hushed tone, even though there is no one out in the street at 11 PM. He hums in response but keeps his eyes trained in front of him on nothing in particular.

"Can you please tell me what's wrong? Why are you so upset? You know it's better to talk about things than to keep them bottled up."

Haechan releases a sigh, head leaning back to gaze up at the night sky, "It's my birthday today."

You wait for him to continue, not knowing what to say as you already know this information. Hence, why you prepared a gift for him. After a lengthy silence, presuming that Haechan is contemplating on whether to let it all out or not, he finally continues.

"But no one remembered," he exhales into the air, "no one except you."

"I'm sure there's a reason behind it. Maybe they texted you but it didn't send, technology can't always be trusted. Or what if they tried to leave a voicemail but your inbox is full or the machine isn't working. Or they tried to send you a gift but it got lost in the mail," you propose, trying to lighten the burden on Haechan's shoulders.

"Y/N...," he begins, his face now staring at you instead of the dark sky, "thank you, really. Thank you for always being there for me. For being here with me. And for remembering my birthday. I really don't know how I deserve someone like you, who is so warmhearted and positive, in my life. But thank you."

"Of course, Haechan. I care about you," you declare tenderly. Haechan stops walking, his arm holding onto yours causing you to stop as well. His eyes glisten, though you don't know if it's from the stars in the sky or of tears. Even when the sun isn't out, his skin still radiates warmth and glow.

"I like you, Y/N," he says without further thought. You're taken aback by his confession and expression, for it's serious with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his lips tight in a line. Opposite from his appearance, you can't help but smile, fully comprehending his words. High on the rush of happiness, you swing your arms around Haechan's neck, pulling the latter closer to your body. Up close, his face is even more flawless, his eyes large, his nose round, and his lips plump and glossy. Though, you can't let your temptation for a kiss overrule your consciousness, so you lean to the side and plant a short kiss on his rosy cheek.

Haechan's eyes somehow grow wider, but before you can pull away, your lips are locked with his as an arm snakes around your waist to enclose you in his frame. His lips are as puffy and buttery as you imagined, the kiss chaste and soft. You feel as if the stars in the sky have stopped moving, the planet has stopped rotating, and everything around you has come to a halt. A charge of electricity runs up your spine, warming up your body. You imagine this feeling only happens in fiction, having read it multiple times, but this new experience is one you never want to forget. Haechan breaks away to your displease, eyes still closed, but he doesn't move far as he rests his forehead on yours.

"Would you look at that, half of my wish has already come true," the words leaving Haechan's mouth like silk. You lean your head back to look at him in the eye.

"What's the other half?"

"Can't tell you."

"Oh right, or else it won't come true!"

"I don't think it will anyway, but I'm more than content with what I've got right now."

"Oh shush, you never know, the Universe works in mysterious ways."

You peer up at the sky, the stars shining a lot brighter than before. You wonder if this is what it's like to be in love (though you don't really know what true love is), with everything becoming brighter and clearer. Haechan locks his hand with yours and continues walking back to the University dormitories.

"Can you stay with me tonight? I need comfort, we can watch movies - and cuddle?" Haechan asks, swaying your laced hands back and forth.

"Of course!"

It doesn't take long before reaching the large building of dorm rooms. Both male and female students share the same building but are located on different floors. Though, the RA doesn't really care who goes into who's room as long as no one is dying. With your hands still enveloped in his bigger ones, he reaches into his pocket for his keys, fumbling around before unlocking the front door and revealing his dark empty dorm room. Once he closes and locks the door, the lights flash on with a collective scream of "Happy 18th Birthday Haechan!"

Haechan drops his keys as it flies around in the air. He whips about his feet, meeting face to face with his friends, a birthday banner being held up in the middle. One of the guys walks towards Haechan, putting a party coned hat on him, while Mark snaps a picture of Haechan's reaction with a Polaroid. Haechan's death tight grip on your hand finally loosens as tears threaten to breach.

The other half of his birthday wish has come true.

[builder051]

No sympathy (a Spiderman sickfic)

I was super enthused about how much love the first Spiderman fic got, so I had to run and write another one.  This one is Halloween themed, and it’s EXACTLY 2100 words.

Ned’s texted Peter four times in the last hour.  He’s as dead-set on inviting Peter to do something for Halloween as Peter is dead-set on saying no.

“Geez, how many times do I have to tell you,” Peter mumbles as he taps out another reply.  I’m busy. Stark internship.  Already told you.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go trick-or-treating in Ned’s building.  To be honest, he kind of does. There’s that one neighbor that gives out full-size KitKats, and he has the best costume.  And it’s not even a costume, it’s, like, his work uniform…  But there are way more important things to do.

