#in fact actually there are no arts tracks available in my school! the available tracks i believe are

[discoidal]

how did you end up with a STEM-related track for your senior high school? have you always enjoyed maths & sciences? i originally assumed by personality that you were studying something more in line with humanities, to be honest (and best of luck with all your studies!)

oh great question, and one i receive fairly often! i've always had a creative and fairly artsy personality; ive also always wanted to be some sort of scientist. lately that want has sharpened into wanting to be a doctor, which i really believe is my calling. arts are essential to my personality but they aren't my job, nor my only passion

also, i go to a science high school on a scholarship, which means i signed a contract at age 11 saying i would go into the sciences and work for the government for a number of years, so if you look at it that way im actually legally obliged to take a STEM-track haha

ask me anything!

[marksmckay52]

Make Rap Beats Online

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[brolicarmydjschool]

Hip Hop: Culture Or Commodity

It’s 2023. We’ve entered the 50th year of hip-hop culture.

Or have we? Is it more appropriate to say, “We’ve entered the 50th year of hip-hop commodity?”

Like many of you, since childhood, I’ve embraced the narrative that DJing, MCing, breaking and graffiti were born out of the tenets of peace, love, unity and having fun.

But, today, as a grown man who’s well-read, who has cultivated the power of discernment, and who thinks his own thoughts, I question if that old narrative was merely a marketing strategy; one which was sold to me, and that I “bought,” as a young, impressionable kid, growing up in Queens, NY.

I raise this question, because much of the culture today, while designed to look authentic, seems to merely be an aspect of one, or another, marketing strategy.

Let me explain what I mean, via my own story:

I was born on May 14, 1972. I’m one year older than the culture. Of course, I wasn’t there, watching Kool Herc at the first “Back To School Jam,” on Sedgwick Ave in the Bronx, on August 11, 1973.

But thanks to my older brother, John, by the age of 5, my hip-hop education had begun. Granted, what I was learning about through my bro’s tutelage actually had no name in 1977. It was just this thing some of us called “Getting Down,” or “Going Off,” or “Jamming.”

But, in fact, it was an art renaissance, taking place in the Bronx, and spilling over into the surrounding boroughs of Queens, Brooklyn, and Manhattan.

By 1979, at age 7, I was all in.

“Robert: You hear that sound? Ziggaziggazigga? That’s GrandWizzard Theodore scratching the record. Papi doesn’t get back from work for another couple of hours. Let’s turn on his turntables so I can teach you how to scratch before he gets home.”

Or “Robert, I’m taking you with me to Saint Joan of Arc Church. The head priest is gonna let us break inside their recreation room.”

I was learning about this creative phenomenon, exclusive to New York, taking place inside my city, my community, my neighborhood, and with my friends.

Thanks to programs like HOT TRACKS — which played music videos from artists like RUN DMC and Malcolm McClaren feat. The World’s Famous Supreme Team — by 1982, the rest of America got exposed. People outside of NYC began seeing the faces and hearing the voices of my ghetto heroes.

“Ghetto,” because Kool Herc, Grandmaster Flash, GrandWizzard Theodore, Grand Mixer DST, Tony Tone, Charlie Chase, etc., didn’t look like the Six Million Dollar Man or the Lone Ranger. They looked like my brother. They looked like my brother’s friends. They looked like my friends. They looked like my family — people who lived in a one-bedroom, tenement building apartment, infested with mice and roaches. They looked like me!

By 1983, documentaries like Style Wars aired on PBS. The news media began to chronicle what inner-city Black and Latino kids were doing — DJing, rapping, breaking, graffiti — on any given NYC block. The film industry was even intrigued: Movies like Wild Style and Beat Street were made available for people to experience inside air-conditioned, downtown theaters. This was far away from the warzone, benign-neglect aesthetic of hip-hop’s epicenter, The Bronx, NY.

They even had a name for it, by now. They were calling the union of these four forces, “hip-hop.” This thing that low-income, underprivileged youth had created as an alternative to crime and violence — gangs ran NYC during the 1970s — finally had an official name. However, that meant it could also, now, be packaged in a proverbial box, gift-wrapped, complete with bow, and sold for mass consumption.  

Enter, 1984: The Year Hip-Hop Culture Became Hip-Hop Commodity.

Graffiti was washed away from its home, the NYC subway system, and transposed to art galleries. There, wealthy collectors would buy canvases to hang inside their multi-million-dollar luxury apartments. Breaking got so played out, you’d be laughed out of a house party if you attempted a windmill.

Even DJs, the very people credited for creating hip-hop, were coerced into subordinate positions to their counterparts, as hip-hop’s principal, gold and platinum ornament became The Rapper. Soon, DJs were replaced in live performance by “backing tracks.” But it wasn’t the audiences that asked for this change. It was the larger, business infrastructure, dominating hip-hop, which brought it about.

Thus, if you’re Gen Z, you may not be aware that during the 1990s, my Gen X generation of DJs waged a rebellion, and reclaimed its ownership of hip-hop. Therefore, that time is now considered hip-hop’s “Golden Era.”

Players like the X-ecutioners, Invisibl Skratch Piklz, and the Beat Junkies regained control of the distribution and monetization of hip-hop, at least within DJing. We started our own record labels, promotion companies, and played an integral role in booking one-off shows and tours; events that put the focus back on other neglected elements like breaking and graffiti as well. In the simplest terms: Between 1990 and 2000, DJ culture revitalized hip-hop.

It’s the 2000s now. The generation of DJs who stepped into the forefront after mine, have, once again relinquished power to outsiders. But the difference in 2023, when compared to 1983, is, today, business and marketing experts will go as far as disguising themselves as DJs, in order to capitalize on the stock of hip-hop culture.

Here’s how it works: They’ll join a DJ school, and take a few lessons on dropping, mixing and scratching. The next thing you know, they’re influencers, telling aspiring DJs — who genuinely want to learn the art form — what kind of gear to buy, and what apps to run while DJing. If an economically challenged kid from the Bronx can’t afford that $3,000 laptop, or can’t drop $2,000 on the latest mixer, well, they inform them, they’ll just be “left in the dust.”

The indecency of it all is this: People who listen to these influencers have no awareness they are, effectively, being colonized. They do not know the very worldview being pushed upon them — that they will be banished if they can’t keep up economically — serves the function of making their ultimate elimination look benign. They do not know these are outsiders, who’ve successfully infiltrated hip-hop, specifically DJ culture, bearing gifts; ones who are, at every second, exploiting it, and them, for monetary gain.

So, here we are. It’s the opening month of the year marking hip-hop’s 50th anniversary; another year overgrown with “DJs” turned influencers. These are the ones who don’t respect hip-hop’s legacy of economic inclusion, this being a philosophy embedded in the culture by the pioneers on whose shoulders we stand.

At this point, what am I saying should be done?

I’m suggesting the following two (2) action steps.

If you’re going to become a DJ, or teach DJing:

• Examine our culture first. Interact with it. Learn its history, document it, and teach it correctly, to others. Name its great artists and tell what they did to advance the art form. Don’t merely and unethically profiteer off hip-hop’s resources for “LIKES”, “FOLLOWS,” and Benjamins.

• Refrain from using fear-mongering tactics to attract students, or to cash in on DJing, and the greater culture of hip-hop.

In closing:

This essay grew out of a social media conflict I’ve been having over specific forms of marketing, aimed at students of the culture. As should be clear, I strongly object to these practices.

This is not a statement against any person, or group of persons. Further, this is not a statement against the people who follow my work, or, especially, the ones who don’t.

If you are a true supporter of hip-hop culture — not the rah-rah around it, but the science and history of it — I thank you. I particularly thank you if that interest has led you to give an ear to what I have ever said or done.

I stand on all the above. If, because of what I’ve said, I lose colleagues, followers, students, sponsorships or should I be slandered, vilified, shunned or become abject, while it would be unfortunate, I do not care. I am aligned with a much Higher Power, and higher values, than those with which the current DJ world aligns itself.

I stand firm in the truth of my words, even if they are disconcerting, because I understand the following: There is an economic and creative war, happening in plain sight, for the control of how people think and interact, not only with DJ art and technology, but with themselves, and with their own minds.

For that reason, I’ll never go along with fake shit, to get along with fake shit. Instead, I dig in my heels for what I see as right and just.

Regardless of the circumstances, I will always stay, and reside, in truth and in respect. That is the legacy of the pioneers, and, as far as my part is concerned, understand: I’m just trying to help this art form get to the next generation, intact.

Happy 50th, hip-hop.

If you’re interested in scheduling an appointment or you’d like more information, please contact us.

[wakaoujisenhime]

Hello! Lots of love to you. 😘 can I request GoM+ Takao thinks reader is going to breakup with them but is actually not. It can be funny misunderstanding or angst anything really. Happy ending.

A/N: Lots of kisses for you my dear anon! 💋 I tried to keep them all the same length, but guess what?? I failed (✌︎ ՞ਊ ՞)✌︎ Hope you’ll enjoy these nonetheless!! <33

Tags: GoM and Takao x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅ angst ✅ jealousy ✅

image/art source: Takao -> Pixiv (by もいさま)

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Kuroko:

Being in a relationship with Kuroko was filled with nothing but tranquility and love. The two of you rarely had any type of conflict with each other, but one very urgent problem you’d always had in mind was the lack of communication. Because your boyfriend was so silent and barely complained whenever something was amiss, you tended to misunderstand each other…

One morning after you’d entered Seirin’s school building, you immediately caught a glimpse of your blue-haired boyfriend, and just as you were about to go up to him and greet him with your usual hug, he wordlessly turned his back to you and disappeared in the crowd. His behavior was quite unusual, but you figured that he just didn’t see you and went on with your day.

Unfortunately, the young man kept showing you the cold shoulder on that day, and by the end of his team’s basketball training, he’d even gone back home before you.

“Did something between you two happen?” asked Kagami as soon as he saw your dejected reaction to the unexpected news. Your grip on your school bag’s rims tightened and you simply shook your head.

“Not that I’m aware of anything…”

“Then why don’t you just ask him?”

His teammates stared daggers at the tall young man who had once again said something insensitive, but to you, it was a simple summary of the constant problem between your lover and yourself, so you couldn’t help but giggle at his question and nod.

——

Just where have you hidden yourself Tetsu?!

Annoyance had distorted your usually calm facial features and was chasing away any of your classmates that hoped to approach you for whatever reasons. After Kagami had given you the necessary push you needed, you made it your mission to find your lover and confront him once and for all, but he was nowhere to be found. No matter who you asked, where you went, what you did, it was as if he never came to school. At times such as these, his low presence proved to be pretty useful and a damn nightmare for you, but you stayed vigilant and even decided to make use of some…unexpected tactics.

During the second break, you sprinted to your lover’s classroom, knowing fully well that he was already gone, and called for his partner, who only very reluctantly agreed to accompany you during your search. The plan you’d forged relied entirely on Kagami’s strong presence that - according to his teammates - was so strong that even the people who saw him daily couldn’t help but stare at him. You knew that Kuroko was more or less immune to this and preferred to look down at his book, so you were positive that with this plan you’d find the odd one out of the crowd pretty easily.

Luckily for you, the plan was a success and after just a couple of minutes you’d caught sight of the familiar blue hair, but when you locked eyes with your loved one, a sharp pain ran through your chest. Kuroko looked heartbroken and had to bite his lip to hide his anger and tears.

“(Y/N), this is your chance! Go! Run!”

The unexpected encouragement from the man next to you managed to wake you up from your trance and not even a second later you were running after your lover. Fortunately for you, he wasn’t that quick and on top of that, you were convinced that he ran extra slower than usual because somewhere deep inside of him he wanted to talk to you as well.

“(Y/N)…I-”

“We can’t continue like this Tetsu,” you began and intended to take a small breather before you continued, but the anxious face of your counterpart made you reconsider, “what I mean to say is, that we can’t ignore our constant misunderstandings due to miscommunication. I love you Tetsuya and whenever I am with you everything is nearly perfect, but we need to do something about your aversion of expressing your opinion and my reluctance to speak up about it.”

You couldn’t blame him for being so surprised that he couldn’t answer instantly since you surprised even yourself with how direct you were. Just as you were about to break the uncomfortable silence between you two, Kuroko unexpectedly wrapped his arms around you in a hug.

“Thank god…I thought you wanted to leave me for Kagami-kun.”

“Excuse me, what? Why would I-” you stopped for a moment and remembered the scene he saw just a couple of minutes ago before you corrected him, “…I needed his help to find you, since all of my earlier attempts were futile against the legendary Phantom Sixth man, you know?”

And with that small joke, you both chuckled, kissed each other, and decided to spent the rest of the break hand-in-hand, while you resolved the small thorn in your relationship.

Kise:

Being Kise’s lover was pretty tiresome and restricting. Since he was a famous model a lot of rules had to be followed by not only him but you as well.

Any selfies you took are not to be shared with anyone and not to be published. Bragging about him as your boyfriend was out of the question. Public dates? I think not.

When his manager had first thrown all of these at you, you were pretty stomped and ready to burst with anger, but he stopped you and after your talk, Kise reassured you that you would still do the majority of the things “normal” couples do, but you’d simply have to be more careful and aware of your surroundings than others. You trusted him of course and he didn’t lie, in fact, he made an enormous effort to provide you with a proper love life, one that you deserved. Much to your surprise, everything was working out just fine and you got used to the abnormalities of some situations pretty quickly, but as we all know life can rarely be filled with nothing but sunshine and rainbows…

-` EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH MODEL №1 KISE RYOUTA ´-

That was the headline of one of the many magazines your boyfriend was featured in. You always made sure to show your support for his career by buying almost every issue that had a section dedicated to your blond lover, that and the fact that the photographers and designers always made him look hotter than he already was. With a big grin on your face, you browsed the magazine until you found the corresponding pages and began reading yet another interview.

At first, the questions were pretty standard and tame, asking the young model what his future plans were, how he manages school, basketball club, and modeling without being stressed out at all, and many more similar questions such as these. Being his significant other, you caught a few lies of his that he had to make up in order to keep your relationship a secret and even though it didn’t sit entirely right with you, you brushed it off since you knew that he couldn’t help it. With mixed feelings, you read on until one particular question and answer caught your eye.

-` Q: A lot of your female fans have been constantly speculating about what type of boyfriend you’d make, what’s your take on that subject?

-` A: (laughs) Well you see, I hate to break it to everyone, but I like the type of women that don’t tie me down. I just can’t imagine myself being with the same person every single day, it’d be quite suffocating, you know?

You stared at that answer for a while, hoping that the words would just merge into something that didn’t sound so…ruthless, but to no avail. Just as you were about to continue your lecture, the front door to your apartment opened and the familiar voice of your lover echoed, filling your home with more life than before. While the blond removed his shoes and jacket you quickly hid away the magazine and forced yourself to smile, hoping that he wouldn’t notice…

——

“You damn idiot, what were you thinking?!”

“Oh (Y/N)…what do you even see in him?”

“I have never been more pissed off to be in the same team as you…”

The moment Kise had entered the gym to participate in today’s training all of his teammates had surrounded him and had begun reprimanding him for something he couldn’t quite understand because of how chaotic everyone was. It took a while, but when they became more or less calm he used to chance to find out just what’s got them so pissed off.

“Isn’t it obvious you imbecile?! That over the top answer of yours is what we’re so mad about”

“Kasamatsu-senpai I can’t quite follow…what answer are you referring to?”

After being kicked down by the shorter man and lectured yet another time, Kise finally understood just what this fuss was about. You’d been quite out of it since his latest interview got published, so the guys decided to find out what had you so bothered and the answer was, of course, Kise…who else?

“B-But I didn’t mean it! It was just for show an–”

“Does (Y/N) know?” interrupted Moriyama with an unusually serious tone. Your lover intended to answer fully confident that you were aware, but a small voice inside of his mind stopped him in his tracks. How were you supposed to know that he didn’t mean it when he never explained himself? What if the reason you’d been so absentminded these past few days was that you were planning on leaving him?

N-No…I can’t let that happen…i-if we break up then what am I–

“Excuse me, is Kise here?”

At the unexpected sound of your voice all of the members instantly shut up, turning to you, but before anyone could answer you, the blond took off sprinting right towards you and wrapping his muscular arms around your body.

“Please forgive me (Y/N)-cchi, I…I figured we’d been over this and that you know that no matter what I say to the press, I never really mean it. It’s all supposed to be a façade to make me more attractive to the public, b-but you know me, right? The real, insecure, weak, and ambitious me…the one that’s no good without you…”

Even if he’d taken you by surprise with his sudden hug, his words rendered you pretty much immobile and left you with no choice but to listen to his desperate apology. He held you tighter and buried his face in the crack of your neck. The moment you felt something wet drip down on your clothing, you wrapped your arms around him protectively, gently caressing his head, and kissing his temple all the while he whispered one apology after the other, begging you to never leave his side.

“I won’t ever leave you, Kise…I promise”

Midorima:

“…and with that, we’re coming to today’s last and unfortunately most unluckiest signs of all…Cancer!”

At the sudden announcement, Midorima flinched, grip tightening on his iPod, as he continued listening to his daily horoscope. His sign being the unluckiest out of all was quite the rarity and that alone was worrisome, but the fact that today’s misfortune was predicted to be in his love life made the man the more afraid. Usually, he’d ignore any prognosis that went beyond his career, but the moment you had become his girlfriend, Midorima couldn’t help but lend an ear every time the presenter of his favorite show mentioned the word love.

Your lover’s flame for you has been near extinction, I suggest breaking up with them before they do, or else this pain will haunt you for eternity…

With heavy steps, the green-haired man made his way to his school, lucky item in hand and a never before experienced fear deeply rooted in his heart. If possible he’d try to avoid you as much as possible today, so that you couldn’t break things off with him. He was aware that his behavior was quite over the top, but that was his way to cope with the anxiety of losing you - his most important person. In Midorima’s eyes this was a solid plan, but putting it into action was harder than expected.

Every time you jogged up to him with your angelic smile, your big and beautiful eyes that sparkled the moment you saw him, the energetic way you waved to your boyfriend when you spotted him across the hallway were so adorable and heart-warming that whenever he had to act extra cold towards you, it felt like his heart was being torn apart anew every single time. While he was beating himself up over his behavior, you simply shrugged it off and figured that he was on his usual tsundere trip for some reason and decided to ask him about it after basketball practice.

“Shin-chan sure is acting weird today, huh?” asked Takao with a hint of amusement in his voice as he sat down next to you on a bench in the courtyard. You simply looked up at him and nod with resigned smile on your face as you answered: “I’m somehow used to his antics, but something must’ve happened for him to act so…distant.”

The boy next to you studied your expression and despite his usual enjoyment of watching a misunderstanding between the two of you unfold, he could see how much the green-haired man’s behavior was weighing on you, so he broke his silence and told you about Midormia’s plan that he’d schemed following today’s horoscope.

——

“Midorima Shintarou, we need to talk…now!”

Your loud and sudden order startled the young man in gym clothes, who was mere movements away from throwing his umpteenth three-pointer, as well as his teammates. If it weren’t for the serious tone in your voice, he would’ve come up with some kind of excuse to dodge the upcoming conversation.

Now that the two of you were outside of the gym you didn’t beat around the bush and got straight to the point: “Are you seriously avoiding me all day because of Oha Asa’s words? Is that how little you believe in me and my feelings for you?” Your boyfriend never quite knew how to deal with such straightforwardness and seeing how with each question you uttered, the tears in the corners of your eyes grew, pushed him even further into a corner until he couldn’t handle it anymore and just needed to shut you up. Out of nowhere Midorima took a tight hold of your shoulders, seizing your frantic movements, and pressed his lips firmly to yours, kissing you in the process.

“…now that I finally have your attention, allow me to explain myself, will you?” he asked and waited for your nod before he continued “Look…I know I overreacted and to be honest, my behavior bothered me more than you think. I was just…j-just so afraid to lose you. Up until now everything Oha Asa said came true, s-so–”

Before he could finish his sentence, it was your turn to kiss him on the lips and use his moment of confusion to stop the train of negative thoughts that were about to overwhelm him. “I love you Shintarou…more than any horoscope could ever hope to calculate and sure, every time you listen to this show it all comes true, but did you forget that my sign is on that show as well?”

Your sudden question caught him a little of guard, but the moment you pulled something small out of your pocket he couldn’t help but smile to himself as a light blush spread across his cheeks.

“Unfortunately for you, today is my lucky day and your beloved presenter advised me to be more assertive than what I’m used to, and show my lover just how much he means to me.”

Aomine:

With quick steps, you neared the basketball club’s gym while frantically looking around for your boyfriend, who’d once again decided to ditch today’s training and laze around somewhere.

“Captain, we might have a problem!” you shouted out the moment you entered the building, ready to break the unpleasant news to the young man in glasses, who looked surprisingly relaxed, even though one of his best players was missing yet again. But before you could even say anything he simply put his hand up, motioning you to look behind him with his head, and there you saw the wanted man, crouched down while reading something.

With a heavy sigh, you joined Imayoshi and Wakamatsu, who was looking at the power forward with hopeless and annoyed expressions. After explaining to them that you couldn’t find him at his usual spots, you asked how they got him to join practice that quick.

“Oh you know…the usual” the blond said as he tapped a few times on his mobile phone, searching for something, and the moment he found it, he showed you the typical photo with which they always managed to catch Aomine: one of his favorite gravure magazines being held above a candle’s flame. You eyed the image a tad longer than what the men next to you were used to and then replied drily: “I see.”

