#i have learnt more being in the classroom for a year than my whole 7 years at uni doing my undergrad and masters

[jinkis]

i hate everything

[moonchildsaurora]

The Racer who chased supernovas

»»—— Crew Member #7 of Space Pirates ATEEZ ——««

all aboard The Perihelion, welcome to the co-pilot’s log system! here you’ll be able to access the crew’s profiles should you wish to read about their journeys: (no nsfw content)

[CAPTAIN] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

“your wings have always existed, all you have to do is fly and fly high for the winds will be at your command”  

the other individual that you could pick out from a crowd, especially by his high-pitched laughter

full of charisma and a youthful soul, he attracts all kinds of attention and has trouble reigning in his recklessness at times

Wooyoung is an Alxil-Rolgrie mix who survived on his own in the lower district of Liyutania, the other member of The Perihelion who didn’t really know the meaning of family until his path crossed with the others

[database file: Rolgries are very much human-like beings, only distinguishing features are their strikingly light-coloured hair (that comes in shades of ivory, lilac, silver and/or coral), heterochromatic eyes and slightly translucent pale skin. This is due to their inherent ability to camouflage with their surroundings, like a chameleon, if they so wish to. Alxils are a nomadic sub-group of Dark Elves, preferring to keep to themselves. Having darker hair along with a more ash-grey skin, glowing red eyes and defined elongated ears]

Wooyoung seemingly took on more of his Rolgrie heritage in terms of physical appearance & ability. His hair is of a lilac-coral mix (that resembles the hues of sunset as Yeosang once said), an indigo-coloured left eye & violet-coloured right eye, slight translucent ash skin and the Alxil elongated ears

his camouflaging ability came to him since his youngling years though he didn’t really master it until his adolescence. Used to need all the concentration he could muster just to hold a full blend or to make sure it was the correct blend in the first place but now he could hide his entire self easily with his eyes closed

this has proven to be extremely beneficial for him to make his way around town undetected and a free-‘get-me-out-of-this-mess’-pass

though Yeosang made him pinky promise not to use that during their childhood games of hide-and-seek because he knows Woo would cheat to win

“I would never!”

“…you literally have been standing there all this time and I’ve just walked past you at least 10 rounds making me look like an idiot”

“gotta admit that was pretty fun-OW OK OK!!”

the lower district community did look out for Wooyoung, knowing that the cheeky kid meant well and he was just trying to get through each day at a time

sometimes one of the more empathetic merchants would allow Wooyoung to sleep on a spare rug under their tents, other times young Wooyoung would be lucky enough to find unoccupied shelter on his own to stay the night. Elderly food vendors would drop off extra scraps to make sure he wasn’t going to bed on an empty stomach at least

has had a few rough run-ins with the Uppers that caused him to be defensive by instinct and personally biased towards their aloof, ignorant nature although his view significantly changed after meeting Yeosang

initially he thought the young half-Suva was an oddball because why would an Upper remotely be interested in knowing his name, least of all saving him from face-planting on the ground too?

the warmth he felt on that day was by far something foreign for him to feel especially after how Yeosang complimented his appearance and shared his oshiadilla bun. With the meekest “thank you” Wooyoung marked that day as friendship achievement unlocked

when Yeosang spontaneously invited him over for dinner Wooyoung spent majority of his time just gawking and taking in the sight of the Kangs’ residence, too afraid to touch anything in case he’d accidentally broke it, “is that really a golden fountain in the middle of your courtyard?!”

young Wooyoung got terribly confused as to why there were so many forks, spoons and knives for one person to use at the dining table too

he became a constant around the residence so much so that the Kangs adopted him and it took him a good whole month just to process the fact that he was now a part of a family, he belonged somewhere – Wooyoung would never trade anything in the galaxy for this

the first time Yeosang ever saw Wooyoung cry was when his parents surprised them with their new school uniforms and supplies. His mother helped fitted their uniforms, embracing both her sons closely afterwards and all Wooyoung could think in that moment was damn did it feel good to have a mother’s embrace

it also felt really good to receive Yeosang hugs too, not really knowing just how touch starved he was

academic studies wasn’t really his thing but he did try his best, being street smart was more up his alley, “no matter! Education is important and everyone should have an opportunity for it, so long as you come home knowing something you didn’t know the day before,” were the encouraging words his adoptive parents would give

he holds high respect for Yeosang’s intellect and wouldn’t shy from proclaiming loudly & proudly, “THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND AND OLDER BROTHER!” whenever Yeosang did his thing in the classroom even though he’d earn a forehead flick from a flustered Yeo most of the time afterwards

Yeosang may not be as openly affectionate as Wooyoung is nor show that he actually cares in an obvious manner, but he did make it crystal clear just how important Wooyoung is to him after punching a classmate who had nothing better to do than rudely reiterate the differences between Wooyoung’s ‘kind’ and the rest of them

from that day on Wooyoung swore to have Yeosang’s back, just as much as he had his. He almost cried out of fright that Yeosang had put himself and his reputation on the line to protect him. Ended up crying in bed at the overwhelming gratitude that he felt from receiving the amount of love that he himself still wasn’t sure if he deserved

“don’t you dare think otherwise, and besides the only one who’s allowed to roast you as per sibling’s obligations is me”

before Wooyoung joined The Perihelion as Hongjoong’s fighter/main gunner, he was the up and coming Drifters Arena’s rookie champion in podracing

as a youngling he’s snuck into the Arena a couple of times to watch the races and it wasn’t till years later, for a birthday treat did he return to the Arena (this time purchasing a ticket properly, courtesy of his family). Wooyoung not only found his passion in flying but seem to have a natural flow for it too

he learnt the basics and started practising with the other rookies by having casual races. Effectively catching the attention of a previous retired champion, Redline, who saw potential in Wooyoung albeit his messy improvised manoeuvres and technique solely based on instinct when in race mode

Wooyoung had to get Yeosang to slap him just so he could tell that he wasn’t dreaming when Redline asked if he’d be interested to train under his guidance

“IS THIS THE REAL LIFE OR IS THIS JUST FANTASY?”

“stop being such a drama queen! He’s right there you know?”

more yelling ensued when Redline set Wooyoung up with his very own podracer, a second-hand from the mechanics but reliable enough to still function decently. Over time with his winnings Wooyoung was able to spend it on extra parts and resources to spruce up his beloved baby; Aurora (yes he was very proud of the name he came up with for his podracer)

‘Little Speedstar’ was the nickname that Redline gave him but Wooyoung wouldn’t have it because, “I’M NOT THAT LITTLE”

“no you’re just vertically challenged that or gravity is just against you” Yeosang would snicker in lowkey

to say that it’s stressful watching a podrace would be an understatement according to Yeosang (anything goes in a podrace and racers aren’t conservatives when it comes to playing dirty at times), but it gave him nothing short of pride and joy watching Wooyoung effortlessly dance through the skies and be the first racer to cross the finish line

Wooyoung loved and appreciated seeing Yeosang amongst the crowd, it was a grounding factor for him before every race. What wasn’t a normal occurrence for him though was seeing his best friend being manhandled by an odd bunch of strangers

with post-race adrenaline kicking in and the need to protect strong he didn’t think twice about yelling at the group and power stomping towards them, not stopping even when he thought, “well damn, hello gorgeous” as San stepped defensively in front of Mingi to shield Wooyoung’s attempted swipe at him to get Yeosang back

fortunately over time more trust was established and their bonds were less of a rocky road, if anything Mingi empathised the most with Wooyoung for having similar backgrounds and lack of family in their early years of their lives

the other combo package deal that Hongjoong got with Wooyoung and Yeosang officially joining the crew

Wooyoung adapted fairly well to his new nomadic lifestyle and just when he thought his world couldn’t have grown any bigger, it did; now his family extending to that of the crew (he still dislikes being sent to Hongjoong’s room and will always complain to Seonghwa because, “I’m your favourite son right?”)  

San became his go-to whenever he needed to fill his daily quota of affection  

the party don’t start till him and Mingi walks in, drinking buddies along with Jongho (Wooyoung has a very soft spot for the youngest) & Yunho. Is openly smug about the fact that he’s got one of the best alcohol tolerance on board

when Jongho installed blasters onto Aurora, Wooyoung had dubbed it the glo-up of the century. Not only could he fly to scout/retrieve/act as a distraction but he could f i g h t now – he could make things explode (chaos levels have increased)

accidentally became the other half of the reason as to why Hongjoong banned any sexytimes on the ship and a sensitive content blocker feature was added in the Yunhogizers after Wooyoung sent a spicy photo to the group chat instead of his private fling

“Mother did NOT raise you this way”

major pouting over having bro privileges revoked but he’s been cooped up making a dozen new starcatchers for Yeosang and also has hijacked Seonghwa’s kitchen to surprise cook dinner for the crew as an apology literally wrestled a Grandu [database file: equivalent to a giant crab, a food delicacy] into the pot to boil and learnt that cutting onions truly is the demise of every being

all in all never forget (1) Wooyoung loves his family, very much (2) anyone who messes with them is sure to become target practice for him                                         

(moodboard made with love, by @s1ardusk​ ♡)

[another-miracle]

between redemption and living, a Kyoru fic

AO3

1. redemption

It takes two steps to reach out to her.

The autumn wind blows against them, tossing the sheets surrounding them through the air. Her voice trembles through the cloth, and Kyo listens with a breaking heart as she recounts the childish actions she took upon her mother’s death. She chokes on her words, as if them escaping her is a sin, and Kyo scarcely can take it any longer.

His fingers find purchase on her shoulders through the sheet, grasping them gently. She lets out a soft gasp that has his blood thrumming through his veins. He swallows past the lump in his throat.

“I’m sure your mother understood without a doubt,” he murmurs into the blanket. His head leans against what he only assumes to be hers, and he feels her stiffen in his arms.

“D-do you think so?”

He grips her tighter. Not worth comforting.

“Definitely. Believe me.”

And then, “Say as much as you want. I won’t be disillusioned.”

She falls heavily on his shoulder and grips the blanket between them in her hands. Kyo closes his eyes.

This must be a redemption of some sort, he thinks, a kindness the world has bestowed upon him. The guilt tormenting his heart for years eases some, and for a breath, he thinks she may forgive him.

But as quickly as it arrives, the feeling disappears in a puff of smoke.

2.

Desperation claws at his throat. Talons in his hair pull and swing him against the nearest wall. He chokes out an apology to a sin he did not commit, trembling on the floor, and cowers away from the man who holds the meaning to his existence.

Putrid. Disgusting. Monster. A mantra, every day.

The door to his cage slides shut. Footsteps resound outside before fading away. Kyo sits up and cradles his arm against his body. Dazedly he wonders how many days like these it will take for his debt to be repaid.

It is on days like these he remembers Kyoko, blood seeping out of her mouth, eyes dead, speaking words that will sear his soul for years to come. It is on days like these Kyo relaxes into the security that he is only getting what he deserves.

I’m sorry, he speaks to no one. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep your promise.

It must be hysteria that clouds his mind, however, because from one breath to the next, Kyo releases the words he has been dreading to offer for more than three years.

I’ll take care of her better next time.

3.

It’s like she does not want me to forget, his mind shouts angrily as he eyes the slight girl leaving the room with that damned rat. At the corner of his eye, Kyo sees Shigure scratch his head and look at the roof. With a sigh, the man walks out of the room without so much of a glance at Kyo.

The nonchalance of the action pierces through Kyo, reminding him of his place among the zodiacs. Even worse, it reminds him of the child he is being - the lack of growth he has shown since then.

Her voice continues to echo in him. Remember our promise, it mocks. Don’t forget.

A scoff leaves his mouth as he makes his way downstairs, ready to banish the girl from his life within the shortest goddamned notice.

If this is how Kyoko is going to play, he sure as hell wants out of the game.

4.

Her fingers brush against his ears. In the quiet of dawn, it is only the two of them that exist in a field of dew-stained grass. He is perched on her knees, paws draped over her thighs. She calls out his name once, her voice soft in the early morning.

Sunlight peeks past his eyelids, but he is nary a care as she picks him up along with his discarded clothes and cradles him to her chest. Belatedly, he zeroes in on the memory of her lonesome form he’d seen through the window of her childhood home, and marvels at how she has somehow navigated her way here; where remption lays, where loneliness ends, where together begins.

Kyo doesn’t believe in miracles. Still doesn’t.

But hell if the girl; whose hands cup against a body he loathes, whose entire being trembled as it held onto him, whose words brought him out of darkness into a new dawn; isn’t going to help him try.

5.

It is easy to forget when they sit together like this. They talk about the mundane - you don’t know how to swim? - and tease at the other’s expense - you haven’t learnt how to breathe? They laugh and the warmth in Kyo’s chest swells.

It is simple, so simple, to be with her. With every word, she reminds him of the life worth living, hinting at a future beautiful and ideal. Kyo cherishes what he can get, hope still balancing on the pinpoint of a deal made seemingly eons ago that he may someday emerge victorious in.

Shishou returns soon after, a fond smile on his face that Kyo is minutely embarrassed by while Tohru stands at the side with a smile reminiscent of when Shishou bested him before calling him ‘son’. Kyo gathers all these smiles, goes home and burnishes them. He uses them as fuel to stoke a fire to spur him towards living-

-however futile it may be.

6.

“-till death,” Akito tells him.

7.

Vaguely, he wonders if this is what Yuki went through in his childhood. At the thought, his stomach churns, bile rising up his throat. Misery seeks company, but not like this. The thought of a child - barring one he has resented his whole life- going through the same torment as this is absolutely insane.

Renewed hate for Akito ignites in Kyo, but with no outlet, it stews and simmers, and eventually dies. There is no room for hate. There is no room for anyone either. Only Akito. His worth is Akito.

Picking apart his memories, he begins to forget. What was the walk back to Shigure’s house like? Were there flowers that grew on the sidewalk? He would’ve picked them for her. He should have.

How did Tohru call his name? What was the exact cadence of her voice? Does she remember him? Does she wish to see him? Does she miss him?

Closing his eyes, he lets himself indulge in a memory of her.

They sit on the roof of Shigure’s house under a blanket of stars, her warmth next to him. She turns to him, distant city lights casting shadows on her face. Her eyes crinkle and Kyo reaches up to poke at the dimples indenting her cheeks. She giggles in response and Kyo laughs along, brushing her fringe from her forehead and leaning in-

The door slides open with a loud bang.

Choking on reality, Kyo gasps for breath, trying- and failing to return. His fingers search for the comforting roughness of roof tiles, but all that greets him is the scratch of cold tatami against his nails.

He looks up, vision blurry, as a kimono-clad figure walks through the door.

“Hello, monster,” Akito calls. “How is my favourite creature today?”

8.

The walk home is potent with silence, their footsteps the only sounds amidst bouts of shuffling, catching-up, turning around to check on the other. Kyo glances at Tohru for the umpteenth time, only to immediately swing back around after finding that her face is entirely flushed. His own cheeks heat in response.

In the heat of the moment, he didn’t think- couldn’t think of how she might have felt when he leaned his head on her shoulder. All he knew was that she was waiting for him while he was being an idiot. And Yuki was right; he made her worry.

Now as they awkwardly attempt to have a very normal walk back to Shigure’s house, Kyo can’t help but groan at the audacity he had to do something like that to a poor innocent girl like Tohru. Is he a pervert? God. What was he thinking?

Suddenly, a soft giggle sounds from behind him. Kyo’s hand falls from his head-when did it get there? -and turns to look at Tohru. A little clenched fist balances over her lips where an amused smile plays at. Tohru glances up at him, cheeks still flushed, before her gaze shyly retreats again.

Kyo feels his lips purse into an annoyed pout.

“What’s so funny,” he grumbles under his breath.

Tohru giggles again. “Nothing, Kyo-kun. You just look so distressed over what is probably a small matter.” She smiles sweetly at him, hand falling to grasp the straps of her bag.

“Back in classroom,” her eyes avert away for a moment, “I-I didn’t mind. It was sweet of you to think of me.”

Kyo slams a hand against the wall, fingernails trying to find purchase on the concrete. Goddammit, it should be illegal to be that cute. Fuck.

His head hangs away from Tohru, missing the probably flustered look on her face, judging by the little shouts of surprise coming from her. Kyo clenches his eyes, before braving a look at her.

Fuck, still cute. Dammit.

With a huff, his hand leaves the wall to bonk her on the head. His ears are burning. She looks up at him in surprise, eyes wide and questioning.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

Then quieter, “Thanks for waiting for me.”

9.

“I’ll just need to wait for you,” she whispers.

Kyo almost misses it over the sound of the television. He turns in his seat and is greeted by the sight of Tohru crying into a washcloth, tears streaming down her face and onto the tabletop.

“H-hey,” Kyo starts, quickly lumbering over to her side of the table. He begins to take her hands from her face, but she abruptly pulls away. Helplessly, he chokes out a soft, “Don’t cry.”

At this, she seems to sob even more, her knees coming up to bury her face in. Kyo watches her break down, words of comfort drying up in his throat.

He…doesn’t know what to say. He told her a few months before graduation - about the cat’s fate, the bet with Akito - and to his surprise and horror, she told him she already knew. Akito had informed her about everything during his visit to the summer vacation home, fabricating stories of an endless banquet and the zodiacs never leaving his side. It was cruel and strange and absolutely foreign. She didn’t want to believe it then.

But with tomorrow looming, it no longer matters what Tohru thinks. Kyo lost the bet and from tomorrow onwards, he will take up new residence in the Sohma estate, a corner reserved only for him - in the Cat’s room.

Once before, in the days leading up to his mother’s funeral, his father brought him there.

“This is where you will live to pay for your sins,” he said, dragging Kyo towards the door. “All I need is the head’s approval, and I will be rid of you forever, you filthy scum.”

Now, ten years on, Kyo lives in one of the warmest households he’s been in, where he lets time pass wastefully, only to have it snatched away by a fate he knows is a long time coming.

Kyo sighs. “It was only a matter of time,” he tells her. “There’s no use crying over something that can’t be changed.”

He feels her grip onto his beads, her fingers slipping under before reaching for his pulse.

“It wasn’t wasted,” she says with finality, determination glinting in her eyes. “Your time outside wasn’t wasted.”

The next day, they send him off at the fringes of the Sohma estate. Tohru holds his hand until the last moment and tangles their fingers tight together.  Selfishly, he grips back, closes his eyes and imagines a future that will never be, holds onto hope.

He squeezes once, twice- breathes, then lets go.

10.

He wonders what it will be like to have something like that DVD. Of course, it’ll be nice to have something to record all the quiet moments, all the happy times. But if it plays back things like that, she might not survive the fall.