If urban legends and underground news reports are anything to go by, Peter has dozens of black kittens to save from satanic sacrifice and chocolate-stealing thugs to beat up and kids to help cross the street and baskets of candy to check for broken glass and LSD…  With that agenda, goofing off on Halloween doesn’t stand a chance of making it onto the timetable.

Peter turns his phone upside-down on the desk so it won’t glow at him when Ned inevitably texts back. Again.  He rests his elbow on his partially-finished algebra homework and drops his forehead into his palm for a moment, until he remembers he shouldn’t do that because it’ll give him acne.  But cool-hand-on-achy-forehead kind of feels good, so maybe it’s a wash.

The sun’s falling into its late afternoon position, warning that dusk is near.  And that people with headaches should close their blinds to avoid being shot in the eyeballs with extreme sunset glare.  Peter doesn’t think the blinds on his window have worked since he moved in, so he splits the difference and pushes out of his desk chair to head for the kitchen.

May’s working late, so Peter’s on his own tonight.  She’s given him free reign to do whatever he wants to celebrate as long as it’s legal and he’ll be ready for school tomorrow.  Usually Peter would be ecstatic about the breadth of his freedom, but today he’s just glad he’s alone so he can dry-swallow three ibuprofen and eat cheese shreds straight from the bag.

With hunger taken care of and medication yet to kick in, Peter checks his watch.  The neighborhood won’t start bustling with Halloweeners for another couple of hours.  His homework’s as good as finished; no one will show up with completed math assignments tomorrow morning.  Peter doesn’t feel like giving the school population at large another reason to call him a geek.  And he doesn’t feel like he’ll be able to concentrate especially well anyway.

Flicking on the TV to a random rerun of The Simpsons, Peter flops down on the couch.  He intends to hang through the 30-minute episode, then put on his suit and jump through the window to start his patrol.  But somehow Peter blinks and the TV’s playing Hocus Pocus and it’s dark out and he’s missed something.  Like two hours of passing time.

“Fuck,” Peter curses himself, jumping to his feet as realizations of the date, time, and fact that he’s not feeling well all crash into his head.  He tornadoes into his room and strips, almost tripping over his jeans as he tries to scramble into his suit.  He’s groggy and his reflexes suck.  The logical voice in his head, the one that’s usually reminding him to do his homework, tells him this is not smart.  He should think about staying in tonight.  Or hit up Ned for something safer to do.  But the louder impress Mr. Stark and justice for Ben voice makes him keep going.

Peter throws his jeans and hoodie into his backpack, slings it over his shoulder, and tosses back the blinds to open his bedroom window.  He crawls up onto the small ledge of the sill and shoots a line of web to the next building over.

He swings to his usual hiding spot in an alley near the school building and drops his backpack behind a dumpster.  Everything seems to smell worse than usual, and it’s not helping Peter’s head.  Or his stomach, for that matter.

“Ok.  Here we go.”  Peter revs himself up.  He jumps on top of the dumpster and swings himself onto the roof the bodega to survey the streets from above.  A few people in costumes are running around, and there’s a pretty comical looking group of small-scale Power Rangers standing on a street corner, but beyond that, everything looks normal.  There aren’t any black-robed Satanists brandishing bloody knives or kids dropping to their knees from poisoned candy.  At least not that Peter can see.

He sits down on the edge of the roof and watches for a while, then webs himself two blocks over to get a different view.  A couple taxis honk at each other.  Some guy re-lights the jack-o-lantern on his balcony three separate times because the wind keeps blowing it out.

Peter rolls his mask up to his nose so he can catch a little bit of the autumn breeze.  It feels nice, especially seeing as the pressure of the tight spandex over his face is doing little to make him comfortable.  It’s actually making him pretty uncomfortable.  The throb that was just between his eyes earlier is now playing across his whole forehead.  And his stomach’s starting to feel frothy, like it’s full of shaving cream.

There’s a sound coming from the sidewalk on the other side of the building.  Not of someone in peril, more of sound of frustration.  But with the lack of anything else going on, Peter decides it’s his business to investigate anyway.  He looks over the vertical line of brick wall and sees what he thinks is a scruffy homeless man lounging on a dirty bedroll and a stroller-pushing woman expressing disdain that he’s blocking the sidewalk.

It’s not the large-scale, Halloween-themed rescue mission Peter’s been expecting, but he knows how to diffuse this bomb.  He puts his mask back down and jumps to street level.  The impact reverberates from his feet to his head, and Peter tries not to cringe as the headache flares into momentary vertigo.