The two players you were standing next to, were quite surprised by your reaction and couldn’t tear their eyes from your back as you walked towards the bench where their coach and manager were seated. They wanted to brush it off at first but the moment you had sat yourself down, your sad expression managed to guilt-trip them to such an extent that they immediately walked to the dark-skinned young man to lecture him.

“Aomine, you idiot, stop reading these things already!”

Said man didn’t even flinch at the sudden scream from the blond and continued looking through his magazine. Wakamatsu was already agitated enough and ready to throw punches at his sitting teammate, but the captain stopped him with an unobtrusive head-shake and took his chance not short after: “Ya see…your cute girlfriend’s over ‘ere and she looks mighty disappointed at the fact that ‘er boyfriend gives some random women more love ‘n attention than ya give ‘er. If ya keep that up, then who knows what could happen.”

It didn’t take much to annoy or upset your boyfriend and if you were as tactful as Imayoshi, you could do it whenever you felt like it, but this time he intended to make the man before him aware of what seemed to be a minor problem.

The two of them watched as Aomine finally closed his magazine and stood up, a terrifying glare fixated on the wall before him, and hissed out: “My relationship with (Y/N) has nothing to do with you, so don’t even butt your noses where they don’t belong.” He turned and just as he was about to leave and enter the practice match, he stood beside the man with glasses and stared at him with the same amount of bloodlust he had whenever he faced a strong opponent, and whispered: “Call her cute one more time and see what happens, captain”

——

What the hell is going on?

With a furious expression and gritted teeth, Aomine’s eyes followed your frantic movements in annoyance. He watched how you held Sakurai’s hands and whispered something to him to calm him down, how Wakamatsu ruffled your hair as thanks for bringing him a bottle of his favorite drink and a towel, and how Susa and Imayoshi patted your back while praising you. Today was the first time he actually noticed this, but now everything was making sense.

Since the beginning of this week, Momoi told him that she’d be away for two weeks and couldn’t manage the team in that timeframe. Her childhood friend wasn’t interested, so he didn’t ask any further details such as why she going away or who’d take her place for the time being, but now he wished he would’ve.

During her absence, he didn’t receive any of those dreadful SMS and for the first few days, he was living his life, skipping every single practice day. He did ask you a couple of times whether you wanted to ditch your class and come hang out with him, but he got rejected pretty quickly. Additionally, he rarely asked you out himself so the lack of messages from you wasn’t surprising to him, of course until he heard some of the substitute players comment something about how well you were doing your job as temporary manager.

“So that’s why you were so busy, huh?” he asked in his typical monotone voice the moment you had come back to the bench where he and the coach had taken place. Without sparing him even a single glance you took your clipboard and began explaining something to the older man. Seeing how you ignored him, paired with your cold attitude made Aomine involuntarily remember his captain’s words.

If ya keep that up, then who knows what could happen.

Your conversation with the coach was quickly wrapped up and not soon after just the two of you were left sitting on the bench. Your boyfriend’s deep blue eyes glanced briefly at you and observed how you were writing something in a small pink notebook that most likely belonged to Momoi. He never considered the fact that you would actually lose interest in him or perhaps even break up with him, but your recent behavior change matched exactly that and it scared him more than he let on.

The moment you finished writing and intended to pack everything up, a big hand took a gentle hold of your wrist. Slightly startled and taken aback you looked at the man beside you, who was covering his lower face area as he murmured something that only you managed to hear and understand.

Please don’t go…d-don’t leave me

A small smile slowly adorned your lips as you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, and squeezing it ever so slightly. You figured that the reason he was hiding his face was because of the blush that had painted his cheeks in a shade of dark red. An unusual but very welcome sight as well as a great reward for the plan the entire team had come up with alongside you. The goal? Teaching your lover a small lesson that he’s surely not forgetting that quick.

Mission accomplished…

Murasakibara:

“Hey Atsushi, my friend told me they’d be opening a new store in–“

“Mmm…I don’t wanna go (Y/N)-chin”

You were stunned at the sudden refusal of your boyfriend even before you’d finished your sentence and couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you looked at his slightly annoyed face.

Of course, he’d say that…

And with that prompt rejection, the conversation between you two died down and you wordlessly continued watching the movie you’d put on for tonight, while gently caressing the purple head of the large man who was using your thighs as a pillow.

——

“Eh? You rejected (Y/N)’s invitation again?” asked the black-haired young man while he handed his gigantic friend a tissue for his sticky fingers. With a slightly annoyed glare, Murasakibara snatched the handkerchief from him and hurriedly removed the honey residuals from the snacks he had finished a couple of minutes ago, before answering: “Of course I would…I’m not in the mood to go shopping for hours in this heat.”

The man’s laziness never failed to surprise Himuro everyone who has ever talked to him was aware of his quirks and despite it all, no one has ever left his side. The same goes for you as well. Since the first time you’d seen him, your heart already belonged to him. It was easier to pursue him than you’d expected since his team liked you very much and always helped you out by telling you about his schedule or when he’d come to practice. He was pretty cute once you got to know him better and unbeknownst to you, he had also fallen in love with everything about you. Your smile, the adorable way you tried to follow his basketball practice, the way you panicked when he told you that he didn’t like the type of candy you’d picked out, and everything else about you made his heart thump hard against his chest.

“You know Atsushi…if you keep your indifferent attitude up, your relationship might end pretty soon.”

“W-What do you mean…?”

With a perplexed expression on his face, Himuro took a glance at his friend who had panic written all over him, and reluctantly explained how you could feel neglected by him, or even think of leaving him because he seemingly doesn’t want to spend time with you. The purple-haired young man opened his mouth, wanting to protest but anything he said was immediately rebutted by his friend who told him that he was the wrong person to tell this to, and with that, Murasakibara sprinted out of the room. His destination: your home.

——

You were just out of the shower and preparing yourself to go to bed, when suddenly the doorbell starts ringing furiously, scaring you in the process. With a thumping heart and silent steps, you made your way to your door and took a glance at your peephole, needing less than a second to recognize just who had decided to spontaneously visit you this late at night.

“Atsushi, what are–”

“I’m sorry (Y/N)-chin, please don’t leave me! I-I promise I will go to that store reopening with you a-and to any other event you’d like, I’ll even do it without you having to buy me over with sweets, just–”

Thrown aback as you were, you took a tight hold of Murasakibara’s arms, squeezing them while you screamed at him to hold on and stop talking. Despite your reassuring words it took him a good while to calm down, so you made use of it and prepared some soft drinks, and put a couple of his favorite snacks in a rotating multi bowl set. After putting everything down on the small table in your living room, you got your boyfriend his favorite blanket, covering him with it, and finally sat down next to him.

“Now then, I’m almost afraid to ask you this, but…why are you pleading with me to not leave you?”

With his big and almost puppy-like eyes, he looked at you and asked with a slightly trembling voice: “S-So you really w-want to l-leave me?”

“Heavens no! Who even gave you that idea?”

The moment these few words left your lips, the tension finally left the young man’s body and he slumped back on your couch with a relieved sigh, whispering a silent thank god before massaging his closed eyes. You had never seen your lover being as worried as tonight and you figured that whatever has been bothering him must’ve been quite serious, and that made you in fact even more curious than before. Despite that, you figured you’d wait for him to start his explanation, or at least that was what you’d planned, but after a couple of minutes of nothing but silence, you decided to speak up and reassure him first.

“I’m not quite sure what happened, but it seems like you’re feeling bad for refusing my invite from some days ago, and well…I was kinda disappointed about not being able to go with you there, but I’ve known you for so long now and truth be told, I was prepared for such an answer so I’m not pissed off or anything, you know? You’re just the type of person to prefer staying indoors while lazing around…that’s just how you are and how I love you, so…”

You got embarrassed after a while and the young man’s missing reactions didn’t make it any better, so you eventually stopped mid-sentence and called out to him.

Silence.

“Atsushi…?”

You put your hand on his shoulder and gently shook him, causing his arm with which he was covering his eyes to fall to the side, revealing his slightly puffy eyes and sleeping face.

D-Did he…fall asleep…?

Who would’ve thought that your reassurance alone would have such an impact on him and cause him to fall asleep?

You giggled to yourself and gently caressed some strands of his hair away from his face, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek as you silently wished him a pleasant nap. A few seconds passed during which you contemplated whether you should go to your room or snuggle up to him, you picked the latter and as carefully as possible, leaned your head on his shoulder, closed your eyes, and missed the small smile that adorned Murasakibara’s lips.

Akashi:

Akashi usually isn’t one to get jealous of other people, since he is quite confident that there is no one better suited for you but him. And yet whenever he sees how you talk to Mayuzumi he can’t help but feel a tight pain in his chest and notice how his mood instantly drops. He’d immediately turn away from the sight of the two of you and go somewhere else, preferably the gym where he can either let his frustrations out on the ball or on some of the unmotivated basketball club members. When you were close to him during one of his bad days he was prone to behaving rather rude and harsh and even though he regrets it seconds after opening his mouth he just can’t stop himself. One day though, he truly lost it.

Everything was seemingly going well and then he saw both Mayuzumi and you come in the gym together, hand in hand, laughing, and worst of it all: you were blushing. The red-haired young man watched how his upperclassman helped you sit down on the bench and the way you two looked at each other made the captain feel sick. That’s when a certain thought entered his mind.

What if (Y/N) is planning on breaking up with me for….

While you laughed alongside the older member of the basketball club, you noticed out of the corner of your eyes the way Akashi approached you two and immediately sprung up to calm him down. “S-Sei, please calm yourself down!” you pleaded as you held onto his wrists, but no matter what you said he wasn’t listening, he only had eyes for the man behind you.

Out of desperation you wrapped your arms around the slightly trembling body of your boyfriend and began whispering how nothing was going on between the two of you, how Mayuzumi had only helped you reach the gym since you had sprained your ankle on the way, and how he had teased you for loving the captain too much. As if released from some sort of spell, the young man came back to his senses and returned your embrace in slight confusion. While you were quick to forgive and forget the sudden snap of your boyfriend, the grey-haired man behind you wasn’t in the mood to just forget how the first-year would’ve stabbed him with a ballpen if it weren’t for you. Luckily the other main team members came to calm their teammate down, while you excused yourself, took Akashi by the hand, and went out for a walk to help him calm down.

——

Holding tightly onto your boyfriend’s hand you dragged him off to a more remote area where you could properly talk to each other and resolve any type of doubts that seemed to sprout inside of his already restless mind as a sudden and unexpected whisper caught you off guard. You halted mid-step, turning to the young man behind you, and asked him to repeat what he’d just said.

After a short moment of reluctance, he nodded and did as asked. “I’m sorry for losing myself back there.” His sudden apology caught you quite off guard and made you forget your initial plan. The Akashi you knew rarely showed such enormous remorse for his actions, he might have finally found inner peace with himself and his insecurities, but that didn’t mean that he was now a completely changed man who’d thrown his entire pride away. Not being able to hold back your curiosity, you asked why he felt the need to apologize.

“The way I was ready to lash out at someone older than me, in the same way, I did with Kagami back then was uncalled for…not only that but your expression,” he paused, softly caressing your cheek and continued with a silent voice “that fearful expression you had when you saw me…I-I don’t want to see it ever again.”

Now I get it…

A sad smile adorned your lips as you squeezed his hand tighter. You were secretly thankful for his small outburst right now because it showed you not only that he indeed loved you as much as he usually told you, but also that despite his perfectionism he was very much flawed. He was afraid of losing you and equally afraid of you hating him for expressing these worries. Without saying anything you wrapped your arms around him in a hug and held him tightly as soon as he’d returned your embrace.

“Seijuro…please don’t try to tackle every worry you have on your own. That’s why we are a couple, right? Anything that bothers you, no matter how trivial or serious it is, please share it with me instead of tackling that burden on your own, ok..?”

His sharp yet beautiful eyes looked directly into your own before he leaned his forehead on your shoulder and murmured: “I know, it’s just…I’m still not used to having someone so dependable as you by my side, offering me so much support that I don’t know what to do with it.”

You giggled at his statement and kissed his head, thankful that you had more or less resolved one part of his issues, but more than anything you were happy that from now on he’d involve you more in his worries and problems.

Takao:

Everyone from Shuutoku warned you multiple times that being lovers with Takao would cause you to have severe trust issues and you didn’t believe them at first, but after a couple of weeks, you finally understood their warnings. The lively young man was surprisingly a jokester and tended to take certain things not serious enough for your preference, but since it was a part of his personality, that you’d fallen in love with, you decided to overlook it for the majority of the time.

Usually, his jokes were kinda misplaced and sometimes even more sympathy-inducing than fun, but they never failed to make you crack even the smallest of smiles. But lately, though his jokes started focusing on love and were constantly dealing with the topic of breakup or cheating and it made you quite anxious and hurt that he took these two so lightly without considering your feelings.

Day after day you put up with them until you just couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted him, saying that he should just stop talking for a moment. You were so agitated that you failed to notice his taken aback expression.

“Hey (Y/N)-chan, you do know that I’m just joking, right? There’s no need for you to take it seriously!”

There he goes again with the same excuse…

The young man attempted to take your hand in his, an usual gesture he made every time he upset you, but right now this was the last thing you needed. When his slender fingers brushed yours, you slapped his hand away.

“Not this time Kazu-chan…I’m sorry” you whispered and hurried off, leaving your boyfriend behind who was blown away by your reaction.

——

A few days passed since your little outburst and you’d been avoiding Takao ever since, afraid of being confronted with what you’d told him. You felt bad of course for treating him like that, but you were just not ready to talk to him yet and needed some time to come to terms with your thoughts first.

“What’s with you two always gluing yourselves on me whenever you have some kind of problem?” asked the green-haired young man who you’d forced to stay by your side since then. You responded with a giggle and told him that thanks to his confident behavior and direct words you felt placid and could sort your thoughts in peace. He simply sighed and looked at his lucky item for today, a silver ring with a small green jewel, which he’d once again gotten from his captain, who told him that it was yet another merch of his favorite idol.

“You shouldn’t avoid Takao so much. We both know that he makes jokes to hide away his insecurities and weaknesses and what do you think might happen if he sees us right now?”

He’s…right

You bit your lower lip and slumped forward, leaning your elbows on your thighs as you nodded a couple of times. Nothing good would come out of you brooding over this on your own and having Midorima with you wouldn’t make your little “fight” with Takao just disappear. Seeing you so lost in thought, the young man behind you had an idea, one that he didn’t entirely like, but right now all he wanted was to make you feel better, so he swallowed his pride and handed you the ring.

“Take it…i-it’s not like I’m giving it to you forever s-since it’s not mine and all…b-but Oha Asa said t-that Scorpio might need some k-kind of symbol o-of…love so” he stuttered as he held out his hand, the fragile ring between his bandaged fingers. You were at a loss for words at his gesture and all you could do was whisper out his name in surprise.

“Shin-chan! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Suddenly someone took a hold of your slightly outstretched arm and tugged on it, causing you to stand up and fall against their chest. You looked at the face of the person and it was none other than Takao who was glaring at his friend through glassy eyes. As if bitten by a bug Midorima jumped up and began protecting himself, but all you could focus on was the man who had his arms wrapped tightly around your body. While the two men insulted each other and bickered you realized just how stupid this entire situation was and couldn’t help but smile.

You placed your hand on your boyfriend’s cheek and turned his head, so that he was now facing you, and kissed him, shutting both of them up almost instantly. It took the young man a shot while to return your kiss, but when he did he also took the opportunity to properly embrace you.

“I’m sorry for overreacting Kazu-chan, it’s just that I-”

“No, don’t apologize (Y/N), I know I went too far this time. You know I love you more than anything else in this world and that I’ll never think about leaving you.”

The smile that adorned your lips widened as you nodded energetically and reassured him that your love for him is also one that will most likely last forever.

While you two made up, smiling at each other, the green-haired young man looked at the ring and grinned to himself.

I knew it…Oha Asa is never wrong

[possiblyimbiassed]

The lying liars who lie

Years and years late to the party, I’ve finally gotten my hands on all the DVDs of BBC Sherlock, and I thought it would be fun to watch the extra material carefully, one piece after another, and also listen to at least some of the show makers’ commentary of the episodes. But at this point, after S4 where DVDs seemed to be a constant lying device in general, I tend to look at them with a bit more suspicious eyes...

I still love the show of course, but now that I’ve taken this deep dive into all the special features, I find them a truly hard thing to try to wrap my head around. Even this long after the fact, I’m amazed by the amount of shameless, self-congratulatory BS in the DVDs, where the people involved can’t have enough of complimenting each other and their show, while they skillfully avoid to discuss anything actually meaningful about the plot line. ;) For example, Moffat claims in the S2 DVD that “In fact, you’ll never see a more obsessively authentic version of Sherlock Holmes than this one”. But if we follow their light-hearted commentary, which basically takes the show at face value, I’d call that not just hyperbole, but an outright lie. If you want to see the ‘authentic’ stories from ACD’s work in this show, you’ll definitely need to go much deeper into the subtext and meta levels - neither of which are mentioned on these DVDs of course. Here’s my own (rather subjective) ‘review’ of the whole thing, trying to pinpoint why I view most of the commentary of the show from its own makers as an advanced art of deception. 

(My musings under the cut)

Series 1 - a wealth of extra material

First of all - as many of you probably knew already - the whole of the Unaired Pilot is added to the DVD of S1. In the extra material about the making of the series, they (Sue Vertue, Mofftiss and others) talk about what things they changed between the Pilot and ASiP, claiming that many changes were necessary improvements once they knew that they had a whole series and a lot more time at their disposal. 

Which I can perfectly understand and agree with in general. But I think what’s missing in their discussions is more interesting than what’s actually there (”Mind the gap” ;) ). Things that I would expect from the show makers when they go to the trouble of comparing the pilot version with the aired product. There’s not a word, for example, about the fact that they added both Mycroft and Moriarty to the story in ASiP - two characters who later turn out to play major roles and appear in almost every other episode until the end of TFP. Or about the choice that one of the screenwriters would play Mycroft. 

Neither do they discuss why they chose to relocate the place where Sherlock was challenged by the cabbie from 221B to Roland Kerr’s School of Further Education. Instead they focus on the details, like for example the new design of the interior of 221B.

Not to mention the fact that almost every scene in the Pilot is mirrored in ASiP (as pointed out long ago by @kateis-cakeis X), but at Angelo’s in the Pilot Sherlock follows the events with the cabbie while looking in an actual mirror. I even noticed that in the Pilot the cabbie is offering Sherlock dark-coloured bottles with the pills in them, while in ASiP those bottles are transparent, as if the cabbie is offering Sherlock to play Black or White in the chess game that he is simulating. What’s with all these mirrors, though? Not a word on the DVD... ;)

Now, even though these rather remarkable choices are neglected together with a great bunch of minor ones, I still think that the most interesting fact about all this is that they actually included the whole pilot version within this DVD, which is sold by the franchise. Why even do this, when it raises far more questions than it answers? The only logical reason I can come up with is that they’re laying out a track of little hints that anyone with a deep enough interest in the show to actually buy the DVDs can try to follow. And it seems to me that lying by omission is one of the first steps in the long line of cryptic and misleading author comments on this show. But at the same time, they clearly want the fans to have access to it all, even the abandoned version.

Moving on to Series 2, time for bigger lies 

In the extra material of this DVD Benedict himself describes how his character "faces one of his deadliest enemies in the shape of Love, and it comes in the form of Irene Adler, who is this extraordinary dominatrix [insert here a bunch of superlatives regarding Adler]...”. And then we see how Adler whips Sherlock with a riding crop (without any kind of consent, I have to add) while he’s lying on the floor, and we have Lara Pulver telling us how it was to have a go at Benedict on set. So Holmes whips dead bodies and Adler whips living; seems like a match made in hell! :))

Gatiss claims, grinning with his whole face, that “they’re clearly, absolutely made for each other”. OK, so I think we can see Sherlock being intellectually impressed by Adler, and even trying to protect her from Mycroft, and we can see John acting jealously. We can also see her being dressed and styled as a perfect, female mirror of Sherlock. But I’m still at a loss what all this has to do with love on Sherlock’s part? Especially since he’s not even responding in any fashion to her various attempts at seducing him. 

And there’s more: Paul McGuigan, the director of ASiB, claims that the scene where Sherlock has a conversation with Adler inside his Mind Palace about the crime case with the car that backfires "is a part of a kind of love story, if you like...” No, I don’t. Maybe it’s just me, but if their aim really was to convey to their audience a love story between Sherlock and The Woman, I think they failed miserably. All I see is a guy ’mansplaining’ to a clever woman how to use her brain, while she’s trying to flirt with him by expressing her admiration (to no avail, though) and make deductions at the same time. Nothing new under the sun, really. John did the same thing repeatedly in ASiP (without making own deductions) and got far more attention from Sherlock, but I’ve never heard any of the show makers call that ”a love story”. But by ’lie-splaining’ the scene with Irene to the audience, they try to manipulate us all to see it as such...

In all the direct commentary of this episode, where Steven, Mark, Sue, Benedict and Lara are present, I get the impression that every time they even touch on the relationship between Sherlock and John, they hurry to add the term “friendship” or “man love” or similar words in case they forgot them at first, avoiding even the tiniest possibility that there could be anything more going on between them. They even explain that when Irene calls them “a couple” she does not mean anything romantic. This whole approach feels almost paranoic in the midst of all the laid-back jokes and light-hearted talk about the filming. It’s as if a sort of restrictive, heteronormative filter or blanket is being constantly applied, to teach the audience the ‘no homo’ lesson of it all. And the more I listen to this, the more tiresome it becomes.