And he’s afraid- that she won’t let go, that she’ll wait on him forever. Replaying the memories over and over, he’s scared that she won’t let herself forget. It’s one thing for him to be subject to this fate, but a person as bright, as innocent and pure as her, should not be saddled with a burden such as he. The curse was never meant to extend beyond the family, yet he selfishly allowed it to be so.

In a way, there isn’t much he can do at this point. What she said during the play- that awkward interruption, paired with a devastated grimace- he heard it loud and clear. Kyo lies sedately on the floor, arm under his head. This is absolutely not what he wanted. He was supposed to leave from the beginning, a mere sojourner passing through her earth. He didn’t intend for this to happen. He didn’t intend to leave things behind.

He didn’t intend for her to fall in love as well.

11.

It comes like a seabreeze from a distant shore, a memory from a long, long time ago.

Tears fall from his eyes without his consent. They dribble down his cheek, dripping off his unshaven chin. Kyo sits up and looks around.

In an instant, nothing makes sense. Nothing about where he is, why he is here, who he is, makes sense. Why are there walls confining him? What was his purpose here? What held him back from leaving?

Why did he not go to where she was?

Suddenly, the door to the room slides open. Kyo bristles and readies himself, an instinct ingrained in his body. But strangely, he no longer feels fear.

Shigure steps into the room, yukata-clad as Kyo has always remembered him to be, and faces him. He smiles briefly, eyes lacking the pity Kyo is used to seeing from him.

“Hey,” Shigure says.

Stunned, Kyo gives a confused wave.

Shigure laughs. It comes out slightly choked, with a tinge of hysteria. He comes up to Kyo and clamps his hand over Kyo’s shoulder. Shaking him, the tears fall as well.

Kyo looks up at him, cheeks still wet.

It’s over.

12.

Kyo stands in front of the mirror and gazes at his reflection. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the Cat’s room, but the beard growing out of the sides of his face betrays the amount of time he’s been alone. Picking up the razor balanced precariously on the edge of the sink, he slowly begins to shave. His fingers stutter in their grip, and Kyo almost cuts himself.

“Do you need help?” Hatori asks, an eye peeking out through the fall of his hair. Absently, Kyo stares at the man a little longer, noticing the lack of pity he has grown accustomed to in his voice.

“N-no.” Kyo looks down and washes the razor for the umpteenth time. “I’m good.”

It’s difficult- witnessing all these changes firsthand. There is so much to say, yet there is nothing to say at all. It seems like they have all come to an agreement without voicing anything, and everyone around him has accepted it, including himself.

Hatori passes him a face towel and Kyo takes it, murmuring a soft noise of gratitude. He wipes his face, before staring at the mirror once more. There is something unrecognizable in his reflection. It’s him, yet it isn’t.

In an instant, Kyo’s gaze is drawn to the beads encircling his left wrist. He slips his fingers under them for a moment, thumb and forefinger playing with one of them. Slowly, finger by finger, he grasps the beads- string and all- in a fist, and pulls.

They drop to the floor like marbles, bouncing once, then rolling away.

And Kyo is already crouched on the ground, sobbing. He curls himself up next to the bathtub, burying his head in his knees. A part of him is waiting for the inevitable, and yet a part of him knows that it will never come and haunt him again.

He’s…free.

Hatori comes down to crouch next to him, and in a rare act of comfort from the man, wraps his arm around Kyo’s head and begins patting his hair. After existing so long without the warmth of another, Kyo clutches onto Hatori’s shirt and cries. In that moment, he grieves for what both of them have lost, and grieves for what both of them have gained. Kyo is lost, and found. Confused, yet so, so secure. He is empty, therefore he is full.

After about ten minutes of full-on sobbing into the shirt of a man whom he has barely spoken more than a few sentences to in his life, Kyo awkwardly removes himself from Hatori’s chest. To his embarrassment, all Hatori does is give him a small smile, cheeks slightly damp, and pats his head once more. Shyly, he scratches the back of his head before moving to stand, Hatori following suit. As he looks around the bathroom, Kyo finds himself at a loss. He has so many questions, but they get lodged in his throat when he attempts to ask.

Hatori must see the look in his eyes because he clasps his shoulder and says, “Ask Honda-kun. She’ll tell you everything.”

13. living

Kyo can’t wait.

No, of course he can. It’s been years.

It’s been years, that’s why he can’t wait, dammit.

He can’t do this. This is too much. What if she’s forgotten? What if she no longer wants anything to do with him? He did leave her once before- what if she decides she can’t take another person leaving and being left behind again?

And what about him? Does he still want to see her? Does he still want her? What about her did he like? What did he use to do with her? What was their life like when they lived together? What if-

A smack sounds across the back of his head. Kyo’s hands immediately go up to cradle his head, only to be met with the annoyed glare of one Yuki Sohma.

“Get it together, you stupid cat,” Yuki bites out. “She’ll be here soon.”

A snarl almost makes it past his throat, but Kyo remembers that…they don’t need to do this anymore.

For a moment, Kyo is baffled by the rivalry manufactured so intently between them. He’s layered hate upon hate on this man before him without even realizing how foreign the idea was in the first place. The anger fizzles out in his chest, and all that’s left is guilt. Guilt of tormenting Yuki since the first time they met, right until the moment before he left. Guilt of pushing the blame onto Yuki every time something upset his seemingly miserable life. Yuki had it hard as well, he knows. He just refused to acknowledge it.

“I’m…sorry,” Kyo tells him, looking up with furrowed brows. The words taste unfamiliar on his tongue. Yuki narrows his eyes at him, before taking a seat adjacent to him in the kotatsu.

He sighs.

“We’ve been terrible to each other, haven’t we?” Yuki starts.

Kyo places his hand back on the table in front of him, finger spreading out before clenching once more. “Yeah, we have.”

“What were we even mad at each other about anyway?”

“I don’t know. I think we were just always being pitched against each other. It pissed me off.”

“Yeah, well. You were being quite an idiot about it too.”

“Hey-“

“Don’t worry,” Yuki puts up his hands in surrender. “I was a pretty big dick to you too.”

Then softer, “I’m sorry.”

At the words, Kyo finds himself being released from a crime he has spent so long believing he had done. He thinks back on what Kyoko said, about not having a designated person to hate and blame, and finally sees the beauty that she was trying to convey. All he needed was an outlet for all the hurt he experienced in his life, and when he realized that there was hope, that there was redemption somewhere, it began to dig him deeper and deeper into a cycle of rehearsed loathing, fashioned it into something so grotesque, Kyo couldn’t recognize it in himself anymore. He couldn’t even recognize himself anymore.

All the wasted years, Kyo briefly laments. But it brings comfort that the bridge between Yuki and him has not been completely burned. Kyo knows who to thank for that.

The front door suddenly slams open and footsteps sound through the hall into the kitchen. In a flurry of brown hair and pink dress, she appears before him, panting heavily and looking straight into his eyes.

His eyes widen. “Tohru-“

Her arms are around him before he has the chance to say anything else. She squeezes him tight, burying her face into his neck. The ends of her hair tickle his jawline, and Kyo feels a dampness against his skin. She shakes in her hold, shifting her face back and forth into the cloth at his shoulder.

Kyo continues to stare in shock at the wall in front of him. The door to the room slides shut quietly, and he realizes that Yuki has left the room.

Slowly, his hand reaches up to the back of her head before sliding down the length of her hair. He repeats the action over and over, his fingers tangling in the soft strands. He combs through her hair, his other hand coming up to rest against her waist. She sobs harder and harder, her words incomprehensible.

“K-kyo-kun,” Tohru whimpers. She clenches a fist in the back his shirt and tightens her grip.

Immediately, something in his chest cracks. Kyo buries his fingers in earnest in her hair, clutching her tightly against him. His arms band around her frame and the tears that were held at bay fall from the corner of his eyes down his nose. He turns his neck and places his lips at her pulse, each beat thrumming through him, signalling to him that she’s here and she’s real.

How many times had he imagined this moment? The smell of her hair, the softness of her skin? No matter how much he polishes every memory of her till they shine, it can never compare to how she feels in his arms right now. The senses that have shut down so long ago from repeated rejection from others in his life, the loss of hope that someone, someday, will hold him like this, like they never want to let go, explode to life and Kyo takes in whatever he can greedily, selfishly, and as much as he wants. He steeps in the luxury of a hug from a girl he cares about most, and soaks in every detail, every sensation he has missed out on in the past few years stolen from his life.

They hold each other a while longer, before slowly separating to look into the other’s eyes. Tohru lifts a hand to Kyo’s cheek, and he leans into it, nosing her palm and brushing his lips across her wrist. She runs a finger repeatedly under his eyes, catching the tears there. Kyo does the same to her, cradling her face gently while brushing her fringe away. They lean their foreheads against each other, broken smiles playing at their lips.

“Kyo-kun,” Tohru calls him.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice cracking.

“I missed you.”

“I-“ inhale, “I missed you too.”

“Kyo-kun,” she calls again.

“Y-yeah.”

She laughs and places a kiss on his forehead. He closes his eyes and grips her tighter. In the deepest corners of his heart, there is a smidge of doubt, an inkling of fear, that rejection will come sooner or later. But when Kyo opens his eyes and sees Tohru smiling through her tears, he is strong, and brave, and fearless, and ready to love and to love and to love. Then, she tells him the words that overwrite the pain he’s gone through, that cancel out the unforgiveness he bears within himself, that make him feel stronger than he has ever been before.

“Kyo-kun, look,” she places a hand on his left wrist, leave a kiss there, and smiles.

“You’re free.”

———————————————

Inspired by a line in @sariedust ‘s fic, If Only:

"This would be a memory he’d polish over and over during the years.”

Do check it out (:

[nlvianne]

My Story

I was diagnosed with moderate to severe hearing loss when I first started school at 4 years old in the year 1989.  I only remember the things my family told me around that time and prior.  It's a very young age to recall everything and the memory does play tricks on the mind. When I was a baby testing for hearing was just not thought of, no one's fault.  It wasn't all that common.  I suppose I lived like a normal small child, playing with anything that struck my imagination, running amok.  In photos I looked like a happy child except when I was dressed in an outfit knitted for a boy.  My Mother said I would always watch the television and not listen to her when she called for me.  I'm guessing she called for me many times, explains why she's quite loud.  She said she thought I just wasn't listening to her.  Typical child behaviour.  My hearing or lack thereof just never registered. I was playing behind the barn at my Grandparents' house and My Grandmother was yelling my name.  I'm told she almost lost her mind.  She told my Grandfather she lost me so they both went around searching for me.  Apparently Nan said she was going to beat my ass for disappearing.  Pup said she damned well wasn't because I just couldn't hear them. The teachers in school noticed almost immediately and that began the testing.  The results were in and my parents were confused and a bit scared I think.  The school suggested enrolling me in a school for the deaf and hard of hearing in Amherst.  That was over 3 hours from my home.  I was told that my Grandfather was not pleased with that idea and demanded that I stay home learning in a regular school with everyone else.  I think my parents followed suit not sure what to do.  My Grandfather, Pup was the best this way.  Maybe it was denial.  Maybe he didn't want to admit to it but he didn't seem to think hearing loss could hold anyone, least of all, his Granddaughter back.  Or worse, maybe I was naive and didn’t want to know he was ashamed of this because I loved him.  I never thought of those things then, just that he was my gruff hero that let me sleep on his lap in the rocking chair and steal gum from his shirt pockets.  I have pictures of that. Soon I had my hands on a toy that would sit right in my ears and hook up a box called an FM transmitter so I could hear the teachers across the classroom.  This was made possible by the best group we had in the school system, APSEA.  APSEA assisted parents with costs of aids and funded tools like the transmitters, funded for special educators for the deaf and hard of hearing to come to the schools and assist in ways that a mainstream teacher would need extra help.  The organization was a godsend.  They enabled me to sit in class and learn with my peers mainstream and took me aside to learn more.  With them I would practice my speech by reading.  I would take extra time to write for proper grammar.  I had extra practice in mathematics.  Their main focus was my speech.  They kept me caught up and then some.  I remember my time with them fondly.  I was the only kid in Milton School they came around to see at the time. I was never picked on in school about my hearing aids.  In fact, they (classmates) loved the FM Transmitter.  I could always let them know if the teacher was walking back into the classroom so they could quickly get back to their seats.  Yeah, I was the lookout.  It was hilarious and gross when they went to the bathroom.  They were pretty embarrassed when I told them I heard them.  Ha ha.  They caught on quick and my signal was cut upon leaving the classroom. Carpets were also installed in the classrooms to prevent the chairs and desks from scraping, protecting my tender ears.  That was a lovely APSEA request. My Father told me that I kept asking him what a certain noise was.  It was a bird.  I never heard birds before that.  I don't remember this but Dad chokes up when he tells me. I remember taking a bath one time as a child and I wasn't adjusted to having hearing aids at the time.  I accidentally forgot to take them out and my Mother wasn't thrilled that they fried the moment I poured water over my head.  I can confirm that they indeed do not electrocute when introduced to water but they certainly do not survive it.  Every year I needed to have new moulds created to attach to the aids behind my ears.  Children's ears are constantly growing at a quick rate just like the rest of them.  It was a strange sensation to have that cold goop squeezed in my ear.  Felt like soft sticky earplugs.  Before they put the silicone in they have to insert small spongy things with long strings so they have something to pull them out with when they dry.  I giggle a little because it looks like I have tampon strings hanging out of my ears.  My APSEA teachers tried to make me understand that in my life I would encounter people who didn't understand or were not quite as tolerant as some.  They would encourage me to teach them, to spend a lot of time helping them understand.  I never realized how exhausting this would be sometimes.  My first assignment was to explain to my peers in front of the classroom about something that pertained to my hearing. It could be anything from the tools I use to my experiences.  I chose to explain the FM Transmitter especially since so many of my peers enjoyed tracking the teachers’ movements with them. After 7 years it was time to change schools.  The districts decided it was a more logical idea to consolidate all of the smaller schools.  Grade 6 was spent at the Dr. John C. Wickwire Academy.  It was my first and last year there.  Out of all the consolidated schools there were still only 2 of us that were hard of hearing that I could recall.  Even there the teachers seemed well adjusted to us.  There I made new groups of friends.  Some found me odd, others didn't care and a few hung out with me.  Again it was never an issue or a big difference.  By that point no one realized I was hard of hearing upon first meeting me.  I learned just like the rest of them, I behaved similar to them.  It wasn't pointed out until they saw the gear and obviously had some questions.  It was never a big to do thing. In the following year I attended Junior High and met a whole slew of mates with differences from Autism to Hearing Loss to Mobility Issues.  I met three wonderful people with hearing impairment/loss that I remain in touch with to this day.  I learnt a little bit of sign language from them and we had a great common ground.  It was pretty neat.  I was in a position where I had questions for them because their experiences were so different from mine.  One attended the school for the deaf and hard of hearing for the early years. We were a very lucky in the way we all were able to attend a school without much in the way of total exclusion.  Yes, we had separate classes and we had special needs that teachers didn't quite know how to handle them but we always met in the middle being in the same school.  I know there are experiences from others that I'm not capturing and I know they've had some not so great experiences.  This is why it upsets me to see how divided we are almost 20 years into the future.  We should be so far ahead but we've fallen so far backwards.  It really is a crying shame.  We were so, so lucky and I never realized that until the later years of my life. High School was much the same but we had yet again, more populace.  High School was even better because there was an open door policy.  We were permitted and encouraged to visit the special needs students, have lunch with them, even sit and do homework together.  Even in this point of my life I was still never made to feel inferior with my hearing.  I was only ever picked at for being a little nerdy but that was it.  Okay, a lot nerdy.   I liked Sci-fi.   I'm sure it wasn't all fairy tales and rainbows for most.  We all had our not so great moments.  And there was the odd time kids would poke fun at something.  And there is that good high possibility they made fun of me but I didn't hear them.  They say ignorance is bliss, they haven't experienced hard of hearing.  Ha ha! When I learned how my trio of HOH friends came into their world of semi silence and how others came into that I began to have questions of my own.  I had them before that.  It just wasn't important enough for me to ask and my parents already shared some details. (Ones I'm sure some would find rather ridiculous in this day and age!) The most prevalent explanation was that my parents had the same blood type and the family doctor speculated that was why I was born with a hearing loss.  Today we know that's a very ridiculous and ignorant answer as many parents have the same blood type.  But this was the reason everyone stuck with as it made some sense out of why the child didn't come out 'normal'.  I'm not resentful of this particular tidbit as it was made in ignorance in a past that we didn't understand.  Even now there’s still much we don’t fully understand.

 In high school and much after I didn’t show much outward interest in a romantic life and when I did I brought home extremely questionable individuals. I also didn’t have a high confidence level in myself.  My parents worried and considered me behind in my personal life, which I suppose I was. They always thought it was because of my hearing and I didn’t make them think otherwise.  I never considered it due to my hearing loss. I suppose they did because it was something tangible they could digest.  When I was older I found myself walking on eggshells around adults more than children.  Even today I don’t have a high opinion of myself and I explain it off as humble.

Most of this way of dealing with the discomfort of adults has been the most baffling and occasionally it has spilled over in my workplaces.  Most have been very well and extremely considerate. We’ve talked and joked about it without a hitch.  But sometimes there will be that wayward thing coming from the mouths of adults that will light my fuse.  Once I reached the point of contending with adults I became more sensitive and sore about things.  Suddenly my hearing loss became the white elephant in the room.  This is now the most challenging time for me.  

In my adulthood I suspect there were things my parents shielded me from which I haven’t fully been on the receiving end of.  My experiences as an adult are far different compared to my childhood.  That goes without saying but it wasn’t what I was expecting.  I’ve had a great life and I did quite well for myself despite my hearing loss/impairment.  However, I did not expect to be brought down by a few uttered comments by family.

I was told that I had become hard of hearing because I had too many ear infections which my parents didn’t take me to the doctor soon enough.  I remember having many of them and I do remember sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for antibiotics.  A child never told me this.  An adult in my own family did.

I was also informed that hearing aids have made me a bit lazy and not wanting to listen.  Again, by an adult.  Never by a child or a peer.

But the one single comment that took the ever loving fucking kick in the teeth and made me particularly ugly.  “Maybe if your parents didn’t have the same blood type you wouldn’t be that way.”

My Grandmother!

My immediate family member!  Not a child! Not a peer!  An adult that was my own family member.

I find this ironic now seeing as My Grandmother and I now share hearing aid batteries.  Some say Karma took a very good journey but that doesn’t help me to forget or feel better about that.  In fact, I haven’t forgiven that and I doubt I will anytime soon.