“Ma’am, he’s not gonna hurt you,” Peter says, addressing the gum-chewing young mother first.  A candy bucket for her sleepy baby clad in a skeleton onesie is slung over the stroller’s handle.  Peter imagines she’s really trick-or-treating for herself.

“Yeah, but he’s blocking the sidewalk,” she complains.

“I know, I got it,” Peter placates her.  He bends at the waist to tap the man on the shoulder.  He’ looks like he could be dozing, and he has a smoldering pipe held up to his lips.  The fumes coming from it smell a bit more illegal than just tobacco.  “Hey, dude?”  He says.  “You can’t sleep here.  People want to walk here.”

“Hm?” the guy says, exhaling a cloud of smoke and looking quizzically at Peter’s masked face.  “What’re you supposed to be dressed up as?”

“Hi, I’m Spiderman,” Peter introduces himself.  He holds out his hand, and when the guy shakes it, Peter puts his other hand into the guy’s armpit and pulls him to his feet.  “There’s an alley right up here where you can be without being in everybody’s way.”

The guy fumbles so as not to drop his pipe, but doesn’t resist Peter walking him ten yards down and depositing him around the corner between a trash can and a drainpipe.  “I’ll go get your sleeping bag,” Peter promises, hustling back the way he came.

The young mom is already gone when Peter dashes back around the corner to grab the filthy bedroll.  He shakes it hard over the ground, muttering, “Could’ve at least stuck around to say thanks.”  Once most of the dust and stray flecks of weed are lost to the sidewalk, Peter re-traces his steps again.

The homeless man is braced against the wall and losing what sounds and smells like a full stomach of liquor.  “Oh, god,” Peter cries in surprise, turning his head away as soon as he realizes what’s happening. “Ok.  Um.  Yeah.”  He sloppily folds the sleeping bag into a rectangle with too many corners and sets it on the ground.  He can feel his own stomach asking to rebel, and his headache’s screaming a whole new tune.  “I’m not the one to help you with this.”  Peter’s mouth is full of spit.  “There’s a shelter with rehab stuff down on 35th by Steinway…”

The guy just pukes again, and Peter turns around to stumble out of the alley on shaky legs.  He swallows hard.  Vertigo threatens to take him down, and Peter leans against the cool brick wall.  He can hear blood pounding in his ears, but it doesn’t drown out the homeless man’s next retch.  That’s all that’s needed to send Peter over the edge, and he has to scramble to flip his mask up fast enough.

He heaves a couple times and watches dazedly as a small puddle of thick whitish spit forms between his boots.  His stomach empties before it settles, and Peter leans heavily into the wall.  He wipes away a moustache of sweat with the back of his gloved hand.  The spandex fabric still carries notes of the homeless man’s smoke and BO, and Peter almost goes down retching again.  But he just coughs and gasps for a moment before deciding he has to get out of here before he becomes a Halloween disaster himself.

Peter starts the stroll back around the block to pick up his backpack, feeling too dizzy to web himself around.  He briefly clocks in for another good deed and helps a couple third-grade ninjas cross the street, but practically undoes it when a yellow cab almost slams him on his way back across.  Peter halfheartedly flips the driver off and continues on his way to grab his stuff.

After struggling to pull his jeans over his suit, Peter zips up his hoodie and stows his gloves and mask.  He realizes he forgot to pack shoes, so he just has to hope his Spiderman boots won’t be noticeable.

Peter enters his building through the front door and pauses for a moment while he considers the choice of stairs or elevator.  He goes for the stairs, and even though his quads are burning by the time he reaches his floor, at least his head is still on his shoulders.

Light’s streaming from under the door when Peter approaches the apartment, and that can only mean that May’s home.  He tries to think up a good, believable story for what he’s been up to, but nothing comes easily, and he’s eager to get inside and shower and go to sleep.  Or maybe vomit his slimy guts out for the next millennium.

“Hey, May,” Peter says as he pushes open the door.

“Hey yourself,” May says.  She’s on the couch, eating popcorn and watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.  “You do stuff?  Have a good time?”

“Yeah, just, uh,” Peter starts, “Ran around with Ned for a while.”

“Great costume,” May says, nodding to Peter’s getup.

“Thanks,” he replies absently.

“That wasn’t…” May trails off and starts over.  “What’re you supposed to be?”

“Um.”  Peter looks down at his rumpled hoodie and finally understands.  He scrubs his scrambled brain for an answer.  “Um.  Dead tired?”