In the commentary Moffat does reveal an interesting detail, though: that the ‘Flight of the Dead’ in ASiB was inspired by a cut out scene in the Bond movie On Her Majesty's Secret Service. To me this is just one more reason to question the ‘authentic’ quality of this scene, as opposed to possibly taking place in Sherlock’s Mind Palace. But I digress... 

Listening to the commentary in general, it’s like it’s aimed to distract the attention from what’s going on at the screen rather than highlight it and try to explain their intentions. They do mention that Irene didn’t actually ‘beat’ Sherlock in the end of ASiB, but there’s no explanation of this obvious deviation from canon, where Adler does indeed fool Holmes, taking advantage of his prejudices.

The rest of the extra material of S2 is mostly about technical stuff, special effects and such, and also about filming techniques and Benedict’s delivery of fast deductions. But the part I really do love is the one where Andrew Scott talks about how much he enjoyed playing the scene where Moriarty dances before breaking into the Crown Jewels. That’s one of my favorite scenes of he whole show. :) Also, the takeaway message from this DVD is Moffat’s words at the end: 

“These are still the formative years of Sherlock Holmes, and the most important thing about this series is not that it’s updated; it’s the fact that those two men are still young and they’re still at the beginning of what they don’t yet know is gonna be a lifelong partnership”. 

And then comes Series 3... 

...and its extra material, with the most blatant attempts at deception so far, I believe. At this point Sherlock is called a “psychopath” by both the show’s characters, John’s blog, Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman as if it were true, which is a big deviation from ACD canon. That simply doesn’t happen there; while Holmes is sometimes described as eccentric, no one in the books is ever claiming that Sherlock Holmes has some kind of mental illness leaning towards cruelty and egotism - not even his enemies say this about him. In the show, however, they begin in ASiP with making him torture a dying man for information (something that is not included in the Pilot). And in S3, where they avoid discussing the reason why they turned Mary Morstan into a ruthless assassin, this major shift is glossed over by the fact that in the same episode (HLV) they also turn Sherlock into a murderer, who cold-bloodedly blows the brains out of a blackmailer for threatening to make said assassin’s crimes public. 

But without ever getting into the “why” of it all, the cast and crew seem overly happy and smiling describing these rather morbid choices as something positive; “fantastic”, "fresh and new” and "amazing” are their choice of words. Benedict claims that Mary, who has literally shot and almost killed Sherlock in HLV, is now "a new best friend of Sherlock’s”. Amanda claims that Mary “is protecting John” when she shoots Sherlock in the chest. Now they’re both psychopaths, and poor little John is forced to stomach them both because he’s addicted to danger. In Amanda’s words, Mary also “kind of gets in between the two of them, but she wants them to be together as well”.  Which is a load of BS considering that Mary tries to kill the protagonist of the story.

Lars Mikkelsen thinks it’s “such a good script” because “you’re mislead as an audience”. But he never gets the chance to expand on what the misleading actually contains, because then Mofftiss cut in to express how much they love playing with “what ifs”. As if this whole mega-budget project of a show were just a big experimental playground without any actual story to tell. 

Benedict repeats his line from HLV that Magnussen “preys on people who are different” and Moffat also says he “exploits people who are different”. Which is really confusing, considering what we can see Magnussen actually do in the show. Lady Smallwood and John Garvie are two well-established, powerful governmental politicians whom Magnussen blackmails by finding their respective pressure points. In Garvie’s case his pressure point seems to be alcohol problems in his past, but according to media he’s later arrested on charges of corruption. Lady Smallwood is blackmailed on the basis of her husband having sent compromising letters to a minor many years ago, in spite of later claiming that he thought she was older and stopped when he found out the truth. And then Magnussen is blackmailing an assassin who recently threatened to execute him but shot Sherlock Holmes instead, in order to try to get at Sherlock’s brother Mycroft, another powerful governmental figure. 

But what does media seeking out dirt on certain people in power and their families have to do with “people who are different”? Despicable as the method may be, isn’t this unfortunately how political power play usually works in our society? Or are TPTB somehow a repressed minority group now? Unless this whole “people who are different” accusation is actually about something entirely different, something that none of the show makers even cares to mention... ;)

In these DVDs, none of the involved persons is ever discussing the change of roles with regards to canon, though, or the (lack of) logics in this turn of events, or even a hint about the narrative motivation behind them. It’s all about the great Drama, the extraordinary visual effects and the aim to endlessly “surprise the audience”. Which is fine by me to a certain extent, but when this is all that’s being said, it feels extremely superficial, as if the audience is merely seen as a bunch of consumers that have to be triggered more and more by horror, special effects and cliff hangers to be able to appreciate the show. (“Warm paste” indeed, like Gatiss has later criticized some viewers of wanting...) While the "why”; the idea behind this surrealistic adaptation, made by self-proclaimed fanboys of ACD, is not even touched upon. Around this, the silence is total and therefore totally confusing.

Maybe I shouldn’t even go into Series 4...

...but why not, since I’ve already started? :) 

First of all, there’s a lot of extra material on this DVD and I particularly love the parts about the music and composing and Arwel Wyn Jones’ work with the design and build-up of John’s and Mary’s flat and the interior of 221B. Those bits are truly enjoyable. What I could live without, though, is the leading commentary that kind of instructs us, the audience, how we should interpret the show. 

Benedict is on it again on this DVD, telling us that in TST they picked up where they left off in S3 and “It’s a very happy unit of three people that then become four.” Why does he feel the need to make this statement, considering how S3 ended? Actually, if there’s anything I totally fail to see in S4, it’s happiness. The banter between the three  of them may seem entertaining for a while, but who could have a relaxed, warm relationship with someone who tried and almost succeeded to kill you less than a year ago? Without any sign of remorse? Now there’s a dark tone of discomfort and mean jokes that feels forced and not even a bit happy to me. 

But Martin tells us how excited John and Mary are about starting a family and Amanda mentions how much they’re looking forward to the baby. Again and again it’s repeated, as though trying to rub it in: “they’re in a good place, they’re a loving, married couple”. Yeah, right - a child that (judging by TSoT) wasn’t at all planned and now with an assassin for a mother... Twice we see the new parents complain that their daughter has the mark of Satan on her forehead and debate which horror movie she’s from. The clichéd hypocrisy of it all is sickening, and I’m willing to bet that it’s really meant to be. ;) 

But Gatiss chimes in, deciding for us all that the christening of Rosie is “a funny scene” and “they’re enjoying each other, enjoying being on adventures as a three”.

An interesting detail is that Gatiss also tells us that the working name of this episode was “The Adventure of the Melting power Ranger”. So this little blue guy was that important? :) And - even more interesting - is when he says: “Cake is now the code for violent death”. So how should we interpret Sherlock, John and Molly going out to have cake in TLD then, on Sherlock’s (supposed) birthday? 

These might be jokes, though, but when they tell us that Sue cries every time she sees Mary’s death I strongly believe they must be joking. How could anyone feel truly moved by this overly sentimental long monologue where far more efforts are put into reacting to Mary’s speech than saving her life? And John’s mooing like a cow, is that also moving? :)

One thing Martin says about TLD that actually disgusts me is regarding the morgue scene where John assaults Sherlock and Sherlock lets it happen: “From there, really, their relationship can only sort of rebuild, that’s the absolute worst it can get”. As if outright physical abuse would be something that makes you want to rebuild a relationship? Wow - just wow... How far can they go with this crap?

Anyway, when we finally arrive at the absurdity of TFP and Sherlock’s ‘secret sister’, everything is of course discussed as if she actually does exist on the given premises, and everything she does is ‘real’, no matter how impossible it would be in real life. The abandonment of any attempt to have the story line make logical sense is skillfully covered up by more distraction with fascinating technicalities of the film making process. This is where Gatiss makes his now almost classic statement that after Sherlock and John jump out of the window at 221B when a grenade explodes there, it’s just “Boop! And they’re fine.” 

Of course there’s no serious attempt at explaining this logically. Except perhaps Gatiss claiming that they both landed on Speedy’s awning - whatever good that would do to them, since the awning is leaning downwards, but never mind... But we never even saw that happen, did we? A great deal of time is then dedicated to show all the precautions to have Martin and Ben jumping safely at low level onto a madras supported by empty cardboard boxes.

Sian Brooke did say something interesting about Sherrinford, however, that got me thinking. She said that Eurus “wants revenge for the years and years that she has been held captive” there, isolated, and that in TFP the Holmes children are now “lab rats” and “it’s an experiment”. On a meta level, I think we can indeed see this episode - and maybe the whole show - as a kind of experiment, but maybe we, the audience, are also lab rats? Since Sherrinford is slightly shaped like a film camera (not commented in the extra material, of course), it leads my thought to all the adaptations through the years and years where Holmes and Watson have not been allowed to be together. A whole century when Sherlock Holmes has been held captive, restricted by the very same sort of heteronormative filter that all this extra material imposes; it’s like Sherrinford, isn’t it? Which gives all the more meaning to Moriarty’s arrival to the island, accompanied by Freddy Mercury’s “I want to break free”...

I think I’ll let the final words in this little exposé come from Mark Gatiss in The Writers’ Chat (my bolding):

“Moriarty is a fascinating thing in that in our sea of ongoing lies, one thing we’ve genuinely been completely consistent about is telling people he’s dead. But no-one believes it! And it’s a rather brilliant thing.”  Again - self-congratulatory statements. But instead of providing some actual evidence of the death of this character, who has kept popping up in almost every episode since his supposed demise, they think that the more a confirmed liar repeats something, the truer it gets? And the more we’re supposed to believe them? Well, all we can do is wait and see. :)

Tagging some people who might be interested: 

@raggedyblue​ @ebaeschnbliah​ @sarahthecoat​ @gosherlocked​ @lukessense​ @sagestreet​ @thepersianslipper​

My earlier meta on a similar topic (X)

[comradekatara]

spare ming-hua headcanons? (if you want)

oooh! i wish we knew more about the red lotus and their respective backstories; they’re such fascinating characters (frankly, way more compelling than most of lok’s oversized ensemble...) my only real Headde Canonne for ming hua is that she was one of katara’s most talented pupils, and i think the fact that katara wasn’t in book 3 at all was such a missed opportunity to explore that... like, there’s so much potential there!! so yeah i wrote a backstory for her here u go: 

when ming hua was born without arms, her parents immediately assumed that she couldn’t be a waterbender. but despite being presumed a non-bender, ming hua was obsessed with watching the other kids her age practicing their waterbending, and studying everything she could ever learn about the artform. 

she was born in the southern water tribe even though her family came from the north, because they wanted to give her older sister the best possible waterbending education she could get, and as everyone knows, that’s in the south pole, at master katara’s waterbending school. 

ming hua grew up in her older sister’s shadow. she was a waterbender who had the privilege of studying under master katara, and ming hua was just her disabled little sister. how sad, how pitiful. ming hua’s disability was just a sob story that made her sister popular among her classmates, whereas ming hua’s classmates didn’t pity her exactly... they just ostracized her.

ming hua loved joining her mom to pick up her older sister from waterbending classes because it meant she got to watch katara and her students perform waterbending forms. one day, ming hua overheard katara chatting with her mom. katara asked her mom if ming hua would be joining classes soon too, but her mom was like “oh well she’s not a bender, so no...” but katara was like “well she’s a little young for you to know that definitively.” her mom explained to katara in hushed tones that ming hua doesn’t have any arms (it’s hard to tell when her entire tiny body is eclipsed by a huge fluffy parka), so it’s highly unlikely that she would ever bend. but for the rest of the day, ming hua couldn’t get the thought out of her head that she could, maybe, be a bender. 

she spent the entire night trying to get water to move with her mind. she just stared at it really hard to no avail. but then, she crouched down and sprung up on her feet really fast, and a jet of water shot into the air. “MOOOOOOOOOOOM......”

she had to plead with her parents to enroll her in waterbending school. even though she had finally proven to them that she could waterbend, they were still skeptical that she could ever be a competent bender, so why bother. but katara promised to train her personally, so they had to agree. 

katara mastered waterbending arms by the time she was 14. ming hua mastered it by the time she was 8. tiny and desperate to prove herself, ming hua was rapidly becoming one of katara’s favorite students. 

ming hua idolized katara, and was convinced that katara was the only person in the world who truly understood her, and that, in fact, katara knew everything. she absorbed all of katara’s beliefs about the world—that monarchies are flawed and unjust, that radical change is needed to improve the world, that sometimes blowing up factories is necessary and sick af actually—like a sponge. 

she wanted to be just like katara when she was older, to help people and to improve her community, not be mention become the greatest waterbender in the world. she was on track for all of those things, and katara was so very proud. 

by the time ming hua was a teenager, she and katara had a mentor/mentee friendship, in which they discussed not only advanced waterbending techniques, but also politics, art, culture, and their personal lives. despite never having actually met him, ming hua harbored an almost defensive disdain for sokka. older siblings really are the worst. 

when ming hua found out that katara was literal best friends with firelord zuko, it felt worse than her first heartbreak. it was a betrayal of the highest order, and a paradigm shift. “why did you never tell me that you’re friends with the firelord???” she demanded, tears in her eyes. and, infuriatingly, katara laughed. she explained to ming hua that just because she’s anti-monarchy doesn’t mean she hates every individual monarch. ming hua was furious. “you should!!!!” she insisted. who was this woman and what had she done with her beloved mentor??? 

eventually, katara finally managed to explain to ming hua that her history with zuko was more nuanced than a simple political connection. she even introduced zuko to ming hua when he was in the south pole, and since he seemed nice enough, ming hua relented that fine, maybe katara is allowed to have some piece of shit 1% colonizer friends. katara bit her cheek trying not to point out that ming hua’s family is literally northern water tribe old money. clearly, ming hua’s heart was in the right place.

ming hua also thought it was quite suspect that katara wanted to be chief. didn’t katara always say that the best change was made through radical action and grassroots organizing in the community? why would katara want power if she believed in democracy? 

katara was just like “well.... you see.... the thing about that is.....”

since katara was never a member, it was actually suki who recruited ming hua to the white lotus. she’d heard katara gush about her incredibly clever and talented waterbending student who showed great promise, and once suki met ming hua, she knew that inviting her into the white lotus would be a great step in helping her achieve her dream of helping the world. ming hua was delighted. 

it was in white lotus meetings that she met ghazan. he didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. he was an extremely powerful bender, and she liked his quiet stoicism and good-natured sense of humor. he grew up in poverty (read: self-reliant and resilient) and always had his head in a book (read: knowledgeable and intelligent), which ming hua found incredibly attractive. 

it was merely speculative at first, the kind of theory one reads to learn how the “other side” thinks, but ghazan couldn’t help but find xai bau’s philosophy compelling. 

ming hua was never an avid reader, because she had yet to find a way to turn the pages without getting the ink wet, but she liked it when ghazan would read aloud to her. when listening to him read from xai bau’s manifesto, she couldn’t help but feel inspired. 

she had been growing evermore disillusioned with the white lotus the more time she spent with these plebs & poindexters. some of them were good at pai sho and little else, some of them were literal warmongers (who the fuck let the dragon of the west join???) and even that sexist guy katara fought as a kid (one of her favorite katara stories) had been a member. not to mention katara’s stupid older brother (and no, ming hua still had not actually met sokka). katara had wholeheartedly supported suki’s decision to recuit ming hua, but she also called the white lotus “a nerd club for losers,” so maybe she’d been right... 

when ming hua met p’li and zaheer, she knew she’d made the right choice. 

the four of them were their own little gang, comrades in arms (so to speak), and ming hua finally felt like she had peers who weren’t afraid of her, for her disability or her power. they cared about each other, and they cared about the people of the world and wanted to change it for the better. they made plans for the future, but for now, they were just happy they could finally be themselves. 

when the identity of the new avatar was revealed, a girl from the south pole named korra, they knew their vision for the world could finally be achieved. their plan was foolproof. the one problem was what would happen if chief katara got involved; she may be past her prime, but she was still extremely powerful. ming hua assured her friends not to worry; she could handle her. 

only, when the time came, they found out all too late that katara was not currently acting as chief, because she was currently in the earth kingdom for some reason, and the interim chief was her stupid brother sokka (nepotism much?? what had he ever done to be worthy of the title???) and zuko, the ex-firelord, was also, inexplicably, there. ming hua was not counting on them fighting her instead of katara. she hadn’t even been expecting a fight. she just wanted to talk to katara long enough to distract her. but she had absolutely no idea what to say to sokka and zuko that wouldn’t be suspicious. she suddenly regretted never having met sokka prior to this moment. for one thing, he wasn’t as stupid as ming hua had always assumed. and like that, the air-tight plan ming hua had dedicated her life to crumbled before her eyes.

of course sokka would advocate for killing ming hua and her friends. ming hua was furious, but zaheer said that sokka was right; it was more humane, cost-effective, and practical to execute them than to construct four separate prisons specifically designed to contain them, keep them in solitary confinement their entire lives as they lose their minds or inevitably escape. and, fine, ming hua could kind of see his point. but ugh. sokka. 

when katara learned that her precious baby avatar korra had nearly been kidnapped by a small group of terrorists, she was beside herself, and immediately returned home. sokka explained to her that they’d managed to subdue the threat and were now deciding the fates of the attackers. “aang isn’t here anymore,” sokka said. “for once in your life, be practical about this.” 

and katara was inclined to agree. it was the more logical solution. but then she learned their names. ming hua.... no, it couldn’t be the same ming hua..... the same...... extremely talented waterbender....... who didn’t have arms.......... oh.

ultimately, sokka was outvoted. it wouldn’t be right to tarnish aang’s legacy like this so soon after his death. that’s what katara said, anyway. 

[courtlyharlequin]

*slams hand on counter* Let me order Rose Latté for Leona! I need to taste this delicacy that you have created!

Serendipity

A/N: I feel aggressively loved huehue. This ended up longer than I expected. It also got a bit heated because I got thirsty halfway since I read Nessun Dorma’s first chapter while taking a break from writing this. I’m sorry about the mess that you’re about to read ⊂((・⊥・))⊃

Bells chimed as you walked through the door. The podigant scent of rose welcomed and halted you in your tracks. You closed your eyes to inhale the flowery fragrance.  

“Are you going to order or what?” a tired voice mumbled.

Tired as in too-early-in-the-morning-for-this tired. There was a slight undertone of irritation in that oh so husky voice. It was deep, soothing... and oddly attractive. Wait...

Your eyes snapped open, cheeks heating up as your eyes met with the barista’s. His emerald orbs were breathtaking. They were akin to an endless sea of green– such depth, such wonder. They peered into your soul. An intense gaze, it was. Your eyes wandered to his hair which was unkempt, pulled into a low ponytail with two braids framing his face. Your hands reached for the sides of your face, smacking them vehemently.  

For goodness sake (y/n)! You were here for coffee, not to ogle at the barista! Well, you were here for an aphrodisiac, but you haven’t consumed anything yet! Shame on you!

“Are you going to order or what?” the voice repeated, sounding more and more annoyed by the minute.

“I- Yes! Yes, I am,” you exclaimed, blushing profusely.

The barista extended his hands out, gesturing to the cash register, a silent command for you to come forward to the counter. His smile was strained.

“One Rosé Latte, please.”

“Hmmm,” he leaned over the register, matching his eye level with yours, “are you one of those herbivores that honestly believe that rumor about soulmates?”

“And if I am? It doesn’t concern you.”

“Touché,” he said as he clicked his tongue.

You hummed in response.

“Name for your order?” he prompted.

“(y/n).”

“Cute. One soulmate detector coming right up,” he murmured, handing you the receipt.

With a whip of his tail, his back was turned against you. It was amusing how he wouldn’t let it go, how  bitter he was about this drink– whatever the reason was. You watched him work attentively as if the concoction he was brewing was a magic potion, a solution, to all of your romantic problems.

Perhaps it was. Truthfully, you came to this cafe to confirm the rumors. Your peers flocked to this place as soons as the rumors circulated to your school. They praised the hearsay for they had found “the one” through this drink. You were not one to believe in superstitions. However, you could not help but feel a tad jealous of your classmates; you had been looking for someone to share your everything with, but to no avail it seems. You were not one who required a relationship to be validated, but you were one who never liked to be alone. Above all things, you were lonely. Your peers left you behind for their soulmates. Of course, the rumors were silly, but you were curious as to whether your peers experienced a coincidence or fate.

“Oi. Sit down, herbivore. Stop making heart eyes at me,” the barista flicks your forehead.

He turns back to his work.

“I’m not making heart eyes at you! I was just–”

“You’ve been standing there for three minutes. Your legs might get tired.”

You huffed and sat down on one of the barstools in front of the counter so you could watch him brew your latte, propping your head up with one arm. You were certainly not making heart eyes at him. Who was he to think that he was that handsome to have a random customer ogling at him first thing in the morning? He isn’t wrong though. He was attractive. His appearance wasn’t otherworldly. It was down to earth, humane, and masculine. Very, very attractive although his high horse killed his charm. You trailed down his arms, landing on the cup that would soon house your drink. He handled it with care, each movement was languid yet fluid. Despite his disheveled mein, this barista displayed such integrity and prowess. He made serving a simple cup of joe something worth chasing a degree for.

“I told you to stop making heart eyes at me,” he growled, spinning his heel around to face you.

“I wasn’t before.”

“So you’re admitting that you are now?”

“I’m not making heart eyes now either.”

