#having trouble getting back into the program

[heartsriki]

READ MY EYES : ★ ━━━ chapter one

Sent to live in a new city, you learn of an abandoned arts club once occupied by seven boys. You meet Jungwon, a quiet classmate assigned to watch over you… and catch sight of a guy dancing alone in a strange empty classroom which peaks your curiosity. Not only that, but reoccurring dreams of a strange hallway and house stirs something deep inside you like a memory you can’t quite reach.

synopsis: School au!, romance, angst,, mentions of character death and illness, slight fluff, mentions of distorted reality.

MAIN | PREV | NEXT

Rain.

The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows was the only sound that filled the room. You hated it. Hated how rain had become your escape, because when something like rain becomes your only way of escaping reality, it means your reality is unbearable. And that's a bitter truth to face.

You stared down at your hands, fingers fumbling with your new tie that clung tight to your uniform. The voices around you blurred into background noise. It wouldn’t have mattered if you listened. No one in that room cared what you thought. You learned that the moment your aunt sent you here. To this place. So far from anything that ever felt like home to you.

“I really think enrolling her in our program is a great idea. The students are welcoming, and all her previous credits transfer over seamlessly. It’s a perfect fit,” the man said with a rehearsed smile.

Your aunt nodded politely. “Ah... yes, that would be nice.”

The room fell into an awkward silence, filled only by the clicking of the man's keyboard and the relentless tapping of rain against the windows, a constant reminder of where you were and where you'd have to stay.

“Before you finalize everything,” your aunt said hesitantly, shifting in her seat, “I was wondering... is there someone who could maybe keep an eye on her?”

The counselor paused mid-keystroke, his brow furrowed. “Does she have a disability or behavioral issue?”

“Well,” she began, laughing nervously, “after the, uh... incident, she’s had trouble with memory...”

You stood up so suddenly that your aunt flinched. You couldn’t take it, the tension, the feigned concern, the mechanical clicks of that man’s mouse, the bright office light, the mention of that. It was too much. You walked out without saying a word.

It wasn’t long before your aunt followed, quietly closing the door behind her. She waved goodbye to the counselor and joined you in the hallway, not looking directly at you… just glancing nervously from the corner of her eye.

“I don’t get why you’re sending me here,” you muttered. You hated how she knew this was wrong. You hated the way guilt clung to her like a second skin, how she tread so carefully around you like you might shatter if she said the something.

She sighed, dragging a hand through her hair until it was a tangled mess, a small act of comfort for her in the middle of your pain. “You won’t understand now, but one day you might. I can’t take care of you. I- I just can’t.”

You scoffed, stepping away from the wall to face her. “Don’t lie to me,” you said, your voice sharp and certain. “You just can’t stand to look at me. I’m a living reminder of everything you’ve lost.”

Her shoulders stiffened. You were right, and she knew it. Seeing you was too much, because you looked like the one person she’d loved most. Because you looked like someone who was now gone.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again. You know the arrangements,” she said coldly, her voice rehearsed. “I’ll send money every month. You’ll take care of yourself and stay out of trouble. When you graduate, the money transfer stops.”

You gave her a small nod.

There was no point in arguing.

Before she left, she promised to visit when she could. Promised you’d live with her again after graduation. Said that she just needed time. But deep down, you knew those were just words. She wasn’t coming back. Not for you. She walked away without looking back, leaving you in a strange city where no one knew your name and where you’d spend the rest of your youth… alone.

What now?

There was still time before the first day began. Students roamed the halls, some in search of their new classrooms, others simply making use of their free time to socialize. You glanced around until you spotted a sign with an arrow pointing toward the Courtyard which would’ve been nice, if it weren’t pouring rain. You scanned the area again and eventually decided to just wander, steering away from the growing crowds. A chance to explore your new surrounding.

You walked past clusters of people and into a quieter, empty hallway. The rain still followed you, its relentless drumming against the windows echoing through the space. The heavy clouds outside dimmed the natural light, making the hallway look even gloomier. Unlike the main building, this area seemed to depend on sunlight to feel alive.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden movement outside. You slowed your steps, drawn toward a window overlooking the school’s side yard. There, standing beneath a single small umbrella, were a boy about your age and an older man. The boy’s jaw was clenched tight as the man leaned in, speaking harshly. You watched, uneasy, as the man’s voice rose- and then, without a second thought, he slapped the boy across the face.

You flinched. The boy lowered his head, hair falling forward to hide his eyes. They stood in silence for a moment, the tension thick even from this distance, before the man turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the rain. The boy didn’t move. He simply stood there, shoulders trembling, letting the rain soak him.

It was a sad sight. Guess you weren’t the only one feeling hopeless in weather like this.

It felt wrong to keep watching, to stare through a window at someone’s private pain. So you turned away, giving him whatever dignity you could.

Just as you moved, something else caught your attention, soft music, playing faintly from somewhere down the hall. Curious, you followed the sound, your skirt trailing behind you with every step. The music grew louder, a piano instrumental, smooth and emotional. You didn’t recognize the song, but its melody pulled at something inside you.

You found yourself standing outside a room with the door slightly open. You hesitated for a moment, just listening, but your curiosity soon got the better of you. Quietly, you stepped closer and peeked inside.

There, in the middle of the room, stood a boy in uniform. At first, you were confused since he wasn’t sitting at the piano in the corner creating the melody that you heard. But then he moved, arms flowing with the rhythm of the music, his body shifting carefully, almost dreamlike. There was no strict choreography he was simply thinking with his feet, lost in the song. His hair fell to one side of his face, and you noticed a few piercings along his ear. You wondered vaguely if he got in trouble for those.

You knew you shouldn’t be spying, but there was something almost sacred about the moment. It felt comforting seeing someone so connected to what they loved. It reminded you of your own forgotten passions, from a time before everything changed.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize the music had ended. Suddenly, the boy turned and his eyes locked with yours.

For the first time, you saw his face clearly, the scatter of his moles, the thick eyebrows, the wide startled look in his thin eyes.

He froze for just a second. Then, panicked, he rushed to the CD player, yanked the disc out, and bolted through the other door, disappearing down the hall.

You stood there, stunned. Had he not meant for anyone to see him? Maybe you had been a little invasive and looked like a total creep just now.

Before you could even think about following him to apologize, you glanced at your watch, five minutes before class.

Panic set in. You quickly sprinted back the way you came. But no matter how fast you ran, it didn’t change the fact that you’d never gotten a proper tour of the school, let alone been shown where your homeroom was.

Breathless, you slowed down, glancing around the now empty hallways. You scanned the crumpled paper in your hand, searching for the classroom number.

“A-132… A-132…” you muttered under your breath.

“You’re in class A-132?”

You jumped at the sudden voice. When you turned, a boy was standing there, smiling warmly. His features were soft, almost delicate, and there was something easygoing about his appearance.

You said nothing at first, just staring.

He seemed amused by your reaction.

“I’m the class president,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Yang Jungwon?”

“Ah, I see,” you replied with a stiff nod, then turned away, determined to find your classroom yourself and as fast as possible.

He chuckled under his breath and quickly caught up to you. “Wait, wait- I’m also in that class. Follow me.”

You blinked at him, a little confused, but eventually fell into step beside him.

He didn’t say much as you walked, only asking for your name. When you told him, he looked briefly stunned, something flickering across his face that you couldn’t quite understand but it didn’t really matter to you at the moment.

When you reached the classroom door, you hesitated. Your stomach twisted. You were definitely about to get scolded for being late.

Jungwon noticed your nervousness. With a soft, understanding smile, he stepped forward and opened the door for you.

“Sorry to interrupt and for our tardiness,” he said politely. “I was showing the new student around.”

He strolled in casually, heading toward one of the only two empty seats in the room.

The teacher gave a small nod.

“Very well… Would you like to introduce yourself to your classmates?”

Immediately, the room buzzed with whispers. You could feel dozens of eyes on you, heavy and expectant.

But the pair of eyes you felt the most was Jungwon’s. He gave you an encouraging thumbs up, his smile warm and supportive.

It didn’t help much.

“Maybe some other time,” you said with a forced smile. “I’m already late. I’d like to catch up.”

The teacher studied you for a second before nodding in agreement.