“Dead tired,” May repeats.  “Well, you’re doing a fantastic job with that.  You look awful.”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling all that great, so I thought it would be kind of appropriate,” Peter says in a mixture of truth and joke.

“Would you happen to not feel great because you ate all my cheese shreds?  And now I can’t make lasagna for tomorrow night?”

“Sorry, May,” Peter says, passing his hand over his forehead, which is beading with fresh nauseous sweat. He almost starts to unzip his hoodie, but stops himself before he reveals what he’s wearing underneath.

“Want some popcorn?  There’s candy corn, too.” May asks, inviting him to join her in front of the TV.  “We got plenty of that.  Could have snacks for dinner all week.”

Peter’s stomach rolls, and he has to swallow hard to push down the rising bile.  “You know, uh, I’m not sure I’m really in the mood to talk about food right now.”  He starts down the hall toward the bathroom.

“You do feel sick, huh?  You think you need help or anything?”  May makes to stand up.

“No, I’ll be ok,” Peter insists.  “Just, uh, maybe don’t eat all the candy corn.  I might want some.”  He suppresses a gag.  “But, probably not till later.”

[viollettes]

“Carnations” (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (College AU)

Summary: A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

many thanks to the phenomenal @buckyywiththegoodhair for beta-reading! you witty, pliable, sun goddess with beautiful curls - i adore you!

a/n: i loved reading all of your theories and comments! that said, i’m waaaaay too predictable ;) -j. x

“Carnations” (Masterlist)

Maybe your head is unable to function after the many hours of crying into your pillow or maybe your heart is burnt out from the tsunami of emotions. For some reason, all words and social etiquette have escaped you, and you’re left dumbly staring at the blonde standing in front of you.

“Hey, (Y/N). Uh, we’ve never met in person, but my name is Sharon Carter.”

Ah – this is blonde girl who asked if you were okay right before you sprinted out of the Student Gov office. Your manners snap back into place and you hold out a hand. “Sorry I’m a little out of right now. You’re on Student Gov, right?”

“Yes. I’m the VP of External Affairs. I work closely with Steve.”

Steve’s betrayal is still very raw, your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse at the sound of his name. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not really in the mood to socialize,” you say, your voice low and strangled.

“Wait!” Sharon draws in a breath before letting it rush out. “Dot was lying about the carnations. Steve wasn’t playing a cruel joke, because he never sent the flowers to you.”

The last thing you need is another soul-draining bombshell, yet here’s this random, albeit very beautiful, stranger providing you with yet another one. At this point, there’s only one thing running through your mind, and if you don’t comply with it, you feel like you’re going to combust into confetti.

“I can leave if you want –”

Eyes closed, you interrupt, “Sharon? Are you super busy for the next hour?”

The blonde knits her eyebrows in confusion at the left-field question, but she shakes her head. “I’m finished with my assignments for the day,” she says.

“Great. Do you mind if we take this conversation elsewhere? I have something urgent to take care of. I promise it won’t take long.”

“One spaghetti aglio e oglio and one shrimp and scallop pesto linguini.”

You wave your fork in protest as the waiter places one of the plates in front of Sharon. “They’re both for me,” you reveal. Your stomach grumbles in agreement, and a genuine smile splits your lips for the first time in hours.

Crying into your pillow took precedence over dinner, but the hurricane of emotions that barreled your way didn’t curb your appetite. Also, there’s no way you’re going to listen to information that has the potential to carve out your heart without a hearty bowl of comforting pasta sitting in front of you.

Are you stress-eating? Yes.

Do you care? Abso-motherfucking-lutely not.

Much to Sharon’s credit, she didn’t question your sanity after you emerged from your room looking like a hot mess. She even let you borrow the baseball cap perched on her head after you mumbled a sigh about the bird’s nest that was your hair. She kindly offered to drive, saving both of you the fifteen minute walk. Sharon scored herself more major brownie points when she barely batted an eyelash after you ordered two large pasta dishes for yourself.

“And miss, would you like a refill on your tea? Are you sure you don’t want food for yourself?”

“I’m good on the food, but I’ll take a refill on the tea. Thank you so much.”

You wait until the waiter steps out of earshot to ask, “This is weird, right? A complete stranger just dragged you to a restaurant so you can watch her shovel food into her mouth.”

A small smile lines her lips. “It’s a little unexpected. And we may be strangers, but I’ve heard a lot about you from Steve.” The blonde hesitates as she notices the light in your eyes dim at the sound of Steve’s name. “Are you sure you want to hear this right now?”

“I might as well…” The slight distress on Sharon’s face makes your guard to go up, but you ignore it and ask, “So… Dot was lying about Steve? How do you know that?”