“I can feel you staring at my back.”

“Just a feeling,” you shrugged.

He clicked his tongue.

“I can’t help it if the way you make coffee is mesmerizing.”

“Is it now?” he smirked, sliding you your drink.

He leaned forward from behind the worktable, waiting for your reaction. His tail swished back and forth in anticipation.

You took a moment to appreciate the intricate latte art of a rose. Daintily, you brought the cup to your lips and sipped your coffee. You widen your eyes at the explosion of subtle flavors. First and foremost was the taste of roses. It wasn’t overwhelming. In fact, it strangely complimented the coffee.

“Found your soulmate yet?”

“Yeah.”

His ears twitched, “Really now? Who? Hate to break it to you, darling, but nobody’s here.”

“There’s you.”

“You can’t be serious…” he groaned, rubbing his temples, “This can’t be love. We can’t possibly be soulmates.”

“Hmm… probably not, but there is such a thing as falling in love at first sight. As you said, I’ve been making heart eyes at you this whole time.”

“So you were making heart eyes at me.”

“No, I was admiring the way you brewed coffee. Everything else was a secondary matter. But that’s not the point.”

“That's attraction, not love.”

“Attraction can become love.”

He inched forward: “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

The space between you two closed at that moment. And at that moment, electricity flooded your entire body, your senses, your grasp of your surroundings. You felt relief and fervor all at once. Mostly the latter. It was as if your mouth was made fit his perfectly like Cinderella’s glass slipper.

You broke the kiss, gripping the collar of his dress shirt, “I… I... can’t breath.”

“First time kissing a lion?”

“First time kissing at all,” you panted.

“And you wasted it on a random barista, you dumb herbivore.”

“You initiated!”

“Do you even know my name?” he tilted his head.

“...You’re right. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have gotten ahead of myself like that. Sorry for bothering you. Um, does it help to leave a tip to compensate for the trouble? I don’t have much on me right now but I–”

He flicked your forehead once more.

“Leona, Leona Kingscholar.”

“Pardon?”

“My name.”

“Ahhhhh–”

“You’re a hopeless herbivore.”

“Hopeless romantic, mind you. I’m your hopeless soulmate and you’re mine.”

“No, I’m just the barista you happened to fall for.”

“I’m only taking soulmate for an answer.”

“Fine. Soulmates. Soulmates by coincidence,” he said reluctantly, getting up to tend to other things in the café.

“I’ll take what I can get,” you laughed as you took another sip of the latte.

You exhaled.

“Hey, Leona?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you believe in soulmates? Maybe not like the rumors about Rosé Latte, but like finding ‘the one’ through serendipitous encounters?”

You fiddled your thumbs, waiting for his reply.

“...I do.”

You stared into your cup, “Then... Leona?”

He grunted in response, a signal to let you know to continue.

“Is there actually something in this latte that makes you fall in love?”

“Perhaps. I’m not quite sure myself.”

“What do you think it is then?”

He sighs, “My coworkers think that the rosy flavorings all have some type of lovey-dovey hex on them that triggers some epiphany whenever ‘the one’, as you’d call it, is around and for whatever reason, it works every time.”

“I see. But... Leona?”

“What is it this time?”

“Do you believe in those silly rumors about this café, then?”

“Yes and no. At first, I thought it was all correlation. A latte can’t possibly bring people together, you feel?  I didn’t think much of it, let alone believe it... until today.”

“That’s good to hear…soulmate,” you beam.

“Hey, don’t call me that,” he growled, returning to his place before you.

“Does ‘My Leona’ work better?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re mine,” you teased.

“I kind of like that.”

“Kind of?”

“Yep.”

“Well, whatever. I have to go now.”

“So soon?”

“I have class.”

“Alright, take care.”

“Oh wait! Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“Just give it to me.”

He obliged. You placed a piece of paper in his hands.

“What’s this?”

“My number.”

“Did you write this before coming here?”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“You seemed like that type of hopeless romantic.”

“Excuse me?”

“A good thing, darling.”

“If you say so...”

You chugged the rest of the latte, grabbed your bag and leaned towards him.

You pecked his cheek, “See you later, My Leona.”

His eyes widened at the term of endearment. Of course, he liked it. Loved it, even. It was something he had to adjust to, but he sure as hell loved it. You were going to be the death of him. You were such a herbivore. A hopeless one too like a doe frolicking in a meadow, unaware of the predators stealthily prowling around you. Not even a day yet and you already had him putty in your hands with that saccharine, hopeless romantic personality of yours. He would never say it out loud, but he was glad he finally “the one”.

Bells chimed as someone walked through the door. Still at the bar, you moved your gaze to catch a glimpse of who was at the door: a boy of a much shorter stature (compared to Leona) with hyena ears and another boy who was taller than the hyena yet shorter than Leona with lovely silver locks and glasses. You turned back to Leona. He was standing straight and at a distance from you. You didn’t think much of it, continuing your way out of the coffee shop.

You waved goodbye through the rose-tinted windows. In return, he cracked a small smile.

Bonus:

“Oya? What’s this? Has Leona found his soulmate? Congratulations!” the hyena cooed.

“Cut it out, Ruggie.”

“I’m rejoicing over the fact that the Leona Kingscholar has found his soulmate and nothing more,” he replies

“You’re just happy that you won the bet,” the boy with glasses sighed.

“For once, that Octopunk is right.”

“Kishishishi! Yeah, money is good. Money from Azul is even better~”

“I honestly didn’t think you would get one this soon even if you were the last one out of café staff to get one. But, regardless, I’m truly happy for you,” the octopus mused, handing over the money reluctantly.

“You’re totally faking it,” Leona scoffed, “Anyways, I’m heading home.”

“Your shift isn’t over yet though.”

“Don’t care. You can take care of it, Ruggie.”

“Aren’t you glad you had to do morning shift today though, ‘My. Le-o-na~’?? ” the hyena asked in a sing-songed manner.

“Yeah...”

[hannie-dul-set]

saturday came rolling by quicker than you'd expected.

standing near the entrance of the rather expensive restaurant (you swore that even the plants by the door are worth more than everything you were wearing combined) you opened your phone, double checking to make sure you were at the right place that jaehyun's mother messaged you.

admittedly, it was a bit weird that you were hanging our with your new friend's mother whithout the knowledge of that said friend, but even if you wanted to back out, you couldn't because it would be rude to do so.

you returned your phone back into your white sling bag after confirming that this was indeed the place and made your way into the entrance, the restaurant's guard opening the door for you.

the moment you stepped in, you started to feel a bit self conscious. you were only wearing a simple navy blue wrap dress underneath a cream cardigan and a pair of sandals to match— deeming you absolutely out of place inside the fancy interior of the establishment.

to the eyes of the occupants of the restaurant, you probably looked like a lost puppy considering your attire and the fact that you had no idea where the hell mrs. jung was.

"miss, can i help you?"

your search was interrupted by one of the waiters, you assumed.

"oh, um, i'm looking for mrs. jung..?"

were you supposed to say that? at that point you didn't even care— you just wanted this whole lunch thing over and done with.

"ah, then you must be y/n l/n, correct?" you were slightly confused, but you nodded anyway.

"follow me, miss."

and so you did, carefully treading along the restaurant floor. you were afraid if you even breathe in the wrong direction, you'd end up breaking one of the many expensive decorations littered all around the place.

the waiter lead you to a secluded part of the restaurant. sunlight was beaming into the large arch windows that were adorning the walls and there were only three tables set up, all of which were unoccupied save for the one at the very end.

as you moved further inside, the two people that were sitting at the last table had noticed you and the waiter walking in. their heads turned towards your direction and you stopped in your tracks.

one of them was mrs. jung, obviously, but the other one you weren't quite expecting.

"miss y/n?"

"jaehyun?"

amidst your shock, the waiter had already left, leaving the three of you alone. your eyes were frozen stuck on jaehyun dozens of question marks floating around his head.

you were confused, but then you remembered that this was her son, of course he'd be here. but couldn't she at least have told you?

"y/n, dear, it's good that you've finally joined us! i was worried that you wouldn't come."

jaehyun was the first to snap back into reality. he diverted his attention from you to his mother.

"mother," you couldn't pinpoint the exact emotion he was carrying in his voice. "care to explain why miss y/n is here?"

"i invited her, of course," mrs. jung seemed to be completely unbothered by not so pleasant demeanor that her son was baring.

"sorry, i can just leave if you'd like," the atmosphere was unbearably uncomfortable and you'd much rather just leave if you could. you gave them a small bow before turning your heels, hand clutching your bag as you were about to leave.

"no, it's alright—" the screeching of a chair was heard and you felt a hand grab onto your arm, preventing you from moving forward. you turned around and you were met with a rather frantic looking jaehyun. "you can stay."

eyes wide from the sudden close proximity, your gaze moved back and forth from jaehyun's very very close face to his hand that was holding onto you— you could feel the heat slowly rising to your cheeks.

jaehyun must've noticed the situation that you two were in and he let go of you hurriedly, a coughing out a small sorry in the process. from the corner of your eye you could see his mother looking at the both of you with an amusement in her face. mostly because of his son's absolutely uncharacteristic behavior but you weren't aware of that.

"i apologize if my words sounded rude," jaehyun started, finally managing to get himself back together. "it wasn't my intention to send you away— i was just surprised to see you again."

"no it's okay," you gave him a smile of assurance and he visibly relaxed.

you nearly forgot that his mother was actually here (not to mention she was the one who invited you) until you heard her speak up.

"maybe i'm the one who should be leaving?" she teased, jaehyun giving her a disapproving look.

"you're staying. i believe you still have some explaining to do, mother."

much to your surprise, lunch went a lot better that you'd expected, especially taking into account the prior events that took place. mrs. jung eventually told jaehyun everything— the fact that she contacted you last time as well as her reasonings. jaehyun wasn't really upset that his mother was trying to set you two up, he was absolutely flustered to the highest point— cheeks flaring and avoiding eye contact from you as much as possible, you couldn't help but laugh at him, furthering his embarrassment.

"i apologize for my mother's behavior," he tells you (although, his eyes were looking everywhere else except for you).

the evident unease that was present earlier was replaced with comfortable air to which you were surprised, but nevertheless you were thankful. the conversation went on until the topic eventually landed on you.

"y/n," jaehyun's mom started, taking a sip from her peach-colored drink before continuing. "i realized i never got to ask your age."

"ah, i'm turning twenty-one this year," you replied, earning a hum from the older woman.

jaehyun places down his fork, diverting his attention towards you instead. "you must be in school then. do you mind me asking what your major is?"

"oh, no i'm not, actually,"

you continued to eat your food (you asked jaehyun what it was called but it your ears failed to understand the rich language) while the two of your companions promptly stopped, expecting you to continue. the sudden attention directed on you was a bit discomforting, so you placed your utensils down and wiped your lips with the napkin available.

"i can't really afford college so i'm still trying to save."

"what about your parents?" jaehyun asked, concern lacing his voice. "shouldn't they be the one's supporting you?"

"they sort of abandoned me after i graduated high school," you reply, staring at the untouched drink in front of you. "so i had to do things on my own from there."

you didn't really have a problem talking about your situation— you'd always been one to believe that all things happen for a reason, so you don't hold anything against your parents. you were never one to dwell on things; you'd rather choose to just keep on moving forward no matter how many setbacks you encounter. but of course, even though you had moved, emotions from the past sometimes resurface.

"i'm so sorry to hear that, sweetie," mrs. jung tried to sympathize with you. "i hope you're not too uncomfortable talking about this."

"no, it's okay, i've moved on," you pressed your lips together into a smile. "and although i'm not exactly in the best place financially, i'm pretty happy with my life right now. the experiences i've gathered and all of the wonderful people i've met— i'm very thankful for all of that."

after your mini speech, you looked over to jaehyun, who was looking at you with an expression that you weren't able to pinpoint.

"you really are an amazing person, miss y/n."

the words that left jaehyun's lips left you stunned, unable to think of a response. he might've said this to you through chat but this time he was looking at you— looking at you so so intently that you lost your entire train of thought.

"oh— um, thanks," you managed to sputter out before going back to your food.

"you know, dear, i'd be more than willing to help you with your financial situation right now," jaehyun's mother says and you politely decline.

"no, no, it's okay! i've saved up quite a bit already, and on top of my many part time jobs, my art has been doing pretty well recently," you explain. "i don't think it would be right for me to take money from you."

mrs. jung thinks momentarily before speaking up. "art? are you an artist, y/n?"

"i remember her mentioning it to me at one point," jaehyun joins in the conversation.

"well... i'm not exactly well known but i do a bit of freelance work here and there," you meekly mumbled. "i also do commissions."

until now, you couldn't tell what exactly was going on in jaehyun's head, but mrs. jung seems to be elated from your words.

"that sounds wonderful, dear!" jaehyun's mother beamed. "if you aren't too busy, i'd like to commission you, as well."

"really?"

you perked up from hearing her suggestion. you still had a few paintings lined up to be finished, but you'd be a fool to pass up on this opportunity.

"i still have some things to work on," you began. "but if you could wait until those are finished, then i see no problem!"

"there's no rush, dear! work on it as you see fit— we can discuss the details privately in a later time."

"alright, thank you so much, mrs. jung! i'll be sure not to disappoint you."

the day went on and the lunch you spent with the two jung's was over. after bidding then goodbye and thanking them for the nice meal, jaehyun had insistently offered to drive you home, but you politely declined, saying that you can just take the bus instead.

sitting on one of the benches at the bus stop, you pulled out your ear buds, deciding to listen to music as you waited. today wasn't as bad as you expected. jungwoo and haechan were wrong about mrs. jung— she may be a bit excessive and a bit too evasive regarding her son's affairs, she seemed like a genuine and sweet lady, none the less.

amidst your thoughts, you felt someone sitting beside you so you instinctively scooted away. you heard a cough from the said person, so you looked over to them. surprised, you pulled your ear buds away.

"jaehyun?"

"miss y/n," he looked at you. "i would like to formally apologize for my mother's behavior— she tends to cross boundaries without meaning to, i hope you don't take anything against her."

to be honest, you never expected jaehyun to run after you. it appears that the tables have turned seeing that he looks extremely out of place in his expensive looking coat inside the vicinity of the run-down bus stop. jaehyun still looked a bit embarrassed talking about it seeing that his face was painted a light dust of pink, causing a mirthful laugh to bubble in your throat.

"it's okay," you smiled at him in assurance. "i was definitely caught off guard, but i can see that your mother doesn't have any ill intentions."

jaehyun let out a sigh, visibly easing up upon your response.

"thank you for understanding," he gave a you smile and you were taken aback— jung jaehyun smiled at you for the first time that day and holy shit he has dimples.

before you can conjure up a response, the bus came into view and you stood up in haste, moving closer into the street. as the vehicle neared, you looked behind to see that jaehyun was now on his feet but he was yet to leave. the both of you made eye contact and you grinned at him.

"i'll be going now, jaehyun. thank you for today!"

his expression mirrored yours, hands snugly tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"likewise, miss y/n."

you curtly nodded before finally entering the bus. as you sat down, you looked outside the window only to see jaehyun still in the same position as before but he had his phone in his hand, fingers tapping away at the screen. he noticed you looking at him, giving you a small wave before walking away.

your phone buzzed from inside your back and you quickly took it out. a laugh escaped your lips and a wide smile blossomed into your face.

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

13 // safe ride home

a/n: written part!! :D pls enjoy hehet <3

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[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (4/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

So here is the next chapter of division of labor. I had intended to drop it today for a long time. I didn't expect it to coincide with leaks so sorry for the slight mood whiplash.

Anyway, thank you to the anons on tumblr for asking about this fic. I still find it pretty surreal that people actually think about my work, let alone send asks about it.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Having lived alone for all of his high school life and some of his middle school life, Levi was sure of one thing.

Cooking is fun. Except when it is graded.

In fact, nothing can be fun when someone is behind them watching their every move telling them their performance in that one activity can determine a grade and that grade can determine their future. As Levi and Hange surveyed the ingredients in front of them, Erwin was behind them. Of all the workstations he had chosen to hang out in, it happened to be theirs.

As Levi looked at the other workstations, he could see Nanaba to his left already cracking two eggs into a bowl next to Mike. Bertholdt who was working in front of them with his pair Reiner was already cutting up what looked like cheese cubes. To his right was his own pair Hange who was shaking the eggs to her ear.

“Just to check if they’re boiled,” she explained. Levi did not even notice he had given her a judgemental look until she avoided his gaze looking a little self conscious.

Of course they wouldn’t be boiled. They were supposed to be doing everything from scratch. Why did he and Hange in particular look the most clueless? Why weren’t they doing anything? Levi looked behind him again to see Erwin still staring at both of them. I’m not clueless. Levi had to remind himself. He preplanned and prepared meals multiple times a week. He could make anything from the ingredients laid out in front of him. Eggs. Cheese. Celery. Instant noodles.

Why the hell is there instant noodles. What am I supposed to be making?

That ordeal only fueled his hatred for surprise tasks. He hated pop quizzes. Particularly because he had the cursed history of not knowing exactly what would be asked during the actual quizzes but having comprehensive knowledge in another facet of whatever topic they discussed in class. At that moment, he could have gladly given an oral exam about why exactly putting a washing machine in the bathroom was a good idea. Hange probably would have been able to do a practical exam or presentation explaining why a rent-to-own scheme was the best option for homeowners.

Both he and Hange though, probably spent at the most ten minutes running through that meal plan which was biting them so painfully in the ass at that moment. On top of that, the restrictions were ridiculous and unnecessary.

“No checking the recipe?” It was Connie that time towards the front of the room who was protesting the ridiculous restriction put on them. “I thought you’re supposed to be simulating adulthood. In real life everyone could just research the recipes? ”

“What if you don’t have wifi but you have eggs and vegetables in front of you and you need to cook breakfast?” Erwin challenged.

“We’ll have recipe books.” Sasha answered.

Erwin raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the Connie and Sasha pair. “Will your current financial situation allow that?”

Levi found some solace in Erwin’s comment. Maybe, just maybe that meant that they weren’t the only pair currently burning in hell financially in this little game of adulting. He looked to Hange and the face she made as Erwin had said the words `current financial situation’ and “allow” in the same sentence, Levi guessed that Erwin’s comment probably applied to them as a pair too.

“It is important at least for all of you to know the basics of cooking a nice meal even without the recipe.

Levi sighed. He lived alone and he knew they didn’t need it. Levi had a recipe book for easy recipes at home and almost always had wifi anyway. Nobody actually needed to memorize recipes. He was aware though of the culture of schools to know that schools always made things harder than they were supposed to be.

At least when you’re in the real world, things will be so much easier because you’ve had it hard already. Some teachers would defend. Making things unnecessarily hard though wasn’t at all an effective way to get people good at things. Sometimes, making things unnecessarily hard only left students with chronic unresolved tensions with certain formulas, academic concepts and sometimes even mundane objects they had encountered too many times in an academic setting. In fact, he started to feel the beginnings of it when he encountered washing machines and Japanese style house designs while he went grocery shopping that weekend. A few times he also could have sworn he’d seen Hange recoil at hearing the words ‘debit’ and ‘credit.’

“Maybe we should boil the eggs?” Hange lined up the ingredients on the counter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Levi asked, or more specifically panicked. Around him he could see the others already turning on the stove. Watching Hange observe the ingredients was only a grave reminder of their own incompetence.

“I’m just trying to arrange the ingredients in different ways. Maybe a good idea will come to mind.” She paused for a second. “Scrambled eggs?”

"Hear me out Hange, what if it isn't scrambled eggs." The ingredients all pointed to scrambled eggs or an omelette. In front of them there was a pan, a skillet, eggs, butter and vegetables. That seemed like the most reasonable option. Having taken tests and quizzes for most of his life though, Levi was a master of the art of ‘doubting one’s self’ in high pressure situations where every decision equated to a deduction. “Why is there a pack of instant noodles?” Whether he had intended to or not, Levi had ended up saying his thoughts out loud.

Hange paused for a second, pressing her thumb to her lips in thought, her eyes completely fixed on the pack of instant noodles in front of her. She looked like she was starting to doubt herself too. “You’re right. Levi, why are there instant noodles? Didn’t you make the meal plan?”

“Didn’t you check it?”

“I did check it. If i remember correctly, there was a recipe for scrambled eggs. But there should have been vegetables.” Hange brought the instant noodles pack closer to her and closely read through it. “Wait a minute. This is chow mein? I thought chow mein was a type of vegetable. Why the hell would you put instant noodles in scrambled eggs?”

Instant noodles and scrambled eggs. For some reason, it hadn’t clicked when all he saw were the ingredients in front of him. With Hange bringing up the two key ingredients of eggs and instant noodles, he started to remember what revisions he had made to that particular recipe. “It’s cheaper to make omelette rice with instant noodles than with actual rice.” He admitted lightly.

“Levi! We’re graded for nutritional value. Did you not read the rubrics?”

Levi looked away. In fact he had failed to read the rubrics. “Weren’t you supposed to be checking my work?

“I did check it.”

“Then why did you think chowmein is a type of vegetable? Aren’t you a fan of botany?”

“Levi there are at least one thousand vegetables to think of. You can’t expect me to keep track of all of them.”

Levi then realized that maybe having too much information in one’s brain was a little disadvantageous. Hange may be right that there are thousands of types of vegetables in the world. Levi was sure though that only at least fifty of those types would have been available in an average supermarket. You don’t really go grocery shopping much do you? A part of him had wanted to criticize her and maybe start a little argument.