My Hearing Loss is part of who I am and has moulded me into the individual the world sees today.  In fact, I do not consider it a ‘Loss’ but a faucet which makes me unique in a sea of what we consider normal.  I would not be the person I am now without it.  I am just different.  There’s no need to advocate my difference through the thought of ‘making it normal’. I wish the world today would stop focusing so much on fighting the good fight with their protests.  We are not a political agenda to make you feel good about yourselves.  All I want is understanding.  That’s it. And maybe some money to pay off these overpriced hearing aids....

[mymemoirs]

Unrecorded Memories and Missing Taiwan #3

Gonna continue from the second part of my Taiwan trip. However, this post is definitely not going to be the last one regarding this trip since I went there for a whole month and I would like to go into the details so that I could reread this post one day. After all, this is my attempt to record those memories even though its already vague by now as two years have passed by. 

After the first weekend spent during my AI class, we had our last week of the class in which we were given group project and also interact with local middle school students near the campus and engage with them. 

7) I can’t remember much of what I’ve learnt in class but I remember we went to another field trip during our weekdays, to be specific, it was on Tuesday, 10th of July, 2018. There was a middle school near the Asia University campus site and  after our morning class session, everyone were guided by our TAs and professors to Taichung Guangfu Junior High School. I think it took us about 10-15 minutes walk away, it was really that close.

A Picture of The Taichung Guangfu Junior High Students and AI Program 2018 Students

The reason we went to the school was because Taichung Guangfu Junior High School old building was the one converted into the now Earthquake Museum we went last weekend. After having its building destroyed and turned into a museum, the school built a new building instead. I think the professor wanted to show us the new building that have been built for the school and let local students interact with expat students from the exchange program. 

When we arrived there, we were taken into a classroom. We were told to sit in a group and I happened to sit with Guy, Xin, and Hussain (an Indian student). We hit off pretty well and each of us was very competitive, since we’re given quizzes and games to play during our time there. I think the school is amazing since they were able to utilize various digital techs for the game and quizzes. 

Guy, Hussain, Xin and Me.

I don’t remember much of the details, but I think we won since each of us were given a notebook. It was really fun for us since we’re not only answering quizzes but we also went outside to do a bar code hunt (if I’m not wrong).

8) After the short field trip, we all went back to the campus to go back to our respective dorm. However, on our way back, we stumbled upon a newly opened restaurant and they were having a free fried rice or noodle promotion. So, almost everyone stopped by, I think even the professors and TAs too. Well, how could we say ‘no’ to freebies right? We all happened to be hungry at that time, *laughs*. Although, I had to admit that it’s memorable since the AI students never ate together, at least not as crowded as that day. Most of us sometimes just eat with a group of friends in different restaurants nearby the campus, since everyone have their own preference. Having this kind of activities actually help me bond with others. 

Eating Fried Rice/ Noodle at a Nearby Restaurant With Other Students.

9) The next day, we moved on with more data science materials that are very alien to me. I can’t remember much of the materials now since it’s more on practical skills but I guess my lack of understanding towards the subject was due to how little I was exposed to this topics before. I think, if I were to relearn it today, it will be much easier for me to understand now compared to last time. 

During that day, we were given details on our group project and everyone was asked to form a group. Since Guy were sitting beside me, he asked Xin and I if we wanted to join the team he’s forming. Apparently, he’s forming a group with Hussain. Xin and I agreed to join his team, because to be honest, both of us didn’t have any basics in computer science, let alone data science or AI. 

It’s funny, you see, since the group members: Xin, Hussain, Guy and I, were previously in one group too during the game session yesterday, and I think our team’s name is “Group 2″ in the game session, so we named our team as “Group 2″ again for this group project. During the game session, it was really fun doing group activities with them, and now that we’re having a chance to work together as a team, I was really excited to work with them again. Although, to be honest, I didn’t do much exactly. 

Group 2 Focusing on Their Project.

Hussain did the most work out of everyone, since he’s the one with a background in computer science. Guy did his best to accommodate Hussain, with his tech (cause apparently he’s the “Apple Guy”) stuff, since his laptop was the most powerful in running data science projects among the four of us. Besides, he also had a little exposure in machine learning (even when he’s actually a student with a degree related to design) so he was the second in command to help Hussain. Xin was a student in design too, so she was in charge of our power point presentation slides. The slides she made was beautiful. 

While me? Well, I felt like a burden to my team because I can’t do anything at all. It seems like I’m the only one at loss at what I should do, so I kept on asking what this and that means when Hussain was coding and I think that kind of hinders him so he said that he would explain to me later on. Although, I might not help much, I tried my best to be there as a teammate. We ate together and accompanied each other throughout the project. To be honest, I really enjoyed the times we spent together. I’m not sure about how they felt though. Nevertheless, I admired each of them as I get to know them better. They were one year older than me and they told me a lot of their experiences. It an was insightful moment.

10) So, the day of our presentation came the next day. We are only given less than 24 hours to finish the project, which is very short. I guess, we’re lucky that Hussain finished it on time and Xin managed to create the slides on such a short period of time. Our project is about image classification for breasts cancer. Of course, the datasets and the code Hussain used for the project can be found in the internet. Although most of this can be search up on the internet, I don’t think I will be able to do it at that time on that short amount of time, because I have no idea on how to search the code and even use it. 

Xin Turn To Present Her Part.

Our presentation are held in a presentation room. Everyone in my group, including me were given the opportunity to present about the project. I was the first to present since I get the easiest one which is an introduction to AI. After the presentation, questions are being asked by classmates and professors. Of course, only Hussain were able to answer it. I think I vaguely remembered he said that the time given were short and he admits that his teammates are still not familiar with how to use AI. Well, almost every team that give out their presentation complaint the same thing - the amount of time given were just too short. 

By the end of our presentation, our professor who was assessing everyone’s presentation said that there will be presents for the three teams with the highest score. I wasn’t expecting anything but our group turns out to rank second highest and we were given gifts to share with one another. It was really surprising for us but since we were competitive, we feel a sense of achievement.  We were really happy, and I really enjoyed working together with them so I asked for a picture together as a team (laughs). 

Group 2 Presents Their Presentation Second and Was Ranked Second! The Most Diverse Team Among The Other Teams (Consists of Indian, Indonesian, Thai, and Singaporean).

Honestly, I would love to spend more time together with them but the presentation day was on Thursday and it was the second last day of our AI class. The day after tomorrow, both Guy and Hussain will go home since they didn’t take any other class aside from this AI class. Only me and Xin took another class that will start after the AI class but we took a separate class. Xin took Product Design class while I took Creativity and Entrepreneurship Class. Boohoo.

A Group Picture with The Professors After Our Presentation

11) The next day was our farewell party which was held by our professors. It was really a simple one. There are food, beverages, music, etc. Most entertainment were provided by our Indian classmates, while the rest of us just sat and watched. It was really fun to see them sang and danced happily. Even though it was short, it was a memorable experience. I did take a video of my friends dancing, but alas, I don’t think I managed to save it on my hard disk. 

Receiving A Certificate of Completion For The AI Course

I think the AI course are memorable because of the classmates and friends I knew from there, especially my teammates from Group 2. I was really sad that we had to part so I decided to give them handmade letters that I crafted and wrote on my own. I remember I went to the convenience store and office supplies store just to find the materials that I was going to use for the letters. I was happy that I managed to give them something, even though it was just a letter. 

Anyway, I’ll continue the time when I’m in Creativity and Entrepreneurship Class in my next post! Adieu for now!

- Reina

[yourghastlycloseness]

the pain is becoming more bearable. i might even say getting less. been almost two months now. it wasn’t anything concrete to begin with, so i told myself to get over it in two weeks. but if im being honest, that’s a bullshit target. so no, i’ll take my time. i’ll acknowledge the pain. i’ll review the situation in my head, jot down pointers here from time to time. why did i behave that way? why did i continue despite knowing how it would end? once i’m over it, i’ll be properly over it. no looking back. the way i am with everything. these days, i associate the language not with him but with my classmates this time around and all the fun we have. think we loosened up a bit after 7 weeks (ie. 7 lessons) together lol. there’s something less ephemeral about them compared to the kids in my december classes. they seem like actual people, with jobs, who have some idea of what it is to be an adult navigating the world, who would likely want to be my friend first (instead of the other way around) and wouldn’t mind hanging outside of class. idk how to explain this. i just have a lot of fondness for things and people.

anyway, while im more introverted in class this time, im still as participative as ever. i just don’t say things to make people laugh as much. i realize the attention he paid me made me feel acknowledged and seen by someone i wanted to be seen by lmao. that’s highly addictive. control experiment: i maintained the same level of participation in classes taught by other teachers, and still didn’t/don’t get any of that kind of attention from them (save for another teacher at that time whom i suspected was a close friend of his. she would act in a way that implied she knew that there was some strange energy going on between us, but i cld be imagining things) (honestly, i don’t think i imagine things. i’m sharper than i believe myself to be/let on. despite the whole idealist/romantic dreaminess going on, i’m fairly gritty. this is my main struggle: i live constantly aware of this gap btwn the ideal and the real)

i’ve noticed a few things:

- im fairly fast in memory/comprehension when it comes to japanese. initially, i had thought i was faster than the other students in december because i had waltzed with duolingo for a week and was a few years older. now my class is a good mix of students who are older/my age/possibly younger, who may have studied japanese before, and who are generally stronger at the language than my december classmates. that said, im still one of the faster ones. it’s encouraging, given that this language is difficult af and i don’t feel like i’ve learnt much once i step out of the classroom and try to process writing/speaking without the comfortable pace set for a beginner

- i like being looked at. so much it’s actually ridiculous. i don’t like being looked at when i’m not feeling quite myself. but when i am, holy damn do i bask in every curious glance thrown my way.

[3monthsineurope]

July 24 and 25, 2021

Happy 27th birthday, Haley! I love you and hope you’re having a blast in Mexico with Malik!

Saturday I woke up at 8, which you all know is really early for me. But Catherine and I were taking a red eye flight to visit Nicole in Florida! I wanted to be tired for the plane. Ingvar and I both got up and showered, then I drove him to his car, close to Western. He had played Mario with friends the night before, and Ubered home. We were both pretty tired. I dropped off Ingvar and we said our goodbyes. He was going golfing with some of his best friends! I went and dropped off some things at Value Village for donation, then made myself some spaghetti squash with meat sauce and runny eggs for breakfast. I took care of my plants and worked on packing. I had packed most of my things the day before, but there was still some to do. I put on some make up, then it was time to meet up with my friend, Rachael!

Rachael and I met while we were at Western! We don’t see each other often, but we try to when we are visiting each other’s towns. We met at Woods at Boulevard and caught up for about an hour. It was so nice to see her! After our coffee date, I went home and laid down and rested my eyes for about 15 minutes. I finished all my packing, then left Bellingham around 3.

I spent the drive down to Kirkland listening to voice memos and responding to my Taylor Swift friend, Erica. I also talked to Grandma Sue. Before I knew it, I was parking in Kirkland! Catherine and I were so excited to visit Nicole in Rockledge, Florida! We wanted to go last year, but obviously Covid prevented that. Nicole and Catherine had been roommates at Western, with me right across the hall. We’ve been friends for almost 11 years now! Nicole and I have traveled together in Mexico and Puerto Rico, and Nicole, Catherine, and I did New Orleans in 2018! We were excited to finally visit her in Florida. (Yes, I was just in Florida, but two different friends asked me to come at two different times, haha.) I got to meet Catherine and her boyfriend’s Brad’s dog, Bella! She is so sweet!

We hung around their apartment for about two hours, just catching up and watching the Olympics. Brad was nice enough to drive us about a half hour to SeaTac. I sat in the back with Bella, and didn’t feel anxious at all! Brad dropped us off right around 7:30, with our flight being at 9:45. I didn’t have TSA precheck this time (I think I forgot to put it in my info when we booked our trip, months ago), so Catherine and I went through general security. There was absolutely no line! We got through, then headed to The Club at SEA—the lounge we could get into with my card. It was Catherine’s first time in an airport lounge. We each had two drinks and some yummy snacks. We hung out for over an hour, then took the train to N Gates. Our plane started boarding around 9. Catherine and I sat together in an exit row, with her on the isle and me in the middle.

The flight to Orlando was about five and a half hours. I finished my blog from Stuart, Florida, and listened listened to music while we were taking off and a bit after. Catherine ended up finishing one book on her phone and started another on the flight. The flight attendants passed our drinks and snacks and then I tried to sleep. Unfortunately, there was a very rude and obnoxious man in the row behind us. He was complaining about Alaska Airlines the whole time, and even called one of the flight attendants fat! He lied to them, too, about how many drinks he had in total, so they would keep serving him alcohol.

Anyways, because this man was so loud, I only ended up sleeping about two hours. Catherine didn’t snooze at all! I couldn’t believe it. Normally, I sit in the window seat, so maybe I didn’t sleep much because I didn’t have the window to lean on? We landed in Orlando right around 6am, eastern time. Ingvar was still awake at home, hanging out with his friends, hahah. Catherine and I disembarked the plane, took a small train to the main part of the terminal. We both went to the bathroom, then found Nicole! It was so early, hahah. It was so nice of Nicole to pick us up, because she lives about 45 minutes to an hour away. We were so excited to see her! Even though we both saw her about two weeks prior, when she was in Seattle for her grandma’s funeral. Nicole has a cute little Mazda. Nicole he picked out a breakfast place for us, called Keke’s. We drove about fifteen minutes to get there, and we arrived before they opened at 7, haha! We caught up in the car, then headed inside right at 7.

For breakfast we all had coffee (Catherine and I were gonna need it, that’s for sure!) and I had a combo with raspberry stuffed French toast, a chocolate chip pancake, eggs, and ham. It was a lot of food! I definitely took my leftovers to go. Nicole had an egg white omelette and Catherine had some French toast. It was all tasty and the service was really great. From Keke’s, we headed to Rockledge, the town that Nicole and Oscar live in. Nicole actually ended up going on the wrong roads for a bit, which was kinda funny!

In Rockledge, we stopped at the grocery store, Publix. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a Publix before? It was kind of like a Whole Foods, with expensive produce. Nicole got some stuff for her and Oscar, and some snacks and sandwich stuff for us. It was an expensive grocery tip! Catherine and I paid for some, though. Next up, was their apartment! Oscar met us in the garage and helped withy groceries. I love Oscar, I didn’t get to see him when he was in Seattle the weeks before. He’s such a nice guy. Nicole gave us a tour of her place. They have a three bedroom and two bathroom apartment in a large community. One bedroom is their master, one is their guest room, and one is Oscar’s office. Their living room and kitchen is a huge space, and they have a ton of closets and windows. They have a laundry room and a screened in porch, and a one car garage. I loved seeing their place!

Catherine chose the guest bedroom to stay in, while I got set up on a futon in Oscar’s office. We hung around for a bit and caught up with Oscar (and Nicole, of course), then I took a shower in Nicole’s bathroom (Nicole usually had the master bedroom’s bathroom as her own, with Oscar having the guest bathroom as his own). It felt so good to shower, wash my face, and brush my teeth after our red eye flight! Catherine showered too, then we were ready to take on the day!

Unfortunately, when Catherine and I booked our flights a few months ago, Nicole was sure she wouldn’t have to go back to work (she’s a sixth grade science and math teacher in the nearby town of Cocoa), to start the process of setting up her classroom and getting ready for the kids to come in August. A few week ago, though, she was informed that she had to go back July 26, the second day of our trip. What a bummer! So, the day we arrived, July 25, a Sunday, was our only full day without her going to work. We had to make the most of it! Oscar ordered us all Chipotle, then we all sunscreened up (thanks for making sure there was plenty of sunscreen, Nicole!) and headed to their apartment pool. We all brought our own beach chairs on our backs, and they even had a cooler for drinks! All four of us hung out at the pool for a few hours and chatted and relaxed. We ate our Chipotle and had some hard seltzers and hopped in and out of the pool. Catherine, Nicole, and I had been best friends for more than ten years now, so there was no shortage of catching up and chatting we had to do. I ended up taking about an hour nap in the shade, which was so nice!

After the pool, we rinsed off and got ready to go to the Cocoa Beach pier (Cocoa Beach is a different town than Cocoa, surprisingly). Oscar stayed home to fill out some documents (Nicole and Oscar had just been approved for a home loan! He needed to do some stuff with that), so Nicole gave us a little tour. She showed us where her school was, their gym, where they used to live, some wild peacocks in Cocoa Beach, and we ended up at the pier. The beach was pretty busy, even around 7! People were surfing and chilling on the beach, and their pier was full of restaurants, shops, and people. It’s pretty wild, that when you visit Florida, it’s almost like the pandemic doesn’t exist. Obviously it is still an issue, but you wouldn’t think so in Florida. Nicole led us down to the end of the pier, to a restaurant called Rikki Tiki Tavern. We sat at the bar top and all had a drink (my frozen mango madness was amazing!) and shared some coconut prawns! The view out there was amazing. We could almost even see launch pads for rockets, down the shore.

After our snack and drinks, we went down to the sand and water, for Catherine to put her feet in the Atlantic Ocean for the first time! Nicole showed us how she’s learnt to walk on her hands, then we called it a night. She drove us back to Rockledge and we got back around 9. Dang, we were all pretty tired! Catherine and I needed to get some rest, hahah. Nicole and Oscar had to get up early to go to work, so we all decided to go to bed. I called Mom after doing my bedtime routine, and it was nice to talk to her. I fell asleep pretty quickly, seeing how I only got three hours of sleep in the last day and a half. I was so happy to be in Florida, though! :]

[collage-portfolio-time]

Interview Preparation

Career Choice : Illustrator

Company Choice : FolioArt

1. Tell me about yourself. I am a 16 year old artist who has been working with portraiture, both realistic and cartoonish, since I was very small. I have won 2 consecutive awards for the international government-run ‘Manga Jiman’ competition, both in 2019 and 2020, winning the youths prize in 2019 and both the youths prize and 7th place in 2020, ‘making history’ as I won the youths prize two years running. The music I listen to inspires me a lot as what I draw can sometimes entirely depend on what I am listening to at the time. I have had a major interest in manga and anime since I was young and that has also influenced my style of work and the fandoms I go around to spread my collection of work to different places of the internet.

2. Why do you want to work for us? I love the fact your company will represent a range of illustrators, both well-known and up and coming. That makes you seem much more open to different styles of work and experimentation to me which I find myself drawn to.

3. What can you bring to our company? Why should we hire you? I can bring a range of styles. Like Ive said before, I work in both realism and cartoonish styles of work, which I feel could bring more people in from completely different sides of the art world. I can also work with a wide range of mediums, from digital work to watercolors, although I find myself preferring digital for the clarity you can get in an image.