You made your way to the last empty seat at the back of the room, slumping into it with a relieved sigh. At last, you allowed yourself to relax, sinking into the chair.

Eventually, you rested your head against the cool surface of the desk, letting its chill lull you into a daydream.

The day passed by in a blur. Classes were over, and if it weren’t for your endless daydreaming, you would’ve already been gone, searching for the place you were supposed to be staying.

But something held you back. Something, after a long, boring, agonizingly pitiful day, had finally caught your attention.

That room. That abandoned classroom hidden at the edge of campus. And that boy dancing like his world depended on it.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

Slowly, you left your last classroom, weaving through the emptying halls.

You retraced the steps you took that morning, your memory guiding you. When you finally recognized the gloomy hallway, the one dimmed by cloud-filtered light, you stopped in front of the room again.

You hesitated only a second before cracking the door open, expecting someone or anyone to be inside.

But it was empty.

You stepped in. The room that had felt so alive earlier now looked stripped of all color. You could barely see a thing through the gloom, so you made your way across the room and yanked the heavy curtains open.

Soft, gray light flooded in, revealing more of the space.

It was larger than you remembered.

Instruments lay scattered everywhere. Half-written songs were abandoned on wrinkled scraps of paper. A detailed drawing on the whiteboard had started to fade, edges blurred by time. Microphone stands were toppled across the floor like forgotten toys near a piano in the corner.

The deeper you walked into the room, the more fascinating it became. You stopped at a bulletin board, scanning the clutter of old posters and pinned announcements.

“ENHYPEN DEBUT at the Annual Arts Festival!”

“Rising Stars Heeseung, Sunoo, and Jake — Amazing Vocals at such a Young Age!”

“Jungwon and NI-KI show incredible dance choreography on stage!”

“Jay, lead guitarist of ENHYPEN holds a guitar lesson day for art students!”

“Sunghoons talent and visuals steals the hearts of every girl world wide!”

“Join the Arts Club Today!”

Arts Club… you thought. Is that what this room was? Or what it used to be?

You wandered past a table piled with paintbrushes, broken props, and forgotten supplies. Something caught your eye.

In the corner, half-buried under dust, was a small Polaroid photo.

You picked it up carefully, blowing the dust away, and flipped it over to read the back.

“Always 7.” You frowned. “What does that mean?” you murmured to yourself turning it back over, you studied the photo more closely. Seven boys, crammed together, smiling brightly.

You recognized three of them immediately. “That’s Jungwon…” you whispered. “And the dancer.”

There they were standing side by side, arms slung around each other, grinning wide. You spotted another familiar face, the boy from this morning, the one who cried in the rain. Here, though, he was different, pretending to strum an imaginary guitar, laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. He was happy.

Two other boys laughed beside him, caught mid-laughter, while the last two threw peace signs at the camera, singing into a shared microphone.

The photo was full of life. Full of memories. What happened? you wondered.

But you didn’t have time to dwell.

The sun was already sinking lower, and you didn’t exactly want to be wandering alone after dark.

You tucked the photo gently back where you found it, then slipped out of the room, closing the door behind you.

The walk back toward the entrance was quiet. You pulled out the scrap of paper with your new address on it, studying it carefully.

Only… you had no clue where to even start.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

You flinched at the voice but relaxed when you recognized it.

Jungwon.

“Could you quit doing that?” you grumbled, shooting him a glare.

He smiled, looking completely unbothered. “Should I walk you home?” he asked, glancing at the paper in your hand.

“No, thanks,” you said quickly, turning away from him.

He watched you march off with an exasperated sigh. Then, of course, he followed you anyway.

“You’re not going out to have fun?” he asked.

“What’s the point,” you muttered.

“Well, it’s the first day of our last year. Don’t you want to make the most of it?”

You finally glanced back at him.

“I should be asking you that. What are you doing following me around, Mr. President?”

He gave a small nod of defeat at your jab but didn’t argue. The two of you continued walking, quietly following the street signs and vague instructions you were given as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, streaking the sky with gold and purple.

Jungwon lingered a few steps behind, keeping a careful distance.

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze on your back.. steady, watchful.

After a few more turns, you spoke again, not bothering to look over your shoulder.

“You’re the person who’s supposed to be watching me, aren’t you?”

His footsteps faltered for half a second, but he caught up quickly, matching your pace.

“Was I making it that obvious?” he asked sheepishly.

“There’s no other reason you’d be following me.”

“That’s not true,” he said quietly.

You finally slowed down, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Right.”

He stayed quiet at that.

You gradually came to a stop, your eyes lifting to the building in front of you. The name etched above the door matched the one on your piece of paper.

Jungwon leaned slightly over your shoulder to glance at it. “So… this is where you’re staying?” he asked.

You gave a small nod, folding the paper and slipping it into your bag. The building looked older than you expected, a worn sign hanging slightly crooked over the front door, paint chipped around the edges. But it had a charm to it.

“I guess so,” you said, unsure.

Jungwon looked at the building for a moment, then back at you. “I’ll be waiting out here for you tomorrow morning.”

You turned to him. “There’s no need”

“It’s my job,” he replied, his tone light, but there was a weight beneath it. “Don’t be late.”

You didn’t respond to that right away, feeling the wind on your face.

“I don’t need anyone watching me.” you muttered without looking at him.

“I know,” he said, and when you glanced back, he had that same calm smile. “But I’m not watching you. I’m watching out for you. There’s a difference.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond to that.

“Anyway,” he added, rocking back on his heels. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t get lost again.”

Jungwon turned and started walking back the way you came.

You watched him until he disappeared around the corner, the last light of day casting long shadows across the sidewalk. Then, with a deep breath, you reached for the doorknob and stepped inside.

The restaurant was small. You were confused, at first this didn’t look like a rental lobby. The sign outside had said “vacancy,” sure, but you weren’t expecting a dining room to be your first step inside. Wooden tables filled the space, each one slightly different from the next. The wallpaper was peeling in spots, and an old clock ticked too loudly above the counter.

You lingered in the doorway, unsure. Then, from behind a beaded curtain at the back of the restaurant, a soft voice called out, “Come in! Don’t just stand there.”

A woman stepped through, wiping her hands on her apron. She was small, her shoulders slightly hunched with age, but her eyes were sharp and warm. Her silver hair was tied back in a loose bun, and the corners of her mouth curled into a kind smile.

“You’re the one moving into the room upstairs, aren’t you?” she asked.

You nodded slowly, stepping further in. “Yes.”

She looked you over with a careful, thoughtful gaze, then nodded once, as if satisfied with whatever silent judgment she’d come to. “You don’t seem like a talker, thats alright. Room’s through the back, up the stairs. You hungry?”

“No, I’m okay,” you said, though your stomach growled in quiet betrayal.

She just chuckled, disappearing briefly before returning with a plate of sliced fruit and a bottle of water. “Moving into a place you aren’t familiar with is difficult. Always better with something in your stomach.”

You murmured a thank you, and she waved you off gently, already turning back to the kitchen.

Following her instructions, you found the stairs and carried yourself to the second floor. The stairs creaked with your steps, “how old is this place?” you thought.

Your room was small but clean. A single bed pressed up against the wall beneath a window that overlooked the street, a wooden desk tucked neatly in the corner. A faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, like the smell of the restaurant below had climbed the stairs and settled into the walls.

You set your bag down on the bed and sat slowly. The springs creaked beneath you. From outside, you could hear the hum of a scooter passing, some girls laughing at the end of the steet, wind brushing against the trees.

You moved your bag off of the bed and layed down. You sighed into the pillow as you thought of everything all at once.

Then.. you were lulled into a sleep.

It was bright. Way too bright.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted, finding yourself standing in the middle of a hallway. The walls were painted blue, freshly, from the smell of it. You recognized this place. You don’t know where you are but it’s like something in you knew. Like nostalgia.

Your footsteps were quiet as you wandered down the hallway, peeking through cracked doors like you were looking for something or someone. You paused at one that was wide open. A little girl’s room. Photos lined every inch of the wall, some falling off the corners. It tugged at something deep in your chest.

You were about to step inside when you heard voices further down the hall. You followed the sound, slowly turning the corner and froze.

There she was. Your mother.