The clatter of pots and pans around him and the urgent sounding voices was only telling him one thing, time was running. They had to churn something up or risk failing that quiz. He wished at least he could have double checked the rubrics. Alas, their phones were in their bags, all gathered towards the front of the rooms. All they had armed with them then was their procedural memory and the many ingredients in front of them.

Maybe, just maybe though we could do a little improvisation. Levi made eye contact with Hange as he said it. It looked like she had read his mind, Hange reached out for the instant noodles in front of him, ready to slip the pack silently into her pocket.

“If I find out any of you revised any of your recipes or you miss out on one ingredient, expect a 50% deduction for this test,” Erwin announced from behind them.

Within a second, the pack of instant noodles was back on the table and that flash of understanding between Levi and Hange had changed to one of horror and panic. Did he notice?

“Marco, I really cannot remember why the hell I needed so many of these spices in the first place.” Jean said apologetically from his station to their right.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have asked your mom to make the meal plan in the first place then.” Marco sounded surprisingly pissed.

At least they weren’t the only one in hell’s kitchen.

                                  Division of Labor

By some silent agreement, all meetings with his actual friends were cancelled. It was as if everyone in the room had unanimously decided to make up for that disaster of a kitchen quiz by working on the next deliverable days before it was due. It was as if everyone was sure they had failed Erwin’s little pop quiz

Or long test. Erwin though never gave the breakdown of how much of their grade that disaster in the kitchen was. Levi found some assurance at least in the fact that everyone did look as unsure as they were about it. They can’t fail the whole class right?

Either way, a failing grade is still a failing grade. Levi and Hange had gone for the plan of omelette rice having kept the instant noodles revision. And with nutritional value a 60% of their grade for the actual meal plan, their expectations for their grades were low. On the bright side at least, Erwin said that there would be more pop quizzes in the kitchen, so they just had to memorize the recipe of whatever they put in the meal plan the next time around.

It would be painstaking, Levi was sure. But as students he and Hange had been forced to memorize formulas, kingdoms and phyla, vocabulary words, thesis statements, poems and dialogues. That should be nothing. Levi though had a building resentment for the subject, particularly the fact that no one had prepared them for that type of stress at all. None of the seniors ever had to do this type of program and thus, Levi was completely unprepared mentally for ‘adulting.’

Welcome to adulthood. That was what was written on the top of the questionnaire he and Hange were supposed to be submitting by Friday midnight. It was Wednesday afternoon of that week and he was grateful Hange had even suggested they start earlier. Only that morning, Erwin had submitted a new list of deliverables which seemed more comprehensive than the last.

September*

Week 1

Meal Plan

Investment Plan Part I: Disposable Income

Pop quiz

Week 2

Education Plan for Kids

Module 2 (See attached fail)

Pop quiz

Week 3 - 4

TBA

While Hange answered some of the questions on the questionnaire, Levi could only stare at the module in his email. He had promised Hange he would look into it while she filled out her part of the questionnaire. His eyes though were stuck on the little typo

Fail. He was sure Erwin meant file. In that type of module though, he would consider that typo almost fatal since the whole program was already screaming the words ‘failure’ at him.

He had to note at least that Erwin put the words pop quiz there for every week. He couldn’t help but think it was due to the fact that everyone had failed that last cooking exam and that was a sign of some mercy on the teacher’s side.

He clicked the module below the email to find that the file was too large at least for google to open. Oh, I guess it’s too large to open on my phone. It might slow it down after all. A petty excuse but he was just tired and instead decided to entrust the responsibility of opening said document to the Levi of a few hours later who would be in front of an actual computer.

“The file is too big to open on my phone. Sorry, I didn’t think about bringing my laptop today.” Levi’s words weren’t too sincere. A part of him was telling him never to bring his laptop on campus in the first place and was thankful for that bout of irresponsibility. Delaying the inevitable at present is always such a sweet feeling after all.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t too hard to fill out what’s needed. We just needed to assign rooms for Flora and Fauna…” Hange started looking pointedly at the flour babies who were leaning by the window of the diner they started to frequent. “Then break down our budget for other things like furniture, groceries, household necessities…”

She slid the paper over to Levi. As if by magic, his brain just shut down at seeing the numbers out there. A part of him though, a more tenacious part was nagging at him to comment at the computations in front of him.

He focused on the words not the numbers. There were calculations for household necessities like detergent and cleaning wax, groceries, baby stuff, utility bills. Somehow it was only making Levi feel more useless for not even understanding what she was writing.

So you have to comment. Levi willed himself to open his mouth and rack his brain for something reasonable and useful to say. Those thoughts on his end all culminated to two words. “Washing machine... “

“What? You’re still not over that?”

“You really don’t want the washing machine in the bathroom?”

“Levi, we’ve been over this!” Hange said, looking exasperated. Within a split second, her look softened into something else then within a second twisted into what looked like shame or embarrassment. “Yeah, I don’t think we even have the money to pay for that in installments now. But hey, a washing machine isn’t a necessity right? Like handwashing is still a thing.”

Levi didn’t agree. He knew in the back of his mind that anything that made cleaning easier was a necessity. Hange though had made the calculations and as a form of respect for her hardwork and a punishment for himself and his inability to have been of any use with that questionnaire, he kept quiet.

He just had to trust her. Group works were all about trust after all.

                                      Division of Labor

“Your answers were all a fucking mess. If adulting was a war, none of you would make it back alive. All of you will starve with your shitty planning and resource conserving skills.” Shadis waved a wad of papers so magnificently over his head as he slammed them on the table. “I want to hear your justifications for making such idiotic decisions. Maybe that can bring up your grade to a D at least.”

“Blouse Springer!”

“Yes sir!” Sasha stood up instinctively.

“Connie join your partner!”

“We have to sta---?” Connie’s eyes widened as if he realized a second later the disrespect in what he had just said. He stood up a split second after. “Yes sir!”

“Tell me again. What are your jobs?”

Connie looked at the documents and back at him. “Is what we put in the document… wrong… sir?”

“What. Are. Your. Jobs?”

Sasha and Connie exchanged glances and looked back up at him. “I’m a marketing specialist…” Connie started. “And Sasha---”

“Journalist sir.”

“So you have eight to five jobs right?”

“Yes we do,” Connie answered.

“And three kids?”

The two nodded in sync. “Yes sir,” Sasha said. “Or that’s what I remember…” In fact, she shouldn’t have had to recall that. The three flour sacks were on their desk after all. “Did we miss one?”

Shadis ignored them. “Then why did you tick ‘no babysitter’ here?”

“Are we supposed to tick it sir?” Connie asked. A brave question that had everyone in the classroom more silent than they had been a second ago.

“You have eight to five jobs and three children. So are you telling me you will take the kids to work?

“Are we allowed? The fee for a babysitter everyday just seems… extravagant.”

That wasn’t the right word. The right word was exorbitant. As some of the people in the class would have agreed. Many could see though that Connie was shaking at the incessant questions and that should have been the last of his concerns.

Shadis though seemed unpreturbed at the wrong word choice. “Well what if your boss doesn’t allow you to bring three kids to work?”

“Then we leave them at home?”

“And you know that’s illegal?”

The silence in the room had become deafening.

“You can be sued for child neglect,” Shadis expounded

“But how would they know?” It was a bold question from Connie

The room exploded in hesitant mutters only silenced a second later by Shadis’ eerily cold reply. “Social workers are very perceptive people, Connie. I’m surprised you’re even underestimating them. Be ready to pay attorney dues for this.” He wrote something on the paper on his desk which was probably Connie and Sasha’s submission before pushing it to the bottom of the pile.

“Next pair…Ackerman Zoe. Stand up.”

By lunchtime, Levi was in a trance, a very strong strance. He did not even notice the students who had filed out of the classroom for lunch, his eyes completely fixed on the beautiful view of the school courtyard as the leaves started to change color.

That was not what he was admiring though. He wasn’t actually admiring anything. Although his eyes were fixed at such a beautiful view, his brain had done nothing to process it.

“So… You wanna talk about the next output?” That familiar voice sounded like a screech to Levi and it was more than enough to pull him out.

“We are so fucked.” Levi’s words were almost instinctive. It was as if just hearing Hange’s voice sent his whole body into panic mode. Of course he would, having just been grilled by Shadis and having one’s incompetence exposed could do that to anyone.

“There’s an output every week. We’ll be fine,” Hange assured.

Levi could only stare at Hange. He had know idea what kind of face he was making. All he could think then though was the fact that she out of the two of them should have been in a worse state of panic than he was.

And her calm ironically only stressed him out further. Having been reeling from the stress of it for almost four hours, Levi still remembered their exchange perfectly.

"Okay Ackerman… Just a homemaker. And Zoe. You’re working freelance?

"So Levi and I decided that I'll be a scientist and he'll take care of the house," Hange had said so confidently.

"What about taxes?"

“Taxes?”

“I looked at the breakdown of your budget Zoe. You didn’t mention anything about taxes.”

“I’m freelance sir.”

“Zoe, has it ever occured to you that freelancers pay taxes too?”

And their lesson of the day came soon after that exchange. The tasks were detailed and demanded a lot of thought. Through all they had learned over that one painful exchange and maybe through the glimpses of the next few exchanges he had so half heartedly watched, he had learned a lot.

He could have easily summarized it all into one sentence though. Do not take Erwin's tasks with a grain of salt.

Erwin had thought everything through. It could have been by coincidence or it could have also been just a lack of thought on the side of the students but somehow the set up Erwin had was exposing the weaknesses of the students when it came to learning, and possibly their potential weaknesses when it comes to actual adulting.

"I’m deducting the taxes already."

"You heard Shadis, It's too late the hypothetical government is out to get us.” Levi added the word hypothetical to at least help himself bask in the fact that it was still a simulation. “We’re getting penalized.”

Hange smiled wryly. “Fine, we’re kinda financially… going through a rough patch,” She admitted. “But we’re not the only ones going through this type of financial bump. Eren and Mikasa, Sasha and Connie, Reiner and Bertholdt, Petra and Oluo…” Hange trailed off. “I mean okay Armin and Annie looked like they were doing fine but back in the supermarket, they looked kinda confused too.”

“A failing grade is a failing grade.”

“But Levi, they can’t fail the whole class.” Hearing that Hange was somehow very reassuring.

Hange was right. Teachers can’t fail a whole class and Levi was aware of two methods teachers tend to employ when dealing with an underperforming class: employ a curve or give extra credit.

Levi should have known though from his short yet very tumultuous few weeks with that adulting program that a curve would have seemed a little too merciful for their teachers.

With the uncomfortable look Erwin gave the class, Levi was sure at least a majority of the class had fucked up financially. How exactly, he was unsure.

Right after they had finished their own mini oral exam, Levi had fallen into a trance. A trance, trying to think up a back up life just in case he never manages to graduate high school or make it to college.

Misery though loves company. Especially when it’s a whole class failing. Levi was not the type to want to wish misfortune on anyone else. Being as completely idiotic and dense as he and Hange were though, Levi found himself grateful for the unfortunate situation the class found themselves in,

“It looks like a lot of you are struggling financially. Zeke and I had a quick talk about this actually…”

Levi’s blood ran cold at the name, Zeke. At that point, he didn’t know if he hated Zeke or he hated Math. Looking back at Zeke’s unfavorable personality, he was guessing probably both.

“And we realized it would be beneficial if we introduce the possibility of finding other sources of income which would be a good lesson in financial management.”

There were some sighs of disappointment among the class. Levi empathized. In fact, he probably would have joined them as well if he weren’t so jaded by the course of events already. Still, a small part of him had hoped as well that they would just raise their salaries.

That was the equivalent of a curve though and Levi somehow knew, grading on the curve was just not Erwin’s style.

“So I am introducing two options to increase your income. One is through investments which will be taught by Zeke another day and another one is through this ‘new system’ I thought out.” Erwin looked a little too proud of that ‘new system.’

“We will be offering extra tasks you may choose to take around the school, these include cleaning, admin tasks, lab work and anything else the teachers may need help done. Each task will have a corresponding pay which can be added to your income for that month.”

So it’s exploitable free labor. Levi thought to himself. He was sure he wasn’t the only one thinking of that. Everyone in the room was desperate though. In the end, despite the questionable set up, it had come out looking like a gesture of generosity from their teacher. Levi saw that in the way a lot of the students around him looked relieved to hear that announcement.

“Or we can just choose to budget within our means?” Annie spoke up from her place on the front next to Armin. She was notably calmer than a lot of people in the room. Levi had suspected for a while though that Armin and Annie weren’t in as much trouble financially.

“I’m sure though a lot of you would want to earn more money,” Erwin said, a knowing smile on his face. “You can exchange these for this thing I will be introducing called ‘disposable income tokens’ and if you collect enough, you can get a free ticket out of doing one of the modules or the pop quizzes of the week of your choice.”

[author-a-holmes]

Yooo, for the writer asks: 1, 21, and 23? :O

Evening darling, thank you for the asks! ^_^

Answering asks 1, 21, and 23 from this ask list.

1. Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Yes, actually! Right now I'm holding off on completing my Stolen Stories.

In the previous ask I mentioned that I completed the first draft of Book One in my Stolen Stories series between May and October of 2020.

My plan was to continue with that series and write Book Two while doing the first round of edits on Book One, so that I'd be writing Book Three while sending Book One out to Alpha/Beta readers. There's a full 6 books planned for that series, so I wanted to overlap them all slightly, and then eventually publish Book One sort of around the time I started writing Book 4.

But...

When I started looking into the publishing side of actually being a self published author, the reality of the process kind of hit me a little harder than I expected.

The first time you do something, anything, you're bound to make mistakes. I only have to look back at my first story to know that and, for all my years of writing practice, I've never hit the publish button on a book.

And 'Stolen' is my baby, for lack of a better term. Stella Korazon and Reilly Mosswolf are the darlings of my heart. I'd die for them, I'd kill or them. I do not want to "practice" the art of publishing a book with their story.

So Stolen, and it's sequels are currently on hold, and that's why I'm working on the Fey Touched novels right now. That's not to say I love Lizzy and Andric and Booker any less, but I have to split my mind into author and self-publisher. As an author, I love Fey Touched just as much as Stolen, but as a self-publisher a trilogy of 90k books failing is better than a 6-book series where each book is 140k+ failing.

Fey Touched is where I will hit publish for the first time and, hopefully, discover all the mistakes I'll inevitably make so that I can more effectively promote and market Stolen, when that monster of a series is ready for the world at large.

21. What do you think when you read over your older work?

That entirely depends on how old the work is :D

If it's something I've written within the last 1-5 years, then most of the time my reaction is something along the lines of;

"Oh wow, that's pretty good."

"Damn, that's an evocative line. Did I actually write this?"

"I FORGOT ABOUT THAT PART!!"

If, on the other hand, it's something like my first manuscript from when I was age 8 or 9, my reaction is usually something closer to;

"Oh no... that's... oh dear."

"Oh gods, please tell me I didn't say that..."

"Umm... That word doesn't mean what I thought it meant..."

"Bloody hell, I'm glad no one else will ever read this."

Having said that, @faelanvance takes great delight in digging through my old manuscripts and reading them back to me aloud for my ultimate mortification :D

23. Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

Probably too many to fit into a single tumblr post, honestly.

I'm constantly drawing from my own life experiences to put my readers into my characters positions. I can take pain and terror or Joy and Laughter from one set of experiences and then Copy/Paste it, for lack of a better term, into a different situation, but that direct knowledge lets me bring the descriptions to life for the reader. At least, I certainly hope it does!

As for specific situations that I feel have helped my writing... Let me just pick a couple.

(A) My Terrible Health

I mentioned in the previous ask that I was born with congenital talipes. Anyone can google it if they want more information, but it's also known as club foot. As a child, all this really meant to me was that I was constantly in and out of hospitals for operations and physiotherapy and that I wasn't physically able to run, jump, climb trees, or even walk long distances without my feet and legs hurting.

Also, because of the operations I spent a great deal of time in bed, or sitting in wheelchairs, while I recovered.

None of this is said in a negative light, in fact, in terms of my writing I'm rather grateful for all that free time to sit and think and imagine. I was and am a voracious reader. I was reading Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, and David Eddings' The Belgariad by myself at the age of 7 and 8. If I was only going to be allowed one book in hospital, I was going to make sure it was the longest book I could lay my grubby little hands on.

I could lay for hours on the children's ward while other patients yelled and fought over the single playstation or the jigsaw puzzles, and I could create entire worlds in my head. I could bring to life characters that could explore Middle Earth or go on adventures with Belgarath, and I only needed myself and my mind.

Books were a popular gift for me, because I was physically restricted, and then once I began picking up a pen, notebooks, journals, and fancy pens were quick to follow.

I think I would still have found writing, I can't imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't discovered this passion, but I'm not 100% sure I'd have discovered it as early as I did if I'd not been forced to stay still for so much of my childhood.

(B)

Another specific scenario that I feel really helped my confidence in my writing was my High School English teacher, Mr Reck.

I was bullied through most of my schooling, mostly for being on crutches, but this really didn't bother me. I just ignored them.

But one day we had been given a task in class, and I'd already finished, so as I usually did I pulled out my notebook and started writing a story while I waited or the next task.

One of the students thought to get me into trouble by telling Mr Reck that I wasn't doing the work. He came over, looked at my completed work, looked at what I was actually doing (writing an original story), and then told me that if I ever wanted someone to read over my writing and check it, I could always leave it on his desk during lunch... and then he calmly walked away.

This was, for 14-15 year old me, mind blowing.

I didn't care about the bullies, they really didn't bother me. I also wasn't self conscious about my writing, both my parents are and have always been strong supporters of my creative work. The reason this stood out to me at the time, and continues to stand out to me as one of the defining moments of my high school life was because it was the first time someone outside of my immediate family not only read my work, but thought it was good enough to actively encourage.

Mr Reck also got me into a writing workshop that year, that was only supposed to be available to graduating students. I've no idea how he managed it, but he did and I'll be forever grateful to him. I intend to add his name to the dedication page of the first book I publish, and I'm in the process right now of trying to track him down to send him a copy.

I think I've found him, I've just got to get the nerve up to send a private message to confirm!

If there are any teachers out there reading this though, please take note of this final story. I don't know that some teachers realise just how important one, single, non-family member showing a genuine interest in a students work can affect that students entire life.

[mopeytropey]

a beer buds series: chapter 5

newest update available below the cut and on AO3 here :) those of you anticipating more of gay disaster!Lexa should be pleased ... 

Timeline: takes place between chapters 4 and 5 of 'apu' after Clarke attempts to host a dinner party only to have Lexa arrive as her only guest

Beer: Sunday Paper IMPERIAL STOUT WITH COFFEE

The smoothness of this beer belies it’s 9.9% ABV. Fresh roasted coffee nose leads into a smooth and rich roasted dark chocolate and coffee flavor with hints of dried black cherries.

ABV 9.9%

Sunday Paper Imperial Stout: Exhibit A (Framingham, MA)

Lexa has settled into the worn comfort of Lincoln’s sofa for all of six minutes before a large, curious ball of grey fur is sitting beside her. The cat blinks up at her with its owlish eyes the color of rust, and Lexa smiles while rubbing behind its ears.

“I still can’t believe you’ve named your cat after my father.”

“Come on! Tell me she doesn’t look exactly like Gus!” Lincoln shouts from the nearby kitchen.

The cat begins to purr at Lexa’s doting touch, and she thinks it enhances the resemblance even further. A docile temperament hidden beneath the imposing stature of her father. Uniform grey coloring gives way to a wide swath of darker fur beneath the cat’s chin, cascading down its chest like an unkempt beard. Lexa smiles again. Gus the cat has a bulky frame but is gentle and affectionate. She thinks the comparison is entirely apt.

“She’s bigger than when I was here last,” Lexa observes as Lincoln enters the room carrying two glasses of dark beer with heavy foam.

“She eats like a horse,” he laughs, setting a drink in front of Lexa before collapsing onto the other end of his couch. “Plus, I’m fairly certain Octavia is spoiling her with extra treats. Cheers, buddy.”

Gus abandons her immediately for the comfort of Lincoln’s lap while Lexa retrieves her glass.

She reaches down the short expanse of sofa cushions to clink her glass against Lincoln’s. “How drunk am I going to be after this one?”

“Imperial stout. 9.9%,” Lincoln smiles. “But, I’ve got lasagna and garlic bread in the oven to compensate.”

“So I’ll be hungover and doubling my running route tomorrow. Thanks a lot.”

“What are friends for?” Lincoln beams. “Hey! We should do 1A down to the island and back—weather is supposed to be super mild tomorrow and I’m done with my meetings by 4:00.”

The route past Clarke’s house.

The new information of Clarke’s residence is like a hot coal buried deep in Lexa’s stomach. The architecture. The pungent smell of the marshes. Seeing Clarke backdropped by her own surroundings had completed so much of the picture Lexa has been composing for months. Everything about the house, and Clarke in it, made sense—from the colors of her open kitchen to the art hung on the walls to the spiral staircase that Clarke practically forbade Lexa to ascend.

She swallows, wondering if the blush she feels on her cheeks will show in the low light of Lincoln’s living room. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“So, how was it on Tuesday? Sorry we bailed.”

Not for the first time, Lexa wonders if Lincoln has somehow infiltrated her inner thoughts based on the timeliness of his ask. The inquiry does nothing to lessen her blush, but Lexa hides further embarrassment behind a large sip of stout.

“You mean showing up for a dinner party to find you’re the only guest in attendance? Not awkward at all, that’s for sure.”