4. What do you know about our company? You were established in central London in the 1970’s and are now working worldwide. You cover all sides of the art world from traditional works to GIF’s. You say you have a personal relationship with your illustrators. You have also represented artists that have worked with well-known bands for album art which include Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and The Rolling Stones, and have also had artists under your wing work with film studios like when Joe Petagna created the concept for the Facehugger in Alien.

5. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? What are your career goals? I hope to see myself with enough of a following to simply be able to create for myself and be able to make a living, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t enjoy working for others unless I like their concepts and ideas as I will just simply be uninterested in what I create and end up producing something boring as a result. I want to work to the best of my ability, and as much as the art world is ran on what others want to see, I want to dictate what I do in the process while also getting approval from the people who will consume it.

6. Why did you choose this field/career path? I chose this career path as it’s the only thing I know. As I child I would never let myself do anything but draw, I was obsessed with the gratification I got when I saw that I was improving. That was probably a detriment in the long run as now I feel obligated to work in the art industry because if I don’t what have I been doing this whole time. I feel like I owe it to myself and to the people who have funded my interests and hobby.

7. Can you tell me about your role in your current place of work? Right now I am a college student, so my role is to learn. I will create, be criticized and create again. My job is to learn from the criticism and improve upon myself to represent the collage in a good light as well as myself, and hopefully gain recognition so the collage can say that they taught me for better reputation.

8. What are your strengths/weaknesses? My biggest weakness is my pride. I will become quite offended by the slightest bit of criticism that I think isn't warranted, and yet I am so self-critical that I will rip a piece to shreds if I go a touch out of my lines while painting. It hurts to have my fears confirmed that I won't be the gifted child forever and that I will blur into the crowd of other talented artists in my classroom. It's not only that but also the thought that I spent so long on a piece to be told that it didn’t match up to an idea someone else wanted or there wasn’t enough color, and I find myself unconsciously lashing out, but I am trying to work past that and take the criticism thankfully. Despite that, what could be considered one of my greatest strengths from time to time will be my stubbornness, as I will stick to a plan I like no matter what others tell me might go wrong, which sometimes works in my favor. Technically, I am more skilled with watercolors and digital mediums than I thought I was, as the amount of people I hear struggle with them is astonishing to me as I find I work with them with relative ease, but to counter that I now struggle with mediums such as acrylics and colored pencils as Ive laid off them for so long. I hope to get better with those mediums in the future as I practice more with them again.

9. Tell me about a time when you worked in a team? Were you a leader/coordinator/etc.? I studied performing arts when I was at The Academy Grimsby secondary school. We were tasked to create a script or scenario based on a prompt that I can't quite place now, and we were a group of 4 actors as most people there were dancers. I ended up writing up the entire script that I put together, although the others did prompt some ideas, and almost directing practices. I felt I was forced into a leading position as the others weren't engaging as much as they probably should have, apart from one other person who seemed to take it as seriously as I did. I feel despite the fact I was practically shoved into the lead, and even though the script was probably shoddy as I had never really written besides from creative writing in English, I lead them well considering I was known to be quite antisocial and introverted. That situation made me realize that I was better at controlling situations and being assertive to others than I ever thought I would be, although I wasn’t too strict or bossy from what I remember.

10. Tell me about a time when you faced a challenge. What was your reaction? How did you solve it? I faced quite a big challenge when I created the first page of my 2020 Manga Jiman entry. In the first page you get quite a copious amount of building shots, and while it looked good how I imagined it, I realized when I had finished the sketch that I had never really drawn a building before. It took me two days of constant redoing, experimentation and almost scrapping the first page entirely before I finally felt happy with what I had produced. Nowadays I find it much easier to step out of my comfort zone and delve into architecture when drawing backgrounds, and I feel this experience helped me progress as an artist.

11. Tell me about an accomplishment you are most proud of. Ive mentioned this before a copious amount of times, but my Manga Jiman awards. As they are government run and judges by professional mangaka (manga creators) I think it gives my awards that extra flair of pride that makes me cling to them. The thing I will probably particularly cling to is the fact they said I was ‘making history’ with my consecutive youths prize wins, which I think is quite a good thing to be able to say on a resume. Not only that, but my winning submission for the 2020 competition was given a talk about on the award ceremony by a legendary mangaka Kiriko Kubo, who said my ‘line was neat, the layout was good and the main character was charming.’,’the work can be read smoothly’, and that ‘creating atmosphere is important, and being able to do it like this is an exellent talent’. It gives me pride that someone so prestigious in a world I had barely entered would praise my work so highly.

12. What motivates you? What can motivate me most are two things: approval from others and money. I am materialistic at heart but also sensitive to others comments on my work, so the both end up being great pushes in my art career. I feel if I am being paid for my work that it is worth something, because objectively it is, and being praised for what I do makes me feel validated beyond what I thought was possible, so the two can push me to keep going.

13. What was your biggest failure? What did you learn from it? My biggest failure is the many times Ive tried to work with soft pastels. I don’t know what it is with that medium that renders me unable to function with them but I cannot create a good piece with those sticks of chalk in my hands. I learnt that I am not the best with dry mediums and should probably keep to my paints and digital mediums for now, although I'm always open to trying them out again and again until I get used to them.

14. What was your biggest mistake? How did you fix it? My biggest mistake was thinking I was going to get placed in my first Manga Jiman entry in 2019. I was 15 at the time, so there wasn’t much of a chance I was going to be placed within the top 10 because of my age alone but I didn’t realize that at the time. I had gotten so apprehensive about results that should've been obvious from the moment I was shortlisted, but I was aiming for the top 5 in the placings. I still think that my work might've placed in top 5 had I been older, but the embarrassment and sadness about ‘only’ getting youths prize at the time was almost overwhelming. That experience taught me not to get my hopes up on stuff like that and set myself up for the worst when it comes to things like this in the future, which I did in the 2020 entry. I was simply aiming for 10th place as I wasn’t even aware the youths prize was being awarded that year because there was only 11 of us, and one of the prizes was the yonkoma award for people who were between 11 and 13 containing a single 4 panel page which one of the shortlisted entries mirrored. I ended up getting more that I thought I would've in the terms of awards and recognition which I was happy about.

15. Are you willing to relocate/travel? I am willing to relocate and travel, although i would prefer to do so with someone else I trust as I tend to get nervous in new situations should that be possible.

16. Do you have any hobbies? What are they? I don’t really do much other than draw for my social media’s and complete collage work. I do small things such as singing and watching twitch streamers, but those are few and far between or happening while I work so I don’t think they can be considered big hobbies of mine. I used to bake when I had to take a lot of time out of secondary school due to sickness but I had a lot of spare time back then so it was more possible for me to have hobbies other than art.

17. What are your computer skills/technical skills? I know how to work almost all Microsoft programs, office 365/outlook, and various digital art programmes such as medibang paint pro and the basics of photoshop/illustrator. I also know general video editing such as keyframing and audio manipulation in Wondershare Filmora.

18. How did you hear about this position? I chose to contact you for this position as I had found you take submissions for new artists to represent and thought I'd shoot my shot.

19. What are your salary requirements? Minimum wage and whatever you/the client feel I deserve on top of that, even if that’s nothing at all. As long as I get minimum wage for my work and supplies, I am fine with that.

20. Do you have any questions for me? How would you represent me? Would it be a situation where you would recommend me to people looking to commission and leave us to our devices or would you be there the whole process?

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

My Design Verse

It always started the same way - Jack would burst into his lecture room and detail the facts of some new crazy murder spree that just wouldn’t be able to be looked into by anyone else.

 Only when Jack needed him though; needed his eyes, his smarts and his empathy. He was Jack’s special tool, for the special cases where no other tool would do the job. And this case was no different, at least in that first explosive entrance into Will’s second lecture back since getting out of the hospital. He’d been promised a week but…

”We know her name, and her face, but we don’t know why she does this. This is where you come in, Will.” Jack’s voice was as strained as it had been every time they’d spoken since the FBI department head had begun to believe Will’s innocence after doubting him for the time. “There’s questions we need the answers to.”

“There’s no pattern that you and your interns can follow, you mean. You need someone who can find her.” The faint smirk that graced Will’s face was beginning to feel at home for him, being able to see through Jack’s façade of concern and to the cold hard facts that he was a tool to be used when necessary and thrown back into the box out of sight and mind when it wasn’t. An old tool with dents and bends that shouldn’t be there, but will do the job until it completely snaps. “You need me.”

“I need you, Will. Yes.” The resignation in Jack’s voice, his wife’s situation must be getting all the worse that he wasn’t arguing further - not enough spare in the older man to worry about placating his best professional investment when so much is tied up in his personal investments. “Just find her before we have another bizarre ritual slaughter or desecration to add to that file.”

The file had been laying closed on his desktop since the boss had left, the feeling of the classroom slowly seeping out the quiet fear and confusion that his classes had begun to fuel into him and his space. Maybe coming back to work wasn’t the best idea for the empath, but Hannibal had looked surprised at his determination to return - and if Will wanted to clear his entire reputation as well as Chilton’s then he needed to get his hands back into the FBI and their grasp, even if it was firmly turned from his psychiatrist at the moment. Will could not visualise until the tense atmosphere had lifted, or else he would just relive the hours just before as he ran through the mentality of those who weren’t mentalities any more for the class.

It wasn’t passing, that much was clear, and as he fumbled the pages into his messenger, Will Graham rolled his sleeves down and shrugged on the tweed jacket. As he made his way from the room, home and away from the stares that were still not sure they could believe his innocence despite it being cleared in all but reputation, the click of heels caught his attention further down the opposite end of the corridor. A familiar sound that was too much. If Will had to look, he could not look and speak to her in the same day. Not after Hannibal.

He could hear her calling, though he just sped onwards leaving her behind. Leaving the whole area behind in his rear view mirror. It was only holding him back so long as the monster was free. He could not see there. Especially not the woman outlined in the pages in his bag.

She would not be in that building, at least not by choice, and Will did not think she would be caught in such a way to bring her in any form but on a metal gurney. There was a challenge in her file, the deranged mind that would behead one victim, stab another in the neck and then turn around to shoot a third through the heart within a week of each other - and yet was still at large and not once trapped in a spiders web the way the closest files to her own had ever been by some special agent three times over. Insane yet in control of the sane world around her. She would be a challenge and a conquest all over.

The family were all there - welcoming and happy, tails aloft and voices high - as he got home, the joyous feelings and warm, /safe/ waves of his home where it was peaceful and he was king like Chilton at his hospital or Hannibal at his table. It wasn’t a pleasant comparison, but unlike the other psychopaths, Will’s kingdom was not built on other’s misery. He had had enough of that of his own and living through other’s that his dogs, his family, were the safety blanket of love and gentleness to soothe the balms of his work that his world at home was just that instead.

Maybe reading the process of a madwoman in such an environment - his one safe place in the world - was a bad idea, but as his fingers brushed the file and pulled her identity out of his bag it felt right. Like she would be at home here. Like her home was just like this. She /has/ a home like this; a singular stable point in a mad world where she was safe and loved by those that knew her more than the faces of the people she would meet outside each day. The problem with empathy was connection, a stark problem as Will opened the file across his lap (Winston’s nose snuggly pressed into the crook of his elbow as the rest of the family went about their business) and scanned over the dark eyes that stared up at him from the grainy images of the woman’s face, feeling a connection to his prey - or rather his catch, prey is Hannibal’s domain - as he slips into their world and feels it reach out and tug at his.

She was like him, but different too. That much was certain as his eyes closed and the wipers of his mind flicked away his own world and built up her own around him. There was life around her, happy and simple, but much more than the surface domestication - things that would be out of place in other houses; like his bed in his lounge room and her locked trunk as a coffee table. It was new. They’d been arguing about it, the contents something distasteful or disapproved by the other. She didn’t know what the problem was, and Will didn’t either. She needed more space, she needed more access. She needed it to make them safe.

Will sighed as she did - boots kicked up on the lid as the laptop laid precariously across their lap. The soft huff of air beside them was comforting though, their dog always knew when their mind would drift over things that would upset them. Bobby always said love was hard-

The empath jerked from his mind’s image for a moment and flipped haphazardly through the pages until the name made sense. /Bobby Singer/, the owner of a junk yard in South Dakota who had been linked in several investigations of strange behaviours as well as the pair of brothers that most resembled the young woman’s file. He was reported to have been investigated and found clean, phone tapping opportunities had drawn no conclusions and all attempts and other surveillance had been inconclusive at best, and completely useless at worst. The blonde had connections through her mother to the junkyard owner, the mother having been reported to have joined the older man a few years back. Nothing had come up suspicious other than her husband’s disappearance some decades back.

He turned the pages back to the collection of old motel and 7-11 security camera shots, blonde hair bleached white on the page as the woman’s face and head splattered the page and he delved once more into the world he’d been creating for her. Borrowing from her.

-but that was just what it was supposed to be like. And they knew he knew they were right. They needed to have those weapons right there, in easy reach. Just in case one of the other defences failed. Or someone who wouldn’t be trapped by the salt or symbols was the one to stop by. They needed to be able to protect him, keep him safe, because he wouldn’t do it for himself if they were in trouble. They’d both learnt that much after the last catch, and they couldn’t take it if he got hurt on her behalf again.-

The love she felt wasn’t what Will had expected, a psychopath with an obvious blood lust and disregard for human and animal life (given the slaughtering that would precursor some of their killings) in such barbaric forms was not someone who could - or rather, should - feel that way. That was not what he had thought was to her. It was not what the evidence suggested. The words on the page and the evidence in the crimes could be wrong though, that much Will was an expect in the field on, but even his case there was a glimmer of confusion and potential with his illness and psyche so twisted from his time under Hannibal’s eye. There wasn’t that confusion here - the murders were her handiwork, there was images of some even that placed her right there, blade in hand and blood all across her - and yet it didn’t match.

-Their hands danced their way across the keyboard, stroking letters and tapping away deftly as page after page of websites popped up. News articles. All places they had been, or were going to go -as some of the locations and dates matched to their most recent murders while others were days to come. They jotted some of the town names on one piece of pad, rested against the shaggy dog’s back as they added notes of words Will did not understand the connection to. Wolf, shifter, brother, rug, suc - the names went on and on, and they knew exactly what went where within a few clicks and articles at each place. Those that they didn’t know got scribbled on the next page alongside a book mark to the url, their lip bit tightly between their teeth. There were so many new ones that they didn’t know, and that shook them to the core. It had been weird enough learning about him and his kind, but the range that had escaped through the cracks again as the light got forced back in? It terrified them.

This was their routine, their way of selecting victims, Will could see that now. It was the pages and pages of local and national newspaper articles, the Twitter updates of weird noises or terrified teens, and the patterns in communities that made no sense to anyone or wouldn’t even be considered as a pattern by even a typical statistician. John’s work, shared with them by Ash all those years ago, had been good for flexing their mind to see the unusual - or rather, the haystack full of invisible needles out of the rest.

“Finding my prey quickly and quietly, unobserved and unpredictable - this is my design.” Will murmured the words to himself as his eyes opened, taking in the fireplace across from him and the curious glances a few of his family sent him. “I find my work, I know what I want, /no/ what I /need/, to do to each as I locate them. Geographically plotting their disposal along a route to lead me back home again, where I will being again. I will not leave until I am prepared, though my work will be done without me. This is my design..” His finger brushed across the stubborn chin, jutted out as a bowie knife bigger than her forearm slashed through the throat of a victim months ago behind some run down bar where other victims had disappeared for weeks and blood had rained down on her in later shots despite her victim eclipsing her by a foot and what Will would hazard was at least 100lbs, the burning desire to find her - to stop her, to understand her - forcing the empath to slam her file shut before he could sink back into their world.

"She will hunt regardless of my finding her. I can look tomorrow.” He spoke aloud, as though he had to convince someone around him - the thin air that surrounded him and the ghost of the monster that loomed over his every thought until he caught it - as he slid her file back onto his night stand. She could wait, he would have forever to find her before any one else did.

—-

It had been a week to the day since Jack gave him the file that Will Graham returned home to find his house broken into. Not the typical kicked in door with broken chip marks that spoke of an amateur burglary, but the two thin pieces of wire hanging out of the keyhole marking the perpetrator as a professional. A greeting, and a warning, as his hand reached out for the doorknob. He hadn’t been allowed to retain his gun since being released, despite his innocence and charges being dropped. And yet his fingers itched at his hip for his holster, as if wishing hard enough would bring it into existence. He considers not entering. It could easily be a trap, set to ensnare him yet again like the twisted fishing hooks - though it’s the bark of his jack russell which prompts him forward.

As Will pushed the door inwards, he was overwhelmed as always by his family’s welcome back - the joyful, happy reunion not at all darkened by the presence of the woman reclining on his bed. /Joanna Beth Harvelle/, the deranged ex-waitress from North Dakota, shows signs of severe detachment from the suffering of others and unpredictable murderous intent. Legs crossed and stretched out along the cover, her socked feet hung off the side of the bed - her mud-coated shoes were politely set by the door as her dark eyes raked over him. The petite woman was not what most would consider to appear like a serial killer, and Will found himself staring down eyes that could be as sharp as the knives that she was fond of or as soft as he had imagined her voice to be.

There she was. His prey, his lure, his shiny bauble that caught his attention and confused him until he’d just reach out and bite down on her sharp hooks. The demin-clad woman who he’d spent the last week trying to get into. He was determined to figure her out, as every time he tried to push himself inside of her he came up with another layer or more confusing. Every attempt to look through her had uncovered something new, something unexpected, and Will had been afraid to dig deeper as her world began to bleed into his like Abigail’s father had.

He had seen into her, felt her heart beats in his ear the same as his as he tried to find her pattern, her way of determining who to kill and who to save. Will had seen how she took after her mother, the way she would cock her hip out in a fight the way she used to see her mother do through the crack in her bedroom door. And her choice of relaxation methods from the weeks of cake slices she would take to school with her when her father went away. The way she inherited her love for knives under her father’s encouragement before his passing. Her favorite bands came from the faded posters and the dull thrum of music that would seep through the wall from her friend’s room from the time she was a pre-teen. The way her hands would shake as she would throw the last of the dirt over a shallow grave. None of it lined up with the cold-blooded killer he was supposed to be after; the same way he was unlike the copy-cat in anything but circumstance.