She looked just like you remembered, but way younger. And she was smiling, speaking softly to a small girl holding a seemingly new camera in her hands.

“Hi, honey. What do you have there?” your mom asked, kneeling a little to meet the girl’s gaze.

The little girl fumbled with the camera, giggling. “I’m taking a picture of Mommy!”

Your mom let out a soft laugh, nodding with an exaggerated ‘oh’ expression. “Why don’t you help me paint instead, hmm? The faster we finish, the faster you can go play with your friend.”

The girl gasped dramatically, already grabbing a tiny paintbrush. “Okay!!”

She plopped down beside your mom, doodling more than actually helping, but your mom just laughed along with her. They looked so happy. You couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your own face.

Then- knocking.

Your mom paused, stepping down from the stool she stood on and kneeling in front of the girl again. “I think that’s Dad. Want to go open the door for him?”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” She sprinted off right past you. You turned to follow her, feeling the same excitement she did.

She flung the front door open… and your smile fell, so did hers.

Not a father, but two policemen instead.

The warmth drained from the house in seconds. The sun outside dimmed. Rain started to fall hard and fast. The walls around you groaned and swayed, like they were struggling to stay upright. You couldn’t hear the words, not really. The voices of the officers warped, twisted, muffled. Like someone had dunked your head underwater.

You stumbled, reaching out to the girl.. then everything went dark.

You gasped awake, chest heaving, cold sweat dripping down your back. Asphalt scraped at your knees. You were outside. How did you get outside?

Oh. Right.

You slowly stood, brushing yourself off, forcing your breathing to slow. A few students passed by, but no one paid you much attention.

Good.

You didn’t want to explain your situation. You never did.

As you walked toward the school gates, your eyes flicked up to the posters on the walls. Some end of the year festival thing. It looked like something out of a movie, and it was no small event if the students around you had anything to say about it.

You stepped through the doors, head ducked low. You weren’t in the mood to run into Jungwon, It was uncomfortable having your aunt’s personal spy following you around.

Your classroom wasn’t far. You slid inside just before the bell, ignoring the familiar whispers that followed you. You kept your head down and sat at the back by the window.

You dropped your pencil on the desk, resting your head in your hands. The world outside the window felt quieter. Calmer. Easier to stare at.

But then the whispers changed tone. Higher. Louder. More excited. The door opened. You didn’t look. Not until you saw shoes stop in front of your desk.

“Hey,” a voice said very low, almost careful. “Do you have a partner by chance?”

You glanced up, confused and vaguely annoyed.

It was him.

The boy from the photo. The one who stood in the rain yesterday.

Your face twisted slightly. “Excuse me?”

His eyes widened as he realized what that must’ve sounded like. “Wait- no! Not like that. I meant… like, a desk partner. I’m not.. uh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You stared at him, suspicious of him but you turned your direction forward anyway not giving him an answer.

He let out a quiet breath of relief and sat next to you, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. He didn’t look at you again, probably embarrassed or mad, and you were fine with that.

Class ended quickly, you realize that you probably daydreamed again when others spoke about notes but your notebook was seemingly empty. You waited until the room was nearly empty before slipping out the back and taking a quieter route through the school, one you were already starting to remember.

Your steps slowed as you turned into that hallway again.

The air was always cooler here. Like the rest of the school forgot this place existed. You walked toward the last door on the left, your fingers holding onto your uniform tightly.

You didn’t know what made you come back.

Maybe it was the photo. Maybe it was the silence that lived in the room, like it had been waiting for someone to notice.

You reached for the doorknob—

“Hey.”

You stopped.

Turning around, your eyes met a familiar face, Jungwon.

He blinked, surprised to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You looked at him, caught off guard. “…Just walking.”

He tilted his head, clearly not buying it. “Not many people walk all the way down here by accident.”

You shrugged, not offering more. “Didn’t realize it was restricted.”

“It’s not,” he said quickly, but something about his tone contradicted that. His eyes flicked to the door behind you, then back to your face. “Just… not many people go in there anymore.”

You turned back to the door. “Why?”

He didn’t answer at first.

You could feel him shift behind you, like the air got heavier just being near this place.

Finally, he said, “It’s complicated.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Is it a storage room or something?”

“No,” he said, softer now. “It used to be more than that.”

You didn’t respond, just kept your hand on the doorknob, debating whether or not to turn it.

Then Jungwon stepped forward, just enough to place himself beside you, not in front of the door, but close enough that it felt like a silent block. Not forceful, just intentional.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said quietly.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t see why it isn’t.”

He gave a small, tired smile. “You’re surprisingly stubborn.”

There was a flicker in his eyes then. Something you didn’t understand but could recognize all the same.

Pain.

Whatever happened in that room, it still clung to him. You let your hand fall back to your side.

“I was just curious,” you mumbled.

Jungwon nodded once, grateful maybe, or just relieved. “Don’t blame you.”

You turned away first, walking past him without another word. But your mind stayed behind.

It wasn’t just a room. You knew that now.

By the last bell of the day, your feet had already decided where to go.

The hallways were quieter now. Most students were on their way home or scattered around clubs, sports fields, and music rooms. You walked with your head down, your bag slung loosely over your shoulder, until you reached it again.

The arts room.

You stared at the closed door.

Jungwon had warned you earlier. But he hadn’t given a reason. Just a voice heavy with something he didn’t say. It should’ve made you pause but curiosity had teeth, and it was sinking in deep.

You twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

The scent hit you first dust, dried paint, old paper. A life that had stopped in motion.

The light through the windows was weak, but enough to show you what you needed. Discarded brushes. A broken keyboard. Torn posters. A cracked mirror leaning against the wall. You traced the edge of a table with your fingertips. It felt wrong, how abandoned it all was. Like someone had just stepped out and never come back.

Near the back of the room, buried under a stack of paint-smeared canvases, something glinted.

You pulled it free.

A camera. Heavy. Worn. Taped in some places, it had been loved too much and broken too often.

“Do you like photography?”

The voice cut through the quiet like a gentle ripple, and you nearly dropped the camera in your hands.

You turned, wide-eyed, only to find Jungwon standing in the doorway, his steps slow, like he was walking through a memory.

“Wow,” he breathed, eyes drifting across the faded posters and abandoned art supplies. “I haven’t been in here in a long time.”

You watched him cautiously. You weren’t sure if he was going to scold you for being in here, or just quietly observe until you felt uncomfortable enough to leave.

So you spoke first.

“What happened to the arts club? Run out of funding or something?”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. Nothing like that. Like I said… it’s complicated.”

There was a flicker of something behind his words. You frowned.

He caught your expression, and the smile slipped from his face. That bright, easy-going Jungwon everyone knew? It cracked a little.

“The arts program started small,” he said quietly, “just one student who believed in the idea that people deserved a place to create… anything. Music, dance, painting. Whatever made them feel alive.”

He moved slowly through the room, fingers brushing against an old speaker like it might still echo the past.

“Back then, no one cared. Everyone wanted to be part of the soccer team, the track club. I didn’t either, honestly. Not until…”

You tilted your head. “Until?”

His voice softened. “Until I saw Riki. Or- ni-ki, I guess. He was dancing alone in here one day. And it was… unreal. Like watching someone exist in a different dimension. He was just that good.”

Jungwon eventually sat down at the table, tugging at the edge of his tie, eyes far away. “I joined. Invited a friend. Then another. Eventually there were seven of us.”

You waited. The room felt like it was holding its breath.

“And then?” you asked.

He leaned back, exhaling hard. “We started calling ourselves Enhypen. A band, kind of. A group that wanted to go far. We almost made it.”

Silence.

“It was good,” he added, voice barely above a whisper, “until we lost someone. Someone important to us. We all kind of… broke. In different ways. This room hasn’t been touched since.”

He looked over at you. “Until you.”

You blinked. “I’m not the only one who’s been coming here.”

His brows drew together. “What?”

“I saw someone dancing in here. Yesterday. He’s why I keep coming back. He ran off before I could talk to him, though.”

Jungwon went still.

Then, slowly, he leaned over, resting his head in his hands like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders. His eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought he quit dancing,” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything right away. The quiet settled between you like dust.

And then, softly, you asked, “Do you miss them?”