Gus seems to vacillate between the two of them for a moment, finally curling against Lexa’s leg and pushing her paws into Lexa’s thigh when she sinks her hand into thick, soft fur. The sound of Gus’s purring is amplified by Lincoln’s quiet apartment, and Lexa begins to relax with its perpetual hum.

“Yeah, but it’s Clarke,” Lincoln laughs. “I’m sure you guys had fun without us anyway.”

Lexa can’t decide if he’s really so oblivious or playing dumb for her sake, but she looks at him like he’s sprouted a second, immaculately shaved head anyway. She is tempted to recount every movement, and look, and smile, and gesture that she was forced to endure in Clarke’s company that made her feel, in fact, incredibly awkward. And, unsure. Anxious. Elated. Questioning every decision she’d ever made in her life to that point.

But, sure: fun is more succinct.  

“We had a nice time.” Lexa smiles into her beer, remembering. “I think I talked a lot.”

“I’m sorry—what?” Lincoln further mocks her by cupping a hand around his ear as if to hear her more clearly.

“You’re such an ass. Why do I even hang out with you?”

“I’ve been grandfathered in,” Lincoln shrugs.

“When we were out on the boat, Clarke shared some things with me—personal things—and it felt like it was time to reciprocate.”

“Her dad?” Lincoln asks in a far more cautious tone. Lexa nods, taking another sip of the dense, dark beer. “The way the girls talk about him, he sounds incredible. A great guy to have lost so soon. O says the Griffins practically raised her. She really loved Jake.”

“I think Clarke’s connection with him was quite strong.”

Lincoln slowly nods through a heavy sigh. “So, how much of the backlog did you offer up in return? How far back into the Brooklyn archives did chatty Lexa venture?”

He’s broken the mood, and Lexa gives him a grateful smile. “Quite a bit, actually. I was also sort of high at the time.” Lincoln almost chokes on a sip of beer as Lexa shrugs. “But, I’m glad I told her. It felt good to talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Lincoln’s dark eyes have taken on a distant quality, and Lexa suspects he may be thinking of Octavia. Perhaps he’s thinking of all the parts of his dark history that he’s been able to share with someone as strong and resilient and unwavering as her. For someone as reticent as Lincoln, it must feel like infinite relief to give that part of himself to someone else. “We beat some shit odds, didn’t we?” he finally says.

Lexa exhales a humorless laugh. “Understatement.”

It had been a childhood of survival for them both. Anya too. But then they found each other, and it started to feel less harrowing, less isolating and alone. Even when they lost track of one another—transported from one family to another, in different boroughs, different schools—Anya taught them to rely on a network of trusted contacts. Information from other kids in the system became the string that kept them tied together.

And then, during that frightening summer when Lexa was thirteen and Anya disappeared, lost to another state—shipped halfway across the country—Lexa wouldn’t let them rest until she and Lincoln found her. It would be another eight months before Anya landed back on New York City asphalt and Lexa could breathe steadily again.  

A timer sounding off in the kitchen breaks the atmosphere again, and Lincoln sets his beer down to briskly stand from the couch. “I’m gonna check on the lasagna. You good on beer?”

Lexa eyes him, incredulous. “I’ll be drinking this same beer in an hour. Quit trying to get me drunk.” Her phone buzzes while Lincoln exits, his laughter trailing after him.

Clarke’s name on her phone screen has Lexa shifting around on the couch, setting down her beer and resting her elbows on her knees. That now familiar coil of excitement swirls in her stomach as she opens the message.

Clarke Griffin (6:07PM): new artist featured at the coffee shop has some amazing photography of NY

Clarke Griffin (6:07PM): red hook, I think?

Lexa gives in to the tug at her lips, the way Clarke’s innocuous observation blooms warmth in her chest because of its casual consideration.

Clarke had been thinking of her.

She more often tries to suppress the way her mind wants to calculate just how much Clarke thinks of her. But tonight, she allows it. Even a momentary concession has Lexa biting at her lips to keep her smile from spreading.

(6:08PM): Clarke, please tell me you are not drinking coffee at six pm.

Clarke Griffin (6:08PM): Ok. Lexa, I am not drinking coffee at 6pm.

Lexa is readying her next reply, gently chastising Clarke for her irresponsible caffeine intake for what is likely the hundredth time, when Lincoln’s voice announces his return to the room.

“What’s Costia up to tonight?”

A lurch in her chest has Lexa nearly dropping her phone onto the floor. Mention of Costia while staring at an innocent message from Clarke is like a head-on collision in her brain. She blinks, closing her phone all together and setting it carefully on the table beside her beer.

It shouldn’t feel like an irritant, like vinegar in an open wound, but Lincoln asking after Costia grates the skin at the back of her neck.

Lexa works to remain calm, grinds her jaw, and goes for vague nonchalance. “Boston. Working late.”

“Damn, that sucks. Again?” Lincoln returns to the sofa and stretches his arm along the back cushions. Gus had since wandered off during Lexa’s less-than-scandalous text exchange about photography, but she returns to nuzzle at Lincoln’s calves.

“Par for the course,” Lexa exhales, willing herself to ease the raised hackles she feels along her spine.

Lincoln’s tone is sympathetic. “It’s been happening a lot lately, huh?”

After another sip of beer, Lexa turns into the couch, folding one leg beneath the other. “I’ve lost track, honestly.”

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but I have a lot of questions.”

Lexa runs her fingers through her hair and stares at the drink held in her right hand. She doesn’t like to think about all the ins and outs and what-ifs of her current relationship, let alone voice her wandering thoughts aloud. But, Lincoln is a good friend—more than that, he is an integral part of her found family. She finishes the last quarter of her pint in two or three gulps.

“I’m probably going to require more beer.”

Lincoln smiles kindly, patting her kneecap before taking the empty glass and standing once again. “More of the same? Or do you want to try something else?”

Lexa stops herself from asking for an entire bottle of whiskey. “What else do you have?”

“Come have a look,” Lincoln offers.

She follows him into a petite kitchen, further dwarfed by Lincoln’s immense stature.

“It smells amazing in here.”

“Should be ready in the next half hour or so,” Lincoln tells her as he swings open the fridge door. There is a low shelf stocked entirely with various cans of beer. “Pick your poison.”

Lexa squats onto her haunches to examine a few of the labels, in the end deciding on an IPA she remembers seeing on the taps at Dockside.

“That’s a good one. Octavia is obsessed with it,” Lincoln tells her as he opens his cabinets for a fresh glass and snaps the tab on the beer can for her. He hands over the new glass of beer before rinsing the can and tossing it into a squat recycling bin beside his trash can.

Lexa rests the small of her back against the edge of his kitchen counters and enjoys her first sip while Gus winds around her ankles and flicks her bushy tail.

“Octavia has good taste.”

“Tell me something I didn’t already know,” Lincoln smirks.

Lexa shakes her head in mock astonishment. “Legitimately. Such an ass.”

His smile transforms to something more genuine as Lincoln props his weight against the counter opposite. “She’s a complete workaholic—never stops thinking about the job, reading up on new techniques, emerging brewers, hop varietals. All of it. The success of that bar is her life. She lives and breathes it, and it shows.”

“But she—” Lexa adjusts the fit of her plaid button down, swallows her uncertainties with another sip of beer, and forces herself to engage in a conversation she has long since ignored. “You two still spend a lot of time together?”

“I think the fact that our mutual interests and careers virtually overlap sort of helps. But, yeah, I think regardless of that, we would still make time for each other.”

Lexa can only nod in response, returning to her beer in lieu of anything profound to say in turn.

“Are you guys able to spend any time together at this point? Costia’s schedule seems heinous.”

“We are. Here and there,” Lexa shrugs. “We went to see an exhibit at the MFA last weekend, which was nice.” Lexa frowns at the floor. “None of this is her fault. She tries.”

“There’s not always someone at fault when things stop working,” Lincoln says, not unkindly.

It doesn’t stop Lexa from grinding her jaw on instinct.

“I moved here for her. If we were to—I don’t even know what I would do if that happened.”

“Lex, you told me months ago that you were moving here to sort things out—not just with Costia, but with yourself, too.”

Lexa nods again and answers softly. “I know.”

“Let me ask you this: if Costia’s schedule were different, if she were able to do what she loved in school while also making more time for you and her, would it make you want to hang out any less with, you know, other people?”

Not so oblivious then.

He doesn’t have to say her name explicitly—the knowing look they share speaks volumes. Lexa looks away and licks her lips, stalling a response as her pulse quickens.

“I don’t know if—”

Her half-formed response is interrupted by Lincoln’s phone ringing on the counter beside him. He grins as he picks up the call.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, Clarke.”

Lexa sips her beer helplessly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as her mind races. He’s answered the call on speaker, and Lexa braces for the distinct rasp of Clarke’s voice.

“Hey, it’s me,” Octavia answers, her voice sharp and distinct in it’s own way, and Lexa relaxes by a fraction.

“Oh! Hey, it’s you. Why are you calling from Clarke’s phone?”

“I can’t fucking find mine. Have you seen it at yours?”

“Uh, no,” Lincoln answers, nevertheless casting his eyes around the kitchen surfaces for any sign of it. “I can look around for it though.”

“We’re actually parked outside—”

“Hi, Lincoln!”

Clarke’s voice pipes through at a distance—as if Octavia hasn’t put the call on speaker but Clarke wanted to be included anyway. Lexa tenses in an instant.

“—on our way to Abby’s for dinner. Do you mind if I run up for a sec?”

“No, of course not. Come on up.”

“Are you sure? I’m not trying to interrupt your bro date with Lexa.”

“Hi, Lexa!”

“Clarke, is it possible for you to have any chill for longer than ninety seconds?” Octavia snaps.

A short and hushed squabble ensues over the next several seconds, likely within the confines of Clarke’s car. Lincoln shares a smile with Lexa across the small expanse of his kitchen as her stomach jumps with nervous energy.

“I’ll be up in a second,” Octavia grumbles.

She’s at the front door a moment later, and Lexa lingers by the kitchen doorway while Lincoln greets her with a brief kiss.

“Hey, Lexa.”

“Hi.” Lexa offers a half wave.

“I’ll be out of here so quickly, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want help looking?”

“Nah, I’m good. Clarke wants to talk to you anyway.”

This jolts Lexa to a standstill where she had begun to move slowly towards the sofa with Gus at her heels.

“Oh, she—I uh,” Lexa swallows down a fresh set of nerves that Octavia doesn’t seem to notice.

“Babe, can you check the back deck while I look in your bedroom? I was out there this morning for a little while, and I might have left it on one of the chairs.”

“Sure,” Lincoln answers, his arm still slung around Octavia’s waist as he leans down to kiss the top of her head.

They’re both gone from the room in another instant, leaving Lexa standing awkwardly between the front door and the couch where Gus has perched herself atop the back cushions. Lexa hesitates for long seconds, adjusting the rolled sleeves of her shirt while gnawing her lip as the decision to stay or go to Clarke flits irritatingly against her conscience.

Gus observes her solemnly, and she swears it’s the same look her own father pinned on her during that summer she turned sixteen and formed an unwavering desperation to impress Nathalie Rivera, who Lexa did not, irrefutably, have a crush on. Even going so far as to bribe Lincoln into teaching her the Spanish he’d picked up from his new foster mom. Lexa’s determination to get her attention could not be deterred, but she was not romantically interested in any way, Anya’s accusational taunts be damned.  

“Don’t give me that look,” Lexa tells the cat as she rests her beer on Lincoln’s coffee table, slips into her shoes, and heads for the door.  

She practically sprints (without logical cause) down the flight of interior stairs to the main door, which opens onto a front walk, at the end of which sits Clarke’s silver car. Lexa manages to calm her breathing enough by the time she reaches the driver’s side of the car that she’s not visibly out-of-breath, but her lungs feel constricted nonetheless.

“Hey!” Clarke beams as she slips from the driver’s seat when she notices Lexa approaching.

“Hi.”

Lexa forces her mouth closed to keep from audibly stuttering. Clarke is often dressed at Dockside in an expansive wardrobe that feels like a personal attack on Lexa’s wellbeing. But, something about seeing Clarke in jeans and a warm sweater, looking casually elegant for a dinner with her mother, has Lexa stumbling over basic conversation skills like she hasn’t in years.

“You’re, um, you guys have—” she clears her throat, completely ineffectually, and Clarke very poorly hides her amusement.

“We’re on our way to my mom’s. Raven just got this major promotion so we’re celebrating by letting her cook us dinner.”

Lexa places her hands into her front pockets and smiles at Clarke as if her whole body doesn’t feel like a brittle, shaken leaf.

“You maintain very bizarre friendships.”

“That’s an interesting take coming from one of my best friends.”

“I didn’t know what I was getting into,” Lexa smirks. “Clearly.”

Clarke looks away with a laugh and leans against the side of her car to cross her arms along her stomach. The gold of her necklace pendant glints in the streetlamp above them. She nods towards the house at Lexa’s back when her laughter has subsided.

“Sorry we crashed.” Clarke’s face scrunches prettily with guilt, and Lexa makes the wise decision to avert her eyes with a shrug.

“It’s totally fine. Unavoidable emergency, right?”

“Or, they just devised a pathetic excuse to makeout for a few minutes.”

“Right,” Lexa laughs. She cranes her neck to look back at the house. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left them alone.”

“At this rate, they could be grabbing a quickie.”

It’s now Lexa who is twisting her mouth at Clarke’s overt sexual reference, hiding embarrassment behind disgust. “Clarke, ew.”

It only serves to make Clarke laugh again, and Lexa is forced to look away a second time.

“So what’s up? Did you need something? Or, did you just really miss me?”

“What?” Lexa must look horror-stricken because Clarke is sputtering more laughter. “No, I’m just—Octavia said you wanted to see me.”

Smooth. Very smooth.

“I didn’t—” Clarke starts to protest, looking a little unnerved herself before rolling her eyes. “She’s an ass.”

The familiar insult makes Lexa laugh, and Clarke smiles in kind. “She’s well matched then.”

“Lincoln? An ass?” Clarke looks scandalized. “No!”

Lexa shakes her head with a long sigh. “You have no idea.”

A charged moment between them stretches taut, as it so often does, and Lexa is reminded of all the other moments that have preceded it.

Tuesday night spent salvaging a failed dinner party.

A blissful day on the water in Clarke’s boat.

Coffee along the harbor.

Aimless walks about town. Lingering goodbyes.

And, countless other instances in which Lexa must fight this same impulse. She’s not at liberty to admit to such wants, let alone act on them, but the thought of kissing Clarke persists behind a veneer of practiced composure.

Sometimes Lexa thinks that if Clarke were to lean in, make the decision for them both, she would let her.

Clarke is too good a person to make such advances; even hoping for such an outcome is wildly unfair, and Lexa hates herself a little bit for it.

She wears a regretful smile that she presumes Clarke has come to recognize—the way it is reflected back to her as Lexa sighs. “So, I guess I’m going to head back up. Lincoln has promised me twice my weight in carbs.”

“Ooh!” Clarke’s eyes light up as they so often do at the mention of food. “What’s on the menu?”

“Lasagna.” The answer comes from over Lexa’s shoulder, and she turns to see Octavia ambling down the front walk with a small plate and a mouthful of pasta. “And, it’s so, fucking good.”

“Aren’t you two on your way to dinner?”

Octavia shrugs, “Appetizer.”

“I hope you know you’re sharing that with me,” Clarke tells her as Octavia rounds the car and opens the passenger door.

“You’ll have to pry the fork from my cold, dead fingers.”

Clarke scoffs, opening her own door. “As if cutlery has ever stopped me from stealing food off your plate.”

“I’ll see you guys later,” Lexa smiles, taking one or two backwards steps towards the house.

“Later, dude,” Octavia answers before closing herself into the car.

Clarke smiles warmly, her eyes softening even as Lexa creates more distance between them. “Bye.”

Lexa can feel the warmth of Clarke’s gaze at the base of her stomach, swirling lazily. “Bye.”

She ascends Lincoln’s stairs briskly, determined to figure out her emotional baggage sooner rather than later and finally get her life together.

:::

[foilfreak]

Headcannons for my favorite One Punch Man rarepair: Golden Ball x Spring Mustachio

Both joined the Hero Association around the same time and knew of each other in passing, due to living in the same city, but didn’t officially meet until about 8 months in, and as a result of that, these two did NOT like each other at all during those first 8 months. Spring Mustachio thought Golden Ball was just another crass and reckless delinquent using heroism as a legal outlet for violence, and Golden Ball thought Spring Mustachio was an entitled rich boy who was probably paying his way up the hero ranks. When the two heroes were finally forced to formally introduce themselves to one another at the first annual Hero Association banquet, or some other equivalently pointless publicity stunt the Associacion probably put on at some point or another, they were shocked to find just how wrong their initial judgments of one another actually were.

Despite Golden Ball’s appearance, what with the bleach-blonde hair, slightly baggy clothes, tall, muscular frame, and the lollipops that Spring Mustachio correctly guesses are a substitute for cigarettes, Golden Ball is actually incredibly intelligent, having earned a master’s degree in chemical engineering (this particular headcanon is inspired by @batneko) from a highly prestigious university (currently considering going back for his PhD if he can save up the money), and all of his signature weapons are his own personal inventions. Likewise, Spring Mustachio, despite having the appearance and persona of someone who grew up having everything handed to him on a silver platter, had long ago rejected the escalator to success his parents had offered him in the form of taking over as head of their family business, in favor of going out on his own to explore the world and everything it had to offer, mastering the art of swordsmanship and opening his own restaurant (where even after hiring a decent sized staff, he still took up menial tasks such as washing dishes and serving guests) along the way.

After getting to know each other at that first meeting, the two heroes became surprisingly fast friends, their personalities mixing rather well together on top of having many shared interested, and even began hanging out outside of their hero duties, where they already spent a considerable amount of time together considering how frequently the Association paired them together for missions. Most of their time outside of work was spent at Spring Mustachio’s restaurant, engaging in casual, slightly teasing conversation over onion rings and a couple rounds of beer after a long day of hero work. Later on into their friendship however, it became much more common for Golden Ball to also come into the restaurant during the day to bother the older man during his shift, not that Spring Mustachio minded the company one bit, especially if it meant having a couple of extra hands available to dry the dishes he’d just washed. It eventually got to the point where it was pretty much common knowledge throughout the city that if Golden Ball wasn’t out on a patrol or sent away on a mission for the Association, the first place you ought to check if you’re looking for him would be Spring Mustachio’s. Likewise if it’s Spring Mustachio you’re looking for and the restaurant is a no-go, try your hand at getting ahold of Golden Ball, cuz wherever he is, chances are that Spring Mustachio is standing right next to him. Its a wonder how the whole city doesn’t start assuming the two are dating when they begin referring to each other as ‘Gold’ and ‘Spring’, during hero work, and exclusively by their first names when off the clock.

The two heroes remain nothing more than close friends for full year after their first meeting, and while both had developed more-than-friendly feelings for one another over that time, neither were planning on doing anything about it, not wanting unrequited feelings to potentially ruin the incredible friendship they’d formed, among the other internal struggles that come with accepting that you’re attracted to other men in a society that, although no longer criminalizes homosexuality, definitely still doesn’t view it in a positive light by any means. Spring Mustachio has been in the closet his whole life and plans to keep it that way to avoid the potential social backlash. Golden Ball on the other hand didn’t realize he was bisexual until grad school and has since only managed to work up the courage to come out to his (thankfully incredibly supportive) family and closest childhood friends. Needless to say neither of them were in the headspace to even think about confessing, especially when they had so much to lose should it not go well, and both heroes were content to simply let their feelings die out over time if it meant that their friendship would remain intact.

Things change however, when Golden Ball’s place gets totally trashed in a monster attack, and the younger man finds himself staying with Spring Mustachio at his house until it can be repaired. Now not only do both men have to deal with their budding feelings for one another, but they also have to deal with their budding feelings for one another while also figuring out how to coexist in the same space, made even more interesting by the fact that Golden Ball has two pitbulls, Gizmo and Tonka, and Spring Mustachio isn’t the biggest fan of dogs (spoiler: Spring Mustachio falls in love with the sweet little puppers and spoils them absolutely rotten, much to Golden Ball’s amusement). Over the couple of months it takes for Golden Ball’s apartment to be fixed the men learn several things about each other that never would have come to light in any other context, including, but not limited to: Spring Mustachio’s extensive collection of alcohol bottles from all the drink’s he’s tried over the years (and of course all the stories that come with those bottles), Golden Ball’s horrific nicotine addiction being the result of an undiagnosed anxiety disorder that got BAD toward the end of undergrad and was forced to come to an end when he had a heart attack at 25, the tumultuous relationship Spring Mustachio has had with his family (specifically his parents) since breaking away from the plan they had created for him, the fact that Golden Ball is easily the biggest nerd that Spring Mustachio has ever met (and probably the smartest too), the brief run Spring Mustachio had as a competitive fencer in his early 30s that Golden Ball thinks he should get back into, the adorable way Golden Ball talks to his dogs when he thinks no one is listening, and so much more.

These things of course only cause their feelings to worsen and the situation just continues to spiral out of control from there. Im torn over whether I want them to actually get together in like a nice, mature way, like they ultimately end up talking abou their feelings to just get them off their chests, you know like adults, or if i want them to confess after getting into a huge fight, like maybe one of them got really hurt and some things they didnt actually mean were said and so they didn’t talk for a bit but then they end up tracking each other down and confessing after the tension finally snaps or something like that. I’ll leave that up for you all to decide but what i will say is that they get together just as Golden Ball’s apartment is finished being rebuilt, but with his lease being up at the end of the month and having already settled rather comfortably at Spring Mustachio’s place, he decides not to renew the lease and just stay where he is, much to Spring Mustachio’s delight.

