#and its now going to be published in my uni's paper

[vicariousresearcher]

Blue pls pls PLS continue with the coma Johnny and his angel! I've been religiously rereading it and I need more of them to rot my brain with! (/□＼*)

Pls don't take this as me forcing you to write another part if you don't want to!

Take care ><

You have no idea how many half scrawled out ideas i have for that series in my notes, I'm hoping with this new semester I'll have more classes that will inspire more ideas that will actually feel good enough lol

right now I'm thinking I'm thinking like maybe theres an accusation of stealing medication or something to black mail angel further into not being able to escape?

then tensions are up high but then angels birthday comes around and johnny puts to work all that he learned in the time under angels care in the coma. he knows the secret wants, favourite foods, childhood movies. and maybe it breaks down angel a little bit? idk, given the whole shitty boyfriend situation I wouldn't be surprised if theres some self-worth issues there regarding people putting in effort. until johnny just does it??? perfectly??? and has angel thinking that they would be greedy to ask for anything more or to refuse any future advancements.

clearly this is in my head alot and I have so many things to ramble about but nothing concise to post.

[algae-tm]

PEOPLE, PLACES, THINGS

Max Verstappen x anthropologist! Reader

Author’s note : this smau has a special place in my heart, if you haven’t noticed I’m not Caucasian, but was born and raised in Nigeria and a lot of my university life has been centred around studies of the black diaspora. My masters research is on homosexuality and Afro-syncretic religions, so have been trying to figure out how to incorporate it so thought I’d go full send and thus this was borne.

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peopleplacesthings just posted

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peopleplacesthings: I spent three years (give or take) with the people of the Bahia state in Brasil, researching the afro-syncretic religion of Candomblé. My research paper on the gender roles within Candomblé (how men express masculinity, and the role of women as spiritual leaders) will be published online where everyone will be able to access it. Can’t wait to see where the world takes me next!! 🌎🇧🇷

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yourbsfuser: y/n baby I love you and your big brain, but please take a sabbatical 😭. stay in the UK for a while.

— peopleplacesthings: what’s in it for me? 🤨

— yourbsfuser: seeing your family and friends???

— peopleplacesthings: sorry gotta blast, the world is waiting 🏃🏿‍♀️

user10: your masters research on the linguistic appropriation of AAVE was vital for me completing my dissertation! Thank you so much

— peopleplacesthings: passing down knowledge is the key to preserving culture! I love when I get comments like this, well done my love.

lewishamilton: so you’re free now?

— peopleplacesthings: until my next adventure

— lewishamilton: good to know

— user10: not SIR LEWIS HAMILTON in my old TA’s comment section

— user7: IK 😭 she was a guest lecturer at my uni like one month ago! Really my two worlds colliding 😭😭

— user8: how do they know eachother???

— user9: I’m guessing they must have met one of the times Lewis was in Brazil??

— peopleplacesthings: he is my cousin! he’s much older and way less attractive than me so that’s probs why you couldn’t see the family resemblance🙂🙂

yoursisteruser: 2 back to back research papers… you could use a break from work

— peopleplacesthings: it’s not work if you love what you do 🤗🤗

— user17: 2 research papers??? How old is she?

— user19: she’s actually done 3! One for her masters which was only 15,000 words and then 2 more, her 2nd was for her PhD and she’s published her last two as books. She’s 28 if I’m not mistaken. I’m not a stalker just obsessed with her work!

— user17: oh so she’s SMART smart

— user19: bro she’s DOCTORATE OF ANTHROPOLOGY smart

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peopleplacesthings just posted

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peopleplacesthings: I can check getting papped reading in the park off my bucket list… maybe I should start a book club! Anyways everything is a learning opportunity so I am currently reading Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga. Don’t be so surprised that I read fiction! Nervous Conditions is a valuable case study in cultural anthropology due to its rich exploration of themes related to post-colonial identity, gender, and cultural conflict. If you take my post-colonial anthropology module in September, this will definitely be on the further reading list. Come read with me! 📚 📚

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user1: are we sure this is the woman max is dating…

— user3: I was just wondering that, so out of left field 😭 😭

— user4: I mean what do they even have to talk about? She just lectures him all day?

lewishamilton: how can I take your class if I’m not enrolled in the university?? 🤨🤨

— peopleplacesthings: you can’t! Hope this helps

— user5: jeez she’s so rude…

— user9: who does she think she is????

— peopleplacesthings: Dr. Y/n Y/ln that’s who I know I am

user11: so is anthropology all she talks about, or does she have hobbies…

— peopleplacesthings: I happen to think my field of anthropology; the study of societies, people and culture, is quite interesting. But no I am a person I contain multitudes anthropology is not all I talk about.

user6: not y’all invalidating a woman with a literal doctorate just because she MIGHT be dating your fav… pls touch grass

— user13: that’s what I’m saying! If anything she’s WAY out of Max’s league, hasn’t he only ever read like 2 books?? (liked by danielricciardo)

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peopleplacesthings just posted

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peopleplacesthings: We DTR’ed!!

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lewishamilton: DTR?

— peopleplacesthings: Define the Relationship apparently

— lewishamilton: my how the tables have turned, miss I don’t date drivers.

— peopleplacesthings: DR* I don’t date drivers. And what can I say my commitment issues are no match for Max Verstappen

danielricciardo: you’re welcome!

— user4: what could you possible have done

— danielricciardo: I told max to grow some balls that’s what! I’m the architect of this relationship

— peopleplacesthings: you and Lewis can fight over that title

maxverstappen1: WE DTR’ED!!!!

— peopleplacesthings: hell yeah we did!

maxverstappen1: I love you schat ❤️💙

— peopleplacesthings: 🥹 I love you too

you doofus

maxverstappen1 just posted

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maxverstappen1: Did it hurt when you fell from your culture’s dogmatic view of an afterlife?

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peopleplacesthings: I think that’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me

— maxverstappen1: there’s more where that came from

— peopleplacesthings: oh shucks not in public maxie

— danielricciardo: this is the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever witnessed

user14: how did a man that drives in circles manage to bag my anthro professor??

— user16: shouldn’t that be the other way round???

— user14: if you ever attended one of her lectures and saw her in action you would know the answer to that question is absolutely not (liked by maxverstappen1)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

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@dontworryaboutitokie 

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[chaaistained]

what’s your internship like? (in your better cr)

page turners

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you can’t blame me for wanting to live in a world where society doesn’t reserve value and recognition to only be rewarded if you follow the standard, left brained, logical mindset of stem and maths and science and technology — and this is coming from someone who loves those very subjects and excels in them — i’m very much a maths lover, i enjoy solving logical problems, it brings a satisfaction that cannot be described, and yet . i don’t feel as alive as when i’m writing, when i’m reading, when i’m analysing, pulling apart, breaking down the intricate threads of thought that make up a story, or an essay, or a poem

my mind may find satisfaction in solving page after page of algebra, but my soul will only find its spark when i give in to emotion and empathetic analysis, and for that very reason, i scripted a different degree for my dr-self, and with that came a different internship in a publishing company that does not exist in this reality — Page Turners

in my dr at the midpoint of my first year in uni, i had gotten into a year long internship at a government office, hired because of my degree in entertainment law majoring in copywriting

but i have a double degree, my second being a degree in arts majoring in literature and creative writing, and i always knew i wanted a more creative job, rather than the technical, legal side of the publishing industry (no matter how well it pays)

so at the end of my first internship, i started exploring different avenues, and Page Turners was brought to my attention (ironically, by my english tutor from high school)

they advertise mainly to young writers, they have an open submission for a monthly online magazine, curated by a theme (think dakota warren’s nowhere girl collective but only focused on writing — whereas dakota includes submissions for art and music too)

Page Turners wasn’t hiring anyone who hadn’t gotten a full degree but with the help of my ex-tutor (and ex-boss bcs i used to mark papers for her every now and then) i was able to make a case for an internship position

it took a while, a whole year in fact, but Page Turners thought that a way to reach the youth would be to start as early as possible and the best way to do so is by implementing internship programs into their business plan — essentially, my drive to work in the creative field (and mostly due to my connections bcs networking sucks but it is everything) i was able to convince an up and coming publishing house to start hiring students, who may be exactly like me, just waiting for the opportunity to do something creative

i haven’t scripted much on the actual internship program and what it entails but i get accepted and start working at the beginning of my third year (honestly year 3 of uni has a lot of firsts for me — first longterm internship, first boyfriend who i can actually see a future with, first new car, first youtube play button for my anonymous cover channel w two of my high school friends — theres probably more but i don’t wanna sound cocky T^T)

anyway, back to the point — my internship essentially allows me to explore the workings of a publishing house, and with my background in copy write law and creative writing, i’m able to dabble in many different divisions and subdivisions, getting a chance to see how the writers, lawyers, agents and editors work — it’s where i find my passion for developmental editing : the profession of assisting with the creative process of a book, primarily a novel, where you go through a synopsis, a story board, and the overall themes and acts of the story, it’s less about the in-debt typo-prevention of editing and more about the overall narrative — stuff like helping to pivot the story or guide the plot in a certain direction to achieve everything the writer hopes for, or, my personal favourite and my special skill if i do say so myself which is patching up plot holes to be seamless and make sense

finally, this internship, the people i worked with, they are the reason i felt confident enough to go back to uni and do a postgrad degree for a masters in creative writing and a specialisation in editing, so i could officially work full time as a developmental editor

meaning i could read and write and help create stories for a living

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if i ever script more or after i’ve properly experienced this internship, i will definitely update this post, or just make another one!! but for now, this is all i’ve got <333

cuppa queries; order in — ask responses

2025 © chaaistained

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter One: A New Friend, A New Enemy

The Pariahs That Saved The World (Masterlist)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, canon descriptions (vecna's curse)

[A/N: Thank you to everyone who seems really excited about this! I am going to try and post for this one weekly, just so I have enough time between uni and work to write new chapters :) This one is a little long, but I needed to set up Reader's character a little more so enjoy!]

The Introduction <-

A New Friend, A New Enemy

“Y/n!”

You slip off your headphones and greet your grandmother with a smile, laughing when she squeezed you tight. It had been almost 8 months since you watched her wave her hand of farewell in the rear view mirror. You had missed her the most, you think. Her warm hugs, her calming perfume, the way she cared for you.

“Come on, I’ve made us some lunch.” She hurries you inside and you laugh again.

“I need to grab the rest of my things, first.” You shake your head in amusement, escaping her clutches and darting back to the taxi, thanking the man for pulling out your luggage.

Just as you hitch your duffel bag over your shoulder, your eyes catch something familiar a few houses down. A worn out and beaten Chevrolet sat abandoned outside of its former resident’s house, a white piece of paper resembling a ticket you had seen when the mechanics would return your property if not claimed. You could just make out the ‘for sale’ sign driven into the mud, your heart wrenching. You had hoped your return would be free from unwanted memories. That obviously didn’t exist in Hawkins.

“So, tell me everything. How’s Stanford?” Gran rushes through with excitement just as your feet are barely inside the door. “Oh, we are so proud of you, honey. Our little star, a Stanford journalist!”

“Gran, you know it’s only my first year, I haven’t even managed to write anything let alone publish it.” You say, following her with your bags. She was leading you up to the guest room. Well, technically, it was your room. You had never really accepted that.

“Oh, did you notice the Hargroves house is for sale?” She whispers out like an unspeakable secret, and you dump your bags on the floor.

“Yeah, I saw.” You try to remain emotionless, rolling your shoulder until the usual ache faded. You were used to it now, the muscles flaring up every now and then.

“Apparently- now, you didn’t hear it from me…” She starts to lean in and you suppress a smile. Your grandmother, the gossiper. “Apparently, the husband just took off.”

“What?” You suddenly gain interest, frowning.

“Oh, yeah. The end of last summer.” She nods knowingly. “Must have been hard for them after their son died. It was a tragedy. And that poor girl… Andrea down the road told me she and the mother were forced to move into the trailer park down by Kerley. Not fit for a child, if you ask me.”

“They obviously couldn’t afford anywhere else.” You say, mostly to yourself, and Gran simply hums in agreement.

“Oh, which reminds me, Melanie, the one with the bird nest hair, she…”

She begins rambling once again about the neighbourhood, obviously pleased to have her granddaughter back so she can share the gossip. You listened intently, nodding when you needed to, offering your own remarks when prompted. You loved your Gran. The thought of her being alone in this house affected you more than you realise.

The real reason you were back wasn’t because you had missed Hawkins. In fact, you were set on your Spring Break exploring Stanford and all it had to offer. But about two months ago, your grandad was omitted to the hospital and a week later, he was no longer with you. Your Gran had shared how his health had been deteriorating for a while now, that they had expected it sooner or later. So, in the end, it wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t make it any less sad.

“Should I be expecting guests for dinner?” She asks and you blink, frowning.

“Guests?”

“Your friends.” She reiterates, already busying her hands by pulling out your already folded clothes from your suitcase and refolding them how she liked it. “I assume everyone will be anxious to see you. It’s been eight months, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought it could just be the two of us tonight.”

Gran gently places down a sweater and eyes you suspiciously. “So, you’ll be seeing them tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You give off the first vague answer in your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket and sitting down on the plush bedding behind you.

“Hm.” She sounds, sliding shut the first drawer before she silently walks around the bed and sits beside you. “You won’t be seeing them, will you?”

It wasn’t a question. You lift your eyes to meet hers and sigh.

“We aren’t as close as we were before, Gran. It’s… complicated.” You decide and she takes your hand in hers.

“You’ve known them since you were just a little sprout.” She ruffles your hair and you cringe, laughing and batting her hand away. “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be so complicated that you can’t… I don’t know, catch up over coffee? Or whatever you kids are doing these days.”

“I wish it was like that.” You say, and you meant it. After a moment, she seems to understand that you didn’t want to continue this particular conversation and she stands, brushing her outfit back into simple perfection.

“Well, sandwiches, anyone?” She offers and you grin, nodding.

The day before you left for Stanford, you were contemplating whether or not it was the right choice. Gran was right, you have known them since you were a kid. But last summer changed all of that. You weren’t sure you could see their faces ever again.

So, rather than try and find them, you decided to spend the next day unpacking. You’d be here for a month so it made sense to have everything neat and tidy. It was just until the funeral, and then you’d be back at college and studying away any memory of Hawkins being your home. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.

You can hear the distant ring of the phone echoing up the stairs, continuing to pull out your books. You might as well be caught up with your classes if you were going to spend all your time inside.

“Y/n!” Gran calls up and you push away from the desk to lean over the banister.

“Yeah?” You ask as she stares up at you, the phone in her left hand while the right covered the receiver.

“It’s your friend.” She says with a small smile and your face drops into a frown. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Uh…” You shake your head. Who would be calling you? “Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Gran nods and relays the information, setting the phone on the side table and disappearing back into the kitchen.

Your footsteps were wary as you descend the staircase, eyes set on the white object beside one of your grandmother’s vases. There was a hauntingly familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. Once you reach the table, you shift your focus to the photo frame. It was small, a collected memory from a few years ago now. You were stood there smiling, the camera capturing you in pleasant surprise when a brunette girl behind you had jumped onto your back. It made your eyes sting, and you knew you had to make the decision to answer the call.

Hesitantly picking up the phone, you hold it to your ear and close your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” Nancy’s voice blares through and your eyes snap back open.

Barrels of apologies and excuses spewed from her lips and you stand in silent shock, clutching the receiver a little too tight. She could only be calling for one reason. You had known it before you had even answered the phone.

Something was happening in Hawkins. Again. And if Nancy was calling for help, then she truly needed it.

And you’d never let her down.

“Have we met before?” You ask, studying the girl stood next to you.

The walls of the archive were surprisingly bright, shining an iridescent hue on her dark blonde locks. Her blue eyes were blinking back at you, pink lips stuck in a soft pucker of indecision. She was pretty. Really pretty. And at the same time she looked effortlessly cool, a jacket you wished you own. Something about her felt familiar to you, drawing you in.

Then a pang of guilt hits you and you force your concentration on waiting for her answer.

Robin felt weak. Who were you? It was taking everything in her to open her mouth and speak which, as literally everyone knew, was incredibly unlike her.

“I don’t think so.” Robin finally breathes out. There was softness in the way you spoke to her too, calming her nerves. Those strange waves of anxiety were being taken with the tide like you were her lighthouse in the stormy sea of her mind.

“Oh.” You scrunch your face with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

She was surprised to see you put out your hand but she willingly shakes it anyway, smiling back.

When you pull away, Robin seems a little more comfortable, coming closer to peer down at your old project folder, reading along with Nancy. You tried not to stare, busying your eyes with your own work in Nancy’s hands.