Jungwon looked up. His eyes were glassy, bright but tired, like he was still carrying pieces of the past in his chest.

“There isn’t a day where I don’t.”

You found yourself in an unfamiliar place once again. Standing still, disoriented, you tried to piece together where you were, until your eyes landed on your mother and the little girl.

They were stepping out of a school building. The girl’s small backpack hung awkwardly on her tiny frame. Without thinking, you began to follow them.

“How was school today, baby?” your mother asked gently.

She let out a soft sigh. “It was okay…”

She looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

The little girl glanced up at her, hesitant. “There’s a boy who’s trying to be friends with me. He’s kind of weird. Everyone says he’s a freak and that I shouldn’t talk to him.”

Your mom stopped walking and knelt down so she was eye-level with the girl. Her voice was calm, but firm. “I think you should follow your heart instead of listening to what others say.”

The girl stared at her, quiet for a moment. Then she spoke, as if discovering the answer for herself. “I think I should be his friend.”

Out of nowhere, you found yourself back in the small diner beneath your room, a gentle hand resting on your shoulder. You turned to see the old lady looking at you with concern.

“Are you alright, child? You’ve been staring out that window for quite a while.”

You swallowed hard and looked away. You’d done it again, dreaming in public.

Your gaze drifted back to the window, where Jungwon stood outside. His back was to you, his posture awkward as he looked up at the sky.

It had been a week since your conversation with him. And still, he kept waiting for you every morning, even though you never showed. It always made him late to first period.

“Is he a friend? Or maybe a boyfriend?” the old lady asked.

You startled. “No—he’s just, um… he’s—”

She smiled softly, and the two of you turned your eyes back to the window. “Poor boy waits for you every day. Sometimes he even knocks on your door. Why do you avoid him, hm?”

You inhaled, then exhaled slowly. That was the question you hadn’t figured out yourself. Why did you avoid him?

“Anyway,” she said gently, “it’s up to you. Follow your heart.”

Follow your heart.

You turned quickly. “Hey, what did you say?” But when you looked back, she was gone.

Your eyes returned to Jungwon. You stepped backward slowly, still watching him. As usual, you planned to slip out the back, unnoticed, but something pulled you in a different direction.

You walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside.

Jungwon turned sharply, surprised. His eyes locked with yours, wide with shock. You didn’t meet his gaze, but you could feel how stunned he was.

You started walking down the path, and moments later, you heard his footsteps behind you. He caught up, matching your pace, falling into step beside you.

When you finally glanced over, he was grinning from ear to ear, trying to hide it by turning away every now and then.

You gave him a puzzled smile. “What are you so happy about?”

He looked at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s been a long time since I had a friend.”

You raised a brow. “Since when did I agree to be your friend?”

He glanced back at you, his smile soft but certain. “Ever since you walked out that front door.”

OUR DAYS IN THE RAIN.

TAGLIST:

@sojumimi @firstclassjaylee @dearestdreamies @butt3rfleye

[tip] - Reader suffers from dissociative amnesia.

[tip] - Paragraphs fully in italics means reader is in her dream like state.

[breelandwalker]

UPDATE:

Did all the password changes and security updates I could. Probably going to have to reset my poor lappy to get rid of any lingering malware, though the scans didn't find anything.

Near as I can tell, it was some kind of remote desktop app called Splashtop that I DEFINITELY did not install on my computer. It's no longer in my programs to be uninstalled and I don't know what remote viewing or keylogging software might be lingering in my system. No idea how it got there, since I don't download things I'm not certain about and I'm very alert about phishing emails.

Thankfully I back up all my files regularly, so I won't lose any work. It's just a matter of adjusting to a whole new set of passwords, which sucks when you have trouble remembering things and have to use password managers pretty religiously.

Anyway, stay alert, friends and neighbors!

Ok so there's a possibility that my computer was hacked and personal data stolen at some point in the past 24 hours. Not sure how much or to what extent, but I'm taking precautions.

Just putting this out there as a matter of public internet record in case anything strange starts popping up with my name attached to it.

[inkprovised]

Mood

Reactivated Paint Tool Sai for now

[what-bot]

Program sense headcanons in Tron.

I have many so there's a readmore

Programs have different senses or level of sensitivity based on their function. They can change if upgraded; Tron shares some of his monitor senses with Beck using the disc

Programs designed to monitor a system or involved in communication have heightened senses, and a lot of processing capacity for them. Some programs are designed to get a broad idea of everything, while others are more specialised

Some see the program equivalent of shrimp colours - seeing radio waves is common in tower guardians or those who communicate with the internet.

Programs do not have a sense of smell

Less of a sense of taste than humans (they usually just eat energy, which tastes mostly similar. They can tell if it’s poisoned. Like irl, water from different taps tastes different but not by much.)

They DO have electroperception, and some have thermoception. Same with grid wildlife like bits.

A combination of the two above things lets monitors do that footprint-seeing thing that Dyson and Rinzler do (even if not directly linked in to be able to see system logs for that area)

Structures and vehicles give off different electrical frequencies. Programs whose function is related to those buildings can sense them, and receive signals from that which can hold information and helps them know where to go like they're ants following pheromone trails. e.g. programs in charge of the trains will have Train Sense

Messing with the above is totally what they used to control people in frame of mind

Programs also have their own signature they can use to tell each other apart

Electrical signals as nonverbal communication. Can communicate with Bits or Bytes this way

This thing that electric fish do called jamming avoidance

Programs can be linked with each other, common in counterparts or parent/child pairings (as in the computer version of parent and child), and share information with each other over the link like telepathy

Full black circuit-covering suits like Rinzler’s are stealthy both due to not giving off light, and masking the electrical signature of a program. They can disguise themselves as others using a similar principle

Users give off electricity, so they seem like a program to other programs on first glance, but those who know what to look for can tell the difference. Given it’s used in communication, programs can get confused talking to users as their electrical impulses don’t follow the same rules, but they can loosely interpret them with practice

Imagining Tron or other monitors getting sensory overload if network traffic is too high, or if in the outside world and standing among a bunch of computers/phones/servers/radio towers etc.

Programs in the outside world get pretty much none of the electrical feedback they’re used to, which can be unsettling for them

Idk how it would be different for Isos. I imagine there’d be a lot of similarities but their senses adapt/change based on their circumstances - getting stronger when needed and weaker when not

[measlyscrapofseafood]

two of my tron ocs!! i don’t have names for either of them but their video game algorithms created by the same user so their basically the program version of twins

lore under the cut!!

[spark1edog]

possibly too niche of a question but i’m going to ask anyway:

people who have chosen between being a cosmetologist/hair dresser/nail tech OR tattoo artist, why did you choose the one you did?

[chalupaconspiracy]

At the risk of sounding on high horse, those of you who can't stomach politics but want to make change in the world, have you considered early childhood education?

It's definitely no picnic, low wages, lots of burnout. But!

You make such a difference in people's lives.

Children are mirrors that reflect their surroundings. If you show them love, compassion, kindness, and respect, it will come radiating out of them like the son.

I don't have children of my own (thank god), but I've laid the foundation for over one hundred and fifty kids to be good humans.

The first five years of life are some of the most important in a person's development.

( source: https://www.unicef.org/parenting/child-development/most-important-phase-life-class)

If you are sick and tired of grownups, kids are a breath of fresh air. Watching them work out conflicts, find solutions, overcome obstacles, is heartwarming. Now can my students be mean and nasty as hell? For sure! But we can learn from that. We talk about "it's okay to feel angry. It's not okay to hurt someone." and "You can ask for what you need, and people will help."

You don't have to go door to door, phonebanking, listen to NPR politics twice a day to make a difference in the future.

You can start small.

[crushedsweets]

CREEPED VISUAL NOVEL Link, tutorial, extra art, Q&A, some chatter

The CREEPED Prologue is completely free and browser-ready. Gameplay is about 10 minutes. Please read the "tutorial" and notes before playing!

Follow Y/N and their dog, Max, through their grandparents' farm and a mysterious forest filled with...less than fortunate people!

PLAY HERE; works best on PC

This visual novel is powered by GOOGLE SLIDES! It has 0 programming and was created by one person in a little over a month, so please bear with any "bugs" and clunkiness!