As for their families, Spring Mustachio tells only his older sister and younger brother, who are confused, but ultimately supportive and happy that their brother found someone he truly loved and wanted to be with. His parents end up finding out somehow and while they aren’t exactly thrilled about it when they first learn that their eldest son is dating another man nearly 20 years his junior, they are, to their credit, polite and avoid making any inappropriate comments on the rare occasions he and Golden Ball do agree to visit the estate for dinner. Golden Ball initially only tells his parents, but things rarely stay secret for very long in his family, and not even a week goes by before his grandparents are calling asking if he’ll be bringing his new boyfriend to the cookout at the end of the month. Spring Mustachio has a fantastic time meeting the plethora of grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and close family friends that make up Golden Ball’s wonderfully lively family, though he does end up getting thrown into the pool by Golden Ball’s older brothers at some point, as is custom treatment for “new members” of the family. He doesn’t seem to mind all that much, especially when Golden Ball’s mother finally breaks out the baby pictures and he gets to coo over how adorably plump his boyfriend was as an infant, much to said boyfriend’s growing embarrassment.

For professionalism’s sake they decide to keep the relationship on the dl and though the two are rarely seen apart, they save the more intimate moments and actions for behind closed doors. No need to give the press an excuse to start shit.

Let me know what you think of my headcanons and what your headcanons are for this rarepair if you have any!!!

[likeadeuce]

Raven Cycle Headcanons: Comic Book Heroes

I. 

Gansey says he doesn’t keep any secrets from his friends, but they still mostly learn about his life history when he drops comments like, “The last time I went base jumping in Borneo. . .” at which point Adam has to call him ‘Master Bruce’ in the Michael-Caine-as-Alfred voice. This makes Ronan laugh-snort through his nose so of course Adam has to keep calling Gansey that again and again for the rest of the day.

Gansey wearily informs them that he is, as they know, a Marvel guy and also the Nolan Batman movies are overrated. This just makes Adam (who is an extremely good mimic) need to do the voice more and the others have to join in.  Ronan does a decent “Christian Bale as Batman” and also “Christian Bale yelling at the guy who got in his light from that viral video,” but Blue steals the show with her Tom Hardy-as-Bane. (Although, technically, the one who does all of these voices better than anyone is Chainsaw).

II.

Gansey says he’s a Marvel guy but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have opinions. Adam finds this out when he makes a crack about how Dick isn’t such a bad name; Gansey shares it with Dick Grayson who is indisputably the best Robin.

This results in a pained Gansey face -- the ‘I’m not thrilled about correcting you but I’m going to be correcting you’ face -- and the statement that Tim Drake, self-taught boy detective, is just objectively the best Robin.

Ronan knows exactly enough about this topic, ie, one of those straight to DVD animated movies that Gansey threw on when they were drinking and bored, to declare Jason Todd the best Robin, especially when he came back from the dead and started calling himself Red Hood and kicking the shit out of people. This is Ronan’s only contribution to the conversation except to make occasional jokes about tiny shorts.

“Thoughts, Jane?” Gansey asks and Blue, reliably, raises a fist and says, “Justice for Stephanie Brown!” 

III.

Gansey says he’s a Marvel guy, he loves the Stan Lee “Excelsior” schtick, but he mostly means that he has the 102 issues of the original Lee/Kirby ‘Fantastic Four’ run memorized -- it’s classic, like the Camaro -- and he got the $100 /volume omnibus editions when he was 10, along with the Steve Ditko era of Spider-Man.  

He also sometimes wears a Silver Age “Iron Man” T-shirt that he bought when he decided to train for a triathlon, in the few months between Wales  and Aglionby. (Gansey never actually made it to the point of entering a triathlon, though he had a very respectable time in the Charlottesville Half-Marathon last spring and he’s definitely, perpetually, going to go home for the Marine Corps Marathon next year). But he got the shirt because he liked the classic red and gold Don Heck art, and because he thought it would be a good ‘Iron Man triathlon’ joke if anybody asked about the shirt, which they never did.

He’s not actually an Iron Man fan, though, he doesn’t really have time for any hero who takes two-thirds of the movie to realize he should maybe stop being a complete asshole to everybody, and then is somehow supposed to get points for being slightly less of an asshole in the six minutes after it occurs to him? Also Tony Stark is entirely too familiar as  type who gets loud at, and then gets thrown out on his ear from, the kind of parties hosted at the Gansey household. No thank you.

Adam and Blue can talk to each other through references to seventies and eighties X-Men and Excalibur comics like it’s some kind of secret code. Gansey will occasionally ask, “Wait, which one is that? Whose codename does that go with?” and Adam says he ought to just read the books himself. No thank you, Gansey says. Too many retcons, he says.  If he wants to piece together narratives full of inconsistencies that lose story threads and run all over the place, he has pre-Galfridian texts, and those have the excuse of being medieval and mostly in Welsh. “Just tell me the good parts of the stories,” Gansey says, “So I can understand what you’re talking about,” and sometimes they do.

IV. 

Blue and Adam have very similar points of reference when it comes to comics. In fact, it develops that they have the exact same points of reference: namely, everything that was available in trade paperback in the teen room of the Henrietta public library during the years they were in sixth through eighth grade.

“I spent so much time in there,” Blue says. “Trying to get a little peace and quite away from my house.“

“Relatable,” says Adam. Although, he’s well aware by now, for different reasons.

“Weird we never ran into each other.”

Adam stops, raises his eyes, takes a good look at her, trying to mentally subtract a few years and some teenage attitude, to reimagine her creative haircut. “Oh,” he says, “Yeah actually that makes sense. I probably did see you there.”

“Oh.Sorry, I don’t remember --”

“It’s fine,” says Adam hastily. Adam’s home was technically in Augusta County, across the Henrietta Town Line, which was why he and Blue had never been at the same school when they were younger. It was close enough for Adam to bike to town, though, and he figured out the Henrietta library had a considerably better collection than the one near his school where his mother had exasperatedly signed him up for a card.

Adam figured out that he was eligible to apply for a library card in Henrietta, but that he would need a parent to come down to the branch and sign him up for it. Even assuming that he could find his mother or father in a hospitable mood, it would completely defeat the purpose of having a quiet place to read where they couldn’t track him down. (If he just said ‘the library’ he wasn’t responsible for what they assumed. . .) So Adam would just take stacks of books with him and slump down in a chair or camp out in a corner and take all the time he could get away with.   

“If you didn’t see me,” he tells Blue, “It’s because I didn’t want anybody to see me. I was definitely hiding.” He would doubly have been hiding if he saw a pretty girl hanging out around the comic books. Way too stressful.

Blue pouts a little. “You should have come and said, ‘Hi.’ We could have been friends five years earlier.” 

Adam makes a face of regret. “I should have,” he says, “Sorry.”

The truth is, as neither of them says but both of them suspect, if a boy had come up and tried to talk to twelve-year old Blue Sargent when she was trying to read, she absolutely would have yelled at him. 

Sometimes, things need to happen on their own time.

[theanxietylifes-blog]

The Anxiety Life

Entry 1  

I cast my mind back to 2o13, black 2013......

My karate sensei announced he was quiting teaching classes, after 4 years and several belt grades into my training under his guidance. A teacher of not only karate, but a teacher of life, a figure I and so many other students looked up to, and were inspired by.

That's where it all came crashing down around me, that's what I believed to be the trigger.

The mental illness I would eventually come to nick name as the black dog.......  

       Back in the late 80's, in a time I consider some of the best times of my life, the nostalgia of those later high school years where I felt invincible, achieving in mostly anything I put any kind of time and effort into. Excelling in sports and music, all the things that the "in kids" were into.

Back then, as it probably still is today there were different social classes, or I guess a social pecking order at school. At the top there were the really cool kids, who were usually tough, and bent or broke the rules often, rebelling against any form of authority. At the other end of the pecking order, you had the straight laced somewhat dorky misfits and bookworms, you know the types, that would often go on and peak in life, becoming highly successful long after school days were long gone. I was neither at the top or the bottom of that pecking order, rather, some where in between. I had a good group of friends, and came from a good middle class home where home life was also pretty good.  

     Even in those salad days, as early as my later high school years It was there.....

and my first recollection, that I could remember when it started.....  

Standing at the light switch in my room, the last thing to do before I hopped into bed," ok turn the light switch on, then off, then on, then off, how many times was that,  

it has to be six times, ok jump into bed", my head voice now in full gear, loud, and relentless.  

"You better get get back up, and back to that light switch or something real bad is going to happen to you". Now back at the light switch again",1,2,3,4,5,6 on off on off", this cycle occurring over and over, before that inner voice was silenced, and I could finally go to sleep.  

Entry 2 Black 2013

 I think it was a month or so after my sensei, and life mentor left the Dojo when it began....

I woke around 2am in the early hours of the morning, feeling uneasy, but what was more unsettling was my racing heartbeat, and the horrible feeling like I couldn't take a decent breath in. The more I tried and couldn't, the faster my heartbeat raced,  and the more I panicked.....waking my wife up in the process I remember spiraling into a frenzied terror.

My wife was trying to calm me down, telling me to try and calm down and focus on measured breathing. But it was to no avail, I couldn't be calmed, I just kept yelling in desperate panic "feel my pulse, feel my pulse im having a heart attack, I can't breathe I feel im going to blackout at any second", but right at the point where I really felt like I was going to pass out, I got control of myself, I started to feel my breathing return back to normal, and after a while my heart rate slowed down, and although shaky from the ordeal after about half an hour and some comforting from my wife I felt ok.

Things got worse, a couple of nights later I had the same night repeated all over again, only this time, in my sheer panic, of once again feeling all the symptoms of a perceived  heart attack, the heart palpitations, some chest pains, difficulty with breathing, (hyperventilating), this time, t frantically threw some clothes on at the end of my bed, slipped past my still sleeping wife, and without any rational thought, grabbed my car keys, got in my car and sped off like a mad man, to the closest hospital emergency department, which was about 10 minutes away.  I had totally lost it, thinking I was going to die, I sped through red lights, driving as fast as I could, with only the single thought in mind, of making it to the hospital before I passed out,

I got there still frantic, I pretty much ditched the car anywhere I could, close to the emergency department.....

After some hours past, and a panicked wife that woke to realise I had gone MIA....

I got the all clear from the emergency doctor, and I made my way back home.

ENTRY 3

I have been in the workforce now for over 30 years, and I still don't know what I want to do in my working life, in fact as the years roll by I've  certainly discovered  more and more about  what I don't want, but feel lost when it comes to finding my purpose in working life, and for that matter  life in general.

I hate my job, I feel like i'm surviving, not really living, and I feel like my only friend

once i've clocked on, is time ticking away, until It's tools down and I can go home.

I'm constantly in search for a possible career change, I covert all the online employment guides, and career guides, I also take online career adviser tests, constantly trying to find my fit, but nothing has ever jumped out at me, screaming here I am, the career choice that's right for you....don't get me wrong, I am not afraid of further study and or training, or putting the work in, for the right role, but my fears lye in the fact that I am getting to, if i'm not there already, an age where a career change would be very difficult, especially when I still don't really know what my best career would look like.

ENTRY 4

People and socialising can make me feel tired, I feel like it takes a lot of energy to go out on a social outing and have to socialise with groups of people, even family social gatherings can wear  me down quickly. It's not like I don't like people, I work in a job role that sees me interact with people throughout my day, I know that I mentioned that I hated my job in my last entry, but it's not necessarily, the interacting with people part that I dislike about the job, I feel it's more the overall picture of my job, and how it fits with me as a person.

I feel my social skills have declined, particularly in recent years and especially the older I get. I find the art of small talk particularly hard, I think mainly because i'm of the philosophy, that if you don't have anything "real" to say, or something that has meaning, It's  better not to say anything at all. Perhaps this has been one of my downfalls in recent years, and why I don't have many friends, particularly close friends. The other point is, I guess I don't put in the effort required to maintain a friendship either, I suppose this all comes back to putting in the required  time, and effort, into building friendships, something I haven't felt a strong need to do. Maybe it might just be that I haven't found people that I naturally find interesting and I can relate to, friends that I don't feel the need to make forced, awkward conversations and interactions with, where I don't feel uncomfortable if I don't have something to say for the sake of filling in silence, where socilaising is actually enjoyable, and doesn't feel like it's soul draining.

Sometimes I wonder if I am normal. as I really like my own company a large percentage of the time. I have interests that I like to endulge a lot of my time with, and I am a very goal orientated person. For the sake of keeping my identity anonymous, I have chosen not to disclose my interests, only to describe how they play a part in my life.

ENTRY 5

I am a very nostalgic person, I find myself reflecting alot about the past.....I often sit and think about how the past always seems to have been the best times of my life, and how the present can never measure up to be as good. I often think back on the fond memories about late high school life, and my first years as a young adult, post high school in the late 1980's and early 90's.

Partnered with my frequent daydreaming and reflecting on life and the past, is my life long love for music. I think music is one of the greatest gifts in life. to me, there is nothing that can conjure up emotions and can elevate your "mood," whether it be, sadness, happiness, aggression, or any other state of mind, quiet like the power of music. One of the many joys of music is it's ability to serve as an audible photo album, a sound track to our lives. How many times have you heard a song on the radio, and it's a song that you may have forgotten about over the years, which you haven't heard since you were a teenager, all those years ago, in a certain time in your life, and then bam! those familiar song notes hit your ears, and there it is, and you are instantly transported back to that time, only, unlike a photo, a still frame captured in time, music is alive it's a truly awesome thing, that for a moment, can take you right back to that time, the smells, a girlfriends kiss, or some special accomplishment back then, a special thing that only the power of music can deliver.

ENTRY 6

Back in black 2013, I had many trips to the hospital, with varying symptoms that seemed like heart attack symptoms.....

It was on one particular occasion, where the hospital ran a thorough range of tests on me, which all came back normal, the doctor started asking me questions i'd never heard before, followed by a paper questionaire. This included questions like, have you ever thought about killing yourself, and do you often feel like you have a lack of motivation in life, and other questions along those lines. After submitting my answers to the questionaire, the doctor came in to discuss the outcome with me, and in summary, concluded I had Anxiety depression issues, and perscribed medication, and discussed having me see a phsychologist.

A couple of days after that consultation with the ER doctor. I woke up early one morning feeling like I wanted to jump out of my skin, I felt terrible, on edge and my heart was beating  100 miles an hour, and I felt myself loosing control, and spiraling into yet another panic attack episode.

Apart from that, I also had other horrible underlying feelings like, an over whelming sense of helplessness, and feeling like everything was just too hard to deal with, and I was just too tired to face the realities of life.

mental health

anxiety

depression

[musiqueetude]

College/University Talk: Why you can not escape 8am classes

Today, we are going to be talking about something that studyblr tends to tell you to avoid. That is ✨ 8 a.m. classes ✨

Yes, the dreaded and hellish 8 a.m. classes that everyone tells you to avoid because yes, they are hell, they are early, and frankly no one wants to do that. However, depending on your major, your college/university, the professors, and just how the college within the university has classes structured, plus what courses you need to take to graduate (whether major or general education classes), you may be stuck with 8 a.m. classes whether you like it or not. Take it from me, a music major who has to take two different theory classes back to back starting at 8 a.m every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and those classes do not end until 9:50 a.m. And are in the same class room so I don’t have to move for two hours. (I have another class in that same class room like 2 hours after..so I don’t move around a lot in the Creative Arts building unless it’s a Monday) 

Let’s get into this dreaded topic 

Why 8 a.m. classes?

There really isn’t an answer to this because it can vary among college/universities, the college within the university, the professors, the major, the course structure, and when classrooms are available to be used in buildings. Some professors may teach multiple classes (Creative Arts professors especially music can teach multiple classes and may only have a morning time period to teach), professors and students may be morning people, the course structure may be throughout by the university and college itself, and sometimes an 8 a.m. class is the only option of time available for it to occur. It really can be a mystery and it could be any of those. While I don’t work in administrations (obviously), I’m assuming it is because of those. It can be any of those or anything truly. It is how it is and we can’t change anything about it. 

Are 8 a.m. classes all that bad?

It depends. Sometimes you may be a morning person and want to start out your day with morning classes to get done before noon or a certain time. You need morning classes due to work. You may just be required to start your day at 8-8:30 because your major and required general education courses began at that time and you have gone with it. You may be used to starting your day that early from work or high school/pervious college/etc., and need to keep that routine. Or, on the other hand you may be the person who absolutely hates and despises morning classes because who the hell would want to wake up at the crack of dawn to get ready for classes. You may not be a morning person. You may have work in the morning so you can’t take them and rather have it that way. 

It really all depends on what you want to, what you need to course wise, and what you may be stuck with as a schedule. With quarantine and how everything has been the past few months due to classes being online and a good majority of us having to go back to being on campus, 8 a.m. courses may not be for you and you may have worked with your advisor to change all that..however..sometimes you may be stuck with them and it just depends how you feel with them. 

Personally for me, I did my work study job starting at 8 a.m. throughout my entire freshmen year both semesters and it actually helped me be awake and be productive even if I wanted to sleep in. It got me going and you may need that structure in your daily life and routine to wake up early and start your day off with classes or work. It’s really dependent on you as a person. 

How your major can make you take 8 a.m. classes 

Many of you may not like this..but as I stated your major can make you take 8 a.m. classes because of major requirement courses. That is literally how it can be majority of the time because your major requirement courses are the ones you need to take to help keep you on track to graduate. As a music major, I know my music theory classes start at 8 a.m. and go up until 9:50 a.m. back to back. I have to take 2 different theory classes and I have to take three of them the fall (taking the Written Theory 1 and Aural Theory 1 this semester, Written and Aural Theory 2 spring semester, then Written and Aural Theory 3 the following fall semester) and from what I have seen by going into universities degree’s work page..they are 8-8:50 a.m. to 9-9:50 a.m. classes. It is literally required by my major courses that are required for me to graduate to take morning classes. So, while I may grow to hate morning classes. I can not escape not taking them. It will happen. 

You may not be able to around escaping 8 a.m. classes no matter what because your major has required courses that are 8 a.m. and there is no other time at all. No other time. That can be for a one day two-three credit class, or like me a class that spans across three different days of the week and has a set time no matter what. It is part of my major required courses and it’s something I and others have to deal with. Literally that is how it is. 

How you can make taking 8 a.m. classes good, tolerable, and beneficial

Once again, this really depends on who you are as a person. It may be super, super difficult at first to get used to taking early morning classes. To having to get up earlier than you want too to get ready to get out your house/apartment/residence hall and trying to adjust your sleep schedule. Trust me, I know it is hard, yet there ways you can adjust, make the classes good, tolerable, and beneficial. Get to know people if you can, see if anyone in your residence hall or a classmate lives close to you and maybe walk/drive (although some may not want to share cars right now so that’s okay) together to class so it helps get you up. It can help make having the classes more good and tolerable for you and may be beneficial if you have to miss that class one morning for some reason and you need to know what happened. Plus, it can be beneficial because you can literally get the class out of the way. Morning classes can be really beneficial if you have a busy afternoon or night and need to go back home/residence hall to take a nap, relax, and get ready for the rest of your day. Of course, it all depends on you as a person, your schedule, and how you want go about your day in college/university. 

Pros and Cons of 8 a.m. classes

Pros: Can get classes out of the way, helps you get moving if you are a morning person, allows you to plan your day so you can be done by a certain time for whatever or for work/study/extra curricular activities that are later in the day, allows you to be able to get on campus and park if you need too early, allows you to be able to get morning major requirement or general education requirement classes out of the way for the rest of your day, and allows you to be able to work on homework for your in-person and online classes and other stuff. 

Cons: Very early, going to be unbearable throughout the first weeks of classes and maybe the entire semester, professors may be horrible, you may not be a person, class has the set time, may not be the best option but it is the only option you have, traffic to campus, classmates, building location on campus, back to back with another morning class that starts after. 

There can be way to these pros and cons. 

And that is all I have for now. I really, really wanted to get this out there because I usually see on here a lot telling college/university freshmen to just not take 8 a.m. classes when really as I have found out from my freshmen year and now this year being a sophomore is that you can not escape 8 a.m. classes. You can not escape them at all. It is impossible to get away from them because there is going to be times, maybe multiple times in semesters or in the same semester where you will take them. You will have morning classes no matter what. It is how it is and I feel like a lot of posts in this community telling people to not take them is not taking account for the fact people have too. Do we enjoy? No. Not one bit. Do we have to take them to graduate and continue on with our major? Yes. That is how it is. 

If you have any questions regrading early morning classes, feel free to ask me and make sure when you are scheduling for your courses, look at your college/universities schedule builder or degree works (or whatever system they use) to see times. Due to COVID we know this year a lot of college/universities have changed their classes, except some classes have not changed to online or hybrid classes. Five of mine that in-person music courses did not change, nor did the times. So check that for the spring semester on the system your universities used to give you classes you still need to take and how to see the times and check with your advisor too when scheduling for the spring semester comes about. 

If you are moving in or starting classes this week, be safe. Wear your mask, wash your hands, and clean your items/room regularly. And have a good first week as well. 

[ngame989]

“Drive” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 8

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @ubercelloczar​​, @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: It's back to school for Marco, and Star is left to face the specter of real world responsibility once more - with a bit of help from the adorable antics of Mariposa.