“Anything… juicy over there?” Robin asks Nancy and the girl throws her a tight lipped smile.

“Nothing new yet.” She responds and you notice the strain in her voice. She adopted it any time she was struggling to enjoy somebody’s presence.

“Victor seemed like a normal guy. Dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Robin utters as she skims over the page below, slowly raising her head to look at Nancy. “What are we looking for exactly?”

Nancy doesn’t respond and continues flicking through the pages, making Robin’s eyes widen.

“Nance?” She tries again and you frown.

“She’s focused.” You offer, smiling. “She zones in so much that she zones out sometimes.”

“Right.” She nods slowly, still staring at her. “Um, so are we, uh… looking for any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?”

You remember something and open your mouth to speak before Nancy interrupts with a huff.

“I don’t know, okay?” She sighs loudly, leaning against the desk and meeting Robin’s eyes. “It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time. And you’re obviously bored so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…”

With that, she walks away from the table and grabs another folder you had brought, furiously flipping through as she travels down a different staircase to the filing room. Your eyebrows raise.

“Woah.” You simply say, noticing Robin’s frown. “She’s, uh… hell, I don’t even know. Nance gets ultra focused when she thinks she has a lead on something and, well… she doesn’t like to get it wrong. Which is understandable.”

“So, she acts like this with other people?” She asks and you tighten your lips.

“Um…”

“Okay, that’s a no.” Robin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m trying, I really am, I just struggle with whatever the hell bonding is meant to be, I mean me and Steve literally only bonded because we were both getting tortured and thought we would die. Which, no, not an ideal way to start a friendship but you know what, it’s better than whatever the hell this is.”

“You were at Starcourt?” You frown and she looks back at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She waves her hands, “I, um… no one really mentions it anymore. Unless it’s the news and they’re pretending like it was a-”

“Fire, yeah. I heard.” You say, staring at the stairs Nancy descended. “How did all of this start?”

“Excuse me?” She blinks and you turn your attention back to her.

“This… Vecna, was it? How did it start?” You repeat, shaking your head. “Nancy could only tell me so much over the phone so I’m a little behind.”

“A girl was found dead in the trailer park.” Robin relays, gulping. “Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a cheerleader. Was. They found her with all her bones snapped and her eyes were… gone. They think Eddie Munson did it-”

“Eddie?” You gasp, and Robin looks surprised. “No, Eddie wouldn’t do that-”

“We know. Trust me.” She says hurriedly, “He told us everything that happened. Apparently she was floating in the air and her bones were snapping- it’s a really gruesome story but the same thing, like, just happened to Fred and we need to figure out who this Vecna is before someone else gets hurt.”

“Okay.” You breathe and she raises her brow.

“Okay? I just unloaded a dump of hell onto you, and it’s okay?” She sounded intrigued and you shrug.

“The last few years have been… weird. To the point where weird sounds normal now.” You say, a soft frown on your features.

Robin wasn’t entirely sure where you fit into all of this. Sure, you had information they needed, you’ve been a part of their group for some time, you made sense. What she was struggling to understand is why you were here now. And why you weren’t here before.

“How’d you meet everyone?” You ask before she can. Any thought she had of questioning your arrival was cleverly misplaced. For the moment.

“I worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last year.” Robin nods and you frown.

“But I never…” You start before your eyes widen, mouth curling into a smile. “Oh my god, yes! I do remember you!”

“You do?” Robin tries to comb back through her memories.

“Yeah, Max dragged me there maybe… a week after it opened? She was telling me about Steve’s little sailor outfit and of course, I didn’t believe her, so she had to show me proof.” You giggle to yourself, meeting her eyes. “I remember you were taking a break outside, Max introduced us. Well, kind of. She never got to my name before Steve arrived with that stupid frown on his face.”

“I don’t remember that.” She frowns and you bite your lip, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a mean girl way. I mean, my memory is apparently broken because I’m very sure I would have remembered you. Not in a weird way, either, like- I just think you make an impression on people- a good one. Not a bad one.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh and she shakes her head enough to make her bangs sway in her embarrassment. “I looked a lot different then. And I was, like, super shy. I was probably hiding my face or something.”

“Hold on.” She blinks with a smirk. “You’re the girl? Like, the girl?”

“Am I meant to know what that means?” You squint your eyes.

Robin simply laughs to herself until she clocks your confusion. “No, I… Max did bring someone in for, like, one of our first ever shifts together. I remember because when they left, Steve looked like some kicked puppy and I couldn’t work with him and that stupid frown so I made him tell me what was bothering him. Apparently, the girl that left was the girl he couldn’t get in high school and it ‘haunts’ him. It’s so stupid.”

You go quiet and her eyes widen.

“Oh god.” She covers her mouth. “Did I talk too much again? God, I’m sorry- I literally can’t control my mouth.”

“No, you’re right.” You say, shaking your head. “Steve… he and I don’t really get along. Opposite ends of the high school popularity pool until I won this debate contest and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but suddenly I was on Steve’s radar and, well, you know the rest.”

“You can do better.” She simply nods and you raise your eyebrow at her remark. “What? Oh, he’s amazing now. Like, a genuine gentleman kind of guy, but King Steve? Whew, that boy needed a leash or something.”

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” You ask and she smiles.

“Yeah, he’s my best…” She begins before her face drops. Oh.

“What?” You ask when she starts walking away.

“I know why!” She exclaims before turning her heel and marching down those steps to Nancy, finding her sorting through the filing cabinet.

If Nancy heard her, she didn’t acknowledge it. Robin felt so stupid. It had been a while since she’d been a part of ‘girl world’ or, more specifically, ‘girl-code world’. The thought of there being any tension hadn’t even crossed her mind before.

“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asks breathlessly, leaning against the wooden banister.

“What?” Nancy frowns, shaking her head and turning to look over her shoulder.

“So I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together, and you’re like one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capital P.”

Nancy’s response in underwhelming at best, a tight lipped smile and Robin almost groans in frustration. She can hear your sneakers steadily descend the stairs and she turns back.

“Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.” She expresses to Nancy and you frown at the interaction.

“It wasn’t.” Nancy replies and Robin sighs.

“Uh…” You start to say, both pairs of eyes immediately looking at you. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. I have stuff I need to do…”

“Right.” Nancy blinks apologetically, looking back at the folder in her hands. “I’m so sorry, I really thought I was going to find something. I… I didn’t want to drag you into this, really, it’s just-”

“Hawkins.” You finish her sentence, stepping off the final stair and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, I know.”

“Holy shit.” Robin gasps, suddenly grabbing the folder out of Nancy’s hands despite her silent protest. “Is that from The Weekly Watcher?”

She points to a specific part of one of the tabs and you move to peer over her shoulder, nodding.

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy scoffs, already dismissing the idea.

“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about.” She comments and you hum agreement. “But may I remind you we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.”

“She’s not wrong.” You add and Nancy’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah, there’s a whole article about Victor Creel. He claimed that a vengeful demon killed his family. Obviously I only added a reference for context, I never actually believed it. You know, before…”

You vaguely gesture the space around you and Robin flips the page over.

“According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon.” Robin read aloud, and you could feel the goosebumps prickle along your skin. “Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home- pretty novel for the 50s, Exorcistwasn’t even out yet.”

“Keep- keep going.” Nancy insisted and Robin frowns.

“That’s all that’s here.” She says and Nancy looks at you.

“He claimed that the exorcism failed.” You recall, staring at the cut out photo of the Creel Family. “He said it angered the demon. It murdered his family, removing their eyes.”

“Did it say why he wasn’t killed?” Robin questions.

“Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” You say with a twist in your stomach. His whole family died. He was all alone.

“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.” Nancy mumbles and Robin frowns.

“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” She challenges, her eyes looking at yours for support. You simply nod, feeling sick. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? Well, what if this is why? I mean, it sounds pretty insane, it just didn’t go public because-”

“The plea bargain.” Nancy jumps in, and you can see her trying to slot all the pieces together, “The records were sealed.”

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home.” Robin glances between you both. “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon.”

“It was Vecna.” Nancy finishes, and you immediately start shaking your head.

“Okay, you guys got everything you need?” You quickly rush out, sorting the folder around so it would shut. “Actually, you know what, you guys can just keep that, I need to-”

“You’re leaving?” Nancy frowns, following you as you jog back up the stairs and to where you had dumped your bag before. Robin hurriedly grabbed your folder and followed suit.

“Yeah, I told you, I have stuff to do.” You mutter an excuse, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“But what about-”

“No, Nance.” You suddenly say, much stricter than you intended it to be. You pause your steps, taking a deep breath to look her in the eye. “I hate that there’s something new terrorising Hawkins. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it. I am. But that’s your choice. I can’t do this again.”

Robin stood there, clutching your folder to her chest. Nancy was struggling with her words, and you didn’t look like you were going to stick around long enough to hear them.

“We need you.” Robin blurts and you look at her, frowning. “I’m sorry, but we do. You know more about this case than any of us, you dedicated, what, a whole month? Maybe more? To learn about the Creel House, about the murders. You have information we can’t possible find because Hawkins doesn’t like to keep around its records of murder, and- and Nancy said you were great at this detective stuff which basically means you know what we need to do next.”

Rather than respond, you start weighing your options. The best decision you ever made was leaving all of this behind. Stanford had everything you wanted; hope. Anytime you decided to help them, it was always your life you were risking. That they were risking. Why would this time be any different?

“I really hope you win this.” You finally say, offering half a smile before you push through those doors and don’t look back, disappearing into the darkening shadows outside.

“Damn it.” Nancy curses, resting a hand on her hip and the other on a table.

“What happened between you guys?” Robin asks into the silence and Nancy looks up.

“What do you-”

“I don’t want a vague answer.” She says, still clutching onto the folder pressed against her chest. “She looked terrified. Which, yeah, it makes a lot of sense under normal circumstances. But this was more like PTSD kind of terrified. What the hell happened last year that no one’s telling me?”

The silence left Robin in the dark, Nancy’s features pouring over in restrained emotion.

By the time you had dug out your keys with trembling hands, you could feel the prickling of tears threaten to spill at any moment. They had no right to ask that of you. Especially not Nancy. She was there last year, she knows why you left. And yet again, none of them were listening to you.

You sat in your grandad’s old armchair for about an hour, a book resting on your lap but it remained untouched. It would just be another distraction, another reason to pretend like nothing was wrong. To stop yourself from remembering, feeling.

It’s why you went to Stanford, really. You didn’t care about journalism like you used to. But the work load was almost unbearable, which meant that every waking moment would need to be dedicated to studying. If you didn’t occupy your mind, you’d have to relive last year.

“Hi, sweetie.” Gran says as she enters the room, a shopping bag in one hand. You hadn’t even heard her key in the door. “Did you see your friends?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, setting aside the book and leaning forward.

“What did you kids get up to?” She asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen to set down her groceries. When she returns, you have your head in your hands.

You can feel her fingers gently pry away your hands as she takes the chair opposite you, smiling like she already knew what was going through your head. Looking at her, the way her eyes were glazing over, you felt so selfish. You had left to escape everything that happened last year, and you had left her for months to deal with it all alone. Here you were, wallowing in self pity because your friends hadn’t been there for you when you needed them, and it turns out you’re doing the exact same thing to her.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, wiping away the tear that trickles down your cheek. “I should have stayed with you and Grandad.”

“What?” She frowns lightly, shaking her head. “Darling, no. All we ever wanted for you was to get out into the world, find something that made you happy.”

“But I’m not happy.” You express, catching a sob that threatened to escape. “I just wanted to get away, get out of Hawkins. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I- I just couldn’t…”

Her hand suddenly finds your own, squeezing it tight.

“It’s okay.” She says and you lift your head up. She continued smiling, but it was much sadder now. “No one can expect you to move on from what happened last year as quick as that.”

“And what if I never move on?”

“It’s not about moving on.” She smiles. “It’s about acceptance. It’s about holding onto the memory because you cherish it, not because you are haunted by it.”

The clock in the distance could be heard counting the seconds as you sit there in silence. She was right, as per usual. You weren’t letting yourself feel. You should be embracing the fact that you still had her. Even with all Hawkins has been through, you still had her.

Your heart pangs with panic. She was still here.

“I should be getting to bed-”

“Come with me.” You offer suddenly and she raises her eyebrows.

“To Stanford?” She says as if it were absurd.

“I’m serious. Let’s move away, start fresh. We’ll find somewhere new, Gran. Please.” You beg and she offers a smile, capturing your hand by placing another on top.

“Hawkins is my home. It always has been. I was born here, I met the love of my life here. I watched my little one grow up and, when he had little ones of their own, I watched them grow up too. This is where my family is. I… I can’t leave.”

“No, don���t worry, I’ll get it.” You say, smiling. “You should get some rest.”

Your heart wrenches. If only she knew what you did. About what really happens in Hawkins, what lurks there in the dark. She can’t stay here, not when you know it isn’t safe. Not when she’s all you have left.

Three knocks echo out from the front door, and Gran shifts in her seat, quickly glancing at the clock. Who would be here at this hour?

“Thank you.” She stands with you, squeezing your hand as she dropped it. “Try and get some rest.”

You wait until she’s heading up the stairs and out of earshot before you rush to the door, gently brushing aside the small curtain and frowning at the silhouette. It wasn’t who you had expected.

The door is open barely four inches before she starts talking at you, ring-donned hands clasped together.

“Look, I know we’ve literally just met. And I probably- no, I definitely don’t have the right to ask you to stay with us, but we’re basically alone right now. Half of us are in California, we don’t have any connections in the sheriff’s department anymore. Everyone who would know what to do is gone, and you’re kinda the only person left who can help us. I get so much happened to you last year and I- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to do this, then please listen to it. Please.”

Robin didn’t know what she was expecting when she left the school. Her feet had taken her further than her mind was planning, but she knew she had to find you. Max was in trouble, and they were all way in over their heads to not have help. Nancy refused to bother you any further, and she understood, she really did, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. This was bigger than all of them, bigger than everyone.

“Robin?” You say, brows scrunched together in surprise. She thins her lips.

“Sorry to just blurt that all out, but I didn’t know if you were just gonna slam the door on me- or maybe I’d forget what I wanted to say.” She explained, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. “Max is in trouble.”

“What?” You sobered at the thought, leaning closer to her. Then, in a moment of split decision, you glance back up the stairs before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“We found a connection between all the victims.” Robin tries to explain, and you noticed how expressive she was with her hands. “Basically, Max has the same symptoms as the rest of them, and she’s, like, 100% sure she’s next of Vecna’s kill list.”

“Is she okay?” You ask, and Robin can see the desperation behind your eyes.

“Yeah. Shaken up, but she’s fine. For now.” She clears her throat, a pleading look as she stares at you. “We need to find Vecna as fast as we possibly can before he can get to her. I… I know about what happened last year. About your dad.”

You seem taken aback by her knowledge, eyes darting down to your shoes.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all of this behind.” She sympathises, and she let herself be much calmer than she felt. “But I’m asking you if you’ll help us.”

Your heart was aching as you wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans, barely even feeling the cold rush of wind hitting your bare arms. You had meant what you said earlier; you couldn’t do this again. It took everything in you to move out of Hawkins, go to college and live a life the person you loved the most couldn’t do anymore.

But you were currently stood in front of a door. And behind that door, was the last person you had left, and she wasn’t planning on leaving her home any time soon. As it turned out, fleeing wasn’t an option for everyone else.

“I’ll do it.”

Robin blinks, studying you for any ounce of uncertainty. You looked deadly serious.

Maybe, just maybe, with you by their side, they were taking down Vecna after all.

taglist: @kryztalglear @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer @em16cor @endurexxsurvive

[if you see your name highlighted in pink, it means that tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! i am trying to figure out the reasons behind this but it could be as simple as visibility settings so please check that <3]

[mortimer]

Im not ever going to post this publicly bc 1) its not very good and 2) I dont really care to expose myself to annoying angry internet pedophiles (especially since i havent been active in fandom since like, 2016-18 and as an adult i find the way that those communities frame & interact with media deeply insufferable anyway) but in uni i literally wrote a research paper on the potential irl impacts of media that doesn't handle themes like sexual assault, incest, csa, etc with tact. and that's the thing i have never once advocated for NOT exploring those things in writing or art - *i* write about those things, fairly frequently. To be frank, that's why I wrote the paper, because I actually care about the ethics of art and I give half a shit about other potential victims. Which I feel like is the absolute bare minimum for being a half decent artist/writer. I might publish the bibliography at some point if not rewrite it in its entirety bc i feel like the research i did was good even if the paper was not, but this one quote from bell hooks really stuck in my brain regarding the topic:

It's scary to me now, because, particularly in issues around erotica and sexual violence, people want to deny the direct link between representations and how we live our lives. I think that it's possible to embrace the knowledge that there's a direct link between representations and choices we make in our lives that does not make that link absolute, that does not say, "oh, if I look at a movie in which a woman is fucked to death," than I will go out and think I should let myself be fucked to death by any man who wants to fuck me. I think that's an absurd sense of a direct link, but that is not to say, that if I watched enough of those images I might not come away thinking that certain forms of unacceptable male violence in coercion in relationship to my female body are acceptable.

bell hooks, “Bell Hooks: Cultural Criticism & Transformation.” directed by Sut Jhally (1997), documentary film. (Transcript)

[akihabaradivision]

ARB Birthday Special: Keiko Yumi

~~ December 22nd ~~

"The first draft is just you telling yourself the story."