TUTORIAL

>Click using mouse/trackpad >Go slowly to not break game >Do not use arrow or space keys

EXTRA NOTES:

>Works best on PC/Browser, I haven't tested the full game on mobile yet >In general, clicking the PNGs on the textbox (Apple, Teddy Bear, Hatchet, etc) will lead you to the right page >If you land on a page that tells you to "go back," that's when you should click the back-arrow key. If your cursor disappears, it doesn't register the click correctly >I recommend moving your cursor periodically to avoid it disappearing and sending you to the wrong page

EXTRA ART

some WIPS and the original sprite-style i was gonna choose LOOOOOOOL

Q&A

Q: Is this an x reader? A: This is a reader-insert, but it's not romantic and I try to keep it as neutral and unidentifiable as possible! Q: What's the plot? A: GENERALLY AND WITHOUT SPOILERS, your dog gets you into trouble and you're just looking to help him!

Q: Who is in the prologue? A: Tim, Brian, Toby, and Kate! More will be added in future chapters.

Q: When will future chapters be posted? A: Not sure! This took me about a month to do, and half was spent over winter break. I will try to get chapter 1 posted before summer, but I am a full-time student, employed, have extracurriculars, etc etc

ok thats all i only remember 4 questions feel free to ask more LMAO

CHATTER(because you know i can talk forever)

ok i just wanted to be able to talk about how the process was with this and how i feel about the results and whatnot...

ive been wanting to make a google slides visual novel since i was like 13 LOL it hit the point where i was repeatedly told i should just learn to code but i was like NOOOOO ITS GOTTA BE GOOGLE SLIDESSSS which is totally stupid but hey. i think that gives it some sort of simple charm that reminds me of being 16 and doing little projects in my room LOL i like working with the easiest tools . my bad

anyway. im just very happy LOL. it's not perfect but i feel like i came full circle in a sense?!?! i've been into creepypasta since i was 9 and it comforted me when things were really hard, and when i was 18 i was going through a really hard time and got back into creepypasta as a way to distract myself. i've always had a habit of throwing myself into fiction for escapism when things suuucked.

i'm 20 now but i've met SO many amazing people, had so many fun awesome exciting projects with friends, created tons of stuff im proud of, felt more motivated to create since i was like 13, have been inspired by so many amazing artists/authors on here, etc. just so so so lucky to find community in such a tight-knit cute fandom that thrives off of creativity and playing around! i hope i can keep the momentum and make a couple more chapters this year, but im kinda busy with school and work...LOL . i'm just excited to have this posted so i can have more discussion about it T_T

anyway thank you if you read this far and thank you if you played etc etc yaahhhhhh omg ok BYE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING im just so grateful to be in this fandom

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, sickfic, SFW, requested.

Mara is surprised to see him. "Hey Captain Riley."

He nods. “She in the back?” The knit between her eyebrows is quizzical, and she shakes her head.

“What? No… she went home. Hours ago. Said she didn’t feel well.” He doesn’t bother to school his expression into neutrality, and she turns sheepish, like somehow she’s the one in trouble now. “I told her to call you. She was nearly falling asleep back there. Almost face planted in the batter of these cookies.” She points to an artfully arranged tower of chocolate chip cookies, their little placard labeling them as ‘brown butter’. What that means, he’s not sure. 

“How long ago did she leave?” He had no idea you were sick. Worse, you didn’t say anything. You lied by omission, sending your usual morning text messages, your before lunch check in with zero mention of feeling unwell. 

He’s not angry with you, because he understands you. This is uneven footing, new territory, a lot to learn for his little fawn. You’re finding your way in this new life, and he has plenty of time.

 A learning experience, that’s all this is. 

“Like… an hour ago? Maybe two?” A frown tugs his lips towards his chin. 

“Her car is still in the lot.” 

“Oh yeah… she walked.” Walked? You walked? 

Your ass is going to be sore for a week. 

There’s a queue forming behind him, so he steps back, gives her a parting glance before turning to leave. “Thanks Mara.” 

“Tell her I hope she feels better!” 

You live on the fourth floor. The elevator in your building is busted, along with the front door’s lock, and there are no cameras, no security, nothing stopping anyone from walking inside. 

Just his baby in a fourth floor apartment with a measly deadbolt and chain. 

You’ll be so much happier at home with him.

It takes three tries for you to come to the door, and when you find him on the other side, your expression splits in two, one side saturated with relief, the other, buzzing with nerves, but somehow still half asleep. 

“H-hi.” You croak, sweating and shivering, standing there in only a t-shirt. 

Miserable. You look miserable. 

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, stepping inside, immediately placing the back of his hand to your forehead, trailing down your chin to find your pulse fluttering beneath your jaw. It’s elevated, and you’re burning up, tears gathering on your waterline, threatening to fall.

"D-daddy," you hiccup, trembling, reaching for him just as he pulls you into his chest with a palm against your neck, rubbing circles at your nape as he takes a quick look around. He’s never been inside your apartment before, though he’s been tempted multiple times, made the trip to your building often, ensuring you’re home safe, watching the comings and goings of others who live here, looking for any red flags or reasons for immediate concern. He’s inspected empty units, tested the standard locks, checked for mold and mildew. It’s adequate, but your own flat is too cramped, and he knows you feel boxed in. 

"I'm here baby, I'm here. Let me look at you." He tips your chin up and moves into your line of sight, glassy, glazed eyes tracking him the whole way. "Have you seen a doctor?”

“No,” you sniffle, immediately planting your face back into his sternum, “’s just a cold.” 

“You don’t get a fever with a cold sweetheart. Have you taken anything?” He doesn't panic. It's not in his programming, not a part of his reality but seeing you like this, in distress, suffering, is starting to rewire long dormant standards.

“Don’t have a fever.” There’s a short hallway across the living room, two doors on either end, one he assumes is your bedroom, and he starts moving that way, keeping you tucked against him. “I took some naproxen.” You’re floating along with his direction without a single peep, barely recognizing where you are when he sits you down on the edge of your bed. 

First things first. He has to get you out of these clothes and into something dry. “This has to come off baby girl, it’s wet.” 

“Wet?” You’re barely holding yourself up, and he probably only has a few minutes before you’re out. 

“Your body is trying to regulate it's temperature, so you've been sweating.” He finds pajamas in the top drawer of your dresser, lips rolling into a smile as he unfurls the t-shirt. “Gremlins?” You throw him a squinty glare. 

“It’s a good movie.” He brushes his lips across your forehead, tasting the slick of salt before pulling away and tapping your shoulders. 

“Arms up.” You oblige without question, the trust that sometimes gets lost in this newfound dance shining through brilliantly. His hands brush against your ribs, your belly as he slides them beneath the hem of your shirt and tries not to wince at the scorching temperature of your skin. “Good girl. Don’t want you going back to sleep all sweaty do we?” He quickly pats the sheets, relieved to find them dry. 

“No daddy.” Such a sweet girl. You roll instinctively, burrowing in the mound of things in your bed, knees curling up towards your belly. There are at least three different colored fuzzy blankets in your bed, six pillows, and a stuffed cat of some kind, something about it vaguely familiar but difficult to place. A crumpled notebook with loopy handwriting and small drawings adorning the pages is wedged beneath your hip, and there’s a kindle sitting on the other side along with an empty water bottle. The frame itself has a shelf at the head of the bed, and it’s lined with stuff… a small lamp, a ceramic cupcake, a collection of seashells, chapstick, lotion, an empty mug, a glowing mushroom, along with two pairs of glasses and a few candles. It’s clear this is your space, where you’re safe and comfortable, a nest of your own making, a place just for you, and it’s fitting, all of it. Each little piece is perfect just like you. 

He lets you sleep while he cleans and refills your water bottle, finds the naproxen and your towels, pulling a washcloth out so he can run it under cold water for your head. You definitely have a fever, but if you can break it on your own there’s no reason to take you to a doctor. Time will tell, but if it gets worse, you’ll have to go immediately. 

Tally marks for today’s transgressions sit quietly on a slate in the back of his mind for far later, satisfying realization settling in against his soul. You’ve earned a spanking, and stricter rules. 