“I was in the annex when you came into the office, and Dot forgot that you can hear everything from the back room. I know she used my password to get you the information you wanted,” Sharon reveals. She grimaces like there’s a bitter taste in her mouth but continues, “The person who sent you the flowers wrote a question mark as their name, but I know it wasn’t Steve.”

Twirling your fork into your noodles, you ask, “What proof do you have?” Your tone is a little hostile, but you don’t care.

“I’ve been with Steve for the entirety of the carnation sale. He only bought three flowers – a red one and two pink ones. The pink ones were joke flowers. I remember because he was snickering about Sam and Bucky’s potential reactions the entire time. I’m pretty sure he wrote a dirty joke or something.”

The stoic face you’re maintaining crumbles a bit as you imagine what kind of dirty joke Steve chose to send Bucky and Sam. You shove a forkful of pasta into your mouth to muffle the laughter, but the giggle successfully fights through.

Sharon takes your giggle as encouragement to continue. “After you left the office, I checked the computer. The spreadsheet confirmed Steve didn’t send those flowers and that Dot was lying.”

“But why would Dot lie to a complete stranger? I’ve never done anything to her.”

“Because Dot’s a bitch.” Sharon holds out her hands when your head shoots up in shock. “I know that’s not nice to say, but it’s the truth.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sharon sighs but continues, “(Y/N), there are some people who take satisfaction in watching others break down. You’d think as college students, we’ve graduated from the girl-destroy-girl mentality that’s shoved into our faces, but unfortunately Dot has yet to do so.”

“But she genuinely looked surprised and sorry for me.”

“Anyone can look genuinely surprised and sorry. All it requires is some acting skills. Also, Dot’s had it out for Steve ever since he beat her in the election. My guess is Dot saw an opportunity to not only satisfy her need for drama but also wreck some havoc in Steve’s life.”

So not only did you get wrapped up in a stupid fantasy, but you also spent the last few hours cursing out an innocent person and vowing to ice him out of your life. A knife twists into your heart, but it’s not one of anger or betrayal. This blade is one that stings of sharp guilt.

“(Y/N), you and I both know that Steve isn’t the type of person who’d prey on someone’s emotions through a prank. His idea of a prank is hiding pictures of Nicolas Cage in your room and things.”

“Oh my God, he did that to you too?”

“It took about two months before I eradicated all the Nic Cage photos in the Student Gov office.”

“Lucky you. It took me an entire semester before realizing he was using our study sessions as a guise to come into my room and hide more photos.”

Stifled snickers quickly change into loud giggles that diffuse the tense atmosphere lingering around the booth. A few minutes pass before Sharon cautiously speaks up. “So, how are you’re feeling?”

You set down your fork and bury your face in your hands. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I feel horrible about blindly assuming the worst about Steve, but I also feel so stupid and small,” you reveal.

Trusting the newfound camaraderie between you and the blonde, you take the next twenty minutes explaining everything, and you don’t leave out any details. The way Sharon intently listens without casting judgment compels you to dive deeper. You tell her about the high school flower sales that stamped trauma into your heart. You even break your cardinal rule and reveal your crush on Bucky and the turbulent ride it took you on.

It’s not long before you’ve talked off the weight of your shoulders. The sensation coursing through you is similar to the soda exploding out of a furiously shaken can. It surprises you how easy it is in confide in Sharon, and you even express, “I can’t believe I just told you all that.”

“Bottling things up until they explode will do that to you,” the blonde assures. “But if you don’t mind me picking at your brain, how does Bucky now fit into all of this?”

You let out a heavy sigh and push around the now-cold pasta. “Today’s events are making me realize my crush on Bucky has spiraled deeper than I intended it to. I always assumed it was puppy-love, but…” A groan escapes you as you angrily stab a noodle. “I can’t believe I banked on a fantasy that lacks any credible foundation.”

Though Sharon’s proven to be one who doesn’t judge, you can’t help but feel nervous as she remains silent. An eternity passes before she says, “Why don’t you tell Bucky about your feelings?”

Thinking that she’s joking, you clutch your stomach and burst into laughter. “Good one, Sharon. Yes, I’m totally going to confess my feelings to him and –” Your heart stops when you notice her straight face. “Oh my God, you’re being serious right now. Sharon, you know I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“I can’t risk losing his friendship. Also, Bucky could have any girl he wants. Why would he be interested in me?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Pink floods your cheeks as soon as those words leave Sharon’s lips. “No,” you staunchly disagree.