Login Lines:

*Sighs* "Finally done! Hopefully once I send these in, my publisher will get off my back for the next month or so. ...And in record time too! Once I drop these off I can head to work and see what assignments Nemu-san has for me. ...Hmm? A message from... Nemu-san? 'Work is canceled. Enjoy your birthday.' My... birthday?!"

"How foolish can I get? I've been so busy with work I neglected to notice today was the day of my birth! I messaged Nemu-san back thanking her, though canceling work was unnecessary. ...She didn't message me back, but I assume it was because she was busy with work of her own. ...But still, what am I going to do with this free time I have?"

Voice Lines:

"I received a lot of 'happy birthdays' and such from the people of Akihabara, which is nice. ...You know, it's funny. Back when I was younger, nobody really paid me any attention. I was just another face in the crowd, so to speak. And if they did pay me attention, it was usually always negative. I can't count the number of times I got bullied back in high school. I definitely don't miss those days."

"...I don't believe it. Otome-sama, herself, sent me a 'happy birthday'! I don't believe it! I always figured that I wasn't worthy enough to be in the Prime Minister's shadow. That I was just one of the many people working under her. I mean, not that I don't mind working for Chuohku, but... too be recognized by the Prime Minister, herself. This is an honor I don't take for granted!"

"What the...? Where did all these gifts come from?! Are these all for me? Most of them are from my friends at school. ...Ha. Like I mentioned earlier, when I was younger I was used to being ignored or bullied. But now, I'm adored. I don't know if its because of my manga or just because I'm in the D.R.B. ...One thing is for sure, I definitely don't miss high school. Uni beats that place any day."

"Sheesh, it's going to take a while to get through all of these gifts. Here's a fancy one! It says it's from... my mom. Tch, great. What did that hag have the audacity to send me for my birthday? ...Some cash for my birthday? How original. And what's this now? ...A photo of my high school graduation? ...Tch, I won't ask how she managed to take a photo of me like this. Probably asked grandma for it. The nerve of her! She thinks me so soft sending me this will make me forgive her?! To hell with that, and her!" *Throws the present in the garbage, not giving it a second thought*

"Criss? What are you doing here? I mean, not that I'm not glad you're here, but I thought you mentioned in your last letter you were stranded on Hokkaido exploring a haunted hospital or something. ...You hitched a ride with someone? How many times do I have to tell you that's not safe? There are a lot of dangerous people out there, Criss. Any one of them could do something to you if you're not careful." *Sighs* "Well, I suppose the important thing is you're back home and safe. But please be more mindful next time."

"...You got me a birthday gift? Not that's it not unappreciated, but how? I thought you were out of money? ...Ah, that explains it, I guess. So, what is it? ...A hoodie? Oh, and it features a manga artist on it. Cute. It looks really nice. Plus, you got it in pink, my favorite color. Thanks Criss. This was really sweet."

"Nikki? You're here? Wow, someone alert the papers! The recluse actually left her room, for my birthday, no less! I'll definitely have to mark this date down on calendar! ...Haha! Sorry, I couldn't help myself. But really, I'm glad to see you've gotten out of your room, at least, once this week."

"Anyway, are you here to wish me a 'happy birthday' too or... A gift? From you? ...Wow, I'm definitely going to have mark this day down. ...A drawing tablet? ...Wait, this is a Wicom Cintiq Pro, isn't it? Do you know how expensive these things are, Nikki?!" *Sighs* "Fine, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. But I really find it disgusting that you earn more than I do when you work far less. ...Yeah, whatever."

Criss Lines:

"Hey Keiko! Happy birthday! ...I was stranded, but thankfully, I managed to hitch a ride with some nice gentlemen who gave me a lift back to Tokyo! Oh, come on, Keiko! They were really nice gentlemen! Trust me, I have an inkling if I feel someone is dangerous or not. ...Alright, I'll be more mindful, but I'm really okay, as you can see."

"Anyway, here's your birthday gift! ...Oh, my check came in from my YouTube videos! It wasn't as much as usual, but it was enough to get you a gift. Ta-da! It's a mangaka hoodie! I saw it on the way here, and thought it would really suit you! ...Thanks Keiko! Glad you like it. Promise me you'll wear it, okay?"

Nikki Lines:

"Hey Keiko. ...Are you quite finished? ...You know, if you're going to act like this, then I'll just leave. I don't have to stand here and be ridiculed for my life choices. ...Whatever. Anyway, here's your birthday gift. ...Yes, it's a drawing tablet, one of the most expensive ones on the market, FYI. The guy I ordered it from said this would help with artists who draw digitally. ...Look, if you don't want it, I can always return it and get my money back. ...What can I say? Video games are my bread and butter and they earn me money."

[sparklingsad]

title: out of my mind (part 9 / final chapter)

characters: baji x reader, toman peeps 🤍

prompt: you don’t know if you should tell baji you like him because is he even interested in other people?

summary: here's what baji did after what happened between the two of you on the rooftop!

a/n: hello everyone! before uni officially tie me to its depths I give you the last part of this series! this is a bit longer than the rest! I kinda want to split it into two parts but I guess this is better :) AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING ME ALL THE WAY <33 I would not be able to write this much without your support! I appreciate all your kind words, your likes, and reblogs! It makes me very very happy that I can give out some content that you guys enjoy! I hope that you would love this one! I really really poured out my heart into this and I've thought and mapped this out again and again before I publish this final version. have fun reading lovelies! ily all <3

Series list: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

You wiped your hands off your handkerchief and folded the damp side in, before having a last look on your reddened-face in the mirror. Slowly, you search for your phone that's kept inside the right pocket of your cardigan.

Pres: Hey y/n! Think you can pick up the pamphlets and flyers we’ve pre-ordered for the festival? They’re ready for pick up, the store manager just messaged me.

Y/n: Oh yeah sure! Just message me the location. I’ll be there!

And just like that, you had the excuse to have a time alone. You can finally put down the facade of being okay on the outside. Hopefully you can recuperate this time.

Lucky. You thought.

“Baji-san! Where are you going?” Chifuyu shouts as he asks the captain who instinctively stood up and came marching towards the door.

“Ya said it didn’t you? Ya asked me if I knew what went wrong, and I know exactly what did went wrong,” Baji said, not stopping on his tracks as he fishes out for his phone in his pocket.

“Yeah and?” the exhausted blonde asks between breaths, continuing to follow Baji’s brisk walking.

“And I’m going to fix it,” Baji says with eyes full of intent, only taking a halt to look at his vice-captain one last time before running towards the stairs to the 4th floor.

He couldn’t miss this chance again.

Just as when you were about to leave the front building of your school, you saw that the sky is getting dimmer. Good thing you’ve always kept an umbrella inside your locker.

Y/n: Kennyyyy, please tell Mikey I’m going out right now to pickup the pamphlets and flyers for the festival. I also texted him but you know he doesn’t check his phone so often. Please wait for me at school before going home!! <33

🐉 Ken: Wait for us. We’ll go with u.

Y/n: Don’t bother! Am already out! And I think it will be just a few piles of paper!

🐉 Ken: Take my bike. Or Mikey’s.

Y/n: It’s alright! I’ll just take the bus to and fro!! It’s not that far :))

🐉 Ken: Okay if you say so. Update us ‘kay?

Y/n: Will do! I’ll be just around the 3rd district! See ya later! 💛

You took the bus going to the 3rd district to pick up some of the promo materials for the festival just as instructed. It shouldn’t have been a difficult task —no. You’re just supposed to ride a bus, get the goods, hop back on the bus and finish your duties for that day.

But the afternoon sky says different.

“What'dya mean she’s not here?!” A frustrated Baji slams the council table upon learning that you are in fact not in there.

Fuck. Did I lose her again?

“Um, well,” one of the trembling council members try to reply to an obviously infuriated student.

“Well, she’s on duty right now for festival prep an—,” Baji cuts off the officer.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” he rakes his fingers through his hair.

“Then where the fuck is she?!” He says, desperate and frustrated at himself.

“She went out to fetch the promo materials by the third district for—,” Baji didn’t even let the officer finish, he just immediately thanked her and left the room without another word.

Once again, he took out his phone and dialed a number.

Hello Mikey?

Yeah. It’s Baji.

Oh what’s up Baji?

"Baji huh? What’s he up to?" Draken says from the other line.

Oh good Draken’s there.

Yeah, Ken-chin’s with me. You need anything?

Yeah. I need help.

Ya know where y/n is? Council said she went to the 3rd district for some festival duty shit.

Oh I don’t know she did. Hold on.

"Ken-chiinnnn, you know where y/n is? Baji’s looking for her," Mikey shouts over at Draken

"Yeah, yeah, hand me the phone"

Hey Baji, y/n went to the 3rd district for some council duties.

Yeah, yeah but do you know where?

She didn’t tell me. She said it’ll be just some quick work and she’ll be back right after. Call her if you want. Or wait here, she said she’ll join us after her duties.

Ah fuck. A’right, a’right. Thanks Draken.

But deep inside he knows full well that this can’t wait.

————-

The bus ride to the 3rd district only takes up about 20 minutes. You’ve been there waaaay too many times to know just how long it should take for you to get there. However when light rain started to pour, the road got wet and slippery and so all vehicles must reduce their speed.

3:14 pm — classes will end in a while, but a lot will probably stay for festival preparation.

You checked your phone to see if any new messages came in, and you saw the president’s instructions about the location of the shop.

“Huh, this shouldn’t be too hard to find,” you said to yourself and proceeded to plug in tour earphones and played some music.

The rain might take a while, and your ride must be longer this time. You didn’t mind though, you needed to take off some time anyway.

As far away from him as possible.

3:27 pm — just a few minutes and the bell will ring any time soon to signal dismissal.

Baji keeps on shifting on his feet, and tapping them on the floor as he sits in front of his locker, back against the cold metal, ready to storm off the place and chase after you.

As soon as the bell rings, he immediately walked through the building exit and didn’t mind the drizzle on his head.

With with hands combing his hair, and teeth clenching on his hair tie, he wasted no time running to the bus stop.

He knows that the bus station is just 2 blocks away from the school, he can make it dry enough to catch the earliest bus possible, right?

Wrong.

Water droplets start to stream in the ponytail he’s tied before. The rain is going on stronger and stronger as he walks. By the time he reached the bus stop, no bus was there but rather a clump of people trying to stay dry under the small shed.

With frustration all over his face, he bit his lip and searched his head for a way to get to you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Looks like he’s running out of luck today.

Baji came back to a konbini he’s passed on his way there, and took out his phone that’s been luckily shielded under his pocket by his school blazer.

He punched your number in his keypad tapping on his shoes while he waits for you to answer, but his eyebrows just draw closer to each other every time he’s greeted back by failed phone call.

He called you thrice in a row now, and there is still no answer.

Onto his other pocket, he tried to reach out and fish whatever money he’s had with him just to get to you --a cab or a train or whatever that’s faster than his legs. But unfortunately lady luck has been in a deep slumber at that moment.

I have no other choice but to take the hard way don’t I?

And so, he wrings his soaked ponytail, grabbed the umbrella he borrowed from the store and started running to your direction.

3:32 pm — it took you more than 10 minutes later than expected, before you have arrived at the bus stop and the rain is relentlessly pouring.

You have prepared your umbrella before taking off the bus, but it can’t be helped that the gust of the wind through the droplets fall on your face and on your clothes.

By the time that you have arrived in the shop, blotches of water is already visible on your skirt and your blouse. Even a part of your socks are already a bit damp, and you eyeglasses has been foggy from how cold it has been outside.

Upon entering the shop, you closed your umbrella to leave it by one of the racks to prevent it from leaving droplets all over the floor. You wiped your face and your glasses, trying to look a bit more presentable before heading to the counter and collecting the pamphlets.

“Um excuse me?” You called to the man behind the register.

“I’m y/n-chan, and I’m looking for Yamada-san,” you spoke softly.

“Hm?” The man slowly turns to you and adjusts his glasses to see you better. “I’m Yamada, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, Yamada-san, my classmate by the name of Asano placed an order here about a few days ago, I came here to pick it up,” you said as you hand him the receipt as a proof of the ordered pamphlets and flyers the other day.

The man took a while reading all the contents of the receipt as he squint his eyes to see it better before heading back out to get the prints for you.

When he returned back, you immediately checked on the the pamphlets and flyers that are neatly stacked and covered in paper. It has always been your habit to double-check since it’s a waste of time to do things twice, especially in this kind of weather.

Unpacking the pile, you looked at the promos checking if the print quality is good and if the contents are correct. You’ve turned each print slowly, careful not to crumple nor fold them.

Upon the completion of checking the first batch, you’re almost halfway through, and all you have to ensure is that the flyers are of the same quality. However, upon opening the stack, you have found a completely different promo material endorsing a new okonomiyaki store that’s going to open a few blocks away.

Noticing the seemingly switch of prints, you start to approach Mr. Yamada and alerted him that he must have given you the wrong stack.

“Oh, is that so? But that’s the only pre-printed order that has been prepared for today,” he says with a worried look on his face.

“Can we just approach the store that must have gotten our orders instead?” You suggest to him with a soft smile, trying to hide the slight panic that’s creeping up on you for the possibility that you’d go back empty-handed.

“We can do that,” he said scratching his chin. “But you’d have to wait y/n-chan, I’ll still have to call all of the stores who have picked up their orders today, and with this rain, it’s impossible to safely transfer piles of paper,” he warns you.

“O-oh, is that so?” You said scratching the back of your neck. “That’s fine! I can just wait here,” you said back.

You need all the time away anyway, waiting here is not so bad.

4:11 pm — by the time Baji has arrived at the 3rd district he already looks like a mess.

His hair disheveled — black locks dangling in front of his forehead already soaked in water. His trousers and his blazer are mapped with water droplets everywhere, and his legs are about to give out --not that he minds though.

He tried to make another stop before locating you.

In a pet store he’s came across, he entered and started scanning the pets displayed from the glass wall and dialed your number on his phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Please pick up the phone. Please pick up the phone.

But there is no answer from the other line. All that’s Baji has heard so far was the operator telling him that the other line is busy or unattended for god knows how many times.

Goddammit.

4:13 pm — While you were waiting for the owner to contact the other customers, you tried your best to dry yourself inside the store. So you didn’t actually notice that you’ve been having tons and tons of missed calls.

You actually forgot to message your friends that you’re going back on a much later time, and that the rain today seems to be unforgiving. You’re so fixated in trying to get your mind off of what happened earlier that you convinced yourself that it is interesting enough to look throughout the store.

Magazines, newspapers, posters --you’re looking at all the samples and displays one by one. You started to get engulfed into inspecting them. Pictures after pictures, your favorite artist and idols are even featured in some one them. No wonder why you almost yelped when a special ringtone suddenly rang.

Just like you were pulled back into reality, you scurried to search for your phone that you’ve shoved in either of your pockets.

“Hello mom?” You asked nervously, she usually doesn’t call you all that much and you’re scared that she might be worried that you’re not home yet.

“Yeah I’m at the 3rd district. Why?”

“Draken told you?”

“Oh okay. I’m sorry mom. I’ll update them,”

“Yeah. I will.”

“You take care too,”

“Bye. Lov—,”

Your call was cut short when you noticed that your mom's line was suddenly cut off.

Your eyes wandered on the upper right corner on your phone only to see the signal fleeting. That must have been the cause why the call was suddenly dropped.

When you close your phone you were surprised by a ton of notifications reading almost over 30 missed calls from whoever.

Shit.

You know you have promised Draken and Mikey to be with them after class, they are now worried sick that the rain is this hard and you’re all alone.

You have to call them back.

But as just when you are about to dial their numbers, your phone rang and you mindlessly put the phone over your ear and hurried outside to catch some signal.

Despite the rain persisting, Baji is so desperate to see you right now. He didn’t come this far just to go back home and have another yet unresolved conflict with you.

Still damp from the rain and cold with the wind, Baji didn’t mind trudging the sidewalk to find that goddamned printshop.

Umbrella on one hand and phone in the other, he hadn’t stopped calling you the moment he’s left the pet shop.