It’s a fine line. He doesn’t punish for the sake of punishing, there’s nothing good in it for him, or you, but he will punish you for things like this, things that put you in harms way, things like not telling him you’re sick and in need of help. Things like fucking walking ten blocks home. He’ll punish you for stepping outside a boundary, or failing to follow a rule, all of it a double edged sword, one he wields delicately, because often, punishments come with their own rewards, whether they be emotional or physical.

You rouse a bit when he comes back, making little sounds as he props you up to take more medicine, dabs the cold washcloth around your face, cooling you down and wiping some of the stale sweat away. He smooths a palm over your forehead. “We’re going to have a long talk about rules when you’re feeling better.” 

“Mmkay.” You press your nose into his neck. “Are you going to lay with me?” He kisses your temple. 

“In a little bit, I have some work to take care of. Close your eyes for now.” You nuzzle down into the mattress against his thigh and he can’t resist placing his hand atop your head, holding you there, your cheek bleeding heat through his pants, warm, wet breath building a damp spot. 

“But you’ll be here?” You mumble it, and like you’re afraid the answer will be no, you wrap an arm around the width of his thigh. He chuckles. 

“I’ll be right here.” 

[alleycatrecue]

This Giving Tuesday, we ask you to consider donating to Alley Cat Rescue’s Life-saving Program, which is used to ensure we can get cats with urgent medical care.

This program will ensure that ACR can continue to help save cats that are who are severely ill or injured. Cats in such poor shape don't have time to wait for the funds to be raised.

In the past, we have used Alley Cat Rescue’s Life-saving Program funding to save numerous lives.

.....

MAIZIE - Late one Sunday, we were alerted to a very young mama cat who was stuck at a city shelter and had been in labor all day. She had given birth to four stillborn babies early in the morning and was still suffering. She needed to see a vet as soon as possible.

Maizie was rushed to an emergency vet and it was determined that there was one large kitten still in the birth canal. Sadly, the kitten had no heartbeat, The vet performed an emergency c-section as Maze would not have survived otherwise. She was also severely anemic as she lost a lot of blood with the placentas for each birth. She was in intensive care and is now being monitored closely. Unfortunately, she's suffered permanent nerve damage to her back legs.

OLIVE was found by our Los Angeles team with her ears mutilated and a back leg broken in two places. She needed her leg amputated but after recovery, she was pain free and adopted.

SIMONE (aka Cally) came to us with three nursing kittens and a severe viral infection. Her fever shot up to 105 and we rushed her to an emergency clinic. Simone stayed at the clinic for a week, receiving IV antibiotics, fluids, anti-nausesa medication, and many tests.

ASH's jaw was badly broken in a domestic violence situation, leaving him in terrible pain and unable to eat. He required a feeding tube, hospitalization, and three surgeries.

TEDDY was only a few days old when he developed pneumonia. He spent several days at the vet, requiring round-the-clock monitoring and care. He also required a feeding tube because he was so congested that he could not eat and breathe at the same time, and he was placed in an incubator.

ROO was born with both back legs wrapped around his body and badly deformed. ACR got him physical therapy, massages, and laser treatment, which fixed his legs. Though he eventually lost his right paw, ACR was able to give him complete mobility.

BUBBLEGUM was born 1/4 the size of his littermates. He's had multiple issues including a heart murmur, digestive trouble, and delayed growth. we have taken him to the veterinarian and multiple veterinary specialists many times throughout his development to try to determine what is wrong. Almost an adult now, he shows signs of weakness and has an enlarged spleen and lymph nodes, inflamed gums and teeth, and ACR continues to work with vets and specialists on his healing

......

Some cats need emergency treatment for a week, recover, and then find their forever home. Others require continued or follow up care for much longer. We are gratified to be able to give happy endings to kittens and cats in dire need. Please help us continue to do this by donating to Alley Cat Rescue's life-saving program this #GivingTuesday.

[ceaselessbasher]

"Click here to make our AI rewrite your text with more flair" "suggested AI images" "ask our AI copilot your questions" "don't worry, our helpful AI friend will fill in all these fields for you"

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UUUUUUPPPPPPPPPP

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

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

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

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

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #16

April 26-May 3 2024

President Biden announced $3 billion to help replace lead pipes in the drinking water system. Millions of Americans get their drinking water through lead pipes, which are toxic, no level of lead exposure is safe. This problem disproportionately affects people of color and low income communities. This first investment of a planned $15 billion will replace 1.7 million lead pipe lines. The Biden Administration plans to replace all lead pipes in the country by the end of the decade.

President Biden canceled the student debt of 317,000 former students of a fraudulent for-profit college system. The Art Institutes was a for-profit system of dozens of schools offering degrees in video-game design and other arts. After years of legal troubles around misleading students and falsifying data the last AI schools closed abruptly without warning in September last year. This adds to the $29 billion in debt for 1.7 borrowers who wee mislead and defrauded by their schools which the Biden Administration has done, and a total debt relief for 4.6 million borrowers so far under Biden.

President Biden expanded two California national monuments protecting thousands of acres of land. The two national monuments are the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument and the Berryessa Snow Mountain National Monument, which are being expanded by 120,000 acres. The new protections cover lands of cultural and religious importance to a number of California based native communities. This expansion was first proposed by then Senator Kamala Harris in 2018 as part of a wide ranging plan to expand and protect public land in California. This expansion is part of the Administration's goals to protect, conserve, and restore at least 30 percent of U.S. lands and waters by 2030.

The Department of Transportation announced new rules that will require car manufacturers to install automatic braking systems in new cars. Starting in 2029 all new cars will be required to have systems to detect pedestrians and automatically apply the breaks in an emergency. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration projects this new rule will save 360 lives every year and prevent at least 24,000 injuries annually.

The IRS announced plans to ramp up audits on the wealthiest Americans. The IRS plans on increasing its audit rate on taxpayers who make over $10 million a year. After decades of Republicans in Congress cutting IRS funding to protect wealthy tax cheats the Biden Administration passed $80 billion for tougher enforcement on the wealthy. The IRS has been able to collect just in one year $500 Million in undisputed but unpaid back taxes from wealthy households, and shows a rise of $31 billion from audits in the 2023 tax year. The IRS also announced its free direct file pilot program was a smashing success. The program allowed tax payers across 12 states to file directly for free with the IRS over the internet. The IRS announced that 140,000 tax payers were able to use it over their target of 100,000, they estimated it saved $5.6 million in tax prep fees, over 90% of users were happy with the webpage and reported it quicker and easier than companies like H&R Block. the IRS plans to bring direct file nationwide next year.

The Department of Interior announced plans for new off shore wind power. The two new sites, off the coast of Oregon and in the Gulf of Maine, would together generate 18 gigawatts of totally clean energy, enough to power 6 million homes.

The Biden Administration announced new rules to finally allow DACA recipients to be covered by Obamacare. Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is an Obama era policy that allows people brought to the United States as children without legal status to remain and to legally work. However for years DACA recipients have not been able to get health coverage through the Obamacare Health Care Marketplace. This rule change will bring health coverage to at least 100,000 uninsured people.

The Department of Health and Human Services finalized rules that require LGBTQ+ and Intersex minors in the foster care system be placed in supportive and affirming homes.

The Senate confirmed Georgia Alexakis to a life time federal judgeship in Illinois. This brings the total number of federal judges appointed by President Biden to 194. For the first time in history the majority of a President's nominees to the federal bench have not been white men.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ CHAPTER THREE: LOVE'S DREAM

violet; 1,823 words; fluff, drama, smau-intermission, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, bff!mel, platonic gym soulmates!vijayce, vander doing his vander thing, fake dating, no "y/n"

summary: in which mel and jayce are trying their best to be supportive best friends.

a/n: this is a super short chapter compared to the others, i know buT ! we have some cute lil text interactions so i hope u guys enjoy those ;) FIRST DATE coming up next chapter so this is just setting up the stage for that ! <3

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ “— YOU HAVE TO GET LOWER in that sit spin — and the footwork after your Triple Sal needs work —”

You nod, frowning at the tiny little scribblings in Amara's notebook as you fidget with your gloves.

Amara sighs, reaching out to cup your cheek, “Speak to me, sweet girl. You’ve been so distracted.”

You purse your lips, blinking at her as the cold presses against your back, ever the reassuring friend.