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in, your friends were going crazy when I was waiting outside.” Her voice, more gravelly than he had thought it to be, caught his attention back from staring her down as the dogs turned about to sniff at her heels and return to their regular resting spots as though not at all concerned the woman who surrounded herself in blood was reclined in such a possessive fashion upon his bed. If his silent appraisal, drawn in again to something so deranged and convoluted as the file turned form before him, had upset her at all she didn’t show it. Every person around him always reacted to his detatchment in some way - Jack with frustration, Alana with concern, Beverly with attitude, and Hannibal with fascination - but all he found in response to his continued silence was two big brown eyes blinking slowly at him as though they were both poised upon a knifes edge. Somewhere she was the one in control and comfortable with, in equal measure to the comfort Will felt within the sturdy walls of his home.

He could feel the questions bubbling within his mind, each needing an answer, a reason, an explanation that he couldn’t reconcile for himself even as he delved deeper into her with every try in that last week. Living inside of her had gelded no answers, only more questions - and as Will slowly pushed the front door shut behind him, he was certain she knew them all. “You were on the stoop of their home uninvited. That’s not usually well received.” His defensive tone, as though probing and poking to get a reaction from her that he could use to get in again and get his answers, delivered no results other than a small smile. “You had invaded their home and they had questions of you.”

“Seems to me that they’ve forgiven me though, such lovely little boys and girls. I’ve a dog at home myself just like the big doofus over there.” There was something about the familiarity, the comfortable way she spoke about his own family that pushed him along that edge. Will’s eyes flicked over towards the bernese dog curled before the dead fireplace, its tail wagged as though aware he was the one being spoken of, and he found yet another bridge begin to form between the two of them. Two mistaken murderers with a penchant for dogs. Animal cruelty was a common sign of a psychopath, and yet there she was with Winston’s head rested against her thigh in a way even Will’s- or he should say Hannibal’s, now- darling Alana could not succeed with. Her fingers brushed through his chesnut fur with deft practice. “And this big sweetheart wouldn’t rest until I’d given him some attention.”

Will’s brow creased deeper as he tried to reconcile his world to hers again, or possibly rather separate them, his feet making muted scrapes as he shuffled his feet a little closer. He expected to feel open, broken into and rifled around in the same way he did with the first killer to break into his home. But he didn’t. The same way the dogs were not gorging themselves on sausage meat made of whatever car sales man had offended the Chesapeake Ripper that week. He shrugged that thought away, another time and another place he would consider it but not now, and moved to reach for one of the piles of file pages spread across the bedspread before her. “Perhaps they do, but not to sound rude in my own home that you’ve gone and broken your way into, I’d like to know what else you’ve rifled away in. Besides these and endearing yourself to the rest of the family.”

He thought she had been smiling before, the soft warm looks that she had been giving to his furred housemates so the same as what those Will was surrounded by at work would deliver as a smile, but he was proven wrong regarding her yet again as she smiled brightly despite his aggressive response. She seemed to find his surly attitude and snappish tone amusing, if the choked back noise in her throat before she replied was anything to go by. “Ah yes, of course you worry about that. Not that I’d blame you one bit for it - I got broken into a while back, or rather stalked and a rather disgusting show of racist bigotry that followed, so I know how that feels. But that set up by the doc of yours?” The blonde let out an appreciative whistle, whether admiring Hannibal’s work or the fact Will was still standing despite it he couldn’t tell, that perked the ears of each of his dogs’ ears for a moment before she continued. “That was rough. See that’s exactly why I refuse to go to some sort of therapist bullshit, no ‘fense, cause the real coo-coo’s are the ones with the degrees if you feel me.”

He wasn’t the type to find such comments offensive any more, not after the monster had shown himself behind his smiling face, though that wasn’t what froze him like a lightening bolt as his fingers brushed against hers over the tops of her file. She knew about him. She knew about Hannibal. She knew about this file, and his psychosis, and his claims. She knew about it all somehow and she saw him. /See you/. She was no Garret Jacob Hobbs, but she saw him all the same. She /believed/ him without question unlike every other person he’d presented his theory to. Pleaded his innocence to. Raved his accusations to. “H.. How do you know about that?” The tremor Will heard in his voice was so like him before, before staring down Hannibal and calling him Ripper, but he felt just as out of control and his depth as he did back then as his mind had betrayed him.

“This fantastic invention called 'the Internet’?” The blonde smirked knowingly back at him as he jerked away from her, hands fisted tightly around the pages and pages detailing every sick thing that had been attributed to her smaller ones. His rejection seemed to finally find a chink in her act, though Will could not work out what that would symbolise in such a woman. Or at least the woman on paper. “You know, I think that Freddie Lounds has a bit of a crush on you? She covered your case and your claims and everythin’, even the stuff struck from record, about you down. Or did you mean how did I know you were trying to hunt me down?”

“Both really.” He grunted the words out, the flood of arrogance in her own question rubbed his hair the wrong way. Will would have expected his newest assignment from Jack to be somewhat classified. He’d only glimpsed the type of file she had a few times in past, and they passed over so few desks. Only the profilers and agent attached. Will would not be surprised if he was a last ditch attempt so far as she was concerned. The brothers he’d heard of before were easier to find, always travelling and frequently found involved in other crimes - but this one? He couldn’t tell why that didn’t occur for her as well, though he attributed it to the same reason she felt like she belonged there. Right where she was. “Freddie Lounds may be a good reporter, but she does not have the kind of reach to know about this.” He rustled the pages in his fist at her, an echo of a threat that she needed- no, he wanted- her to explain herself. And what may happen if she did not comply.

Winston’s growl was not something Will was used to hearing, as the woman shifted in her spot and twisted away from continuing to stroke him as she turned her attention fully to Will himself. Obviously he and she both had been spoiling him. “In that case. I have an IT guy. He lets me know if I pop up on anyone’s radar.” That smirk, it was almost as infuriating as Hannibal’s though for a completely different reason, almost made him embarrassed for questioning her. She was playing a whole different game than Will knew the rules for - serial killers, sociopaths, men with god complexes and those who had lost their minds somewhere down the track, who saw the same world that Will did but from a different light. Those were the people he could consume and become, almost too far sometimes. But this game was in a different world - her settings were the same, but the characters and rules called for things outside of what he could predict or understand.

“Robert Singer, of South Dakota, correct?” The affection she spoke about her 'guy’ made the assumption an easy jump. Even if her madness was still outside of his sight, the connections, the human elements that were clear as day within her from the moment she first spoke, were not hard for him to hazard out. The man’s name had been in her file, he was with her mother, a woman she desperately tried to resemble unconsciously beneath the active and aware disobedience and refusal. It was a logical step, an emotional leap, a rational response; as he moved towards his desk to smooth the papers to be put back in the manilla folder.

“Bobby?!” He almost jumped at the sound of laughter behind him. It had been a long time since there had been more than a huffed noise or sarcastic chuckle around him. It sounded like music in comparison, as Will stared back at her over his shoulder. It was strange to hear, and stranger to realise the lack of such a sound in his life. And how he didn’t want that sort of normalcy to leave. Even if it was from the mouth of a murderer. “No, not Bobby. I didn’t see him on any of the accurate pages in here..” The speed in which she flipped through the pages was the first show of her even being more than a normal woman. He couldn’t let that get away.

There was no way that she could be normal. Nothing about her could be allowed to be normal; no one normal and stable could cause the desecration that she did. Even he had slipped and slided to the point that he was visually not normal. /Unstable/. Will had to find the holes in her armour, the edge to her mask. There had to be something inside of her to corrupt such a normal, beautiful girl all those years ago. Perhaps it was the brothers. The older man. Her mother. Her absent father. There was too many and not enough; he could not see her yet. He wanted to see what was underneath it all and find all the marks of the darkness she wrought. He had to see her. Find her. Be her.

“So what exactly made you decide that breaking into the home of the agent hunting you?” With a shake of his head, dark whisps fallen across his vision as he turned away from staring longingly yet again, Will’s tone was edged in a way that held a threat that he didn’t know he could follow with. A threat she would not care if he did. “To see what I know about you. What that file says about you.” His hand smoothed carefully over the page before him -/JH pictured in Act #45 with victim #73 also pictured/. Her hair was darker in the photograph, stained grey from the shoddy security camera as she pressed the man, victim #73, against a wall in one shot before her hand became filled with a bowie knife the size of her arm and the knife disappeared within the victims neck in the third image. Her eyes held the same life and balance, awareness and stability, that they did now as he turned to face her again. “To…correct it?”

“Well first off, you’re not a real agent. But well done.” He didn’t want that tone to disappear, the lightness and amusement breathing into the house in the same way his dogs did and his fly hooks did for him. It was life, even as he turned his back on the proof that she dealt and spent in the exact opposite of it. She wasn’t mocking him; Will could see that much of her. She was mocking the agency, but not him. “You’re not just a pretty face then, was startin’ to think I’d have to be sweet on you with that sad puppy look. I’m here to correct you on a few things, and make a very clear point as well…”

Will froze in position as her feet dropped off the side of the bed with a thud, the almost predatory way she moved so alike but unlike the monster’s gaze sent a shiver along his spine. He was like the deer in Hobb’s crossfires; the next 'pig’ to Hannibal’s sounder. He was the fish he would catch and she was the lure. Helpless, weak, outmatched; but captured and captivated without a sound. She didn’t move like she was hunting her prey though, she moved like a lioness stalking around her cubs - the alertness there but none of the intent.

“Now, I was just stoppin’ by to tell you to stop trying to catch me. I’m not what you think I am, I’m /protectin’/ people out there - not killing them.” He had been wrong to think her voice would have been soft before, there was very little about her that was now as they stood toe-to-toe - him blocking her way from the building and her crowding him back as though to pull him in instead. Will’s fingers itched, though he wasn’t sure if it was for the missing holster at his hips or to reach out and touch her - to see if she was real and really there, or a return to the fever dreams of confusion and disillusionment that he’d had before. “If you don’t believe me about that, then believe me when I say that if you come after me you will disappear in a way none of your Federal buddies will be able to find you. But if you do believe me, then read through these carefully,” Her voice dropped, softer and huskier than the threats before them, as she pressed a hand to his chest. His own covered hers. It was warm, small; /soft/ like he’d thought. The papers remained as she slipped her hand from his, brown eyes wide as she stared up at him. She reeked of desperation. For him to trust her. Like she trusted him about Hannibal. “Follow the patterns and you’ll be able to find me amongst the truth of it.”

There was a frown on her face as she stared back at him, as though expecting his response to match her when all he could do was stare and gulp at her. His throat was dry. He couldn’t do anything but watch her, observe her, find her somewhere in the moves she made as he clung to the pages and she bent to tug her boots back on. Jack would want him to nab her here and there; she was a menace, a danger, unstable. Hannibal would have had a place for her on his table the moment she entered his house uninvited. Alana would never have stepped over the threshold. But Will saw something, nothing and he had to see what it meant. He couldn’t see if her words were honest and truthful or just a carefully concealed lie from behind a mask of innocence and assurance. He couldn’t see what was her reality and what was his, and how they could ever align to make her stability make sense within his world.

It wasn’t until Winston’s head butted against his calf that Will blinked his way out of the void between his world and hers, to find she had vacated his completely. The faint smell of vanilla, metal and chocolate in the air, a scent he’d not identified until she’d brushed past him and out of his door across the fields as being the smell of her, was all that lingered in the wake of her visit. His hand tightened across the pages she’d left him with, the rest of her file fell across the bed haphazardly and onto the floor aside from his rescued pictures of her. This was what she said was the answer. Would be his answer. Would point him to her, to find her, to understand her, to /see/ her. As he unrumpled the page between his hands, Will frowned at the post-it note within it with a city and date scrawled across it – ‘/Carthage, Missouri. 11/19/2009/’

---

A little town in the middle of nowhere. Population of approximately fourteen thousand, with two schools and enough quaint charm that those who grew up there would return after college with a partner and two children but isolated enough to create the ‘small town angst’ for every teenager and high school drop out to harbor deep inside until they were old and jaded, in November, 18th, 2009. Carthage was a sleepy hollow on the edge of Missouri that would be a pleasant detour when travelling across the country. The township is best known for its maple trees. /Was/ best known for them.

The post-it note had led him to a dead end, of the literal kind. It had taken longer than he cared to consider to find his way there. Jack had found cases he needed Will’s special expertise for left and right, and the number of students who had begun to turn their attention to his classes and field had begun to grow as his infamy settled into curiosity rather than terror. He’d not heard a word about how his profiling was going on the young woman, and he’d not turned his thoughts to her consciously until the several weeks had passed.

Unconsciously however, she filled his dreams the same way Garret Jacob Hobbs had as he tried to puzzle his way into her. His mantle piece would be covered in severed heads with closed eyes, blood dripping its way over the edge of the wood to drip onto the floorboards or run down the wall until a pool would surround the angel of death – her blonde hair darkened as the blood coated the outside edges and around the rest of her frame. Dark brown eyes would stare up at him, a silent scream for help or a warning he couldn’t tell, before her arm and blade would rise to point at the heads, the silver bowie knife in her grip dripping with the same red liquid that stuck to her and ran over his feet. When he’d look back to the mantle the heads’ eyes would be open and focussed on him before their mouths opened in a deafening hiss, fanged teeth coated in thick blood right before he’d awaken in a cold sweat again.

It had taken him five weeks before the nightmares finally were beyond ignorable. He’d slipped up in one of his so called therapy session the previous week about them to Hannibal – a wrong comment about his thoughts on the doctor being far from the most disturbing in his mind brought the entire conversation around through twists and turns like all their discussions did – and despite Will’s promise to himself to avoid playing the same runs that the other wanted or suggested for him to do, he found the post-it note pulled from its place amongst photographs of the woman and the researching beginning anew as Hannibal had suggested. The other psychiatrist suggested that the dreams, or more importantly the fear he felt upon waking up for her, were his way of seeking out an answer, a meaning or some logic to her actions that Will needed. Closure for brushing against her so frequently, tugging and pushing and pressing into her all that time before she breezed out of his door. For him to be able to understand a puzzle he couldn’t make out, the same as the puzzle Will was still unravelling with Hannibal himself. And that was what he found himself attempting to follow, the same way Alice followed the elusive white rabbit down the rabbit hole – though he hoped to retain what little remained of his sanity.

He had started with the file itself, pouring over the names and places the blonde woman had struck until the deeds she’d committed barely made him blink or shocked. Until they were just words on paper rather than bodies in alleyways or heads on the mantle. Blood in her hair. Will plotted her movements, the dates and the times, the start of each new string of horrors that culminated in deaths or property destruction or the desecration of bodies. He wrote her name and her cities, he breathed in her movements across time and country as though it would tell him where she would go next, how she came to hand him that puzzling piece of paper with that town she’d never been to scrawled across it. He’d had to pause and take a pill for the headache he was developing as the times started to smash together; a jumble of times and places all at once or stacked on top of each other. His glasses felt tight and the truth of the matter seemed further and further away the more he pried into what was hers, the confused jumble of times she would be killing a man with a silver bullet on one side of the country at midnight and leaving another mutilated and missing a heart on the other just six hours later, and so forth felt like a shock to the mind to reconcile them both to the same person. Especially the small woman who’d smelt of desserts.

The timeline was the first chink in his belief for the file over her though, where she’d had no holes or gaps, the story the reports painted was as riddled with them as the bodies shot though with bows and arrows and bullets in her wake. Will didn’t believe she wasn’t capable of murder, that her hands were clean or that she was framed the way that a tube down the throat packed with the ear of a loved one was, but something was wrong with the picture the FBI was trying to interpret her from. Perhaps he was too close, perhaps her personal greeting had twisted him with her laughs and her smiles. Or perhaps he was again seeing what others at the bureau didn’t.

Papers and police reports, census data and Wikipedia, were next yet none of them explained what would be of interest for a serial killer in the small sleepy township. Other than a few unexplained home invasions and the typical drunk-and-disorderly reports the town was clean. Perfect. A small slice of the traditional and kitsch that had fallen through the cracks of time to retain its’ charm. The aging population was not a concern, and the local newspaper would drag on about the local college football’s team chances against others. There was nothing suspect or concerning at a cursory glance to the place. Carthage may have been built on a field drenched in blood, but Will could find nothing of it being that way now as he searched.

It wasn’t until that thought had crossed his mind that Will noticed the detail missing. The one clue amidst so much additional white noise that it had almost slipped right past him. In the same way that he found Garret Jacob Hobbs from a missing address – one small detail that would have made him another face in the crowd to Will if it weren’t for it. The quirk of a man out of place, and a place out of time. Nothing existed of Carthage, Missouri after November 19th, 2009. No newspaper articles, no census details, no police reports; even taxation records showed nothing from the town after that date. Will had even taken the weekend to fly out and visit – only to see the ghost town in the flesh as clearly as it was on paper. A town that disappeared in a day, the way that Rome fell in flames and Atlantis was said to have sunk beneath the waves. It was no more from that point, and nobody appeared to be concerned or know about it, except the writer of the note and her now curious counterpart.

—

The dead bodies were piled high across the yard, their carcasses all that was left after the scavengers had finished plucking every useable part from the corpse, forming a weaving labyrinth between the house and the collection of tin rooves and sheds across the property. It was a place that Will would not have been surprised to have found himself arriving at after a call from Jack. The rusted skeletons littering the grounds would inevitably end up filtered through into his nightmares tonight – the stag would prowl proudly amongst the wreckage while the angel would be pinned down somewhere or dashing before Will, always just out of reach whenever he grabbed for her. Last night he brushed the back of her red dress and smell of chocolate had haunted him into the waking world.

The dark haired man had weaved his way through the junk yard until he reached the old farm house. The boarded up windows on some of the rooms made him believe this would be another dead end, just like the one that led him to the abandoned town filled with parked cars, empty houses and rotted food throughout the stores with nobody to use them but ghosts. The only thing that didn’t fit the picture was the blown out wreckage of what appeared to be a hardware store by the collection of melted tools and nails. It would have all been pointless, a wild goose chase, in his mind if he hadn’t found a knife embedded into the wooden street lamp post outside of it from the blast. That dagger was the only suggestion he was on the right track and that something more had occurred, something that no small woman could do on her lonesome if she even did. It was her knife though, Will knew that much.

His first impression that the junkyard and house were abandoned was proven wrong as he moved to head up the small set of steps to the front door as the door opened at his approach. There was something all too familiar to him in the suspicious glare being levelled at him and the defensive stance of the older man as he stepped out the doorway. Robert Singer looked exactly like the grainy photographs of the man in the file, the lines above his brows a little deeper and the depth of age and wear in his eyes the only differences that reality could give into the man’s life that a long-shot lens couldn’t. “Mr. Singer, right? My name’s Will Graham, I’m with the F-”

“The FBI, I’m aware of who you are. Face splashed all across the papers not so long ago.” The gruff tone was not at all unexpected, though it took care for him to keep his face from hiding the surprise at the straight awareness. Sure he’d been outed nationally as the possible Copy Cat Killer, but that had been weeks since dropped, and to remember a name and a face so long when so unrelated? The strange awareness and calculation that the blonde had had cloaked the older man as well, even more tightly wrapped around him from what had to have been years longer. “What I’m not aware of is why I’d be getting’ a visit from the Feds.”