Please pick up the phone.

Please pick up the phone.

Without minding his surroundings, he was just continuously walking reading all lit up signs, searching for the one that reads a printshop.

He doesn't care how hard the rain is pouring, he doesn't mind if he has to search for the entire district just to get to you.

He needs to see you.

Buried in his own thoughts of you, he suddenly ran into something.

---

"Shit!" his phone flew a few steps away when something coming from his right suddenly hit him.

"Can you fucking look where you're going?!" he is mad, but he is also frustrated at the same time as he hurriedly chase after his phone.

"I swear, if I fucking lose her, then I don't know wh--" fear can be traced in his voice, and he suddenly turns his head to the roadblock he's hit earlier.

"B-baji.." you said, standing in front of the printshop, phone over one ear, and mouth agape.

You can hear your voices echo through the phone call.

Oh it's him.

Dropping his demeanor from the earlier interaction, you could swear that everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Your cold shoulders from the pouring rain is suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace, his arms wrapped around your torso as you rest your head on his chest.

His heart now beating like a drum, and you were suddenly pulled back into the night he sent you home. When your arms was around him, maybe this is the exact same thing he's felt when your chest was pressed against his back --holding on for your dear life.

Your eyes wide open, still processing everything that's happening. Just a few hours ago you left him alone in the rooftop because he doesn't feel the same way right? How did you end up like this?

---

"I thought I'm gonna lose you," Baji says in a solemn voice, muffled as his lips press onto the top of your head.

"H-huh?" you spoke softly to him, but you cannot lie that you were caught off-guard by what he said.

You slowly backed a little to give some space between the two of you and you looked him in the eye, your face plastered with a confused look.

"What?" you asked again to make out something of the situation, and your voice is full of disbelief.

"I'm here to see you," Baji said without holding anything back.

"B-but.." you can feel your lips tremble unsure of what to feel.

"Y/n.." he stepped closer to you, and placed both hands in either one of your shoulders.

"Listen to me," Baji says looking directly at you, but you couldn't dare to meet his eyes. You let yours stick to the ground.

"But I said, you didn't have to say--"

And he cuts you off.

"No. Not this again. I came here to speak to ya. I'm not gonna go away with even a word left unsaid,"

You could feel that his grip is starting to put a pressure around your shoulders, but it wasn't meant to hurt you. It's as if he is trying desperately holding onto something that's slipping away.

You could feel that you're about to melt down any time soon, so you mustered up your courage to say the next few lines to him.

"No Baji. No. You do not have to look at me like a pity party. You do not owe me anything. Not even an explanation." you look at him with a sharp gaze to feign madness over frustration and confusion all at the same time.

"You don't--" you took a pause, and the words just came spilling out of your mouth

"What the fuck do you not get Baji Keisuke?!" you look at him as you grip your hair down.

"I loved you, okay?" your eyes now teary and your hand waving in a motion. "No, no, no, no, no, no. Scratch that. I still love you."

"But how many times do you want me to profess my goddamned love for you only for you to say nothing back!" you look intently at him as if begging for an answer.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you.

"I'm done, I'm through," you said at him, shaking your head and you turned your back on him.

"Not this again!" his whines as he stomped his feet on the puddle, was enough to make you look back at him.

"See? Y/n, I have been looking for ya the whole day. And why is it that every time I want to talk to ya it always ends up like this?! Ya say everything you want and I get to say nothin'!" he was looking at you with eyes wide, asking for you to listen to him .

"Oh?" you said sarcastically.

"Then what do you have to say for yourself then?" you provoked him but tears are already pricking your eyes.

He let out a sigh and started slowly.

"I'm sorry that I've always picked on ya, didn't know how to strike up a conversation,"

"I'm sorry I pretended not to hear what ya said when I gave you a ride home, I just can't think of words that could match yours,"

"I'm sorry if you think you've made a fool of yourself every time you've confessed to me,"

He took a moment to pause

"And I've heard each one of them, loud and clear"

You've felt your heart skip a beat.

"I--" Baji for nth time, searched and searched and searched for the right words to say.

In fact, he realized that he does not have to say a lot. He only needs a few words.

He gulped, took a deep breath, and made an unbreakable eye contact with you.

"I love you,"

And it was the moment you swear you're about to go out of your mind.

a/n: aaaand there you have it! that's the end of out of my mind! I'm sorry if you've felt that the end was just that. I felt that it's both a climax and a resolution kinda thing when i ended it like that soo sjdhasjkd. I'm thinking of making a bonus chapter after this if time permits <33 I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ALL OF THIS :) tysm for all the support and the love <33

taglist: @hanabihwa @q-the-rockaholic @prettysettersq @tsumusfattytuna @galaxyfruits

[flowerprose]

14 for the WIP ask game!

(@tragicbackstoryenjoyer)

hey, thanks for the ask!

14) What has been the hardest thing about working on this WIP so far?

such a loaded question and i so apologize for how lengthy this response became.

so, this is my third big tackle of this project. it started as a fanfic au back in 2014, then morphed into its own project in 2018. i started a modern au of it for a contemporary lit crwr class back in 2021, and here we are. 2022, and i think this novel is finally something worth publishing onto paper.

i don't think i had the necessary skills to write this story back when i first started, if i'm being completely honest. not even in 2018. i wasn't confident in my prose. i would overwrite to the brink of being completely nonsensical and purple. (i also didn't have the style that i do now; it was very try-hard, i think. trying to write the way i thought my profs wanted me to.) as passionate as i've always been for greek mythology, my understanding of ancient history was very minimal until i took some classes in uni to better understand the ancient world and greek society. i'm still not 100% confident in that regard, but i feel more comfortable seeking resources and doing research on my own than i did going in blind.

then, there's the fact that everyone under the moon seems to have a hades and persephone story. they were my favourite romantic tale as a child, despite how... morbid the myth truly is. and i felt like, at times, i had nothing new to add to make it my own. until now.

anyway, i guess overcoming those huge obstacles has made me realize the fact that... writing namesake isn't hard at all anymore. it's fun. it's liberating. it's something i love to do. after a long day at work, sitting at my computer to add a couple hundred words of persephone and hades, or my mortal characters, or the other greek gods, is delightful and exciting for me. it's not a drag. i have never loved writing as much as i do right now. i don't feel dread the rare occasion that i share an excerpt, because i'm so proud of what i'm writing and i'm not trying to prove it to myself or anyone else now.

i will be doing massive edits to make this publishable, but for now, i'm going to write and enjoy the journey. because i know exactly what it feels like to work on something and hate your writing and hate your output. it feels good to have it behind me, at least for this story.

[amphibious-thing]

Hi, I'm a grad student at Northeastern University in Boston, MA, and I'm doing some research on Baron von Steuben. Your website has been so helpful for me since I've been trying to track down letters between North, Walker, and Steuben for a while now! On that note, I wanted to ask you how you would like to be credited/referred to in a citation, ie, if you preferred to use the name of your site, or just Eleanor, or something else. Thank you!

I'm never sure how to answer these sorts of questions. On one hand I'm flattered you think my research is good enough to cite. On the other I've always had it drilled into me that you don't cite form blogs/social media (unless as a primary source).

For anyone who is writing a school/uni paper who has found my research helpful feel free to use my source and cite it instead. I wont get upset that you didn't credit me in your school assignment. If I haven't cited something feel free to ask me what my source was. I'm always happy to point people in the right direction for further research. Always feel free to send me a DM or ask if you have any questions about my research. I might not respond immediately as I'm often busy but I love talking about history so its never a bother.

In regards to the correspondence between Steuben, North and Walker, most of it is in the Historical Society of Pennsylvania and the New York Historical Society. Unfortunately most of it has not been published but I'd recommend contacting them to see if they can help at all. I'd consider going to your university library and asking them if they could help out as often libraries and historical societies have good relationships. TBH there is a lot of it that I haven't read because I don't live in the US and thus its hard to get.

If you want to cite me you can cite my URL like "https://thelittlelionofvalleyforge.tumblr.com" or "thelittlelionofvalleyforge on tumblr" or some such.

[dickgreyson]

sorry to rant but ur post abt education becoming too electronic reminded me in my first year of uni i needed a physics textbook and my prof didnt tell us it was online so it took me forever to find in the bookstore, costed 90 smth dollars and the site it was on had a really convoluted way to login and the book itself was so hard to navigate and i technically don’t even Own the book i only had it for a year. and a similar thing happened for another class like my prof didn’t even know the textbook was online until 3 weeks in bc no one told him. and u had to download an app for this textbook which i also only had a years access to and!! the funniest thing is both books were published by the same company yet had drastically different ways of accessing them. and it’s somehow even worse with everything being online for me now :/

this is honestly like de ja vu. this is totally my experience. i was trying to boot up my old year 11 textbooks thru the pearson portal or whatever to help a kid i was tutoring and it was like 'ur access has ended' and i saw fucking red. like no. i paid for that. let me see the fucking book. why are they making it like this!! its just to make money its making education worse and more convoluted and confusing and it is NOT GOOD FOR KIDS. you dont actually absorb info online or on a computer screen the way you do on paper, but books cant be a subscription service. i am going to rip my hair out.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘wreck my plans’ chapter 6: your heart was glass...

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

.

.

               They took the night train into Sheffield. Tom sat across from her, a science fiction novel open in his hands. It was only a two hour ride, but Molly wished she had brought something to distract her from everything. Instead she sat there, her heart hurting, wishing she had the courage to bring up what she needed to speak to him about. There had been a lack of that lately, courage. The first weekend of the new year, she had a symposium to attend where she’d be giving a talk about her most recent published article.

               Curious, she decided to at least say something. “Did you ever read my paper? The one that was published a few weeks back?”

               Without looking up from his book, Tom furrowed his brows. “What paper?”

               “It was the one about the unusual cases of tandem bullets and how to spot the findings of such an injury,” Molly reminded him.  

               “Uh, no, sorry, Molls, can’t say I have,” he replied, still not looking at her. “You know it’s not my cup of tea.”

               Not his cup of tea, indeed. She rolled her eyes. Of course he hadn’t. But Sherlock had. And without prompting. A small smile bloomed on her face at the memory. He had told her it was brilliant. “My clever Molly,” he called her.

               Molly turned her head toward the window, watching as more stars dotted the sky the further from London they got. She blinked her eyes slowly, fighting the exhaustion she felt. It wasn’t long before everything went black, dreams of Sherlock in her head. This time, she didn’t fight them. They were lovely dreams of Sherlock kissing her, holding her, touching her, making her his. It was more than she could bear. Then they were dancing, the song playing in the background tugging at her heart.

                                     Goodbye, my almost lover

                                   Goodbye, my hopeless dream

               Tears stained her face as she slept. She’d cry an ocean for him, the water’s colour matching his eyes. He was calling out to her, her name like a prayer on his lips. What followed were the words she had longed to hear him say: I love you. And damn it, she could no longer deny that she loved him too.

.

.

               Arrived in Sheffield safe and sound. It probably won’t be long until I’m dead to the world. Happy Christmas to you too, Sherlock. And thanks for thinking of me.

                -Mx

                Sherlock read over her words several times before finally setting his phone down to look over the sheet music in front of him, adding the final notes to his composition for her. Reaching for his violin, he put the bow to the strings, allowing the first sorrowful notes to overcome him. The music coursed through his veins as it poured out from his heart. The tone shifted into something tender, romantic. He thought of her eyes, her laugh, her smile; the way she lingered long enough to drive him crazy when she kissed his cheek.

                Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson listened to the music—she loved it when he played—with tears in her eyes. “You poor dear…” she blubbered, using a tissue to blow her nose. She so wished he would just tell Molly how he felt. There was no doubt in her mind that the girl loved him back. They were both so damn stubborn.

                 As Sherlock brought the music to a close, he let out a ragged breath. Setting the violin back in its case, he thought of how much he wished he could have her here for Christmas. He wasn’t overly fond of the holiday, but it sparked joy in her. They could spend it together—just the two of them by the fire, he in his chair and her, legs curled up on his lap. It was a nice little dream. Sherlock so desperately wanted her to know he loved her. He wasn’t giving up without a fight this time.

.

.

                  Molly looked around at all the once-familiar faces. The house was crowded with Tom’s family—people she met only a small handful of times—but she never felt so alone in her life. When she thought of family, images of John and Mary showed up, Greg, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, and, of course, Sherlock. They were the ones she should be spending Christmas with. It wasn’t that Tom’s family was awful—quite the opposite. It had been so long since she had a parent-like figure in her life.

                   “Have you two set a date yet?” his mother asked. She threw a stealthy wink at her son.

                   Tom shook his head, amused by the question. “We discussed April in the beginning, didn’t we, Molls?”

                   “Hmm?” she said sleepily. “Oh, uh, yeah.” They only discussed it, never officially choosing anything yet. Or, at least, she never did. “Sorry, just a bit tired from the ride over. Thomas, do you know if my phone is done charging yet?”

                   He headed over to the small charging table across the room and retrieved it for her. “All charged up,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

                   “Thanks,” she replied, a sad smile on her face. Tom did love her, she had no doubt about that, but it wasn’t the way she had always imagined. Then again, life wasn’t a fairytale. But it could be, Mary’s voice rang clear in her head. Molly unlocked her phone finding another text from Sherlock.

                   Glad you made it safely. Have a good night, Molly. Sleep well and have pleasant dreams.

                   -SHx

.

.

                   She had no idea how long she sat there staring at the little ‘x’ he added beside his initials just for her. Needing to be alone with her thoughts, Molly headed upstairs. A few people—his mum, aunt, and grandmother—bid her goodnight. She acknowledged them briefly, happy when she was able to turn the corner at the top of the steps. It was another hour or so before Tom joined her. He slipped in beneath the duvet, oblivious to the fact she had been crying. Not that she knew what for. She wanted to start a fight with him if only just to feel something other than the pain that had been eating her up for weeks.

                   “I don’t think I’m who you think I am,” she muttered to him.

                   Tom turned toward her. “Where’s this coming from?”

                   Molly sighed. “From a long overdue conversation, and please don’t just shut me down like you always do. It’s getting old. I think when you met me, I was a shell of the person I am. You fell in love with the wrong girl.”

                   “Come, now, Molls, I know who you are,” Tom tried to assure her. “This is just wed—well, engagement jitters. Is that why we haven’t done much of anything to plan? I know it can be overwhelming.”

                   She shook her head. He really didn’t know her at all. “What’s my favourite colour?”

                   “I—what’s that got to do with anything?” he asked. “It’s green.”

                   Molly smiled sadly. “No, it’s not. It’s yellow.”

                   “It’s just a colour, Molls,” he told her, yawning.

                   “It’s your favourite colour,” she told him.

                   “What is?”

                   “Green,” she replied. “That’s the colour you like.”

                   “Actually…it’s not,” he admitted.

                   Molly scrunched her face in confusion. “Then why do you wear green so much?”

                   Tom ran a hand through his hair. “You said you really liked green on me when we were first dating.”

                    She tried so hard, but couldn’t control the laughter that came out. Tom joined in, knowing how ridiculous they’d been. Sharing a laugh helped lessen the tension, but he couldn’t deny she had a point. Like most things though, he let it roll off his shoulders, chalking it up to nerves or pressure. Maybe if he could make things easier on her. Wedding planning was a bit contrived. Perhaps she’d prefer spontaneity? The cogs were turning in his head, though it wasn’t long before they both drifted to sleep, facing away from one another.

.

.

A Little Over a Year Ago

                “Molly! You made it!” Meena shrieked in excitement. The pub was crowded, music from the house band thumping through the speakers around her. She dragged Molly over to the bar. “I’d like you to meet Tom! He’s a friend of my brother’s!”

                “Hi,” Tom greeted her somewhat awkwardly. He held out his hand to her and Molly shook it.

                “Hello,” she replied, forcing a smile, unable to ignore how he dressed similarly to a certain consulting detective. Some days were still difficult since Sherlock had gone. It had been nearly a year since he left. Molly knew he was alive, but she grieved him just the same. She felt his absence in everything she did, searching for him in the lab or expecting him to come sweeping in the morgue like he did before. Mike had caught her once in the lab, heaving sobs wracking her body.

                “It’ll be alright, Molly,” he had told her, silently asking permission to hug her. She nodded and let him comfort her. He knew how much Sherlock meant to her. “We all miss him.”

                Needless to say, it wasn’t difficult for her to convince everyone of her own grief. She prayed for his safety every single night. And, Meena, bless her soul, was trying to help Molly move on.

                “Would you mind if I bought you a drink?” Tom asked.

               Determined to enjoy herself, Molly replied, “Not at all. Thank you.”