Sharon rolls her eyes as if there was no point in arguing because she was right. “Judging from what you told me, Bucky doesn’t seem to be the type to dump a friend over something like this. If he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, it’ll sting, but you’ll move on. If he does reciprocate them, you have a budding romance on your hands and there’s nothing more beautiful than that. Plus, you have yourself to thank for it, and that makes it all more worth it.”

Could it be that simple?

You’ve always assumed that a confession would end horribly. Whenever you played out possible scenarios in your head, they always ended in either Bucky laughing in your face or you bursting into tears.

Bucky could react positively. Bucky could say that he doesn’t share your sentiments. There was no way to know for sure unless you said something. Maybe hiding your feelings wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Maybe you needed to muster up confidence in yourself, put your heart on the line, and take a chance.

But before you make the next step, there’s something you need to ask.

“Sharon, why are you doing this? You don’t know me, there’s no moral obligation for you to help me out like this.”

The blonde shrugs and says, “Steve is my friend. I couldn’t let Dot drag his name in the mud like this. Also we girls need to watch out for each other. After all,” her lips quirk up in an amused smile, “real queens fix each other’s crowns.”

Your eyebrows shoot upwards. “Wow, that’s… oddly deep. Did you think of that yourself?”

“Nah, I read that somewhere on Pinterest.”

Giggles escape you as Sharon smirks and takes a sip of her tea. There was something very humanizing about the idea of the blonde beauty browsing Pinterest.

Sharon takes your small yet growing smile as a good sign. “Now, back to this ‘thing’ with Bucky… I say you let him know about your feelings, but I, of course, can’t force you to do anything.” She gives you a knowing look before continuing, “What do you want to do?”

Part 4

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[kookieseyes]

I hate you │3

summary:  Getting wasted at the party gives you enough courage to confront Jungkook but gets you in trouble with parents.  member: Jeon Jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, angst word count: 2515 warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook badboy!Jungkook  I hate you Masterlist │ 1 │ 2 │ 3 │ 4 │ 5 │ 6 │ 7 │ (ongoing)

A/N: For some reason, the previous part’s tags didn’t work, so it didn’t show up in recently posted. Hope you like this part and read the previous one as well. Of course, I have the next part planned, but if you have any suggestion, please message me.

you tried your best to avoid Jungkook after the incident in the classroom.Even his presence made your stomach turn. You ran to the opposite direction if you saw a glimpse of him and did a pretty good job at it until one day Mr. Jenkins announced:

“Everyone, this is your assignment for the next month, you need to create a diary of a fictional character with at least 30 entries. Try to compose a story and make it as detailed as possible, write about her thoughts, emotions, happiness, loss, whatever you think will help you show that it’s impossible to know what’s going on in someone else’s head, even if you think you know them”

You’ve always liked your professor’s assignments. He probably wasn’t more than ten years older than you and always found a way to give you relatable and interesting tasks. You’ve been writing your own diary for as long you can remember, desperately needing to express your emotions, since your inexpressive parents were no help. The sensation of forever inking your deepest feelings on a piece of paper was helping you cure your bottled up emotions better than anything else.

“Oh, and you need to pair up,  I already made pairs randomly, so please come by my desk to check your name before leaving”-group assignments were not your forte, but there was nothing you could do. So you walked up to Mr. Jenkin’s desk to ask him who your partner was when he without looking at the list said:

“You’re with Jungkook”-and smiled with one of those “I-know-you’ve-lied-to-me-and-here’s-what-you-get” smiles

“But… Is there any chance to switch partners?” you started panicking, that couldn’t be happening to you.

“I thought you’d be happy, isn’t he your friend?”-that sneaky son of a…

“I just can’t afford to get a low grade on this one”-maybe being pitiful would be your best way out

“Why would you? Didn’t you say he was just shy and not disinterested?”

“Yes, yes I did say that”-stupid, stupid Y/N you told yourself. One simple lie and everything goes to hell

“I’m sure it will be alright”-he said motioning to Jungkook to come

“Now what?”-Jungkook said with an annoyed tone but instantly changed it after Mr. Jenkins fake coughed couple times “I mean, why did you call me, Mr. Jenkins?”

“Here’s your partner for the assignment, Y/N”

“Huh?”Jungkook’s eyebrows raised in surprise, ignoring your presence right next to him “How random was your “random choosing, exactly?”