“It’s nothing — I just… I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

Amara’s sharp eyes flicker over your face, and her lips thin into a terse line as you pull away, reaching for your water bottle.

“Hm. Well, let me know if you need anything prescribed — I know you don’t like them but sometimes, it really does help —”

“I’ll be fine, Amara. Let’s — let’s go through it again from the top.”

You push away from the barricade, your eyes catching on the hockey team as they file in from the doors, joking and jostling, huge sports bags slung across their shoulders.

The music starts, slow and sparkling, the piano notes working up in arpeggios, and through the fogged up plastic, your eyes meet Vi’s for a second before you slip into the routine.

On the other side, Vi’s breath catches as she watches you flow through the opening steps of your program. On the speakers, the piano music builds into a rising crescendo — someone behind her bumps her to get her moving again, and she stumbles forward, her eyes still caught on you as she lets the tide of her teammates carry her towards the lockers, her neck on a swivel as you fly across the ice.

“Good, isn’t she?”

Vi jumps at the sound of Vander’s voice, and he grins, watching her watch you with a knowing sort of smirk before his expression softens and he reaches out to pat her shoulder.

“So what’s this I hear about you dating Amara’s top girl?”

Vi balks, “I — uh — it’s —”

Vander lets out a booming laugh, “’S alright, you’ve always liked the pretty, talented ones, eh?” he ruffles her hair and she pushes at his large hand.

“Shut up,” Vi murmurs, rolling her shoulders as she turns back to watch you.

The music swells around you, gathering like sunlight, and you, buoyed up by the sheer magnetism of it all, spinning through the air in a flawless jump, landing with a smooth hiss of blades on ice. Your body lengthens as the music slows, and Vi finds herself once more gasping for a breath she doesn’t remember holding.

“The song’s nice,” she says, watching as you work through a complicated series of steps and spins, Amara tapping her hand against the barricade to each of your changes of edge. Vi feels her heart threading up her throat as Vander chuckles.

“It’s called Liebestraum. Know what it means?” He glances at her.

Vi shakes her head, not daring to take her eyes from you as you swirl into a spin so fast you’re nothing more than a blur of thin limbs and wispy hair. She can taste her heartbeat pulsing on her tongue as you spiral out of the spin, your cheeks red as you work through the final few steps of the routine and the music trails off into silence.

Your lashes flicker and again, your eyes find hers through the paneled plastic.

“Love’s dream,” Vander says, nudging her lightly before turning to herd the rest of the hockey team towards the lockers, leaving Vi standing there, dizzy as she stares at you and you stare right back.

On the ice, you’re chest is burning, your head spinning as you tear your eyes away from Vi and skate back towards Amara, who’s smiling just wide enough for you to know she’s pleased.

“Excellent,” she says, snapping her little notebook shut, her wine-red lips pressing in triumph, “good — whatever you were picturing then, darling, you’d best keep a hold on it. Because that’s what’ll get you to Olympics gold, my dear.”

You give her a faint nod, your heart thumping somewhere near your jugular as you chance a glance back at where Vi was standing.

But, she was already gone.

You waltz out of the rink, humming to yourself. A second later, a pair of arms loops through yours, and you’re accosted by the scent of lavender perfume.

“What’s got you in such a good mood, hm?” Mel asks as the pair of you turn into the parking lot, bracing yourselves against the mid-autumn chill.

“It was a good practice,” you say, not quite able to keep the skip out of your step as the pair of you make your way towards your car, pulling open the back door to toss your skating things inside.

“Yeah, so I saw,” Mel says, her voice low as she slips into the passenger’s seat, “Amara was nearly floating when you got off the ice.”

You smile, starting the engine, letting out a sigh of relief as warm air blasts out of the vents.

“So. Violet.”

You slam on your break halfway through pulling out of the parking space, sending the pair of you jolting in your seats, Mel yelping as her torso jerks forward.

“S-sorry —”

“What on earth was that?”

“Nothing!” you insist, easing your foot off the break and pulling out of the space to turn towards the main street. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Mel folds her arms, “Don’t waste your breath lying to me, darling.”

You sigh, pausing at stop sign before turning right onto campus.

“Fine. What about Violet?”

Mel glances at you, “Have you… spoken to her at all?”

“Yeah. A couple times.”

“And?”

“And, what?”

Mel scoffs, “Have you guys —” she motions vaguely with her fingers, “worked anything out?”

“We —” you lick your lips, “we’re going on a date this weekend.”

“A date? Are you — are you sure this is a good idea?”

You pull the car into student parking and sigh, switching off the engine.

“Mel, you were the one that set us up in the first place!”

“I — I just thought it’d be nice for you to get a little action, that’s all — I didn’t think you’d go and land yourself in a situationship with the hockey team’s most infamous bleeding heart!”

You gape at her for a solid three seconds before groaning and slumping back in your seat, tugging off your seatbelt.

“Yeah well — what’s done is done and —” you run a hand down your face, frowning at your phone screen as another text from Vi pops up on your notifications.

Mel has the base decency not to peer over your shoulder, though you don’t miss the way her eyes flash towards it.

“Fine,” Mel concedes, “where’re you going for this date, then?”

You shove your phone into your school bag and grab a scarf from the back seat.

“The boozy cupcake place.”

“Oh! That’s a good one. Me and Jayce went there a lot in the beginning —”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning as the pair of you duck out of the car, the door slamming closed behind you.

The wind picks up and you both make for the main building, heads bent.

“Just —” Mel turns to you as the pair of you part ways at the foot of the stairs leading up to your separate lecture halls, her eyes flickering over your face, “be careful, alright? And…” her smile is warm as she reaches out to tap your cheek, “if she ever does anything to hurt you… you let Jayce and I know, hm?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes, “Thanks, Mel.”

She pulls you in for a quick hug before you turn down the hallway towards the Stats lecture hall, a tingling warmth spreading through your chest all the way out to your fingertips.

“— ninety-seven, ninety-eight — c’mon Lanes, I know you got a few more in you — ninety-nine — one-hundo —”

Vi huffs, grunting as she readjusts her grip on the pullup bars and hoists herself up again, her arms burning as she holds it for a three count before dropping down with a loud exhale.

“I thought we were takin’ it easy today, pretty boy.”

Jayce chuckles, lying back on the bench press even as Vi hovers over the bar, staring down at him.

“No such thing as easy on a pump day,” he says, even as Vi rolls her eyes, settling in to watch him grip the bar and push it off the rack with a grunt.

“S-so —” Jayce says, his voice slightly strained as he works through his sets, “how’ve things been going with —” he cuts off as he sucks in a breath and holds it.

“With little miss Olympics?” Vi supplies.

Jayce makes a grunting noise.

“We’re going on a date this weekend.”

Jayce nearly chokes as his grip slips on the bar and Vi’s hands shoot out to catch hold of it before it can crush his trachea.

“What? Where’re you taking her? Does Mel know?”

Vi snorts, “Probably, since Mel’s like her self-assigned den mother — uh, this… boozy cupcake place?” Vi frowns as she grabs her phone to try and pull it up.

“Oh! I know that place — on Centre street — Mel and I used to go there a lot when we started dating. The cupcakes are huge though.”

Vi stares, her thumb hovering over her phone screen as she stares at Jayce. Then, she breaks into a soft, exasperated laugh.

“Yeah… she said she’d been meaning to go but… she didn’t have anyone to share the cupcakes with.”

Jayce opens his mouth, but he pauses as Vi drops her eyes back to her phone, a faint smile playing at her lips as she scrolls through something on her screen.

“Careful there, Lanes,” Jayce says, reaching out to nudge her with a leg, “you’re starting to sound a little lovesick.”

“We haven’t even gone on a real date,” Vi says, looking up sharply.

Jayce nods, putting a solemn hand on her shoulder, “Yeah, I know.”

Vi’s mouth drops open as she gapes at him for a second before slamming her mouth shut again with a groan.

Jayce grins, “Hey, look on the bright side — at least half the campus is convinced you guys’ve been official for weeks. So even if someone does see you simping, it’s not that weird, right?”