               Meena’s brother joined them moments later, and the four of them traded stories from Uni, laughing at all the shit they got into. It was the first time Sherlock hadn’t lingered in her mind since his departure, and Molly felt lighter than she had in months. Tom was lovely, treated her kindly. They bonded over their love of BBC’s Miranda and Doctor Who. She learned that he liked to go to the pub on weekends to watch football with his mates.

               Molly was hesitant to share anything about her. She certainly didn’t want to tell him she was still grieving the loss of her closest friend, though it would eventually come out later thanks to Meena. She listened to him talk about his family, growing up in Sheffield. When he asked about hers, all she could muster was, “There’s no one left. Just me.” The emptiness left inside her made itself known once more at the reminder that she really had next to no one left in her life. She had Meena, and of course that should be enough, but somehow it wasn’t.

               “Hey…you okay?” Tom asked, breaking her free from the depressing thoughts in her head.

                “Hmm? Sorry.” She laughed nervously. “I tend to get lost in my head sometimes—it’s been happening a lot more often lately.”

                “Nice to see you joining the land of the living,” Meena joked.    

                Molly rolled her eyes playfully. The rest of the night eased her troubled mind. They had gone and played darts, girls against guys. Only by two points, the girls had lost, but it was because of Tom’s insanely accurate throws. She felt flirty with the alcohol in her system, and decided to present a proposition to Tom. “Take one more shot, and if you hit the bullseye—“

                “And what?” he asked, teasing her, his eyes practically undressing her. “Do I get a snog out of this?”

                Meena’s brother whistled loudly.

               Feeling bold, she nodded. “You better not miss.” Surprising her, Tom took a moment to line up the shot and hit it right in the center. Meena and her brother cheered and started shouting in excitement when Molly pulled Tom in for a searing kiss. From that alone, she could feel the void that had been left in her life from Sherlock’s absence start to close up bit by bit. And it left her wanting more.

 Nine Months Ago

               It had been a bit of whirlwind. Molly had dated Tom for a month before they made it official. Now, two months in an actual relationship, she felt content. His gentle demeanor was exactly what she needed in her life at the moment, and she was thankful for it. They were to have dinner tonight over at his place. She was excited mostly to see his dog, Milo, who always looked put out every time he took a whiff of her, smelling her cat’s scent on her clothes.

               “Molly,” he smiled brightly when he opened his door to his flat. “Come on in. Milo’s missed you.” He shut the door behind her after she stepped inside, and kissed her lips firmly. “I’ve missed you too.”

               She laughed, feeling her face flush. “You know I’m only with you for your dog, right?” she joked, bending down to scratch beneath Milo’s chin. He sniffed her, letting out a disapproving growl. “You’ll have to just get used to it, Milo.”

               “I knew you were too good to be true,” Tom joked back from the kitchen. “Milo gets all the love.”

               They eventually sat down to eat the delicious dinner Tom had cooked up for them. There wasn’t a lot he was good at making, but Molly didn’t care much, for she wasn’t one for cooking, herself. “There was this tumor I found during my autopsy today; it was so small, but intricately woven throughout the tissue. So sad for the poor man, of course, but it was fascinating!”

               Tom blanched, fighting the urge to vomit. “Is that so?”

               “Oh! Sorry, I forget I can’t just talk about that stuff with anyone.” Molly wanted to slink beneath the table, embarrassed of her enthusiasm.

               He smiled weakly. “No worries, just maybe no autopsy talk tonight?”

               “Right, of course, sorry.” It was the fifth or sixth time she felt she had to apologise for her more…odd interests.

               They finished up dinner and settled on the sofa for a movie that, about halfway in, was ignored in favor of a little snogging. Molly tried to get herself to relax, matching his enthusiasm in an effort to clear her head.

               “I think I love you,” Tom had spoken against her lips.

               Molly paused, unsure at first, and then spoke slowly, “I think I do too.”

[aloera]

The ask prompt is too long to fit into an ask TT_TT but here's the doc for it docs(.)google(.)com/document/d/1yDI7iFRhOJ8ENv_IwZAo3rDSUqj80EiJROS10RzRbj4/edit

the lengths u are going for this,,, much appreciated you're very sweet!!!

prompts + answers under the cut!!

INTRODUCTION

Name: aloera

AO3 account: aloera

Fandoms you write for: bnha

How many stories have you written so far: 19

FANFICTION PROFILE

What's your favorite fandom to write for? hmm,,, used to do pjo and eah (ever after high) and eah was fun as fuck i will say!!! i think bnha is my fav mostly bc i made the most friends in this fandom :D

What's your favorite character/person to write for? bkg and kirishima!! cannot choose do not make me <3

Fic you'd want to improve? probably what we deserve? i rushed the beginning and the confession is a bit stilted imo

Hardest fic you've written? between lion and men -_- bc there is so much canon compliant stuff i've gotta write out before i get to the divergence and its HARD

Easiest fic you've written? come home to me!!! it happened so easily,,, no second guessing no writers block just vibes <33 was lovely i miss it

What would you say is the most "famous" fic you've ever written? also probably come home to me? its got the most interaction

first line of the first fic you've ever written and published. [not including my 2014 ffnet fics] "The bell rings, class starts, and Katsuki and Midoriya are inexplicably absent." from come home to me

Have you ever done a collab with another writer? yes!!!!! on two separate occasions and its so fucking fun i highly recommend trying it out its the best

Do you beta? if asked but honestly im a shit beta lmao

Do you like joining fic fests/exchanges? depends on what i have going on irl but in general yeah!!

FANFICTION PREFERENCES

Fluff or angst? definitely fluff

"OCs" or "Reader" inserts? reader inserts!! have been going ham on them recently

Blurbs or drabbles? blurbs!!

One thing you love about fanfiction i just. i really love slice of life romance?? and most media doesn't give you that bc its dedicated to plot and action and that's valid!! but fanfiction fills in the gap which is really nice

One thing you don't like about fanfiction most of the stuff i don't like is less about actual fanfiction and more about how people behave about it

What is/are your favorite fandom author/authors? IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! TURN IT UP!!!

bnha: hiuythn, rae_tnub, Moniix, Ata_Lanta, wrunic, chezka, PurplePersnickety, surveycorpsejean, mahadevi, arxaris, deviance, Oceanbreeze7, MikeWritesThings, bonnia, wonhaebunny, dinosuns

voltron: hiuythn, Oceanbreeze7, DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee, arahir, dinosuns,

and honorable mention to loveclouds im not even in the haikyuu fandom i just love their fics So Much

these are just the ones off the top of my head i have so many favourites idc if i'm only supposed 2 have one!! die mad about it!!!

What is your favorite trope? secret relationship + relationship reveal til the day i die babie <3 <3

Least favorite trope? hm,,, probably just like. angst lmao i cannot stand 90% of it

A fanfiction cliché that you can't help but love? coffeeshop aus,,,, so good

Do you have a type when it comes to pairings? the otp where its like. piece of shit + himbo = love. ex. krbk, catradora, jade/beck

Favorite setting/au? hm,,, truly i cannot pick one KGKSJNHKj but i really like college aus!! and modern aus!! and roommate aus!!

Explain the meaning of your favorite line of dialogue you've written as if someone hasn't read it in context. “He doesn’t know,” Katsuki says, softly. “My timer stopped and nothing happened. He’s not mine.”

the line is from what we deserve!! it's a soulmate au where your timer counts down to the moment that you meet your soulmate!! bakugou's timer ends at USJ when he and kirishima attack kurogiri at the same time (impulsive kings <33) but kirishima's timer doesn't end until kamino because that's when he accepts himself as bakugous soulmate!! unfortunately, when bakugous timer has reached 0, he turned to see that kirishima's was still ticking and therefore believes that kirishima isn't his soulmate.

this line just,, idk. it's really sad. bakugou is such an action-driven character? if something doesn't go his way he Makes it go his way. he's got this insanely volatile quirk and he's got impeccable control of it!! but his love for kirishima isn't something that he can change and he's not going to ruin kirishima's chance of finding his own soulmate because he loves him and wants him to be happy. i really wanted to focus on how resigned he is? and how unusual that is for a character like him.

Favorite trope/genre to write? again, secret relationship with relationship reveals <33 fluff in general is my wheelhouse!!!

A trope/genre you haven't written but think would be a fun challenge? idk if this counts?? have been working on some dead dove concepts!! its super different from what i normally write so its a cool challenge

The one trope/concept you'll never touch and why probably cheating/infidelity?? it just looks,,, super difficult to write well and i don't have enough of an interest in it to try it out

Which do you prefer to write: longer or shorter fics? shorter!! low attention span gang <3

Ideal length to read? 5-10k?

Ideal length to write? 4-8k!!

How long was the longest fic you've ever written? control fraek is around 28k i think?

Have you ever written an AU? yeah!! i've done restaurant au's, soulmate au's, pro hero aus, and fantasy aus (general, not the bnha fantasy ending)

What's your favorite AU trope? hm,, probably when two people in authority are in a secret relationship? ceo's/uni professors/etc etc

Have you ever written smut? yeah!! was. difficult tho

What's your comfort genre? (the one you fall on most in writing/reading) fluff,,, hurt/comfort,,, fix-it fics with happy endings <3

If you were to start writing in other fandoms, which would they be? maybe jjk?? the characters are really cool!!!! fr i might go back to my ever after high roots i love the characters and setting so Much its so fun!!! idec if no ones into it anymore!!!!!

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? i've had people say they saw the mention of buff hagakure and recognized it was me so. probably that skdjhnksjd

WRITING STYLE

How would you describe your style? i tend to use shorter sentences and pretty simple words i think? and i gravitate towards lighthearted concepts that allow for ensemble casts and humour!!

Describe your style in three words romcom but fanfic

Favorite words to use when writing? the word reverent!! fuckin love including it!!

Dialogue tags or no dialogue tags? (she said, he said, they said, etc) dialogue tags!!!

Favorite dialogue tag (other than said, if you use them) again idk if this counts but "they said softly" is unmatched

Long sentences vs short vs a mix short <33

What colors would you use to describe your writing? hm,,, depends on the fic i would say?? control fraek is dark green to me?? kinda like a forest at night yk?? scary but there's still life there. sugar cookies is yellow like early morning sunlight, when it rains is yellowy-orange like a caution sign. not gonna list all of them cause theres a lot its just. do u get it? the colours change based on the vibe of the fic.

What song or music genre would you use to describe your writing? think. i am constantly trying to emulate that moment at the end of wasteland baby when hozier goes "im in love/im in love with you."

What kind of metaphors do you rely on? religious metaphors my beloved <33 they're just so pretty!!! i also love comparing stuff to water for some reason?? like that ocean vuong quote thats like "what are you now?/water." it goes hard!!!

What's something you'd say is experimental in your writing at this time? definitely action!! i have,,, no idea how to write it so anything i do is really just me playing around and seeing what works and what doesn't

Do you prefer to write by hand or to type? i've tried both!! personally i prefer typing because it goes way faster but i will say that writing by hand lets me get words down when i'm going through writer's block

What is your preferred place to write (notebook, laptop, cellphone, etc.)? laptop!!

What app/apps do you use to write (word, notepad, etc.)? google docs skjdnkjh its fine on desktop but mobile is,,,,, disgusting

Do you keep a notebook or file/notes page in your phone/device for notes on your writing? ngl i just have everything organized in my drive?? one folder per fandom and then sub folders for ideas+hcs, unfinished wips, and finished fics. multichaps get sub sub folders so i can organize outlines and drafts

Do you listen to music to help you write? yeah!! playlists organized by fic vibe :D

Where do you usually go to write (bedroom, living room, etc.)? mostly in my bedroom??? but moving around to different stops helps too i think!!

How long does it usually take for you to write? again this depends on what i have going on irl, how attached i am to the idea, my mindset at the time, etc!! i am,, the least consistent person skjnhdkjh.

What's your favorite font to use when writing? times new roman my beloved

Other writing habits? sometimes i'll write in the dark?? bad for my eyes but for some reason it gets the words flowing

CONCEPTUALIZATION

How do you conceptualize your ideas? (See specific moments like they're a movie, writing specific lines in your head, don't know until you put the words on paper, etc.) i tend to get inspiration from movies, books, poems, or other fics!!! sometimes one line just makes me go oh,, i want to write something like that,,, and then it helps me create an idea that makes me feel the same way?? i did this with control fraek!!!! i wanted a scenario where bakugou was cold and calculating and i was like hm. to do that he’d have to be focusing on something important. and from there i was able to flesh out the rest of the idea.

Which comes first: the pairing or the plot? with krbk its always always the pairing,, i'll be sitting there like wow <33 i love them <33 what if one of them had amnesia <33 (which, yes, wip!!) otherwise it's usually the plot!! and i slot in characters that i feel make sense

Have you ever used a prompt? yeah!! used a prompt for wlw week 2020 and it was fun as hell

Do you write around the story around a specific scene you want to get to or do you start from a plot idea definitely the first!!!! i almost always write like,,, a super messy scene thats 90% dialogue, keep it in my head, and then write the entire fic around that one moment

Do you find that you include a projection of some part of yourself in the way you write a character? a lot of the time when i write love confessions or love in general i'll have one of the characters think or say that the other person makes their head quiet? and it's because that's what i feel whenever i'm in love?? a quiet mind. i project on characters yeah but i think most of the projection actually goes to the way that i write love

Do you research some of the things you write deeply, partially and kind of wing the rest, or play entirely by ear (in this case, go with whatever base knowledge of the subject you have)? most of the time if i do research it'll be about the setting (ex. the izakaya in to have and to hold) or if i'm having the characters interact with an object that they like. need to know how to use (me, in control fraek: google. hey google. does someone die if they get shot in the foot??? no???? awesome thank u <3)

Have you ever had an idea for a story and forgot about it? lmaoo yeah all the time i'll find like 500-2k words of concepts in my gdocs like i do. not remember this at all

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? probably krbk secret relationship lmao

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out better than expected? yeah!! i fully thought the action in control fraek would be awful but it turned out not bad??? which im happy with

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out worse than you expected? again, what we deserve, i personally think it would have worked out better if i'd paced it slower and drawn out the pining but i. do not feel like going back to fix it so its staying the way that it is. pining is so fucking hard to do AHHHH i get so tired with it!!! im like just date already!!!!

PROCESS

How do you come up with titles? in rare occasions (literally. all my multichaps for some reason) the title comes after writing like .5 words of the first chapter im like YES this is it!!!!! sometimes i write the whole thing and pick out one line that fits (what i did with come home to me) a lot of the time i just. steal from songs or poems that i like

What's your favorite emotion to cause on your readers? i like making people happy!!!! love when people comment saying they're cheered up

What's your favorite emotion to write? lovelovelovelovelovelove

Have you ever cried or felt any emotion while reading something you've written? never cried?? but sometimes i'll rereading my hurt/comfort fics 4. yk. comfort

Do you write in order or whatever comes to you? in order!! unless i have a scene that i Need to write and i'll quickly jot it down so that i don't forget

Usual way you procrastinate while writing? ...doing asks like this, making playlists, discord, watching netflix. what don't i do smh

Do you outline or free write? i am. so shit at outlines. i mostly free write and write lil notes for stuff that i wanna add later

Do you set word goals or scene goals (scenes you want to include)? yes!! like i said i'll write loose notes for scenes that i want to add later!! it gives me something to write towards :D

What do you consider when writing your scenes? what goes into making the atmosphere and mood you want? to set a scene i do two things? the first is like,, the five senses bc that always sets the scene really well and makes it feel Real. i'll visualize stuff in my head like its a movie and write out what i would want to tell the set designer?? if the lights are low, if the space is busy, if it's supposed to exude comfort or not.

for putting forward the character's mood one thing i've found that makes a difference is sentence length!! long sentences are good for making a character seem flustered and nervous or not really in control of their emotions? good for love confessions. short sentences are good for when the character is focused on something or short on time. good for fights!!

What's something you never considered to include in your writing that you can't leave out now? def buff hagakure,,,, once i thought of it i was like. if i don't include this at least once in every single fic how could i look at myself in the mirror!!!!!! how could i face anyone!!!!