“I’d say pretty random”-replied the lecturer with a hint of amusement in his voice

“Mr. Jenkins, see? He doesn’t want to be with me either, so won’t it be easier to switch us with someone else?” you decided to speak up, maybe it wasn’t too late to make everything right

“Rules are rules, can’t make an exception”

“Doesn’t she get affected if she gets a low mark or something?”-of course, Jungkook had to use you as an excuse to get himself out of this mess you both ended up in and you gave him so-now-you-care-about-me look, but this time you didn’t mind as long as you switched partners.

“More of a reason for you to work hard then!” you were doomed, officially. Jungkook wouldn’t help you out with the project, that was obvious, and making 30 entries was too much to handle by yourself.

“I tried my best but it looks like you’re going to have a first B in your whole life”-arrogance in the irritating boy’s voice was obvious

“Not funny”-you centered you gaze into his eyes, maybe the intense eye contact would convince him how important this matter was for you

“Sounds funny to me”-he smiled and avoided your eyes, just to look outside,

“Jungkook, take it outside, I already told you what to do, so unless you have any questions you can leave” Mr Jenkins was obviously annoyed by both of you, trying to get you out of his classroom

“When are we starting?” you asked as soon as you started walking in the hall

“who said I was starting anything”

“Come on, don’t be a jerk”

“Why should I do anything for you when you keep calling me a jerk”

“Technically, I didn’t say you were a jerk, I said you would be one if you didn’t help”-you were not going to lose this argument

“Touché. I guess I could if you apologized”-of course, he wouldn’t just oblige and be a decent human being for once.

“Me? Are you kidding me? After what you said to me?!”

“I don’t even know what I said, or why you got so butthurt about it”-and there he was, again ruining your mood in the worst way possible, what did you do so wrong to deserve this?

“You know what, forget it, I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think you’d be less selfish for once”

“What do you want me to do anyway, I’m sure you already have everything planned out”

“He’ll know if I write all of it myself,” you said motioning towards the classroom behind you

“I’ll think about it,” Jungkook said and left as if it was not an important enough matter to discuss. You wouldn’t fuss over him not doing anything, but getting a B also meant losing your scholarship and you couldn’t afford it. You were not letting a nobody like Jungkook ruin your life

You’ve texted him multiple times over the weekend: “Did you think about it yet?”

“Who is this?”

“Y/N”

“how did you get my number?”

“Mr. Jenkins, answer the question”

“Nope” And that was it? A single nope was going to decide whether you needed to get an extra job to pay for university fees or not? You definitely didn’t have time for that. Juggling between assignments, work, and social life was as hard as it was. making new friends was not hard for you, it was finding time to hang out with them you were struggling with. People invited you to hang out and you almost always had to decline, Ava was the only one who could understand you and she always said the same about you. Every time one got into trouble, the other one would have her back.

  Today was no exception, she had had a bad day. She and the guy from the party- Jimin had started dating and now they were having their first couple’s fight. So Ava wanted you to go with her to the party to get him to apologize. You were her partner in crime so there was no way you’d say no.

When you got to the party you immediately started taking shots, with each one Ava said why men were the worst and how you had to avoid them. But as soon as Jimin caught her eye, she stopped. He was standing next to Jungkook, sipping from the red plastic cup, leaning on the wall for support and playing rock paper scissors with his friends. He whispered something to Jungkook and he nodded in response. He patted the guy’s back, who was now moving towards Ava.

By the time you realized it was time for you to leave them alone, you had consumed a fair amount of alcohol, making you dizzy but giving you so much needed confidence for what you were about to do next. You said you were going to leave for a second and smiled at Ava, whose hand was now intertwined with Jimin’s,  listening to his apology. She didn’t even pay attention to you and watched him with sparkly eyes. You knew she had forgiven him even before they got to talk.

You got up from the couch and felt how alcohol diffused to your legs, making them tremble. You walked up to the wall Jungkook was standing next to, now celebrating his victory in the game by screaming “fuck yeah” with deafening noise. It was now or never, so you just called out his name:

“Jungkook!” and he didn’t notice, annoyed you gently pulled the end of his shirt to make your presence noticed, just like kids do when somebody doesn’t pay attention to them. He turned his head to follow the voice calling out his name and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Listen, I need to talk to you”

“Okay, talk”-he shrugged his shoulders

“Not here, somewhere you can actually hear me”-you couldn’t believe how much courage and boldness the alcohol had given you.

“Fine, lead the way”, only then you noticed your hand that was still holding on to his shirt and decided to drag him outside like that. Once you were far enough from the noise you stopped.

“You can let go now,” he said with a tiny smirk appearing in the corner of his lips. You could tell he was still sober, amused by your drunk actions.

“Sorry..”-you let go immediately, cursing yourself for not doing so earlier. “So, about the assignment, did you make up your mind?”