The accusing tone behind the words made Will want to run back down the stairs and tell Jack to forget about it, that the blonde was one crazy no one would be finding any time soon, that there was no chance, no logic, no reason to her and the whole world she existed in outside of their own. That even he couldn’t see into her like he could the other brands of crazy and murderous. That perhaps Hannibal would be a better suggestion. Though the second that that thought crossed his mind, he wanted nothing more than to stop that ever becoming a reality. There was too much life to be lost there, and Will gave a soft sigh at himself for even thinking it; Hannibal was someone to wish upon himself and nobody else, that torment was Will’s to bear, not the sprite. He could already see what an elaborate masquerade would be made to display her – warm eyes dulled and lips stained red from blood as she was laid across the alter, hands clasping the bouquet of her knives as the empty fired shells surrounded like rose petals and the gap between neck and chest gaping wide like some she’d leave behind, all to disguise what part of her the other psychiatrist had stolen away from her – and it made his stomach turn to consider just what private showing that would be put on as well now he knew of it.

He swallowed down those thoughts as a sharp knock of metal on wood jerked him back out of his mind, a round of blinking before Will reconciled that the rap was from the barrel of the old shotgun against the door frame that caught him back. The other man’s comfort with the weapon as well as considering look made him want to shudder as he tucked his hands awkwardly into the front pockets of his dark denim jeans. If there was a moment to wish he had worn a jacket he could fumble with it was now. “Ah, well, I’m not here officially speaking – I..am trying to find an acquaintance of yours.” Will got the words out as clearly as he could, the loathesome look upon Robert’s face did nothing to calm his thoughts and the thought to lie about his reasons vanished alongside it. “Joanna Harvelle, I’ve… I’m supposed to be creating a criminal profile on her, but I can’t.”

“And you thought comin’ to an acquaintance of someone you’re huntin’ to get inside their heads was a good idea?” The look in the other’s eyes sent a shiver down his spine. It was almost like staring down the stag, facing the monster and looking unblinkingly into its face. Almost. There wasn’t the lack of warmth deep inside, the cold detachment from humanity like the cool icy-blue behind Hannibal’s eyes was missing within the older man’s. “Boy, you’re well out of your mind.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine this man being close to Joanna, the same hard edges jutting out sharply underneath it all amongst the same smooth corners, worn away from years of abuse and hardship. Will could see this man clearer than his lure though, the way his entire house seemed to have build and grow and age alongside him, the wear of the world toughening his skin, hands and mind while the pains he’d seen come and go left his heart scarred yet open. He wanted to protect, defend, save…father those around him, in a way he had never been cared for, and yet the aggression was still there, the same drive to find and destroy and underlying current of dangerous energy was still the same as the blonde’s if only dulled by time, age and wisdom. They were from the same cloth, that same world Will couldn’t understand, but at different points; she was consumed within it, while Robert had slowly let it slip back again. The absent thought of just how many unsolved murders years ago in the records room could be tied up to the man before him crossed his mind before shoving that aside for another day.

He coughed slightly, a faint worry that perhaps his encephalitis might have flared its nostrils again, as he averted his gaze at Robert’s brushing against the truth. “If you read TattleTale, you’d know better than the question it.” Will reached up, fiddling with his glasses for a second as the older man shifted his weight. He couldn’t quite find the words to explain it, why he was here, what he would do with whatever he found, who he would tell it to; that all he wanted to find out was why the blade engraved with her last name found amongst the rubble was iron unlike most. He leant down to slide the blade under the door, facing up and the small sliver of light making her name shine. “I might be mad, but if anyone’d have answers about her it’d be you. And... I have something of hers, I- I think she needs it back...” He trailed off awkwardly, the confusion he could feel bubbling through him was the same in his voice, and he was surprised to realise his voice didn’t crack of waver as he waited. Baited breath and half expecting the door to be slammed in his face or the barrel of the gun to rise between his eyes, Will closed his eyes as he awaited the older man to play his move in return.

The door thunked back open in response, as the older man turned, gun at his hip now rested back in the umbrella stand and the quiet stillness of the house reached out, beckoned to him to come inside. “If I’m goin’ to be answering whatever questions you got, we’ll need some coffee.” Robert’s voice echoed out of the hallway as he disappeared from sight somewhere behind the air motes and faint sunlight that floated down from the landing window before Will finally moved. He rose awkwardly as he stepped through the threshold, decision made to follow the shiny lure up out of the murky confusion and darkness if he could, and if the older man could provide the push, he’d take it. The sharp cold of the steel in his hand catching him as it’s true owner had, pulling him deeper through the dark.

[dat-imagine-tho]

Hufflepuff and Hufflestuff

Pairing: Snape x Reader 

Warnings: None 

Requested: Yes. Prompt: A Snape x Reader where she’s his wife of like 5 years but she’s still really young and she’s the head of Hufflepuff and all lovely and kind and one day all the students find out she’s his wife really casually and everyone is like “What?!”

 A/N: Gif is not mine. I don't know why I came up with such a lame name but I can't stop laughing. I feel like this needs more Severus... anyway, thanks Anon!! enjoy! 

You could not cease the bubbling excitement that your stomach had become. It was, after all, that day of the year once more. 

Your students seemed to notice your euphoria and mirrored it in their work. It was contagious. It wasn't unlike you to be happy, and most of all kind, you were a Hufflepuff after all. However, this seemed a bit different, your students could not place it. 

"Miss," one of your students raised their hand to ask a question. Your smile alone gave permission to speak, "Do you have plans for the break?" Seeing as the schoolwork was easily completed for the last day of term. The look on all of your students' faces was confirmation enough to know that today was a warm day, not only in temperature but the tranquil atmosphere. Putting formalities aside, your students eagerly wanted to engage in casual conversation with you.

You didn't mind such questions and indulged in informal discussions with your 6th years. "I'm afraid I will just bore you. I have to prepare for the next school term for when you arrive back from holidays." "Really, you don't have anything planned? You can't even take a little break?" One of your students spoke out of term but the endearment warmed your heart. 

 With a small laugh and a shake of your head, you explained, "It won't be all bad. I'll be helping Professor Snape with locating fresh and bought ingredients, and helping him stock them." 

"Oh Miss," the female student disregarded twisting her long brown hair around her finger, "that's not a proper break." "Aren't you doing anything special?" Interjected a dark-haired pupil whose uniform was untucked messily under his sweater with his sleeves pushed precariously above his elbows. 

You smiled still, "I am actually doing something nice tonight. And besides, I may still be working over the break but I don't have to attend classes and I can still sleep in all I want," you tried to convince the blank staring pupils, "I've had plenty of holidays when I was your age, if I manage my time well I can still sleep in and relax." 

 The brunette from earlier had a look mixed with shock and disgust, "How do you manage that?!" You laughed probably too loudly than you should have, "With great difficulty." It was true, work is hard, but you had to 'adult' no matter how much you didn't want to. At least when doing boring things you got to drink wine now so that was a perk. Too unprofessional to bring that point across even if the majority were already nearing eighteen. 

"Do you know what, Miss? Have you ever thought about Professor Lupin?" Your eyes widened at the girl in the second row. You brows knitted together in confusion, "How do you mean?" "Well, I just mean, like, you seem lonely. I don't mean any offence at all Professor!" Another girl came to her defence, "Yeah, Courtney's right. Have some fun, go to Hogsmeade, go on a date, or not, but don't stay here all break. Plus there are some cute guys your age in Hogsmeade." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at you. 

You made a start to shut down the conversation's direction, "Well, I don't think I'm at liberty to discuss this with-" Before you could put an end to the most unprofessional conversation in the classroom thus far, the statements of your dating life had made the whole class erupt in a flurry of agreements and suggestions. 

Above the noise, a blond Quidditch seeker from Ravenclaw cut in, "Do you know whose cute, that new bartender from the Three Broomsticks." Everyone turned and looked at him and silently nodded and murmured agreements. "Students aren't permitted at the bar, how do you know so much about what the bartender looks like?" You looked at him very quizzically seeing a flash of horror on his face before he regained himself and attempted to change the subject. 

"Miss," he said slowly, "we're just concerned about you having a horrible holidays. And I think the class would agree that you two would make a cute couple." "That's very kind of you all, but I'm actually married." You confessed finally. "WHAT?! SINCE WHEN?!" One of them screamed. "Since five years ago when we said our vows and signed the marriage certificate." You shrugged nonchalantly. 

The room became quite uncomfortably silent. "But, you don't wear a ring." A student said hesitantly. A simple question with a simple answer you thought gratefully, "Rings get in the way with my line of work, the same reason my husband doesn't wear one either." "You're husband's a professor?!" The blond boy from earlier blurted out. Oh boy, you didn't think you gave too much away, but that Ravenclaw was so observant and seemed very good at reading a room.

You decided to take back control of the class and put your foot down, "That's enough. My personal life is of no concern to you. I know you all mean well but this topic of discussion is over." Your students looked dejected at your final statement but respected your wish. 

Seconds later there was a knock at the door, turning your head you noticed Professor Snape. You had folded you arms in discomfort hoping he hadn't heard anything. Nodding you non-verbally granted him access to the class. Very swiftly he took no time walking to you and holding out a letter. In the flurry of things and without thinking you opened it then and there, not even remembering that he normally preferred you to open it at a more appropriate time. He remained stoic all the same but confused by how you could have been so caught up to not realise it was a personal letter and not formalities. 

Your eyes skimmed the words, detailing how he was sorry he would be working late into the evening today and how he had to deliver it in person, less it fall into the wrong hands. You see, Snape was a private man, however he had a way with words that were especially ingrained in writing, a side of him only revealed to you. You read the last few lines, "I have set arrangements for dinner tonight. I won't have time to change completing my work, so, I will meet you at the Astronomy tower at 7. Love, Severus" 

You were so excited for tonight's events and what the lead up may entail; you could go have a relaxing bath after work and take as long as you like seeing as your husband was going to be late. Being that it was your 5th year anniversary you had a lovely night of romance to look forward to made you giddy. 

You smiled at Severus as he made for the exit. Before you could hold your tongue you let slip in your over-excited state, "Bye, love you, see you at 7!" He froze. Your eyes widened. Everything was silent, you could have heard a pin drop. Snape continued in a less than happy mood then when he entered, he could only think of the barrage of jokes that were to come now that the whole school would soon know he is married to the Head of Hufflepuff. 

Your students remained silent, that was until Professor Snape was well out of earshot when they erupted into wolf-whistles, cheers, echoes of confusion and shocked variants and, oddly enough supportive remarks. Including a boy saying, "Yes, Miss with the Snape man." You face-palmed as a deep red coated your cheeks. You would never live this down. 

After some time had passed and your relationship with the Potions Master was common knowledge, it seemed it wasn't so bad. Your class were quite good with the information, save the few inappropriate comments here and there. However, it was completely dangerous to attempt the same thing in the presence of your husband. 

One poor soul learnt that the hard way when Snape had once again appeared in your classroom. When leaving a boy copied you and shouted after him "Bye, love you!" Snape turned with a deadpan expression to face the over-zealous student. 

"You've just volunteered yourself for a detention. Scrubbing cauldrons. By hand." With that the professor turned quickly on his heels and left the room. 

He paused slightly when he heard the student complain to you, "Awe, come on Miss, that's not fair!" 

You laughed, "Well, you shouldn't have said it," in part seriousness you added after a slight pause, "What do you expect me to do?" 

Faint grumblings of the unfairness continued as Severus walked away with a slight smirk.

More?

[jiminwreckedme]

7 Letters...

PROLOGUE

| 1 | 2 |

Member - Taehyung x reader , Jungkook x reader

Genre - Angst, Fluff, (future) smut

Warnings - none for this chapter

Word count - 1,936

Summary -  A mysterious person who writes on your skin, an interesting co-worker who is making his way into your heart. A man whose past you need to know and a man who needs to understand your present. In a  journey that takes you beyond the boundaries of time, sanity and love, you are left torn between choices to make and decisions to take.

And no. Not everything was about love. It was also about destiny.

[A/N] - This is my original work and has in no way has been plagerised. If you see a story similar to this that was posted by @bts-things-we-all-imagine please know that I am the owner of that blog and that I have abandoned it because of certain issues. I’m reposting my work on this, my new url and have edited it heavily (cause why not :), but it is all my words and my work only.

A black lane.....a small bridge......two swords......a ring spinning on the floor.......the painting of an unknown someone....the sound of a flute...a strange constriction cutting your breath....

and you begin to scream.

You feel your body arch against your bed and crash into in, forcing your eyes to fly open at the suddenness. Air. You need air. It’s as though someone wrapped a bag over your head, forced water to flood your lungs and placed a ten pound weight on your chest and all your intercoastal muscles can do nothing but strain against it. Every muscle in you has given up the fight to devour oxygen, letting the darkness which robs away the daylight, steal you sanity.

Kicking the sheets off your body you sit up scrambling frantically, bringing your knees to your chest and burying your face in them, your hands habitually  covering your ears, desperate to run away from nothing and everything. The noises. They always take a while to calm down, slowly ebbing away, bringing back your breath and your ability to think again. Dragging your hands behind your head, smoothing your messed up bed hair, you feel the beads of sweat trailing down you neck as you gently massage it. Air is beginning to tickle in your lungs once more and you lift your head letting your vision adjust to the shadows.

It’s okay I’m home. I’m home. Everything is fine. You tell yourself. But you know it is a lie. Nothing about you is fine.

Flipping the switches of your bedside lamp to drive away the darkness, you swing your legs off the bed onto the cold tiled floor, not flinching even a bit at the sudden lack of warmth. When every inch of your body was shivering already, a minor change in temperature was hardly going to affect you. Pulling your slightly damp hair into a bun, you walk across your bedroom space into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. The dishes you avoided doing last night are still in your sink staring at you disapprovingly making your insides curl in shame. You quickly gulp the liquid, letting it flow down your sandpaper throat, to avoid looking at it.

The soft beep of your alarm clock rings loudly in the silence of the night. You know by experience that it is 2. 2 in the morning and as usual you are devoid of sleep. It would be a while before it comes back to you. Even though it was the same dream running over and over again in your head, it still managed to leave you breathless and panting and sweating and knee deep in fear. It would take a while for your body to come back to normal.

Striding towards the bookshelf in the corner of your room you pull out a small notebook and a pen and sink into the couch next to it, skimming through the thin papers, eyes falling on your years of notes - small scribbles of blue and black here and there, huge paragraphs formed by illegible handwriting, rough sketches of places, people and things.

It’s your collection. A collection of all the things that haunt you every night. Things that you know are more than just random flashes of images in your mind. Things that mean something, something you have been trying to figure out for ages now, but in vain. You quickly scribble down tonight’s details before the faint memories of your dream fade away.

Biting you lip you read through your words again, cutting some of them and then writing again, making the scratch of the pen against the paper the only sound other than the train that passes by, causing your whole house to shake. You read through it again, once, twice, three times until you finally slam it shut annoyed, letting your eyes fall on the place you were really concentrating on. Your hands.

Why wasn’t he saying something tonight? You want to talk to him, tell him that you saw something new  today - a ring. A golden engraved metal studded with a single red stone, spinning on the floor as though someone dropped it. You had never seen that before. Never once in the last 16 years did you remember seeing that. Yes your dreams did change everyday, but it was cyclic. The same images would flash again after a few days but never a new one. And you want to know what he thought about it. Now that you could see new things, what did it mean? But he wasn’t saying a word.

You get up sighing irritably and stuff the book back in its place, clutching the pen harder than you should in your disappointment. What was wrong with him today? Every night the moment you see a dream he writes to you to calm you down, then why not today? Why did he not-

And the familiar tingle runs across your hand, black curves, lines and crescents forming letters with seraphic expertise and confidence. Though they send a funny feeling under your skin, yet their presence calms you.

Did you not get dreams tonight?

You frown at that confused at the complete contrary response. You were expecting him to talk to you about that ring you saw but he was asking if.......

The words sink in your skin, new ones replacing them.

You aren’t asleep are you? You can’t be, I know you read what I said. But if you read it then….

You straighten, all your senses working far too sharply for someone in the dead of the night. Then what?

Then why can’t I read your thoughts?

You panic, feeling the breathlessness come to you again. The silence is suddenly deafening and everything around you is starting to spin and phosphenes are dancing before you even with your eyes wide open and nothing is making sense. 

You are unable to fathom what he is saying. What did he mean he cannot read you?

I can’t feel what you are thinking, everything is so empty, it feels like you are not there. But I know you are and I know you are reading this then why can’t I feel you?

And all of last New years fireworks set off in your body. Every nerve of your being is screaming in fear. Fear that one feels when losing someone who is a constant support in your life. Someone who is an anchor in this mirage of a world. Someone who is anonymous yet familiar. A stranger yet more of a family than anyone.

Tears begin to prick your eyes, and your body is uncontrollably shaking and you want to say so many things yet nothing is able to leave your body but short, rapid breaths of air. Your mind is thinking. Thinking fast about what had changed and what went wrong and why the universe was against you tonight. You look around tensed, gulping the cold air as though the silence around you holds answers. But-

Stop.

And that one word is like a defibrillator for your racing heart. Stop what?

Are you holding a pen?

You look at your hand only just feeling the cool touch of the metal. You didn’t even realize you are holding on to the pen all this while even though you had gripped it tight enough to leave marks of blue ink on your palm.

Write something on your hand.

You stare at the message, rolling the device in your hand nervously, as you remember the last time you tried that. It was about 6-7 years ago maybe, when he first spoke to you.

It had been so many years since then and you still didn’t understand how he knew exactly what to say all the time, how he knew details of your dreams even you could hardly remember, how he understood every emotion of yours so clearly. And over time you learnt one thing - he couldn’t read your mind that was for sure because he was aware of a lot of things about you but not everything.

He never seemed to have knowledge of the things that you knew but didn’t pertain to you. Like your friends’ secrets or the gossip you shared with your colleagues or the useless stuff you read on the internet. He only seemed to know matters that were personal to you, closest to your heart.

So he never knew how curious you were about him. He never knew that you wanted to know why you shared such a connection with him and why it had to be you of all people and why he never talked about himself. But most importantly you wanted to know who. Who he was.