How do you start a story? establishing a fact about the character or describing the setting! option a is one single thread of gold, option b is between lion and men

How do you end a story? either by tying it back to the beginning or doing like a funny kind of closing??? option a is sugar cookies, option b is a godless society

How do you get out of writer's block? change something!! move something!! i go from typing to handwriting, moving from my bedroom to my living room, switching wips to work on something else!! i do sprints as well?? give myself like fifteen minutes to write something and sometimes 200 words opens up the way for another 2k. sometimes i'll just delete like 500 words and start fresh

Do you edit? or do you toss your writing out there? i edit!!! i'll go over it myself then send it to one or two betas (bee my beloved <33)

How do you edit? do you use spellcheck, grammar checkers, etc? bee is my grammar checker bc he is So Good with grammar. i use grammarly as well for spellcheck stuff mostly?? sometimes my edit process is just like "am i tired of looking at this!! yes <3" and then i post it

PROGRESS

Do you usually like what you write? yeah!!! i post stuff that makes me happy and that i'm fine with rereading!!! i write stuff for self-indulgence reasons first and foremost and i think my writing reflects that sjhnksj

Have you ever written something you didn't like but posted anyways? nope!! even what we deserve i LIKED even if i see a lot of room 4 improvement!! if i don't like smth it's not getting posted

Do you find yourself rereading your writing often? yeah!! the reason i wrote so much krbk secret relationship is because i loved it but i'd read all that there was so i just,, wrote more,, ngl its kinda nice being in a place where i actually like my writing bc i can write stuff that i want to see and really enjoy it!!

Can you tell us anything about your current WIP? sure!! i'm currently working on when it rains which is a fic where bakugou gets hit by a crying quirk!! i'm gonna be using it to explore So Much of all might's character and his relationships with bakugou and aizawa (and i think some people from his past!!)

Can you give us a sneak peek on your current WIP? “You did something. What the hell did you do?” Kirishima sounds pissed off. It would amuse Katsuki if he wasn’t fighting just to stay standing.

“Nothing he didn’t ask for,” Shinsou replies.

“K’ri… shima,” Katsuki croaks out. “‘S fine. Not him.”

His chest collapses back into the familiar dry heaving after that but Kirishima shuts up. He doesn’t apologize to Shinsou.

Kirishima’s a good friend, stubborn and loyal. He stands by Katsuki’s side like an attack dog, blocking him from the view of anyone ogling at his tears.

The last line you've written Ochako knows more than she'd realized. She knows enough to keep her guard up.

It’s not enough.

Open a wip. what’s the first line?

Katsuki wakes up feeling like absolute fucking shit.

INSIGHT

What's your favorite thing about writing? touched on this before but it's mainly just being able to write the things that i want to see and actually enjoy them!!! actually reread them!!!! i thought "wouldn't it be cool if bkg and kirishima owned a restaurant together" and then i wrote it and i like it enough to reread it!!!! being able to create content for myself makes me. so happy

How do you keep yourself inspired? this is gonna sound narcissistic maybe but honestly i'm just really excited about my ideas and where i'm gonna take them and the idea of "i'm gonna get to That scene" keeps me going through the entire thing. also my friends!!!! i'll talk to them about fics and their reactions keep me hyped up enough to finish!!!!

What is your favorite thing to write? just,, slice of life romance,,, stuff thats silly and makes people laugh!!

What do you think your strengths are in writing? i'm good with dialogue!! i do lil voice acting sessions with myself to make sure everything sounds natural and like it's coming from that character skhjnskj

i'm comfortable with my portrayal of love as well??? i spend a lot of time thinking about what it is exactly that i'm trying to get across and i think it turns out well!!

What are things you wish you could practice more? on one hand i wanna get better at writing angst on the other hand i dislike writing angst. do you see my issue

One way you've improved your writing since you began? characterization!! i think i've gotten better at writing characters that are all Different and bring different things to the table!!! i used to project a lot more and it would compromise the characterization because the character was like 70% me and 30% them? not to say that projection is bad but if you do it too much it just,, doesn't read like the character and from a reader's standpoint the narrative can become less compelling

One aspect of writing you're still working on? writing action!!! i. literally hate writing it but i write for a fandom about superheroes so. Unfortunately i gotta learn.

A piece of writing advice you've learned while writing saw this on another tumblr post but they said sometimes if you're struggling with a scene, the problem is five lines back. i've found that to be true!!!! sometimes u gotta delete a chunk and start a little ways back!! i did this with too busy being yours because i was stuck for Weeks and i deleted like 25% of what i had but it helped me actually finish it :D

A bit of writing advice you can't stand when people shit on show don't tell for being overrated lmao bc when u read their writing you can Tell

Something you wish you knew when you first started writing? ,,,,honestly i kind of wish i could know some of the stuff that i used to when i first started writing?? technically i'm better now but creatively i was must better when i wasn't stressing about whether anyone would like what i was writing. so i guess i wish i knew that i should keep that confidence? i kinda wish that i wasn't as insecure about other people's writing styles because i never used to be!!

Something you've learned in life that you apply in writing there's no point in feeling inferior?? writing one genre isn't better than the other. being in one fandom isn't better than being in another. the kind of language you use or the length of your paragraphs- none of that stuff like. matters. what matters is that you're having fun and happy with what you're creating!!!! enjoy other peoples writing but don't let it make you feel worse about yours :D

[knoepfchen]

Thank you Alex, my fellow “I have a URL that no longer really fits the fandom I’m in but I’ll be damned if I change it now” TOG AU conspirator, @meet-the-girl-who-can, for tagging me in this!

I enjoy “end-of-year reflection” a lot actually, but I’ve not really gotten round to it much in previous years, and so I’m making the best of my planlessness this year. (Also it’s Theodor Fontane’s birthday tomorrow, and I believe it’s what he would have wanted.)

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in  2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

The Old Guard found me at a strange little time in my life. I lost my job earlier this year and decided to take it as a clean break, try to go back to university and take it from there. The Old Guard came out the day I got the acceptance letter from my uni, which was great – but also meant I would definitely be starting all over again, and find myself in a long-distance relationship after years of living with my partner. I guess what I’m trying to say is, when I randomly saw the film on Netflix and pressed play, I was in a bit of a mental and emotional limbo from all the uncertainty suddenly going on in my life, and I latched onto the ideas of immortal love and the only true difference we can make is through acts of kindness like a baby koala to its mother. I wrote my first TOG fic a day later, and what a ride it’s been since.

I’ve read fics by and spoken to so many amazing people in the past couple of months, but I think they’ve all already been tagged (because I’ve been reading these posts like the morning paper) and so I will cop out of tagging on this one. (If you haven’t been tagged and want to do this, feel free to use me as your tagger though – I mean it when I say I love reading these posts!)

5 - a slow landslide AND what i wouldn’t gif

I can’t pick between the two so I’m including them both. This is probably surprising to anyone who’s read both because they could not be more different if they tried, but that’s exactly the problem – I like them equally, but for entirely different reasons. (I also wrote them really shortly after one another, and so it’s quite hard to disentangle them in my mind.) But because while I think I personally just want to read the same fic with the same topic from the same authors over and over, the fics I write sure are all over the place in tone, theme, setting and relationship tackled, and nothing has made me happier than seeing people read and enjoy both :) 

4 - i am lost, in the robes of all this light

Writing Andromaquynh fic can be a bit demoralising if you also write Joe and Nicky – and I don’t mean this as a dig at all, it’s just that that part of the fandom is smaller and so there’s less people reading/commenting/leaving kudos – but I really like how soft this one got. My friend somewhat rightfully pointed out to me that it’s basically an atonement fic because I felt guilt for writing an absolute angstfest of a witchhunt retelling beforehand, but if you can’t guilt trip yourself into writing fix-it fics, who can you guilt trip?

3 - and you smiled, because you knew.

This is the first thing I wrote in this fandom, and it’s a silly idea (five times Joe proposed and one time he didn’t) executed with a degree of serious introspection I’m not sure the trope is made for. Looking back, the narrative voice is off, the tense I used for flashbacks questionable, and the imagery quite literally all over the place, but it also has some of the best lines I’ve ever written and it introduced me to @avaniesque, who has taught me so! much! about history and been a wonderful beta whenever I forayed into historical settings with the guard, so I can and will not complain about it. (She’d tell me to shorten that sentence, too.)

2 - we that are true lovers run into strange capers

Okay so. For my brain, writing this fic was a little like going to my favourite fast food restaurant every day for a month. It was a strangely addictive endeavour, occupying most of my waking thoughts and causing my Spotify Wrapped to look like a fever dream, but it was also the most fun I’ve had writing anything, ever. By all rights, it should have been a hot mess, (I guess it kind of is, but by the time I noticed it seamlessly transitioned from rom-com to corporate heist it was too late) but that’s the way of self-indulgent fic! I still read the comments on this fic when I have a bad day, because everything about it is my happy place.

1 - not sleepy enough to give it up

I was tempted to put this here just because it’s the last thing I’ve written, and the last thing I’ve written is always the momentary best thing I’ve written. But more than that, I think this is the first time I managed to actually write the fic I intended to write; a fic that, reading it, feels exactly the way I imagined it would in my head. I don’t usually reread my own work, but I’ve reread this one a couple of times for non-editing purposes, and I still love it.

[thepursuitofunderstanding]

January 31/2021

Well, hello new journal! I look forward to our explorations together. Now, what shall we begin discussing this morning? Nothing feels important enough to mark your first pages [this is from before I switched from paper to digital journaling]. I guess that I could say that I’m starting to catch a glimpse of what I might like my life to be like once I graduate Uni. That’s long been a giant question mark for/with me. Due in large part, I’m sure, to the fact that the conventional path seems to be a sort of settling down. That is, graduates go out and find a job; make a home in some place or other; date/get married; essentially people seem to settle onto one path--at the expense of all other paths. Which is fine--for them. I think that there shall be no settling for me. I must keep moving. This seems to be a condition of my existence. Whether this movement is within or without seems to be irrelevant. Or, rather, I do seem to to particularly prize/regard the internal movement, but I have found external movement to be a great stimulator of internal movement.  And, alas, as long as I have books and you [that is, my journal] I seem to never stop moving within. So that helps that. 

Most of all though, I don’t want to chain myself to some job that stymies my movement. Especially my internal movement. If I’ve learned anything about myself in these 24 years, it’s that such is a death sentence for/to me. I must keep moving. Inertia is death. Because a self-imposed death is still very much a death. Perhaps an ever deader death (if that’s possible). Now, of course, this whole ‘not letting a job chain me down’ does get rather complicated by the fact that I do need money to maintain my survival. It’s not like everyone in the world enters into the contract (or bondage, depending on how you look at it) of a job because they’re just total masochists. No, I recognize that for the most part people consent to have a job for the simple fact that it is required for their continual survival. As it is for my continual survival. Plus I’ll have some student loans to pay off (I try not to stress too much about that one. Uni is absolutely imperative for/to my development. I’ll figure out how to pay for it later.), so it seems that I will definitely need to figure out some way of generating moneys. But, alas, I aim to keep my expenses such that I won’t have to chain myself to a full-time job. I aim to do this by living in my van when weather permits and then...figuring something out for winter. I’ll live frugally--my only indulgence being books. For it turns out that one really doesn’t need as much money to get by as one might think. You cut out all that useless shit that people buy, get back to just the basics and suddenly things become much more manageable.  

This, I hope, will be what the outward appearance of my life will look like after graduation. And inwardly, well, I can’t even imagine that--I’ll be moving, that’s all I know. Working towards Greatness, looking at perhaps getting myself published; learning, always learning. This is how I’ll fill my life. It makes me so full and content to consider that I could cry. Oh what a feeling it is to actually want; to crave to live one’s life. It’s not exactly a feeling that I’m familiar with. Usually I tend to attempt--by any means necessary--to avoid gazing too long into the/my future. For the wretched weight of it felt only like a jail cell beckoning me towards it confines. Time, at my back, preventing my retreat, the chains of life always an inevitability; I could see no way around it. Or, rather, I could imagine ways around it (my power of imagination being what it is paired with my insatiable need to read anything that I can get my hands on (that makes it sound like I’m not a discriminating reader, which is false: I might just be the most snobbish reader that I’ve ever encountered. I’m so intimately aware that I’ll never be able to read all the books that I want to, therefore I must be very careful to give my time and energy to only those books that I deem to be imperative to my development. God I sound like such a cocky asshole. But hopefully a cocky asshole that is tempered with the realization that I’m not shit yet and I never will be unless I really... strain myself. I’m not sure how this spiraled into a poop(ing) metaphor, but here we are nevertheless.)) but I never felt myself to be capable of the strength and individuality required to evade that jail cell that I’ve witnessed so many people around me imprisoned by. 

Alas though, I realize now that the only thing more terrifying than attempting such an evasion is to not. For, to not attempt such an evasion is to surrender myself; to fail to become myself: of which I agree with Kierkegaard is a fate worse than death. I have discovered that I can withstand a lot of pain and discomfort in life--but not that. To lose myself, especially like that, to (how did he put it?) “pawn” myself to the world is not something that I will ever be able to withstand. I know this. Any leanings in the past towards such have led--always--to a crushing compulsion to end it all. I seem to be so constituted that such a pawning is simply not an option to/for me. Which is something that I’ve only just now grasped in its entirety. I seem to have had some hunch of it for a few years here now (thus the talk of the conditions of my existence) but only now have I managed to grasp (or begun to grasp) the full weight of all this. I can truly do no other. I have never, nor will I ever, have any choice in the matter. Or, rather, since I don’t believe in determinism, I should say that my choice is to either live “myself” or to not live at all. This is the ultimate condition of my existence. All other conditions stem from this ultimate one. 

Wow, okay, so this is why I love writing--why I absolutely need to write. Just as my physical body needs food and water to sustain itself, my soul needs to write. For through/by writing I come to be/tough ‘myself.’ Perhaps f I did not write I would become a pawn to the world. And I would never realize that although I might be physically alive; conventionally regarded as a living being; I never became anything more than a living death. For that’s what it feels like to pawn oneself to the world. I feels like one’s ‘self’ and one’s life is not one’s own; that one is merely a spectator to the unfolding of a dreary and rather impersonal drama.--Gross. That is, if I had it in me to even put up with any of that. I imagine that, being who/as I am, I wouldn’t live to see too many seasons of a life like this: the cape of despair eventually suffocating me. 

I wonder, what is it about me, my ‘self’ that makes it wholly impossible for me to ignore my ‘self.’I look around me and see the majority of people managing it just fine (or, rather, as fine as one can manage the pawning of oneself to the world.). Why is such a path/manner of Being one that is closed to me? I couldn’t attempt it even if I wanted to. Why/how is this??? What is it about me that makes this so? Because I realize now that my inability to do such a thing/live such a way, has defined my entire life thus far. It doesn’t seem to be something that I learned or picked up from anyone else. That is, I can think of no one who modelled anything like this in my early life. It was only later on, when the definition was making itself felt more and more that I managed to find others who also felt such a condition defining their existence. But those others didn’t birth it in me, they only (not only, for their friendship has been everything to me.) helped me recognize what was already there. 

My need to be/become my’self’ seems to be an inborn requirement of my Being. The condition of my existence. But how can this be?? For this condition doesn’t seem to be present, or at least, not nearly as stressed, in the people that I observe around me. It is this condition that has made me feel different--pathological--my whole life. Even when I couldn’t grasp it, it was always there, whispering to me from the darkness. It was never not there. Thus, I though that there was something wrong with me. 

It would seem that the entire trajectory of my life has been defined by the attempt to understand this whispering from the darkness. For I discovered early on that I couldn’t silence it without simultaneously doing away with myself. Because it is more me than I am... Whatever that means. And it is this whispering, this me, my ‘self’ that I am now engaged in consolidating; I am collecting from the darkness and attempting to explore and understand. This is what my life is about. Or, at least, it is the meaning of my life. My defining commitment as Hubert Dreyfus would say? And God is that which makes it all possible is what Kierkegaard what would say? God is the ground where all of this takes place; God is the sun which allows for the illumination of these dark places. It is only with/through God that the whispering can be understood? Is God that which whispers to me? That would indicate/imply that my ‘self’ is God; a fragment of God? My ‘self’ is atman? So many things to consider here...

Atman, my ‘self’, might this bear any relation to the concept of Nothingness that Sartre is acquainting me with? He does talk about how this Nothingness “haunts” Being. And I would certainly say that this whispering from the darkness of my Being has haunted me. Haunting is actually a perfect word for it. I seem to be more (profoundly?) haunted than others. Is this possible? I wonder, will Sartre ever discuss the possibility of some being more “haunted” or possessing more Nothingness than others? 