“You better watch yourself, Talis. Next time, I’ll just let that bar drop on your fuckin’ throat,” Vi says, but she’s grinning as Jayce lays back down to start a new set.

taglist: @traiitorjoe@rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly@drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22@lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless@armins-slvt@lin-elizabeth @ryescapades @kingkamk @princesssmars @chobssss @mybelovedvi @bouqette @noietta @brooks-lin @ally-all-around @bunnyrose01 @stumpystump @lia-winther @folklore13lover @sawaagyapong @sevikas-whore @sunflowerwinds @taurtel @tourmalinetyrone @oidloid @marcylated @krisziepowlet @vikaswife @pa-co @devotedlyelectronicartisan @aliluvszs @elliecoochieeater

[teaboot]

mr boot, can we see more things you did not get suspended for?

(i promise this is only partially because i want to see more of doodleboot with his mouth open)

I may have to draw these later BUT I can write a list now!

1. In grade 3 we had a program where older students would supervise younger students while teachers ate lunch. Younger students could talk and walk around the classroom as long as they weren’t disruptive. One day we had an older student yelling at all of us to “Sit down and Shut Up”, and that made me so mad I told him, “You’re standing and yelling at us to sit and be quiet, you’re not following your own rules”. This turned into an argument where he threatened to send me to the principal’s office, and I said that if he did I’d tell them why. I did end up getting reported for “not listening to the student monitor” and a phone home was made but from what I recall I was never given a lecture and didn’t get in trouble. That kid was also never supervisor again.

2. On my first day of elementary school an older kid took a dime I found and threw it to the back of the school bus. He turned out to be a bully every time I rode the bus after that and eventually started spitting at me from across the aisle. The bus driver never did anything about it so one day I spat at him back, and we both got temporarily suspended from the bus- me for about a day, him for a week, except I guess someone knew it was an ongoing issue that he was causing so he also got suspended from school for a week. I didn’t, though.

3. Again in elementary school I got into a disagreement with a kid- I don’t remember what about- and he punched me in the stomach. I kicked him back and we both got sent to the school’s guidance counsellor, who I remember nothing about except he had grey hair and glasses and his office smelled like tuna salad. Other kid said he hadn’t done anything and I’d just kicked him for no reason. I told the whole story and said I knew kicking him was wrong but I’d been angry that he’d punched me over a disagreement. There was a call home but I was not suspended.

4. A kid in chess club told me that he was going to win our round, not because he was more experienced and I was only learning, but because boy’s brains are naturally better at strategy than girls are. This was my first introduction to sexism and I thought it was so stupid that I threw all my pawns full-force at his head. These were some hefty solid plastic pieces, too. I was then kicked out of the library, I think. I later discussed this with another guy friend and we agreed that boys WERE stronger than girls, but that was only because girls were smarter than boys and it had to balance out somehow. (We were about six at the time, for context.)

5. About half way through my first day of grade 8 social studies I realized the assignments, reading, and syllabus were completely identical to those from grade 7 social studies. When I pointed this out to the teacher, he said we could discuss it after class. He would not answer when I asked why it was exactly the same, and when I asked if half of us present were expected to do all the same work from the grade before a second time he said “Yes, you can do it differently if you want but you still have to do it” and said to take it as an opportunity to be more artistic if we wanted. I said this was ridiculous and asked if we would be learning ANYTHING new or just repeating the grade. He then went on a long rant about how he was in the middle of a divorce and lost his second job and “didn’t appreciate me undermining his authority in front of the other students”. My mom then got a phone call about my disruptive behaviour. When I told her my side of the story, she called back and asked to talk to the teacher to see what was going on and discuss my concerns about the syllables, to which the person receiving the call told her, “Mr. So-and-so has a degree in psychology and has teenage daughters, he knows how to handle difficult personalities”. Mom and I then agreed that Mr. Guy was a fragile, condescending idiot with poor compartmentalization skills and that I should just take the class as-is for an easy A. Which I did.

6. Choir was an optional extracurricular except for my class which for some reason were required to participate for reasons I am still unclear on. I hated choir and our songs were all stupid froofy saccharine bullshit about joy and rainbows and friendship and crap. I decided I was going to attend and would stand and do whatever I was told and mouth along if I had to but I wasn’t going to sing. The choir director was an asshole I had other classes with and already knew I didn’t want to be around, but in her defense she had a choir to direct and I wasn’t contributing. She’d frequently tell me to “sing louder” so she could hear me and then nod in satisfaction when I stood slightly straighter and opened my mouth wider while humming a little. I was eventually told if I wasn’t going to put the effort in then I would be asked to leave, to which I pointed out that I would GLADLY get out of her hair but half the students present were from my class and had been specifically ordered to participate, and had been told it was mandatory. This was then proven with a show of hands. I don’t know why this happened or why she didn’t know but she didn’t really get after me after that.

7. In grade four our gym class had a unit on “hip-hop dance” which consisted of a boom box playing what sounded like kidz bop covers of 80’s-90’s rap while a 40 year old white woman in a high ponytail and electric purple tights bounced around and showed us how to “pop and lock” and “do the electric slide” and “moonwalk”. I was immediately struck by an overwhelming sense of indignity that I could only articulate at the time as, “this is undignified”. I was a total goody two-shoes at the time and WANTED to be good and participate but was so weirdly disgusted and mortified at what was happening around me that after a few half-hearted movements I totally locked up in a straight-backed stand with a clenched jaw. All I felt I could do was wait for it to be over. Today I think I would describe the exact feeling as “paralytic cringe”. It was incredible. From what I recall I would not move or say anything to anyone and when being told to dance along I would just firmly say “no”. I remember having to be physically picked up and carried to the principal’s office where they called my mom but I have no idea what the aftermath was, only that being suspended was a big deal and that didn’t happen.

8. I really REALLY liked my grade 4 teacher and would regularly give her a little plasticine snail to sit on her desk. Only one, remade of the same clay over and over. The next morning every other day or so I would find that someone had smashed it flat. One day I unfolded a paper clip so that there was a spike pointed up and hid it inside the snail. I wish I could tell you what happened but I don’t know. The snail disappeared and I couldn’t re-make it anymore.

There are so many more now that I’m thinking about it but damn I got in trouble more than I thought I did huh

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

pro hero!rin, who has admired heroes since childhood. this was mostly because his older brother has always been in a hero cultivation program, and rin mostly admired his brother more than anyone else. you’ve known him since childhood, and he’s always had an uncountable amount of hero figurines on his shelves.

pro hero!rin, who had a quirk where he could create ice threads from fingers, attach them onto things or people, and control them like marionettes. it was a mix of his father and mother’s quirk, having a quirk where they could create ice and threads respectively. meanwhile, sae could use threads on himself to control himself into doing otherwise impossible actions with his body.

pro hero!rin, whose brother is recruited by the hero’s public safety commission. rin only admires his brother more, not knowing that his brother would come back exhausted and bitter. years later, when sae returns as a fully fledged pro hero, he fights with rin, and they’re suddenly on bad terms.

pro hero!rin, who gets into UA with you with ease. he passes the entrance exam in first place, with 73 points. during his UA days, he is constantly caught up in trouble but weaving his way out using his undeniably overpowered quirk. the moment he graduates, thousands of heroes and already offering him to be their sidekick.

pro hero!rin, who starts his hero agency at 19 and enters the top 10 heroes in japan that very year. his public approval rating is mediocre because of how quiet yet blunt he is, but he keeps the peace and saves people on a secondly basis. his good looks have gotten him multiple offers from different designer companies for him to model for them.

pro hero!rin, who has people begin to suspect that you’re both dating. everyone knows that you both grew up together and were in the same class at UA for all three years, but the fact that you were both constantly on the same missions and only followed each other on social media was far too suspicious.

pro hero!rin, who, at age 23, is accidentally caught by paparazzi kissing your forehead after completing a mission together. your PR teams are both seething at you as you both end up in an interview as you both admit to having dated ever since 16. the fans go crazy, and modeling and ad companies only want you two to model in pairs from now on.

pro hero!rin, who marries you at 25. you both have a traditional japanese wedding, inviting many of your pro hero friends from your time at UA. your wedding goes viral on social media, and everyone is commenting and talking about it. you’re both still heroes, but your agencies are now right next to one another so you could visit each other quickly.

a/n: ive been rewatching mha but mha au!rin was all i could think about😭