“I told you not yet”

“I know what you’re doing and that’s not gonna work with me. You’ll never decide and I’ll be left with the student loans for the rest of my life”-it was embarrassing, telling him something so personal, but the alcohol seemed to increase your confidence.

“You’re making too big of a deal out of it, one B won’t change anything”

“Yes it will, once I lose my scholarship”

“You have a scholarship?”-you saw a sudden change in his expression as if he went deep in thought.

“Yes, now please could you just pretend that you don’t hate me until we’re done and then we’ll go our separate ways”-you didn’t want to talk about yourself and tried to quickly change the topic. He didn’t say a word and that made the situation ten times more embarrassing than it already was.

“What do you say?” You added when he refused to say anything.

“Deal”

“Deal? Well, that was easier than I thought”

“You can keep asking some more if that was too easy!-he smiled and only then you noticed how much his innocent smile didn’t match up with his fuckboy personality.

“Uh… No no no, it’s cool, we’re good” and you raised your hand, trying to get him to high five you

“High five, partner!”  Alcohol made your stupidity filter disappear along with your eyesight “more like high ten!” you added with a tone of confusion and chuckled at your own joke. Much to your surprise, he didn’t embarrass you by leaving you hanging and returned you gesture:

“I like your drunk version better”

You disregarded his remark, although your cheeks seemed to have changed its color to light pink. “I’ll text you the place and time to meet,” you said and left in a rush. You returned back to where Ava and Jimin were supposed to be but once you got to the room they were already gone. You checked your phone to see Ava’s text: “Jimin and I made up, I’m going to his place, please get home safely”

Loud banging on the door forced you to wake up. You didn’t remember how you got to your bad, vivid pictures of calling an Uber, stumbling while going to your room and waking up your parents were flashing through your eyes.  You were pretty sure it was still early in the morning, but your parents had different things planned for you.

“Y/N wake up, Tucker needs to be taken for a walk”-you barely could tell if it was happening in your dreams or you mother was actually calling you at 5 in the morning to take her dog on a walk. You almost went back to bad, but the door opened, making you jump up instantly “Didn’t you hear what I said?”-she asked while being as tranquil as one could be “I did, just give me a minute” “Make it quick” “I’m already getting up”

“You father is downstairs, waiting, we want to discuss some things with you”

You always felt like you were a laboratory rat, following the rules your parents set up for you and just in case you decided to go against them, they would somehow manage to make your life a living hell. Everything you did in life was somehow a part of a bigger plan your parents had created.

When you dared to tell them you had a boy you liked they said: having a boyfriend at your age is good, you get to experience a lot before getting into a real relationship. When you asked to take a drawing class they said: you are not talented at that, let’s focus more on social studies, when you told them you wanted to play some sports they said: you should mind your academics more.

They were cold, straight to the point, and practical, which is not a bad thing unless you use same principles for raising a child who needs parents, not counselors. You got up from your bed, quickly dressed up and went downstairs to see your parents sitting at a coffee table. What were they planning for you now?

“Y/N, sit down, please”-and you did without saying a word. You already knew what was coming, they would make you apologize for coming home drunk, and how these mindless actions affected your academic success and how one mistake could end up destroying your future and reputation.

”We were extremely disappointed with your behavior last night. We expected more from you. We know you are a college student and you must enjoy the experience, but everything has its boundaries”-their gentle tone of voice was unfailingly having a reverse effect on your mood, making you angrier by second.

“Dad, mom, I know what you are trying to say, but I don’t see what I did wrong, you should know by now that I always put my studies first and one party is not going to change that”

“Of course it won’t, we can’t force you not to go to parties, so that’s why by our mutual decision, we would like to receive a report card every two weeks, just to assure ourselves that you’re not going on the wrong path”

“Is this a joke? I’m not 5 anymore, why do you always have to control what I do”

“We’re not trying to control anything, it’s just a precaution for your own good” “For my own good? How about some independence? Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I can’t breathe around you anymore, nothing I do is ever good for you,  why can’t you let me live my life as I want, have you ever thought about me? What I want? “Think rationally, you are overre…” “You know what? fuck this, why can’t you understand that I’m your daughter, not your pet?”-years of holding back your feelings just burst out, you simply couldn’t take it anymore. You got up from the couch, hands shaking still shaking from anger and stormed out of the house. You took Tucker with you for a walk and got some fresh air, words that had spilled from your mouth earlier were still lingering on your tongue. “Tucker, you know my parents love you better than me, right?” You rumbled and caressed his ears. Million thoughts were running through your mind and none of them were reassuring.

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