And obviously a very simple logic had struck in your teenage head. He speaks to you through words on your skin, so technically you should do be able to do the same. The day is still fresh in your mind when you were pacing around your classroom, thinking hard about how to phrase your words and how you finally sat down in a corner trying to mimic his beautiful handwriting on your hand. But nothing happened. The ink just stayed till it was washed away, never reaching him, never letting you to say the things you wanted him to hear or ask the questions you needed him to answer. And soon you grew to accept that it is a one way thing. Only he is allowed to speak to you.

But now he is asking you to try and you don’t hesitate to hold the pen and let it hover over your skin. You know there was no point, that it will fail. But right now you are desperate. Desperate to keep this unknown man from leaving your side. Desperation can make one do so many things. At thi moment you are ready to let vultures gnaw out your intestines if it means reestablishing your connection with him again, repeating a failed act is no big deal. There is no harm in trying again right?

And you bring the pen down to the back of your right hand and write what is bothering you the most.

So is this the end?

And you stare at your hand for too long that night, watching the words linger there like they always do. But then the universe really is playing with you and your breathing hitches again, eyes widening and a small gasp leaves your tired body. They sink.

The blue words sink right through your skin, every last trace of them disappearing like they were never there in the first place. Your hand is trembling, fingers shaking in a crazy motion and if it is the cold or excitement or fear, you cannot tell. You don’t even have the time to think about it and decide because within seconds the emptiness is replaced with his blank letters.

No. I think it is a new beginning and I think I know why.

A pause. He gives a maddening, long sick pause of a few seconds before -

Happy 24th birthday beautiful.

The words jolt you to reality as you rush across your living room towards your bedside, knocking a few things on the way, your hair leaving its knot and falling around your shoulders, your toe aching from banging against the edge of the dining table. Still out of breath you notice the time on your clock just crossed two and the date today was a familiar one and stare at it only just realizing what the universe you hate so much has been conspiring.

[harryseducation]

Education and The Law

The Law on home education in England

Home education is legal throughout the UK, although the laws in the four areas of the UK (England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales) are not exactly the same.

It is simply where a parent takes responsibility for their children’s education rather than registering them with a school.

Education is compulsory but not necessarily by attending a school.

“According to the 1996 education act in England and Wales, it is parents (not the state) who are responsible for providing their children’s education ‘at school or otherwise’. Their education must be suitable for the age, ability and aptitude of each child. The same wording is used in Northern Ireland. Scottish law says that ‘every child has a right to an education, and it is the duty of the parent of every school age child to provide that education, either by sending the child to school, or by other means.”

Home educators in the UK do not have to be trained teachers, nor do they need any special qualifications to educate their children.                          

The law requires that all children are to be educated from the start of the school term following their fifth birthday all the way through until they are 18. At this older age the child must be in education, employment or training.

Education at home does not mean you are bound by school hours or term times.

A child educated at home is more likely to receive one-on-one contact and there are no times lost from moving to class to class, disruptions, assemblies, fire drills and so on.  A home educated child is more likely to receive the parents full attention as there are not 20+ other children to attend to.

Some children do not fit in the school system, like my son, Harry, he could not cope in school, completed next to no work for his last six months there, and so fell behind his peers. He has learnt so much more since being educated at home. He is eager to learn now that he can.

You do not require a private tutor to come in and teach your child, however if you wish to have a tutor for some subjects you are allowed to do this.

You do not need to keep a log of what you have done with your child, however many families do like to keep a blog, website, facebook or twitter page, youtube channel or scrapbook in order to keep some sort of record of what they have been doing and/or to show family and friends.  

I have all of the above! I want to show off all the things we do together as a family and share our experiences with others. I find that my children remember in more detail some of our experiences when they can look back at the pictures and things we have collected along the way.

It is also a great way to connect with friends, family, other home educators, and others when they show an interest!

Education Act 1996 (England and Wales)

“Duty of parents to secure education of children of compulsory school age: The parent of every child of compulsory school age shall cause him to receive efficient full-time education suitable— (a) to his age, ability and aptitude, and (b) to any special educational needs he may have, either by regular attendance at school or otherwise.” (Section seven)

This means that education must be suited to the abilities and aptitudes of the particular child and not some programme. So, what does “efficient” and “suitable” mean?

Efficient and Suitable

Efficient has been broadly described as an education that “achieves that which it sets out to achieve” and A suitable education is one that “primarily equips a child for life within the community of which he is a member, rather than the way of life in the country as a whole, as long as it does not foreclose the child’s options in later years to adopt some other form of life if he wishes to do so”. (Mr Justice Woolf in the case of R v Secretary of State for Education and Science, ex parte Talmud Torah Machzikei Hadass School Trust. 12 April 1985.)

You are not required to:

* teach the National Curriculum * have a timetable * have premises equipped to any particular standard * set hours during which education will take place * have any specific qualifications * make detailed plans in advance * observe school hours, days or terms * give formal lessons * mark work done by their child * formally assess progress or set development objectives * reproduce school type peer group socialisation * match school-based, age-specific standards.

The Department of Education does recommend the following weekly teaching hours for children in a school, as well as those receiving an education at home 21 hours for children aged 5 to 7         (4.2 hours a day) 23.5 hours for children aged 8 to 11    (4.7 hours a day) 24 hours for children aged 12 to 18     (4.8 hours a day) for 38 weeks of the year.

Now, if like us, you work through the schools holidays and some weekends then that daily teaching time could effectively be lower. However, with Harry and many other children educated at home, they don’t do less just because they can, they tend to cover more than they would at school. In fact, with IGCSE’s, many home educated children complete a two year course in much less a time due to having more time to study.

It is worth remembering that whilst these amount of hours are recommended, children in school receiving the same amount of hours do not get full on one to one help and supervision. They do more than one subject each day so time is wasted when changing books or moving to another classroom or even school area.

A child at home has, more often than not, immediate contact with the educator for guidance, so lessons/learning time tends to last longer than they would at school. There is no, or little, moving around from lesson to lesson area, and the child is not fighting for the attention to get help in order to complete work.

Children learning at home can work at a slower pace if needed.

The opportunity to learn more on a subject than you would at school is greater too.

In a school setting the teacher allows a certain amount of time for each activity or set piece of work, this allows each pupil a chance to ask for help, allows some pupils more time than others need, and ensures that the work gets completed.

However, at home, there are less children and so what may take an hour in a school setting may only take 15 minutes at home. This means a child educated at home is able to complete more work in that same time frame.

The opportunity to learn is all around us so it is important to not worry too much about sitting at a table all day in order to learn. We took a trip to the beach recently and the children took some activity learning sheets on the train with us, they did not see it as learning until we got home and I told them to place it in their learning folders.  They also had a talk with the life guard on duty, again they did not think of it as learning until they realised they had learnt from it.

Have fun with learning!

What do I have to teach?

Compulsory subjects at school are as follows

English                                 Maths Science Design and Technology Computing History Geography Art and Design Music Physical education, including swimming Ancient and modern foreign languages Citizenship (keystage 3&4) Sex education  (keystage 3&4)

The Government says that If your child attends school at a later date it is advisable to be aware of what is taught in schools for each year group (the national curriculum) so that they are not at a disadvantage with their peers. I can assure you that this is not always the case. A child can enter or re enter school at any stage without prior knowledge of what schools have taught in the year groups they have been at home for.

The National curriculum does not need to be followed at home as it does in school, however some home educators do loosely follow it, examples can be found on these sites

Government website for National curriculum and National curriculum

The National Curriculum sets targets for what each year group should have knowledge of. This is then interpreted by the teacher in the form of lesson ideas and projects in the classroom.

For example if a target for a year 3 pupil states ‘introduction to decimals, basic understanding of decimals’ this would mean that the teacher will teach the class of year 3’s basic decimal understanding. The teacher will possibly print some worksheets or use the whiteboard and the children will write in their maths books.  So, if you were following the curriculum at home you could go online and print some worksheets off or go into a store such as wh smith and buy a workbook for age 8-9 and the book will cover basic decimal understanding for that age range.

With so many readily available workbooks and worksheets, lesson ideas and information sites online, it is so easy to find work suitable for your child.

There are lots of workbooks based on the curriculum that you can find in shops like Waterstones, Wilkinson and WH Smith. We use a variety of workbooks. The workbooks cover a small age range and cover the Governments guidelines. A workbook will save you having to find the same resources to print off online.

How much will an education at home cost?

There are no funds available for home educators but it really does not have to be  expensive.

There are plenty of websites that offer free worksheets, lesson plans, and online work.

You may wish to purchase second workbooks or share and swap with other educators. A book labelled workbook does not need to be used in way of writing in the book, you can practise more handwriting by asking the questions and getting your child to write the question in a different book as well as the answer.

You could also use it just as a guide and modify the questions.

Local Authority

The Local authority will write to you once they have received notification from your child’s school that they have been removed from the register.

You are under no obligation to invite them into your home or to meet them in a neutral place, such as your local library, to provide them with any information regarding how you will educate your child at home. You may send them an educational philosophy.

Many home educators do allow visits, but there are many more that do not. Now this is where lot’s of home educators have positive and negative contact with their local authority. Some families have a great relationship with their local authority, others do not. Education Act 1996

“(1) If it appears to a local education authority that a child of compulsory school age in their area is not receiving suitable education, either by regular attendance at school or otherwise, they shall serve a notice in writing on the parent requiring him to satisfy them within the period specified in the notice that the child is receiving such education.” (Section 437) How these formal enquiries are to be conducted is further laid out in the 1996 act. They are also addressed in the government guidelines to LAs re electively home educated children, published by the DCSF (now renamed DfE) in November 2007 which advise that:

2.8 “Prior to serving a notice under section 437(1), local authorities are encouraged to address the situation informally. The most obvious course of action, if the local authority has information that makes it appear that parents are not providing a suitable education, would be to ask parents for further information about the education they are providing. Such a request is not the same as a notice under section 437(1), and is not necessarily a precursor for formal procedures.”

*The authority therefore has no duty toward a home-educated child unless it appears to them that a child is not in receipt of a suitable education. In such a case, the parent will need to ask, “Can it reasonably appear to the local authority that my child is not in receipt of a suitable education?” (Bear in mind that, if they have no information at all, the LA can make that assumption.) It is reasonable to ask if the authority has cause to think the education is not suitable so that you can address their concerns directly.

If the local authority has no information concerning the educational provision of a child in their area, they have the right (but not the duty) to make enquiries of the parents to ascertain whether they have a duty toward the child (eg: provision of school place, or section 437 duty.)

The guidelines state:

2.7 “Local authorities have no statutory duties in relation to monitoring the quality of home education on a routine basis.”

Summary 2

LAs must respect the wishes of parents in relation to the education of their children.

LAs have a duty to act only if it appears to them that a child is not receiving suitable education

Government guidelines advise LAs to first address the situation informally While LAs can ask for information, they have no duty to monitor home education ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Children Missing Education:

You may hear from your local authority that they need to speak to you because they have to keep a register of “Children Missing Education.” (CME)

Government guidelines state:

2.6 “Local authorities have a statutory duty under section 436A of the Education Act 1996, inserted by the Education and Inspections Act 2006, to make arrangements to enable them to establish the identities, so far as it is possible to do so, of children in their area who are not receiving a suitable education. The duty applies in relation to children of compulsory school age who are not on a school roll, and who are not receiving a suitable education otherwise than being at school (for example, at home, privately, or in alternative provision.) The guidance issued makes it clear that the duty does not apply to children who are being educated at home. ”

Repeat: children missing education register - The guidance issued makes it clear that the duty does not apply to children who are being educated at home

The Role of the State: Child Welfare

As a home educator, you may hear from your council that they have a welfare or safeguarding duty in relation to your home-educated child. Education Act 2002: states:

“(1) A local education authority shall make arrangements for ensuring that the functions conferred on them in their capacity as a local education authority are exercised with a view to safeguarding and promoting the welfare of children.” (Section 175)

The thing to remember about this is that the duty applies only when carrying out the functions conferred on them.

*There is no general duty to check child welfare conferred on them.

*Local authorities do not have a duty to ensure the safety of your child.

The Home Education Legal Guidance for Local Authorities states, in relation to this:

2.12 “Section 175(1) does not extend local authorities’ functions. It does not, for example, give local authorities powers to enter the homes of, or otherwise see, children for the purposes of monitoring the provision of elective home education.”

2.15 “As outlined above, local authorities have general duties to make arrangements to safeguard and promote the welfare of children (section 175 Education Act 2002 in relation to their functions as a local authority and for other functions in sections 10 and 11 of the Children Act 2004). These powers allow local authorities to insist on seeing children in order to enquire about their welfare where there are grounds for concern (sections 17 and 47 of the Children Act 1989).  However, such powers do not bestow on local authorities the ability to see and question children subject to elective home education in order to establish whether they are receiving a suitable education.”

Summary 3 CME does not apply to children who are being educated at home Local authorities have no general duty to check child welfare Local authorities do not have a duty to ensure the safety of your child There is no duty to monitor elective home education There is no power to question children to establish whether they are receiving a suitable education

[fluentlanguage]

What Gets Easier When You Study More Languages?

When you are learning your first foreign language, everything feels bizarre. Somewhere in your mind, it seems nuts that you might know that language confidently one day.

You start to look around at multilingual people, you watch a few YouTube videos, read a few blog articles. There's clearly people out there who are learning languages. They seem to know more than just one or two - some people know more than 10 languages!

Like most polyglots, people often ask me how many languages I speak. But recently, I was asked one question that made me think more deeply about why and how learning more languages works for me:

Does it get easier when you are learning more languages?

The short answer is "yes". It definitely does.

Here are the things that are helpful, relevant, and different when you are learning your 7th language.

1) You Know What Language Learning Strategy Works For You

When I first started learning languages, there was one source of information that told me how to learn languages: my teacher. No one told me about the Goldlist method and Anki and even the International Phonetic Alphabet.

Sounds like I had all the chances to mess up, right? But my language isolation bubble had a silver lining: I had the freedom to develop a learning strategy that works for me. I simply discarded the things that waste my time, and perfected those that I need. I amused my mum with vocab sheets taped to the bathroom mirror. I tried, tested, and grew my own masterplan, learning to trust my instincts.

If you follow language learning blogs, you know that there are many methods out there. Bloggers like Benny Lewis advocate speaking very early in the process, others like Gabe Wyner talk about pronunciation above all things. What you discover over the course of many language learning years is that you are always doing it right. The doubt of whether you are using "the best method" simply goes away.

The big secret to learning any language is this: Just don't stop.

2) You Become Confident About Your Language Learning Skill

When people learn a language in school, they often experience languages in a box. They're are on the curriculum, so they're taught inside a classroom and rarely used outside of one. The idea that there are whole communities in the world actually living their lives in different words seems kinda nice...but what's it got to do with you?

Even at exam times, you're tested on theory and abstract skill. The exam papers are about correct grammar and vocabulary. That's undoubtedly important, but it misses out on the greatest part of learning a language: realizing that you can make an amazing connection, right now.

When you start out with your first language or even your first 2 or 3, there is that lurking question inside:

"Am I really able to do this?"

But as you stick with the process, here is what changes: It stops being a classroom exercise. No one who is learning a 5th or 6th has got there without finding a spark that brings their language out of the box. The spark is different for all of us, but once you've got it you know that "good performance" isn't the point. It's all about connection and trusting the process.

I no longer ask myself if I can do this. I know that, given time and dedication, I can learn any language to a very high level. And the reason I know this is because I know that it doesn't matter - I will always be doing this for myself, too. That's what the spark did for me.

3) You Realize There Are Always More Languages to Learn

No matter if you have learnt one language, or seven, or 20: There will always be more languages to learn. Being a prolific language learner is a lifetime commitment, a little like a lifestyle change. I have now realised that I am never going to learn all the languages that are on my list, because that list is forever going to grow.

Our planet and the human race are so wonderfully diverse. We are blessed with thousands of languages, communication systems and scripts. Once you dive into learning one or two of those languages, you enter this amazing world of human communication. And by language number 7, you'll have caught the communication bug.

Even the most multilingual people in the world know fewer than 100 languages. They're certainly not done. I stilll have to work hard to learn a new language, and I still feel like I know nothing. Achieve fluency in many languages - it will open your mind to what you don't know!

4) You Know Being a Polyglot Ain't Special

Learning foreign languages is an unusual hobby, and in monolingual cultures like most of the UK, it's even more of a rarity. At the same time, most people have touched a bit of a foreign language - enough to know that it can make your brain hurt. So the conclusion people draw becomes that it takes a special language gift (perhaps a different brain?).

I believe that learning many foreign languages is a wonderful and incredible achievement. The work, commitment, focus, and dedication of prolific language learners are incredible.

But know that there is no language gene, or polyglot brain. Someone who knows many languages is just as capable as you are. When you are on language number 5 or number 10, you're more efficient, knowing more about your own favourite methods. But it's still hard work.

So here's my bottom line: You should learn a language because it will show you incredible things about your own capabilities. There's nothing to it, really. Nothing you've not got already, anyway.

Which Good Lessons Can You Add?

I'd love to hear your stories in the comments below. And of course, stay encouraged and keep going. You can totally do this.

For more information about coaching and access to lots of free toolkits and worksheets, check out my book The Vocab Cookbook and hop onto the Fluent Language Newsletter today - can't wait to say hello to you on there!

[yeonchi]

Kisekae Insights #9: A quick look into Hiroki’s enemies

Being an autistic person, Hiroki was never good at socialising. His understanding of relationships was misguided; he considered his comrades to be friends until they moved to other armies and he had crushes on other people, but never thought about being friends with them first. Though he did have some friends, his other friends eventually became enemies in his eyes for certain reasons. Most of them didn’t mean Hiroki any harm; it’s the ones that do that make marks in his life.

I was going to put a bit more effort into this and do a whole list of enemies for both Hiroki and Parker, but a lot of things got in the way in the month it took me to plan this instalment, so I’ve decided to split it into two instalments and introduce two enemies each for both Hiroki and Parker. The enemies I introduce in these instalments are Time War-era enemies which are based around the people I’ve encountered during my years at school, so there will be anecdotes included for context. As for names, I will attempt to anonymise them where possible. Some of my real-life friends may know who I’m talking about, but others won’t know who’s who. Let’s get into it.

The Dorks and the Kurayami Alliance

In the project:

Hiroki had crushes on two girls before he met Fifi.

In 2003, during his time in his preschool army, Hiroki had a crush on a girl named Kimia. They went on a few dates (some as companions of the Second Doctor), but when Hiroki’s insubordination was discovered, Kimia broke up the relationship. The year after, they were allocated to opposite primary school armies.

During Hiroki’s second year in his primary school army in 2005, he had a crush on a girl named Tiffany, who was a year above him (and also a year older than him). They actually got married, but then they got divorced a few months after, presumably because she never really loved him and was actually repulsed by him.