It has become apparent to me recently that this is my work. It is my play too actually, all woven into one. That is, when I sit here with you, when I lose myself in books, when I wander around and think/imagine, I am working. It may seem like such a minor distinction to focus on--such a trivial thing to notice and distinguish. But to/for me it is everything. I have always craved to be one of those people who is consumed by their work. I has always thought that there was something to important and noble about it. I bestows one’s life with an importance that isn’t there otherwise. That is, a life without this emphasis on one’s work is a life without a defining commitment. This seems to be an awareness that I apprehended before I was ever able to understand or articulate it. All I knew was that I was missing an importance/meaning to my life. I could see that others (though few) had it. But I never really believed that I would come to experience it myself. I had resigned myself to merely watching those others from the sidelines. Always to be aware of the game that I so desperately yearned to be a part of, yet never being chosen to participate. For, alas, it does seem to be a game that one must be chosen for. You can want to participate with your whole Being, but that means nothing unless one is animated from within. Otherwise one will simply be going through the movements; it will be purely mechanical. A true experience of/participation in the game requires that one lose oneself in/to it. And to lose oneself to something is never a choice made by oneself. That is, one can offer oneself up to this losing, but one can never control whether/if one will get swallowed up. I so wanted to be swallowed up by the game--by my work--and now it seems to be happening. I wonder, if one consistently offers oneself up to such a swallowing, is it inevitable that one will eventually get swallowed up? So many questions. And I’ve gotten so abstract and... mystical(?) in my thoughts now that I can hardly ask anyone else these questions. For, even the formulation of these questions requires such a lengthy and convoluted explanation that I’m unsure if I could even construct them, let alone hope that anyone might be able to follow my train of thought well enough for anything close to a satisfactory answer. It seems that I must wander the path of my questioning alone. And my writing is my mapping of the territory that I come across. This is my contribution to the literary community: to add my mappings to the mass of mappings that have been done before me. Because, after all, aren’t we all just trying to make sense of this crazy thing we call life? And isn’t life continuously evading our attempts to do so? 

The closer I get to Greatness the deeper I’ll be able to penetrate into (the mystery of) life. And, thus, the more precise/profound/meaningful my mapping will become. 

It seems to me that the only way for me to draw closer to this Greatness (my Greatness?) is by following the whispers of my ‘self.’ That is, I may learn from those around me, but I can never rely on them too fully lest I imitate them and lose the thread/path of my ’self.’ For Greatness seems to be... wholly individual, in a certain regard. By that I mean that... what do I mean? Every artist has their own particular flavor of Greatness. And it is only through/by this particular flavoring that Greatness appears. Because Greatness is... well, it’s not black and white; it’s vibrant and lively, it dances and lives. It is transcendent. It cannot be created/pursued mechanically. Sure it requires discipline and control, but it also requires personality and deviation. It requires that one break rules and forge new paths. These things can only be done by the individual. For it requires that one step outside the boundaries/limitations that had previously been set. This is a task that can only be done by the individual. It is not a collective activity, not something that any machine (mechanized something) might be able to do/engage in. The mechanized something is unable to do such because, as I understand it, these things necessarily require boundaries in order to operate in the first place. Or else these get swallowed up by possibility and are unable to function at all. Thus limitations must be set and can only be sidestepped by direction from some external tinkering/director. And, in the case of the collective... there seems to be a sort of inertia in the collective. As is a certain level of inertia is one of its defining features. For it is only by standing still that things (people) can collect after all. Yes, that seems right. Thus, only the individual, through their individuality, may pursue/tough Greatness. Although, of course, in saying that I also recognize that the individual is an amalgamation of everyone and everything that said individual has ever encountered (or will ever encounter?). So, in a sense, the individual is, in the individual self, a collection of Being. But, alas, a different sort of collective than what one conventionally thinks of when they consider a collective. 

Damn, I gotta say, I really covered some ground today. So odd too, I really had no idea that all of this was welling up within me. When I first sat down with you this morning I had absolutely no idea what we would be exploring together. Alas though, is it time to move onto some Being and Nothingness now? I’ve got to tell you, if I keep going at this pace, finishing it and The Second Sex by the end of the semester will be a piece of cake. I maybe should have set my aim even higher and also included Being and Time. But then, is it too late to make a change? Let’s just think about this for a minute... I’m at such a point in Being and Nothingness that I could reasonably leave it aside for a moment and return to it without too much confusion (I think). Being and Time only has 415 pages. And Dreyfus’ commentary on it is only 281 pages. Do I dare raise my aim? Doing so would mean adding another 700 pages to my goal, making it 2300 pages of dense philosophical treatise to complete in 3 months while simultaneously juggling 5 classes. Do I dare attempt it? I ask but I already know the answer. Now, the only question is, do I start Being and Time first or ought I take a bit of a wander through Dreyfus’ commentary first? 

[typicalmidnightsoul]

Prythian Valley - Chapter 1

Secrets

 New person of interest: Helion Daye.

Here’s a question how far would you go to hide a secret, to protect it? How far would Helion go to hide a secret? What if the secret wasn’t a thing but a person and what if he wasn’t protecting something horrific but a…relationship? As Nesta and Audrey are coming out late from cheerleading practice hoping to just relax in Nesta’s hot tub will a chance situation rock her to her core and question her loyalties?  Cassian always knew Nesta carried burdens but he was angry at God for giving her burdens to carry which weren’t hers, burdens which made her cry in the dark in school when he was coming back from football practice.

One last question....How young can a criminal be? 

Prologue here

A/N : IM BACK GUYS. I WAS IN LONDON FOR EID BUT NOW I’M BACK GET READY FOR AN ONSLAUGHT OF FIC UPDATES. HAPPY BELATED EID I LOVE YOU ALL.

Helion Daye, 9 years older than Nesta and like an older brother to her from the age of 3. They were nerds for life and he was a much respected former student of Velaris High. When Nesta moved from LA to Prythian Valley with her mother it was Helion who got special permission from the principal and showed her around his old school. Helion was now a part time university lecturer, owner of Daye Publishing and part time party boy.

 But he had a secret, one that went back to his younger days when he was a sophomore. No one could know, because if they did then it would mean nothing to him, but to the other keeper of the secret…

She would be destroyed.

 Her name was Mrs Clarissa Vanserra; she was an English and Art teacher in Velaris High when Helion was in school. She had started teaching when she was so young, only 22, and when Helion stepped in her English class he almost dropped to his knees.

 She was so beautiful, but what struck him the most was… she was helping a boy with tissues, a boy who his friends had been bullying outside. She turned to him and he almost crossed the distance and kissed her. He found out she already had children; her eldest was a 3 year old, the same age as his little Nessie. And as one thing led to another they had an illegitimate relationship, an affair.

 She was ashamed of it, because she was married and as Helion later found out it was an abusive marriage. He tried to tell her to leave him but she wouldn’t hear of it, she had children with this man.

The affair never truly ended… he had to leave for Uni as his mother in LA had got him into one of the best ones in the country.

 But Clarissa was carrying Helion’s child. She knew it was his. And she told him she… she told him she aborted it because it would only stop him from achieving his dreams. After he left Clarissa thought that was the end of her and Helion’s story but she was wrong.

  Nesta came out of double geography stretching her limbs Luna next to her, Feyre and Amren were exchanging homework apparently.

Nesta was about to walk up to them when she saw…

“Helion!!” She ran to him and he picked her up spinning her around, he laughed as he set her down,

“Hey Nessie,” he chuckled,

“Hellcat what are you doing here?!” She asked,

“Well I wanted to see my old school, and try outs for the football team and its new captain is being picked, I’m also now an advisor for the school newspaper so you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

Feyre and Luna gave him a hug and he said, “Where’s Mrs Vanserra’s new class, it’s not the old one. I needed to talk to her about the placement of the newspaper office.”

Nesta was confused but Eris came up behind her saying, “My mom’s old class is now a biology lab, her new one is in the second floor.”

To most people Helion was glad to see Eris but Nesta could see the tightness in his eyes when Eris came up to them. He nodded and headed upstairs.

Nesta gave Feyre a hug and told her to tell mom she’d be home late with Audrey.

Feyre nodded and headed off to her last class.

--------------------------

 Audrey and Nesta were packing up their stuff. They had spent more time after practice to choreograph a new routine for the upcoming matches. They headed upstairs to return the locker keys to the janitors office. He had let them stay earlier do long as they lock up and leave the keys in his office. As they were returning they went past the new newspaper office,

“Damn!” Audrey whispered, “Helion’s done a good job.”

Nesta nodded and they went to the back entrance that led to the parking lot. As they went past Mrs Vanserra’s office Nesta froze stopping Audrey.

Before Audrey could gasp, Nesta put a hand over her mouth.

Because there… there was Helion and Clarissa Vanserra standing a breath apart, Helion tracing the skin on her hands whispering something to her.

Nesta made up different circumstances, maybe he was blowing something out of her eye, or she could be hurt, or maybe she had a panic attack and Helion was comforting her.

But as Helion picked up her hand and intertwined their fingers pressing a kiss to the spot below her ears Nesta could no longer kid herself. They had an affair.

Audrey pulled her out and to their car.

As Nesta started it Audrey said, her voice hard, “tomorrow 6am at the office, are we going?”

“You bet your ass we are.”

--------------------

Helion was setting up the new office, when Nesta and Audrey stepped in. Audrey shutting the door and leaning on it to add another layer of soundproof and defence.

“Hey girls, it’s a bit too early but I guess if you missed me-“

“How long?”

He raised a brow, “Pardon?”

“How fucking long Helion have you been sleeping with Clarissa Vanserra?” Nesta ground out.

His face drained of any colour and he swallowed, “How-how-“

“We saw you after school yesterday.”

He let out a strangled breath and dragged a hand through his hair, then turned to Nesta taking her hands in his and sitting her down on a chair,

“Nes, listen it’s not-“ she snatched her hands away, he took them again a pleading look taking over his eyes,

“You want the truth, I’ll tell you all of it,” he took a deep breath, “ I was a sophomore, Feyre’s age and she was a new teacher, we fell in love Nesta, she had a notebook and she wrote stories in them and I fell hopelessly in love with her words with her, it’s like what you and Cassian have”-she growled-“forget I said that, anyway, she loved me back but she had children, and she was married, an abusive marriage albeit but she wouldn’t leave her children. And then I left for uni but every time I visited the valley I’d meet her and we’d…”

He shook his head, “Nesta please don’t tell anyone. No, please don’t”

“Why?!”She was crying now, “Why not?! You have an affair with a married woman with the mother of my best friend, why can’t I?”

“Because I was there!” He shouted,

Nesta looked at Audrey and back at him, “Where?”

“When Amarantha died, the day she died, the night she died, I was there, we heard someone laughing and talking and… i was there with Clarissa.”

Nesta exchanged a look with Audrey who was suddenly furious,

“No! Nesta had to protect Feyre and now you!”

Helion looked startled, “Why? What happened with-“

“Not now,” Nesta said, “We will keep your secret Helion. But you know we have to tell Luna, she won’t tell anyone either. But why can’t we at least tell Eris or-or”

Helion stood up gathering Nesta’s hands in his, tears slipping down his face,

“We had underage sex Nesta, and I got her pregnant. She had an abortion later but… the cracks are still in our relationship from it. Do you understand the gravity of this situation? I, a 15 year old got a 22 year old teacher pregnant. She could lose her job, I could go to jail, and she could too. Please.”

Nesta stumbled back as Audrey slid down the door hands in her hair.

“A child?” she whispered and Helion nodded.

Nesta nodded, “You have our word Helion, we’ll keep your secret.”

Audrey opened the door as Helion thanked them,

They left telling Luna to meet them at Pop’s.

-------------

Luna slurped her milkshake in shock.

“I cannot believe it. And we are not allowed to tell Eris?”

Nesta shook her head.

Audrey leaned back into the booth and groaned.

“What if Eris hates us?”

Audrey and Nesta hadn’t ordered anything. They’d just came in and started rambling. Pop Tate came over,

“What can I get you girls?”

“Turkey club burger, chilli fries and my large regular milkshake for me Pop,” Nesta answered.

“Chicken club, curly fries and my regular milkshake,” Audrey said as Pop smiled at them and hurried off.

“Stress eating?” Luna asked.

Nesta waved her off.

The TV blared quietly in the background as Nesta turned her head.

“A washed up truck was found late yesterday night-“

“Pop can you turn it up please?” Nesta asked as Pop did so.

“By the sheriff’s office. If this red truck belongs to anyone then it can be claimed from the sheriff’s office. Now moving onto todays main headlines…”

 Nesta’s face was etched with horror, as was Luna’s and Audrey’s. Nesta put on a fake smile and turned to Pop,

“Hey Pop, could you pack ours up and also pack in Feyre, Elain and Jonah’s regulars and Mom’s double chocolate milkshake please?”

Pop nodded and gestured to Demi who was preparing the orders.

Nesta let out the staggering breathe as Audrey dialled up one of their friends.

“Leo? We need you to take Jonah to Chicago tomorrow.”

Audrey looked at Nesta. Nesta nodded.

“They found the truck.”

-----------

Nesta rushed in as Elain seemed to be making coffee. Feyre and Jonah were at the table. Jonah was Nesta’s half-brother, the loving result of her mother’s affair. Jonah wasn’t that fond of Feyre or even Elain for that matter but he loved Nesta, a love that went really deep. He was in middle school and his best friend was Cassian’s sister, the youngest Narenz: Nyx Narenz.

She slammed down their takeaway and said, “Go eat in your rooms. Don’t come out and Mom will never know you had takeaway for breakfast.”

They all exchanged looks. Then they all ran to their rooms, grabbing the paper packages.

 Nesta strutted into her mother’s study.

But her mother was already staring at the TV screen. Hand over her mouth in horror. She walked up to her mother wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry Mom, we’ll sort it out.”

Her mother started shaking her head, “No, no I have already got you involved way too much. I will not allow you to-“

Nesta shook her slightly, “Hey mom, I’m doing it either way. Plus I’ve got everything planned out.”

“I can’t put this on you. I need to protect my baby boy, need to protect you.”

“You’re handling things on the inside. Let me handle this. Besides he’s my brother too you know.”

Before she could answer, the doorbell rang. Nesta took the remote and turned off the TV telling her mother to stay here.

She walked down the hallway to the main door and flung it open.

Her eyes narrowed,

“What do you want?” she snarled.

--------

 Cassian swallowed and asked himself if there was a time of day where Nesta did not look fucking gorgeous.

Her hair was pulled into a long sleek ponytail, and she wore a tight long sleeved sheer meshed crop top with a red dragon print. It showed a black bra underneath and was paired with a black mini skirt and black gladiator heels.

He put on a cocky grin and said,

“Your sister said she needed a ride because Rhys’ car is in servicing.”

She snorted, leaving the door open, “Feyre! Your chauffeurs here!”

She turned back to him, “I’m picking up Nyx at 7:30 for the slumber party, all right with you?”

He nodded, “Who else will be there? Nyx hates all of us and hasn’t really told either of us three who’s coming?”

“Nyx doesn’t hate you, the three of you are just annoying, and I don’t disagree with her. And to answer your question, Roxy and Alec are coming.”

Cassian chuckled, “Ouch, no wonder you’re her favourite.”

She rolled her eyes and made her way back to the study. But Cassian knew Nesta and he could see her shoulders sagging from the burdens she carried. He could see a scared little girl behind those stormy eyes today and that terrified him. But before he could dwell on that matter Feyre bounded in and dragged him to his car.

-----------

Cassian bumped fists with his crew and went to take a long shower. As he came out he saw Nesta in her cheerleading outfit, rummaging around in her locker. He stalked over to her leaning against the adjacent locker.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Nesta Archeron. What’s the residential ice queen doing so late at school,” the next part wasn’t intended to be cruel but the jealousy Cassian harboured at the fact that Nesta wasn’t his leaked through him as he whispered, “Or shall we say who’s heart is she breaking?”

She slammed her locker shut and as she looked up at him he faltered. How did he not notice? Shit.

Her eyes were red, and her voice sounded slightly broken.

“Are you done Cassian?”

She swallowed and out a hand to her mouth running past him to the toilet.

 All Nesta could see was…memories of the blood on her hand. Of the bleach as she used it. As she burned her mother’s old rug because of the red stains on it. She remembered the gore and as much as she tried to push it away it just kept coming back.

She puked her lunch into the toilet and then felt strong warm hands hold her hair back. Long soothing strokes were made on her back and she managed to say,

“Cassian you can’t be in the girl’s toilet.”

“I think I can handle detention for being in here for you puking.”

A few minutes later she was washing her face in the sink. She steadied herself as she gripped the sides. Cassian put a hand on her lower back and guided her outside.

“You need some fresh air.”

She sat on back step that led to the parking lot.

Cassian kneeled in front of her, her eyes were still red.

“Nesta please tell me, what happened?”

No answer, just silent sobbing.

“Nes please. Or I’ll tell Feyre and Elain and let them handle it. You need to tell someone or you’ll break down again.”

Nesta shook her head profusely, “No, no, please it’s just… I can’t handle these secrets, Helion having an affair with Eris’ mom for so fucking long, he-he had a baby with her, he-he had sex with her when he was 15. And got her pregnant. Even though the baby was aborted I and he was at the river when Amarantha- and then there’s Jonah-“ she broke down sobbing.

Cassian waited a few seconds letting it set in. Helion the school’s former golden boy had an… affair? With a married woman?

He pulled Nesta into his arms.

They stayed like that for a long time before Cassian asked,

“What about Jonah?”

She opened her mouth to answer before her phone buzzed.

“I need to go. Mom’s worried.” She picked up her stuff, and as she walked away from him he said,

“I’ll give you a ride-“

“No, it-its fine.” And as she walked away he could’ve sworn he heard,

“Thank you Cassian.”

 Coming up Next:

 Nesta crossed her arms at her mother,

“Jonah is going to Chicago with Leo and that’s final. Leo will take care of him, she would never allow anything bad to happen to him.”

Her mother opened her mouth but the study door burst open,

“You can’t take Jonah away from me!” Nyx pleaded at Nesta.

But Jonah held up a hand and stepped toward his older sister.

There was fear, Nesta realized in her 14 year old brother’s  silver eyes as he looked up at her and asked,

“Is it because I killed Tomas Mandray?”

---------------- 

 Tags:: @skychild29 @aesthetics-11 @perseusannabeth​ @awesomelena555​

[strikearose]

It’s all about connections (SasuNaru) (Part 1)

Finally, here’s the very first part of the !YoutubeSasuNaru story - the idea’s quite silly but I had fun writing it so hope you guys enjoy it! (English is not my first language so please don’t be too much of a grammar nazi Summary : Sasuke has had that massive crush on a youtuber for years when Rasengan randomly starts going to his class. You can also read it on ff.net and ao3.  Part 1 (here), Part 2 (clic), Part 3 (clic), Part 4 (clic)

Poc.

The ball of paper missed its trajectory and crashed into the corner of the wall, barely half an inch away from the waste basket that originally intended. The student didn’t mind, though - he was far too busy trying to finish his economics presentation that was due for the next day.

Despite the fact that many of his classmates insisted on seeing him as a relentless hardworking student, Sasuke Uchiha was very much like any other normal twenty-one year old boy : a procrastinator at heart. So it was precisely on the night before the big day that he finally decided to finish it, even though he had had all of his vacation time to do so. Well - it would be a lie to say that it would take a superhuman effort to accomplish that task, but unfortunately the young man had another flaw: he was a perfectionist.

Even if he had to pull an all-nighter or give nothing back at all, Sasuke had always refused to be average -  because before (and in addition of) setting high standards for others, he would always set himself very high standards.

The black-haired man frowned as he read what he had written on the previous line and, impulsively, he ended up tearing up the entire page of his notebook and threw it on the floor.

However, the paper pellet did not make a Poc - as he had, this time, managed to reach the bin, it made a Ting instead : he had just received a notification.

His mind being elsewhere, the student rummaged around on his desk, looking for his phone. It wasn’t a text message, but a Youtube alert. One of his Subscriptions had just uploaded a new video. Sasuke took a quick look at the time (1:03 am) and let a loud sight when he saw how long the video was: fifty-seven minutes.

Of course, it has to be Rasengan.

He was the only one there who could publish a barely edited gaming review at such odd hours. One hour of uncut video was too much, even if it was to discuss the New Zelda. ‘That moron clearly don’t understand how the logistics of youtube work,’ the young man thought while stretching his legs under the table in order to get into a more comfortable position.

Because even though Sasuke might found the Youtuber’s marketing choices quite stupid and questionable - he was still his favorite. The only one he was following so.. assiduously.

And if he was really going to pull an all-nighter in order to finish his presentation on time, he might as well relax a little on the go

**

The coffee machine finally agreed (even though it sure had taken its’ sweet time) to give him his change money, but it still wasn’t not enough to lift Sasuke’s spirit. He really had spent his entire night working on the presentation. Well - he even had to give up his usual fifteen minutes of hot morning shower for just three minutes of shampoo-rinse-toothbrush altogether to make sure that everything was perfect.

But at last - there he was ! His eyelids stung horribly and he could feel the dark circles hollowing out his eyes, but everything was finally ready to make sure he would receive his usual congratulations for the seriousness and thoroughness of his work.

An amused grin escaped his lips when he looked into the face of Kiba Inuzuka, one of his classmates - a gamer and procrastinator emeritus who unfortunately didn’t have enough wits to back it up. With some luck, they would be called in alphabetical order for once and it would save Inuzuka the embarrassment of going Sasuke’s presentation.

Or maybe not.

Sasuke left the cafeteria just as the legendary lack of luck of the dog-loving student seemed to catch up with him:

« FOR FUCK’S SAKE NARUTO DON’T PUT YOUR DR PEPPER ON TOP OF MY COMPUTER ! »

**

« Hey Sasuke, did you also get Ichiraku’s mail about the internship? »

Shikamaru Nara calmly called out the black-haired young man as he sat down.

« Yes, I got it. And my documents have been signed and validated by the office earlier today.

- Cool, mine too, Shikamaru sighed. ‘t'was about time. »

He nodded his head knowingly: all the steps of searching, finding and getting the official documents concerning the internship signed were an unspeakable mess. Luckily, though, his partner this time was not a nutcase of Zaku Abumi’s caliber.

The Nara was placidly calm (Sasuke wouldn’t dream of seeing him threatening the Dean of blowing up the uni if he were to fail the exams) and quite intelligent: in short, he was one of his peers. And their little discussions were not too unpleasant.

« Well, we’ll talk later about carpooling?

- Yeah. And also dividing the task.

- Yeah, no problems, Shikamaru sighed as he turned away - tired in advance of the amount of work ahead. Ah, good luck with your presentation by the way. »

Pfft.

He didn’t even bother to answer.

Wishing him luck ? Sasuke gladly left ‘good luck’ to losers such as Inuzuka or Sarutobi who were very likely to be sending prayers at that very moment to every heavenly spirit existing, Jashin included, to have the course delayed.

Good luck ?

Sasuke definitely didn’t need it.

He was brilliant, meticulous and confident: talking in front of sixty or more people didn’t bother him at all - unlike the younger Hyuuga who getting more and more on the verge of fainting as she practiced her speech. More than that, it was even something he enjoyed. Knowing every aspect of a subject - mastering it ; defending it tooth and nail, tearing apart every remark made by his opponents until they surrender..

Some malicious people would say that Sasuke liked to boast on stage, that he was too arrogant. That he was far too pleased to thwart the traps set by his teachers, to answer the questions of his classmates with a smirk. A smirk just visible enough to make them understand how foolish he thought their interventions were. Or worse, that he had precisely expected for a moron to make that remark, thus allowing him to assert his assistance with a dutifully prepared response.

Saying that Sasuke Uchiha sometimes behaved like a complete asshole would be quite slanderous - indeed.

Because, no he did not.

He was brilliant, meticulous, confident… and humble on top of that.

« Hurry up, Kiba, I think it’s already started!

- You should have eat your lunch quicker ! »

The two latecomers were forced to take the front row seats of the auditorium while Sasuke finished to prepare. The slide show was on, the cable was connected - he was simply waiting for Mr. Hatake’s approval to start.

**

« And to finish with and anticipate some questions you may have, I’d like to add that while the data I used regarding market flows may be from two thousand and four, other studies that I have provided in the appendix tend to show that all exchanges concerning telephony have been profitable thanks to the takeover of the company by its competitor three years ago. »

Click.

He couldn’t have done better.

The teacher scribbled an umpteenth inscription on his rating form with a discreet approving wink and Uchiha smiled smugly.

Perfect - everything had gone on smoothly.

His onyx eyes wandered around the room: not surprisingly, half the auditorium hadn’t listen a word to what he had said, too focused on themselves (and the realization of their own projects).

Pfft.

The other half, however, completed his little moment of glory: some of them shook the head in bitterness, disappointed in what they had done in comparison, others gave him an admiring look. In the distance, Shikamaru nodded his head slowly while the Egyptian fury sited beside him, more belligerent, pretended to stifle a yawn.

But Sasuke quickly looked away, his mouth pinched, as he saw the thumb up that Lee Rock had kindly addressed to his attention. Lee was overall quite a nice fellow - Sasuke himself had to recognize it, - but no.

Just no.

« Well, if no one has any question, because I don’t have one either, let’s move on to the next presentation, Kakashi Hatake thought for a moment as he watched over the assembly. Inuzuka, you, in the front row? Well, that’s great, now’s your turn. »

Sasuke, quite disdainfully elated, was about to come down from the stage when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks:

« Oops, you’re in deep shit, Kiba! »

That particular tone was familiar to him.

Strangely familiar.

« Heyyyyy everybody! I know, I know, sorry! I promised to upload more often… But sometimes I just completely forget to turn the cam on. Or to remove the lens cover ahah! Anyway, today…- »

…

Come to think of it, Sasuke knows that he should have, at least, tried to make it look like it wasn’t that big of a deal. He should have try to tighten his jaw, clench his teeth or even hold his breath until he could return to his seat but of course - he didn’t.

That damn brain of his really had to go on mental-break down as he looked over to the lips from which those sweet, sweet words had just escaped.

He literally froze on the spot.

HOLY FREAKING FUCKING FUCK.

Why the hell did Rasengan have to show up in his class on the very-day he looked like utter shit?!

**

Sasuke let himself fell on a chair of the uni library. The research room, fortunately, was still quite empty - this haven of peace was the only place where, he was ready to stake his life on it, this stupid Inuzuka had not and would never set foot in.

Yes - Sasuke Uchiha had simply run away : with clenched fists, he had spent the forty-two minutes separating him from the end of the class to scrutinize meticulously the auditorium clock’s second hand. He had tried everything: scrolling down his twitter feed, pretending to be interested in what was happening downstairs, humming softly a bit of that stupid Latin-sounding song that his brother Itachi kept playing in the car, but nothing helped. That same frightening moment was played again and again in his mind:

Meeting certain cerulean eyes had literally made him go speechless. If he had for a long time now suspected the blond guy of drowning his instagram pictures with saturated filters, he was now forced to admit that this guy had the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

And by blue, Sasuke wasn’t talking about that pale, bland cyan that Ino Yamanaka, a high school ‘friend’ he often saw in the cafeteria, boasted about - no, Rasengan’s pupils were of a deep, bright, intense blue. It wasn’t a grey that stretched to be too light or green; his eyes were neither grayish nor turquoise: they were blue. Irrevocably blue.

Wonderfully blue.

The more he thought about it, the less Uchiha was willing to accept it: there was no way a guy who spent at least twelve hours a day on screens could have such marvelous eyes. He probably wore contact lenses, yeah, there was no other explanation.

All Sasuke could remember was meeting that seing that blue and then - nothing. His foot had stayed up in the air, his breathing hastened and he had stood there like an idiot - staring at the video maker who hadn’t pay the slightest attention to him, his mouth wide open.

How long had he been frozen there, like a fucking fangirl oozing hormones and sebum?

…

Thank’s God - an unfortunate accident had come to his rescue : Kiba Inuzuka and his legendary clumsiness who, probably not expecting Sasuke to suddenly freeze on the spot, had stumbled over the stairs.

PAF.

He had cracked his forehead open and the fit of hilarity (well - they didn’t need much at eight o'clock in the morning) in the auditorium had instantly brought Sasuke out of his enamored trance. He had quickly taken his attention away from the blond young man hurried back to his place, his heart beating fast.

Shit - what the hell was Rasengan doing in his college?

And why did he have do pull an all-nighter on the day before?

Sasuke looked around him and hesitated for a moment before putting his phone in selfie mode in order to inspect the extent of the damages.

Ouch.

He had rarely looked so bad. His eyes were red because of the entire night spent on a computer screen, his skin was tugging at him and - what the hell was that old scale on the edge of his eyelid ? But despair truly overcame him as he looked at the state of his hair - thank God it was still pretty clean, but there was absolutely no volume left. Nasty, long (too long) strands of hair were stuck to his temples and fell back a little on his forehead.

Shit - it was as if he was unpleasantly reviving his teenage years when - even though he still adamantly claimed to that day he had never turned emo, he had tried numerous dubious kind of hairstyles.

The Uchiha turned pale when it really came down to him : this was indeed the very first impression he ever had make on Rasengan.

**

When Sasuke set foot on campus the next day, curious glances were exchanged. While his complexion was as fresh and glowing as ever (he had gulped down five liters of water the night before), his hair was…-

Well - he rather gave the impression that he had swallowed five litres of gel. That observation made the usually impassive Shikamaru raised an eyebrow - for a moment he thought that he too had returned to his high school years. The Nara genius finally shrugged it off, plunged back into his textbook - well everyone had bad hair day every now and then.

**

Fourth day of the week - Sasuke grumbled as he put his computer back on his bag.

Of course, Rasengan had to disappear completely off the face of the earth as soon as he had decided to rock his best outfits to go to class.

It was as if Rasengan’s divine appearance had to be provoked by Sasuke losing some of his splendor.

…

The next day, Sasuke had the impudence of wearing a T-shirt… with a hole on it (an old accident involving a hook and his brother-in-law, a fisherman), but still - nothing happened.

There was not the slightest sign of the handsome blond with eyes too blue to be true. In a bad mood, Uchiha decided after lunch to put the Ralph Lauren sweater, which he’d slipped into his bag in the morning just in case, in top of his crappy shirt.

The following Monday came quickly but - no, Sasuke wasn’t expecting anything.

His decision to resume his daily abdominal sessions hadn’t been motivated by any hope of meeting a certain blond again.

He was doing it for himself - and for himself alone.

Although it was true that he didn’t even need it.

The coffee machine forgot inadvertently to give him a stirrer - Sasuke sighed. Great, the day was starting out just fine : how the hell was he supposed to retrieve the sugar that had fallen to the bottom of the cup and drink his coffee now?

« Ahah, I can’t believe it, I didn’t even finish my presentation and Hatake gave me the passmark ! »

Sasuke’s ears tensed imperceptibly as he recognized the voice of the injured-Inuzuka who had just entered the cafeteria.

« He felt sorry you had a concussion Kiba, Shikamaru was there too.

- Whatever, man ! I’m definitely going to pass that semester ! We got to go celebrate. »

Celebrate?

Like in a bar or club where Rasengan might also go to ?

Sasuke suddenly found his cup too heavy to carry around and chose to sit down at the table next to the one the two friends had chosen, any worry of lost-stirrer long forgotten.

« Mhhh. Shikamaru sighed and rummaged through his wallet, seeking enough change to buy himself a hot drink. The delicious scent of Sasuke’s coffee was tempting him. You know what I think about your improvised parties.

- Pfff, anyway, you hardly go out anymore now than you got hitched.

- It's not like that, Shikamaru sighed again. Tem and I simply go to different places. »

Sasuke rolled his eyes out, bored. He wasn’t there to hear about other people’s marital relationships: why didn’t they discuss Rasengan’s appearance AND disappearance instead?

The black-haired man had spend the weekend trying to figure something out, but nothing helped. Not a new video on Youtube (well, there was nothing that strange about that, Rasengan’s upload schedule had always been rather dubious), not a single clue on twitter or insta.

Nothing.

« …- never thought you’d actually manage to hook up with her. By the way…-, Kiba’s sentence was left hanging in the air. Oh, here he is. It’s about time! »

Sasuke’s pulse suddenly accelerated. Damn it.

He hadn’t expected Rasengan to pop up out of the blue, though.

Wasn’t his presence so close to his group of friends too suspicious?

Was he going to get busted that easily ?

He needed a pretext - quickly.

« Hey Shino. You’re here just in time, let’s go! »

Eyes glued to the poster for dark-metal band, Uchiha struggled to conceal his disappointment. 

Shino Aburame - of course.

Always where he wasn’t expected.

Jaw clenched, Sasuke pretended to take a closer look at the tour dates on the wall while the three companions got up to go to class. The disappointed student was about to do the same when a voice called out to him:

« I didn’t know you liked this kind of music, Sasuke.

- Uh… yeah.

- We’re performing next month at the bar around the corner, Shino let out a rare smile as he reached into his pocket to hand him something. Here, I’ve got plenty more.

- … Thanks ? »

Uchiha arched an eyebrow as he received a Radioactive Worms sticker.

…

Well.

It took all sorts to make a world.

**

Wednesday, nine o'clock - Sasuke sighed as he realized that his computer was already out of battery. He pulled the charger out of its’ case before giving a nasty glance to a student who was cackling a little too loudly a few rows away.

Inuzuka.

Again.

He was getting on his nerves more and more.

For how long has he been getting along like pigs in a blanket with Rasengan? And was he, as Sasuke strongly suspected, responsible of his mysterious disappearance?

It was all so damn confusing.

« Um, yeah? »

The microphone sizzled and Sasuke turned his attention back ont he lecturer who he had almost forgotten.

When he saw who standing next to him, he almost fainted.

Rasengan.