Having heard of this, Kimia made contact with Tiffany and they decided to work together to assassinate Hiroki, coming together to form the Kurayami Alliance. Despite interference from a man named Zhuge Shu, the two managed to chase Hiroki to Honnōji with their troops. They set the temple on fire and Hiroki had no choice but to shoot himself in the head.

Hiroki regenerated into the Ice King, magically created a castle nearby and summoned an army of Autons, Ice Warriors and Weeping Angels to help him. With help from the Doctor and his future self from nine years in the future (2014), they begin a battle against Kimia and Tiffany, but they manage to snipe him, leading him to regenerate into his next incarnation. Parker later learnt of this and went to defeat the two generals. Kimia never worked with Tiffany again and the Kurayami Alliance was disbanded.

Following the Battle of Chibi in 2008, Kimia left her army to join another one. That Christmas, Hiroki manages to find her and they settle their rivalry once and for all. Kimia has no more involvement in the story after this.

Tiffany would later befriend other girls in her cohort. Collectively, Hiroki would refer to them as the Dorks and consider them his enemies.

The name of the Kurayami Alliance wouldn’t show up again until towards the end of the Time War storyline in 2014. It was revealed that the Daleks manipulated Kimia into forming the Kurayami Alliance back in 2005. The Kurayami Alliance would be revived by Akari’s cousins, who were the leaders of the Teiro Army that had taken over direct command of Girl Power.

IRL context:

Yes, I had crushes on two girls during preschool and primary school. I never got to interact with them much because they repulsed me for some reason. In preschool, I asked “Kimia” on a date with the question, “Shopping centre?” She said no and I got moved because we were in class at the time. She moved schools a few times so I never really kept tabs on her, but she turned out to be a bit of a bogan and she’s a single mum now.

In primary school, I did have a pretend wedding with “Tiffany”, but nothing really came of it after that. We became enemies afterwards. The year after, when we were in different classes, I once called her a “big peanut” (it was a line in our school production at the time) when she came to our classroom to see our teacher. I was sent to say sorry to her in front of her teacher.

Aside from “Tiffany”, I didn’t have many good or meaningful interactions with her friends either. I fell in love with this Greek girl (again, in the year above me) when she was friendly to me after I was sent to her classroom as punishment. Again, she was apparently repulsed by me as time went on. The last time I saw her was at a birthday party I went to in Year 7 (she was friends with the birthday girl, who was also of Greek heritage). I don’t really know the background behind this, but while we were friends on Facebook for some time, she blocked me on Facebook eventually.

Girl Power

In the project:

This is a very big topic because their involvement covers a big part of my stories. I’ll cover their involvement in a separate instalment, but I will run through some of the major players.

Akari Ichigo: The leader of Girl Power, although much of the group’s decisions were made by other people. She is one of Antoni’s grandchildren and the main element in her family’s plots to kill Hiroki, who she eventually married. In Series 9, she became the female Red Samurai Ranger, acting as Hiroki’s nemesis, before being promoted to ShinkenRed during the Superhero Project. She briefly became Kamen Rider Duke in one of the Age of Riders movies before permanently taking up the role in Soulbound Series 3, handing over the role of ShinkenRed to Kyōya Shinomiya.

Narutaki: Akari’s cousin who isn’t related to Antoni. As I stated in #7, Narutaki was Hiroki and Fifi’s roommate for a while when she was unable to go back home. After she went back, her relationship with Hiroki became distant and eventually, they became mortal enemies. She was the first ShinkenBlue during the Superhero Project before her disappearance; when she appeared again, she fought Decade as Kamen Rider Duke before obtaining Gold Drive’s power. Following her redemption, Narutaki alternated between the two Rider powers before she gave her Genesis Driver to Akari, leading to her permanently becoming Kamen Rider Gold Drive.

Maya, Christie and Anna: A group of three girls known as the Advice Girls, based off the Three Witches from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. At first, Maya was a close comrade of Hiroki who teased him about his crush on Akari when she knew about it, but upon Akari’s betrayal in Series 8, she becomes a confidante in the hopes of getting him to move on. While Christie is just an ordinary Girl Power officer, Anna was someone who was affiliated with the Earth counterparts of the Sisterhood of Karn, whose target was to convince Hiroki to fight in the Parallax War during the first timeline. In the 50th Anniversary Series, there’s a bit of a mini-arc that has Zhuge Liang recognise her, but I might have dropped it. In the Moushouden Series, they became GekiYellow, GoseiYellow and the second ShinkenPink respectively.

Zoey: Girl Power was originally two separate friendship groups from different units. Akari was the leader of one and Zoey was the leader of the other, thus when Girl Power was formed, Zoey became its vice-leader. Of note, Zoey led Girl Power during the Manchester Campaign, the First Invasion of Yokohama, the Invasion of Equestria and the Battle of Sekigahara. In the Moushouden Series, she became Go-On Red.

Satoyuki Saitō: She was a former member of Girl Power before she decided to join the Doctor and Hiroki on their travels, changing her name to Satoyuki in the process. She wasn’t seen after 2017, but during Series 9, she was the Yellow Samurai Ranger.

IRL context:

Truth be told, I acted in a hostile and rivalrous manner towards “Girl Power” and the others they associated with during my years at high school. It wasn’t until after graduation that I realised that I actually wanted to be friends with them, which stemmed from my crush with “Akari” (which was a thing, btw). I’ll elaborate more on “Akari” in a separate instalment.

Out of the six I listed, I was on more amicable terms with “Maya” and “Christie”. I eventually stopped talking with “Narutaki” and “Zoey” after a while, but “Anna” blocked me because I noticed that I kept seeing her at the same shopping centre I went to every Saturday after Chinese school. I also noticed that “Narutaki” seemed emotionless when not with friends – kind of like a Cyberman. It made her look a bit bitchy, ngl.

“Satoyuki” was barely associated with Girl Power at all – in fact, the only reason why I wrote her into Series 9 was because she wanted me to. We were good friends for a couple of years, then she moved schools and we started drifting apart. We did catch up a couple of times at uni, but she became a clubbing girl, got a boyfriend and eventually deleted me from Facebook and Instagram after some vague messages. What an ungrateful slut.

At this point, the only way I’m dealing with these regrets is venting them over the internet. Maybe the way I’m expressing them isn’t that good, but those are my honest feelings brewed in a pot of sorrow and resentment. If that makes me look like an incel, I don’t care, but I just hope I can become a better person so I can meet better people to be better friends with. Truth be told, Can You Hear Me was a pretty good episode of Doctor Who that partially inspired this segment.

I’ll cover two of Parker’s Time War enemies in the next instalment.

[narkito]

1: Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie. 18: Talk about something that happened in elementary school. 38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.

1. I must have been about 7 or 8, andmy parents rented (on VHS), a pile of tapes, and with them,  “The Empire of the Sun”. I was entranced. I*felt* for this little boy lost in war. And the music. The themes. A longstring of adults that could not be trusted. And the ending, my god, that end. Iwas vibrating throughout the entirety of the film. I must have watched it ahundred times by now, and I don’t think I can sit through a whole run of TheEmpire of the Sun any more. In a way, my experience and relationship with thatfilm is pre-verbal, the song alone (Suo Gan) packs a punch for me.

 18.   Is elementary like before youactually start reading? Or like after that? I’m not sure?

 I’ll go with the time a classmate said I was the creator of a “killer” game,as the closing remark of an hour-long inquisition lead by my awful no-goodfirst-grade Head Teacher.

 The game in question was like the floor is lava, except there was ashark that would attack you and convert you into a shark and then, as a newlyminted minion-shark, you would have to help the original shark into convertingeverybody else. It had more finesse to it than just being in a high place too; everyfive minutes or so there would be a high tide and the safe places flooded,except for the highest of the highest grounds, which was the entire secondfloor hallway; the original shark could walk on land and convert you into a minion-sharkif and only if, they could drag you into the water, and even then, only if theywere holding a very special kind of flower in one hand as they did it. Itquickly went from a chasing sort of tag came, to a full contact sport and raceof survival. Welcome to “Shark”.

 Every recess would have anywhere between 10 to 50 people playing. Untilone fatidic day, a classmate choked another classmate and said “I’m going tokill you”, climbed over his chest, sat on him, and tried to choke him evenharder. Yup, this is first-graders we’re talking about, and, on a totallyunrelated note, about 11 years later, I saw this same classmate push a “friend”onto oncoming traffic as a “game”.

 Thankfully, a teacher walked by and saved him, the first kid, when wewere in 1st grade, 11 years later good luck and god’s grace savedthe other one. The choked kid was sent to the hospital on a taxi with the Deanand the head nurse, just in case. And then back in class, our wonderful head teacher, who sucked ballsand was a wonderful mix of racist, misogynist, elitist child-hater jerk,started her own version of a witch hunt and threatened the class to confess whocame up with the game.

At first no one talked, but one by one she broke them, and one by onethey started “confessing” who invited them to play. The teachers, MsFucked-in-the-Head, started lining up her sobbing trophies at the front of the classroom,a long line of weeping children wiping on their noses on their jerseys. Until onepointed at me and said “she invented it”. I denied it with a simple no andstared ahead at nothing, at this point I still hadn’t learnt to be afraid ofpeople, so, I wasn’t budging like my classmates.

She pressed and pressed and pressed and eventually she threatened, “Iwill personally call your parents and tell them what an awful kid you are,confess!” Now this was laughable on many levels and thus, 6-year-old me laughedin her face and said “I can’t tell you who did it, because I do not know theirname and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you either, because I’m not a rat!”.That, my dear reader, did not go well with her, she went like red and thendiabolical in colour, but, something great happened with my fellow classmates.The rage of 45, 6 to 7-year-old kids finally broke and they spontaneouslystarted chanting “El pueblo unido, jamás será vencido” (The people, united,will never be beaten/broken), so loud and with such fervour that the Rector himselfcame to the classroom and after calming us down, took over class, whipped up aguitar out of nowhere and lead us in many silly songs, to “get over thedistress” of our fallen friend. As the Rector of the school he also declaredthe rest of the day would be about relaxation, fun, and games, so he asked forsweets to be brought in and we ate until we were dizzy and wasted on sugar.

38. Songsthat remind me of certain people? I dunno, I don’t think music is catalogued likethat in my head. 

THANK YOU FOR PLAYING WITH ME!!

[meditationklaus]

Here’s How Much I Make As A Yoga Teacher In The US

When I first started teaching in Marin County, California, I was broke and miserable. The cost of living is pretty tootin’ high around here so I had to move into my friend’s spare bedroom, and eventually, my boyfriend’s parents’ house. I was exhausted from teaching (sometimes) over 6 classes a day, 7 days a week. My body hurt, I was grumpy, my bills were past due. It had to stop. This was supposed to be my dream job!   All of that changed when I sat down and realized a few basic business truths about teaching yoga as a career.

How and Where I Earn Money From Yoga

I’ve been teaching for only 5 years. I make between $4500 and $5000 a month through yoga alone. I have a second career as an acupuncturist, which blends nicely with my teaching and provides me with an expert viewpoint of anatomy, injury relief, physiology, and much more. BUT if all I did was teach yoga, I would still be financially comfortable.

These days, I make enough per class that I only teach 8 classes a week. I run a few special events/workshops a month, which are my big money makers, and I teach a couple of private sessions a month for beginner students or special events. I also do the email marketing and some social media campaigning for my studio, and I write for a superb online yoga publication! Each year, I help out on teacher trainings and the occasional retreat.

I make more money teaching in this way than I ever did plastering Instagram and counting “likes” obsessively with a self-loathing pit in my stomach, and I am much, much happier not running all over town like a crazy person to 7 different studios, 7 days a week.

What I Learned and How You Can Up Your Pay Scale Quickly

I really struggled with both finances and exhaustion in the first year and a half of teaching. I finally connected with my teachers for advice, and as it turned out, I had more than a few misconceptions about being a yoga teacher.

1. Always Negotiate Your Pay

My misconception: I didn’t think that yoga teachers could negotiate their starting wage, or got “raises.” I thought teachers just got more “per mat” dollars if they grew their class sizes.

If you don’t know the pay scale in your area—find out. The starting wage for brand new yoga teachers here is $35 at a gym or small studio, and $45 at a more established yoga studio. Experienced teachers, or teachers with additional skill sets and training, can expect between $50 and $75 per class.

If you stay with a studio long enough, are open to be all over their schedule and media campaigns, or have a big following, you will be offered or can negotiate $100 or more per class.

It’s not about how long you’ve been teaching. It is about how hard you work and what you have to offer.

Some places add on a ‘per mat’ scale that ranges from $1-3 per mat after 10 as incentive to grow your class sizes yourself.

I had no idea that this pay scale existed in my area or that we could negotiate pay, so I started teaching at $30 per class at a gym, and $45 at a studio with a low per mat incentive. I was so happy to be teaching at all that I didn’t advocate for myself. As such, I was broke, hungry, and needed to teach a lot of classes per day to make ends meet.

What I did later was use my knowledge as an acupuncturist, my writing ability, and my additional trainings as a Yin Yoga teacher and a Stand Up Paddleboard Yoga teacher to negotiate a wage.

If you have any additional skills, use them to negotiate better pay per class. It’s not greedy, it’s not “going against your path” as a yoga teacher. It’s what fills your fridge and pays your bills and ultimately, it enables you to teach. So honor your needs.

2. Train Up and Speak Up!

My misconception: I didn’t think my previous training as an acupuncturist had anything to do with my teaching, and I didn’t see the point in spending what little money I had on more training hours.

Understand that your 200-hour YTT is the absolute bare minimum. You need more. These extra hours and certifications nourish your hunger for yoga, and they give you your edge. They make you stand out—especially if you plan to teach in a saturated area like mine. It shows studio owners and students that you have spent time refining your teaching skills and learning more about your field. If nothing else, take anatomy classes, attend content-specific workshops, and become great at confidently assisting.

You can also use the things you were good at before being a yoga teacher, like email marketing, social media management, having a keen eye for retail trends, etc. then put it all in your bio and on your resume, and tell everyone—at every studio and gym—even just in passing.

It sounds obvious, but…

If you don’t announce your strengths as a teacher, no one will know!

And your bosses want to know—trust me. They will use it to market their business, just like you should use it to spread the word about what you do.

Personally, my deep knowledge of the body is the most important part of my teaching. I finally recognized it as my strength when a student pointed it out to a studio owner out of town. That owner offered me a teaching gig on the spot for twice what I was being paid at home!

A few weeks later, I had refreshed all my bios at every place I taught at. Within months, my classes had grown enormously as students began talking to each other about how “if you have an injury, you should go to Amber’s classes because she knows the anatomy of the body so well.”

I got a raise at a few of the studios I worked at and was able to say goodbye to the places that couldn’t meet my new minimum requirement.

3. Be Reliable Outside The Classroom

My Misconception: I thought my job was to teach yoga and that was it. It’s not. It’s so much more.

Studios reward based on how much their students like you. How many of your events do they attend? How frequently do they reappear in your classroom? What is the general word on the street about your teaching?

I noticed that the teachers who had fuller classes (and therefore, were making more money) were not just teaching and leaving. They showed up early and helped to check people in or chatted at the water station. They learnt names. They stayed back after class and offered fresh towels to sweaty students.

When asked, they gave their opinion on which leggings and mats were their favorite. They mopped the floor while chatting with students about the eight limbs. They became friends with the students and other employees. They simply became a bigger part of that studio’s community.

This works for your yogi heart in HUGE ways.

It also works for your bank account in a few ways. The more present you are at a space you teach at (in time and friendliness), the more students will take your classes. More students = more per-mat dollars on your paycheck, AND it also makes your boss more inclined to give you that raise you asked for.

Showing whole-hearted commitment to your yoga space makes you more dependable for your students and your studio.

The more dependable you are, the more dependable your paycheck will be.

Plus if you are already on site, your boss will likely give you back-to-back classes and suddenly you no longer have to spend precious time and money driving across town. Having back-to-back classes means you can ask for an admin rate in-between and hang out doing other stuff for the studio. Example: I do the email marketing and another co-worker does the retail ordering between her classes—both wonderful items to put on the resume for future negotiating.

I have taught almost daily at the same studio for 5 years now. I know not just my students’ names, but the names and preferences of the students taking a class in the room next to mine. If a teacher gets sick, I sub for them. If a student has questions, I sit with them. If a front desk person needs help checking in, I do it.

As a result of my consistency and commitment, I am rewarded generously with love, but also with that green stuff that pays my bills.

4. You’re Not Just a Teacher. Be An Entrepreneur.

My misconception: I thought I had to be physically present and teaching yoga in order to earn money as a yoga teacher.

When I burned out and needed to take a month off of teaching, I got super creative with how to make money. There are more ways to earn cash teaching yoga than simply adding classes.

Some tidbits that I do between classes include:

Pulling together all the yoga newsletters and email blasts at my studio. I put effort into learning how to use email marketing programs by taking tutorials.

Online yoga classes. I did this for a while and earned a pretty penny.

I do social media and very basic work-from-home admin work for studios too.

I link my workshops to well-known or local yoga brands and create affiliations that help me market my events without me being present. These events are my biggest paying items all year. These same brands will sometimes supply clickable buttons to put on your website so you get royalties from purchases made through that button. You can do pop up trunk sales via this too. If you eventually become a brand ambassador, you often get the same benefit with Instagram discount codes too.

You could write for your favorite online yoga publication (ehem—Thanks DOYOUYOGA!)

Mentoring. If you are an experienced teacher, use your experience in the field to mentor someone that is struggling. That is part of teaching yoga!

5. Ask For Help:

My Misconception: I thought it was me against the world. And I was losing.

Studio owners do not want their staff to be unhappy or struggling. Unhappy teachers leads to a diminished enthusiasm for teaching, which means that the business owners’ “product” has gone bad. They want you to feel inspired and alive. So talk to them—they are yogis too. Let them help you.

Some of them will even invest in you by putting you through more training so you can eventually do your own events or trainings for them. This is an awesome opportunity and it has happened for many of my fellow teachers.

Also, find a mentor. Talk to someone who has been there and done that, in your city. I got advice from several of my teachers before I came up with a solid plan for what I was going to do about the mess I was in. If I hadn’t then, I never would have continued teaching.

I am a driven, passionate, and committed gal when it comes to this yoga stuff, that’s why I didn’t give up when I hit rock bottom in the financial yoga world. Instead, I implemented these ideas daily, and with a few tweaks, I managed to go from broke and unable to pay rent, to completely financially independent and comfortable—all while remaining small scale and local.

If I can do it, so can you!

Image credit: Drinie Aguilar

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