Comic Page

Masterpost

Finally, a new chapter! This one took a long time to put together in a way I was satisfied with, so sorry as always for the delay. Writing is a bit of a secondary hobby for me, and while I absolutely love Starco and love making this series, the actual act of putting words to a page is rather draining for me. I'd love to promise more or faster updates, and if the right creative inspirations strike that is still what I'd love to happen, but it's gonna come at whatever pace it comes at. If that means I'm here for years to come, so be it. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“Alright, next up is Wilhelm… Wund? Want? Wouldn’t? Marco, this name is weird.” Star waved the flash card around in the air.

“Wundt, but the Ws both sound like Vs. It’s German.”

“German… that’s the place where that guy who was basically mustache Mina came from, right?” Marco froze in his tracks as his eyes widened in complete incredulity. Star uncurled from the ball she was in on their bed and sat up, hair and nightgown all astray as she tilted her head to the side in befuddlement. “What, did I say something wrong?”

“No, that’s- it’s just- that’s one way to put it. Don’t worry about it.” No way he was touching that subject with a mile-long pole.

She crossed her arms proudly. “See, I did remember something from school, then! OK, so Wundt, what’d he do?”

“What didn’t he do? He basically invented psychology! Before him, everyone just kind of thought about thinking, but he was the first one to really study it with any sort of scientific method.” The first week of school had been going fairly well, Marco thought, but it was certainly busy. Maybe it was the fact that this was his first classroom education in two whole years, but it was way faster paced than anything he remembered. All the reading he’d done to prepare before the school year started helped, sure, but it was a sizable effort to keep on top of everything.

“Mhmm, I see.” Star tentatively raised her hand, nodding thoughtfully to his every word. “Tell me about his glasses.”

“What?”

“The glasses? For seeing someone’s problems really clearly? Come on, Marco, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. I bet they were ginormous.”

A few giggles escaped his lips and Star puffed her cheeks up in indignation. “No, Star, that’s not how glasses work. They just sorta- they make you look smarter, I guess?”

Star stuck her tongue out and pinched her fingers together to form two circles, aiming her hands carefully to position them over Marco’s eyes. “Nope, you seem just as smart without them. Anyway, let’s see here, next up is Pavlov.”

“Oh, you’ll love him. He studied stuff with his dogs.”

As if on cue, some of the laser puppies scrambled out from under the bed, jumping into Star and Marco’s arms. Star’s shout of “PUPPIES!” sounded like background noise behind the licking and panting invading his personal space, but it was a welcome change. With how big their yard was now, their pets were often gone for so long at a time that Marco felt like he barely saw them anymore, but they had a way of showing up randomly at oddly convenient times. Despite being laserless since magic had been destroyed, whatever dog breed the wand had concocted seemed to stay just as small and cute forever. Barko Diaz stayed in Marco’s arms while Star cuddled the rest and cooed over them one by one. “Anyway, his dogs drooled whenever food was placed in their mouths; that’s just the natural response. But Pavlov noticed that if he just held the food in front of them before feeding it to them, after a while they’d start to drool whenever they saw the food. That’s how he invented the name conditional reflex.”

“I, Star Butterfly, officially vote for puppy guy as the best- Sajak, hahaha, stop it!” The dogs pounced on her face and she fell backwards onto the sheets. “Marco, help! I’m being swallowed by a fur-ocious tidal wave! Get your jammies on and join the fun!”

Marco rolled his eyes as he pulled off his shirt and pants. Top drawer… nothing. Middle? Nope. Still only in his underwear, he quickly rummaged through both their sets of drawers in search of his usual blue pajamas to no avail. A frustrated groan rumbled in his throat as he bent over to check underneath the drawers.

“That’s it, mama like,” he could hear Star murmuring. He quickly glanced behind him to find… Star sitting up, his pajamas in hand. “Staaaaar,” his voice and brain both exasperatedly grumbled. Though he’d figured out that his own sense of sexuality was grounded in emotional intimacy more than anything, they’d still become quite comfortable with each other and themselves physically; normally he wouldn’t complain in the slightest about the attention, but he still had a job to do.

“Ooooone more second,” she drawled out while her half-lidded baby blues roamed his body.

“Alright, Star, let’s just pick one more card, OK? I need to make sure I’m ready for tomorrow.”

“Fiiiiine. The last one is… Freud. I’m probably saying that wrong, too. Wait a second, Janna talked about him once, after I told her about that psychology stuff we did years ago. She said he’d be really good at figuring out my mom issu-”

“Not the same thing. Come on, Janna…” Marco grumbled. Leave it to Janna to give the worst possible introduction to academic psychology. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” he stated decisively and snatched all the index cards out from under paws and tails before crawling onto the edge of the bed.

“Yay! Now scooty that booty, you cutie patootie!” Star gently cleared the space between them and the puppies all left the room except for Marco Jr. It wasn’t the best dog name, but it was at least better than it would’ve been for his sibling.

He propped himself up on his elbow and fluffed his pillow. “I’m honored to do my duty.”

“Hehe, you said doodie.” Before he’d even fully settled into his usual spot, Star had already climbed halfway on top of him and settled her head on his chest, prompting him to embrace her. Marco smiled and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her neck. Sometimes it was too warm, too cramped, and she’d strangle his limbs hard enough that it took him 10 extra minutes to stand up in the morning; despite all that, he couldn’t be happier to snuggle every night away.

“I-I know it’s been crazy this past week, so thanks for helping with this, even though you hate school.”

“Hey, I don’t hate it. I just don’t like classes, tests, homework, and having to ask to use the bathroom...” She paused and blinked a few times. “OK, maybe I do hate school.”

“If it makes you feel any better, in college you can just go whenever you need to.”

“You know, that actually kinda does. Anyway, learning can be fun, and you’re a good teacher. Keep it up and in a few years maybe I’ll have a secondhand degree,” she snickered. Her fingers started to fidget with his hands while her toes tangled themselves up in his pant legs. “Sorry I was so distracted. I guess it’s finally sinking in that you’re gonna be doing this for years and years and now I’m the one with no clue what I want to do. Sucks a little bit to think about.”

“Doesn’t mean we’re not still gonna be a team, but it- yeah, that kinda does suck. Maybe we can try looking through some more options, if you want? I know you didn’t like any programs at the college, but I’m sure there’s all kinds of jobs or volunteer work around town. We could-”

She squirmed in his grasp, tilting her head downwards and away from his. “Marco… I don’t know, I just really don’t think I’m even in a place where I can just point at something and say, ‘yep, that sounds like a great job to sign up for!’ Maybe I’m just not ready for that yet.”

It always saddened him when she had this little faith in herself because he knew firsthand how capable she was of the most amazing things. Whatever he could do to help get her self-confidence back and live up to her potential, he would. He brought his hand closer to her face, stroking her cheek gently - though not before clumsily misjudging distance and poking her in the mouth, which elicited a snort of laughter. “OK, whatever feels right. Besides, it’s not like I know what I want to do with my entire life right now either. We’ll figure it out whenever you’re ready. In the meantime, there’s a new season of Dude’s Food Feuds and a plate of nachos with our names on it this weekend! “Plus, I heard Mom and Dad say they might spend part of this weekend at Eclipsa’s…” he trailed off, nuzzling into her neck and pulling her closer.

She twisted herself to look at him as best as she could. “Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows wiggled  suggestively.

“Yeaaaaaaahn.” His attempt to continue being flirty was foiled by a giant yawn, indicating once and for all that it was time to sleep, and her laugh at his expense was stifled by her own yawn indicating she was in the same position. “Let’s get some shuteye, I’ve got another early morning tomorrow. Night, Star.”

“Night, Marco.” After a good-night peck Star turned herself around and they resumed their embrace. Less than a minute later, slumber claimed him.

***

“Dangit, Tom, again? You’ve gotta be free to chill at some point!” Angie folded the corner of the poetry collection she was perusing and looked up at Star who had her phone sprawled across their couch. “But I wouldn’t even mind doing kingdom junk. It’s better than another day on the couch by myself!” With her free hand, Star absentmindedly dangled around a spare doll of Marco in the princess outfit, which a starry-eyed Mariposa was stumbling around on the floor trying to catch. “So I’m not ‘physically capable of sticking my arms into lava tar’, I don’t see what that has to do with-” Even from the other end of the phone, Angie could still pick up on the mounting frustration in the demon prince’s tone. Star suddenly sharply inhaled and took a moment before responding. “Sure, maaaaybe it would have something to do with clearing a toxic hellgae infestation from the depths of the lava tar pits. Ugh, fine, you’re right. Can I at least see you next week, then?” Only a split second went by before Star sat up suddenly. “JANNA? Hello? Dangit,” she groaned while tossing her phone to the other end of the couch.

“Is everything alright, Star?”

Star crossed her arms and huffed. “Tom’s super busy with Underworld stuff, and I guess Janna’s there too for some reason even though humans really shouldn’t be able to handle any of it. Ponyhead has some kinda interview with some production company or something, Eclipsa and my parents are on vacation, and even Ferguson and Alfonzo are too busy to hang out!” She flopped facedown into one of the cushions; her final cry of “stupid school” was barely intelligible.

Mariposa giggled and yanked the doll from Star’s now-limp hand. “Mago! Mago!” Mariposa babbled while waddling around. Her little foot got caught on the fabric of the doll’s dress, and like a tiny giant she slowly toppled to the ground. Angie moved to help her daughter, who let go of the doll to grasp for her mother’s hand. “Mama!” It had been only a few weeks since Mariposa began to put together words with any regularity, and she’d already taken a fierce liking to calling for her parents and brother.

“Mariposa, I’m trying to be grumpy here and that’s really hard when the cutest thing in the universe is talking about the other cutest thing in the universe, and that includes the entire Puppybunny Dimension!”

Suddenly, an idea came to Angie. “Why don’t you come with me to the community college and help watch Mariposa? I’ve missed spending time with her this week but I couldn’t take care of her all day, plus it’d be good to get her out of the house.”

“Marco said he was really busy today, though,” Star pouted.

“Well, then I guess it’ll just have to be a girls’ day. What do you say, Mariposa? Do you want to go with mommy and Star to school?”

She clapped her hands cheerfully. “Gool!”

“Who am I kidding, I can’t say no to you,” Star cooed, pinching the toddler’s cheeks. “So when are we going?”

“I have office hours in an hour, so the sooner the better. Come out to the car whenever you’re ready.”

“Just gotta get my purse!” Star bounded across the living room and up the stairs quickly enough that her voice trailed off even at full volume. Angie smirked as she went about gathering her usual toddler travel supplies. While all the reasons she’d given for their trip today were true, she had an ulterior motive. It was pretty obvious that Star was in a funk from life catching up to them, and a change of pace never hurt. Well, that, and Star drives everyone a bit crazy with nothing to do at home. Seriously, who knew one girl could spill so many gallons of pancake batter all over the counter in a day?

Once she had everything, she headed out to the faithful family minivan and strapped Mariposa into her carseat, tossing in her small satchel for work and the much larger bag of baby supplies. Right as she finished, she heard the front door shut and lock behind her as Star made her way to the car. “Can I take Mariposa around the college today? Marco’s baby carrier fits like a glove.” Star quickly strapped it on, tightened it, and did a little twirl before taking it back off and climbing into the backseat.

While Angie was driving, she barely had any ability to check how the girls were doing in the backseat - there’d been so much construction on the Earthni road system that she could never trust the routes she was used to - but there were little glimpses of Mariposa being enthralled with Star’s playful antics. Star’s classic yellow smiling star purse swung like a pendulum for Mariposa to catch and they both cheered when she finally succeeded. Before she even knew it, they arrived at the Echo Creek Commewnity College, which had expanded dramatically in both size and architectural diversity as a result of the Cleaving. Most places in town (and throughout the world, so she’d heard) had merged in ways that left individual communities intact, but for whatever reason the college campus had become completely intertwined with a Mewman campground. It was certainly more of a spectacle than the once-modest town college and did wonders for getting both halves of the Earthni community involved.

Star marveled at the seamlessly blended hybrid buildings and scenery while Mariposa did much the same with her own thumbs. Nondescript brick buildings mingled with medieval wood and stone and the occasional ornate decorations, which is why the quad had a marble dragon standing proud among the trees. “Woah, is that a cornball and football field at the same time?”

“That’s a good question. Honestly, I’m still not used to all the changes myself,” Angie laughed. “A few months ago I tried to use the swamp water machine for my coffee. I had lily pads in my teeth for days.” While they were walking, Mariposa had become noticeably fixated on Star. Her dress, her hair, her hands, anything that was available to gawk at and grasp was fair game.

“She’s such a wonderful little tot, isn’t she?” Angie asked as they stepped into the cool air of Bonner Hall. She walked slowly towards her office while Star flitted around poking at every plant in the hallway.

“Yeah. So much calmer than Meteora. Remember the birthday incident?” Angie lightly chuckled in response; how could anyone not remember that? It wasn’t every day that a one year old just spontaneously grew a full head of hair and then got her tail hopelessly caught in it at another one year old’s birthday party.

Once they’d arrived at her office, she pulled out her key and opened the door to invite Star in. “Bienvenue! I’m teaching Intro to French Literature this semester, so I’ve got this whole theme going on.” Quotes and pictures of authors hung all around the room alongside some images of major landmarks and a little French flag sat on her desk next to a miniature statue of the Eiffel Tower. Angie helped Star unstrap Mariposa and set her down on the floor where she began waddling and crawling around.

Star sat on the edge of Angie’s desk kicking her feet back and forth, careful to avoid the toddler. “Soooooooo… what’s the plan for today?”

“You’re more than welcome to stick around but if office hours get too hectic it may get pretty cramped in here.” She’d have liked to do more with a larger space, but given how infrequently other community college faculty even got offices to themselves it was a blessing to even have this. “Although I have to teach later so you won’t be able to get back into this room if you leave after that.”

“Marco’s not free until, like, 6, so…” She trailed off dejectedly. The vibrant enthusiasm that Star normally exuded was still lacking. Hmm, this might be more serious than I thought.

Angie gently laid a hand on Star’s shoulder until those big blue eyes finally met her own. “Star, honey, it’ll be fine. I know it can be hard not being able to spend all your time with someone anymore.”

The headband on Star’s head shifted and almost fell off from how hard she was tugging and frazzling her own hair absentmindedly, “It’s not that… well, it’s not just that. Everyone else is starting their big life dreams now, you know? Marco wants to be a psycho therapist or something, Tom’s actually kinda happy about being a prince for once, and even Janna seems like she’s figuring it out in her weird Jannaniganish way! I have no idea what I want to do! Even went through a big ole’ list of ideas with Marco and they all just seemed blegh.” Star threw her hands up in frustration before curling back into herself more than before. “And I want to find something too, you know? Ugh, where’s Mr. Candle when you need him...”

The words resonated very strongly with Angie but it was difficult to put into words. She backed away from Star, her gaze darting around the room until she had a realization. “Have I ever told you the story about my summer in France?”

“Don’t think so.”

“When I was about your age, I wanted to get away for a while, so I packed up all my things and went to France for a whole summer. The food, the music, the history… everything was better there. For months after I came home I tried desperately to hold on to all of that after it was over, and I still cherish that experience, but it was just a fun handful of weeks that I spent someplace else and it was better that I just dealt with the fact that it was over. But,” she forcefully interjected when Star raised an eyebrow in protest at the seemingly antithetical point being made, “I know now that it’s not a universally ideal handling of such events. All the excitement of the last few years made me think about that… people might sort these things out for themselves in very different ways.”

“Like how Jackie literally spent a summer in France too, but she and Chlóe are still together long distance.”

“Mhmm, I could see that.”

“Or how Ponyhead started wearing a prosthetic tail for a while after staying with Seahorse’s family.”

“Hang on, what-”

“Don’t ask.” Never a dull moment.

“Or what about when-”

Alright, I’ll just have to get to the point myself. “I was mainly thinking about Marco, Star. I told him this same story before he left for Mewni, and honestly, I didn’t know how important it was to him. But he grew into such a confident and capable young man there and I couldn’t be prouder.” Angie softly took both of Star’s cheeks into her hands. “Star, you’re a wonderful, caring, smart young woman. So what if you’re not following every step at the same time as your friends? Everyone goes through these sorts of crises at some point or another, but what’s important is that you take the time to make the decision that’s right for you.” Star’s gaze sunk to the ground while the gears in her mind were so obviously turning that they might as well have been visible and Angie gave her some space in turn. “So, with all that said, what are you thinking now?”

Star crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. “Even if I’m not rushing to figure everything out, I don’t want to just do nothing until I magically find my lifelong dream. And I know Marco and I aren’t gonna literally live the same lives; heck, I don’t want to do all his school junk anyway, but… whatever I end up doing, I still want it to be together. That’s why I left for Earth,” she finished with her voice dropping to a solemn whisper.

“Didn’t he do the exact same thing? You don’t need me to tell you that you two are something absolutely special. I may not know what all is going through his head, what mother of a teenage boy does, but I know he’d do anything for you, Star.”

Nodding more to herself than to Angie, Star took a deep breath before speaking. “Thanks, Mrs. Diaz.”

“You can call me Angie, if you’d like. Or Angelica, or maybe ‘The Coolest Mom in Town.’ I’m not picky,” she said with a smirk.

After a short pause, Star hopped off the desk and wrapped Angie in a bear hug so deceptively strong that it knocked the wind out of her, but she still managed to reciprocate. “Thanks… Angie.” A rumbling sound interrupted the moment. “Heh, well, seems like I’m also thinking about lunch.”

“That’s an excellent idea. Why don’t we-” The digital clock on the desk caught her attention. “Dammit, office hours already started a few minutes ago. Don’t think I’ll have time for a while. But there’s plenty of places around here to eat, and a few of them are actually good!” she chuckled. Just as she mentally ran through some places in the student union, a thought struck her. “Say, Star… there’s a lot of clubs and events and such that are open to non-students too. Maybe it’d be worth looking into some of them? It’d be something to do, you and Marco would be closer, and I could even drive you some days if you needed. Why don’t you take Mariposa with you and explore for a while? She seems pretty restless today.”

Taking a few deep breaths to center herself, Star nodded her head. “Yeah, that’s a good idea! Heck, it’d be good just to know my way around for any time I visit Marco anyway.” She bent down and beckoned for Mariposa, who’d been ogling a bronze baguette for some time now. Once the carrier was locked and loaded with a docile toddler and some of her supplies once more, Star skipped out of the office. Angie’s time alone, however, was cut short when a student skidded in and immediately started nervously rambling about homework questions and grading policies and the works of François Villon. Back to teacher mode. Angie afforded herself one last glance through the door at her young daughter gleefully riding along with the girl who might as well be her other daughter. Rafael had mentioned to Angie on more than a few occasions that Star and Marco reminded him of themselves in their youth, and Angie had agreed at the time but now she wasn’t so sure. Her teenage - and even young adult - years with Rafael, while wonderful, had been filled with many bouts of uncertainty and it’d taken them many, many years to get it right once and for all.

But Star and Marco? As far as she was concerned, they already had.

***

Boring classroom… Boring classroom… Boring restroom… Hey, wait a minute, is that a cornshake machine? A few minutes, a few dollars, and one cornshake (plus a sippy kid size) later, Star found herself not much better than she’d been when she set off an hour ago, but the surprisingly high quality of the vended drink did bolster her spirits. She resisted the urge to call Marco because it’d be waaaay more fun to surprise him later. And also because he might still be in class, that too. A tall rock creature walked in front of her, interrupting her thoughts, and she saw a nervous expression on his face as he feebly tried not to disrupt foot traffic too much. Looking around, she was a bit surprised to see just how much the cultures of her own world had been brought to the forefront and blended in despite humans comprising the majority of people she’d seen on campus. Some people who she guessed were Mewmans by their dress glanced back for a bit longer than most but otherwise went about their day without a fuss. Two guys, one human and one Septarian, were laughing and holding hands on a bench. All in all the atmosphere reminded her of high school, but was freer in a way that didn’t discomfort her as much as she’d anticipated.

A few of the passersby looked her way as she wandered, and one or two even said hi to her - not that uncommon, given that it was public knowledge that she and Marco were responsible for the Cleaving, though Eclipsa had tactfully phrased it as a consequence of the two working together to destroy magic - but it was just as likely that Mariposa was the one attracting attention for a multitude of reasons. She knew she shouldn’t have expected it, but part of her was disappointed that after going through four whole bustling buildings she hadn’t run into Marco, or even anyone she knew. Glum and tired, she was about to abandon her pursuits when a huge bulletin board around the corner caught her eye. As she jogged over to it, her hopes came true: it was a giant wall advertising all the clubs and events on campus for the start of the year.

Her eyes roved the board up and down, left and right scanning for anything that seemed interesting or had some sort of meeting today. There were some fliers that Star dismissed right away, including a woodworking workshop series, a community choir, a sketchy-looking “how to date a demon” seminar. The last one might have at least been good for a laugh, but it had a note scribbled on it that attendance was maxed out already. She noted some sort of upcoming school dance for all local teens, but it was months away and the poster was uninspiring since the theme was still listed as TBD. It made sense that most extracurricular activities didn’t happen in the middle of a school day, but she still frowned at how few options seemed available and potentially interesting. Once she’d perused the entire wall and selected those that were, she set out on her mission to find her purpose.

“You ready, Mariposa?”

“Gool!”

Chess Club

“Rook to G3.” Star’s opponent, whose nametag said Fred, positioned the black castle piece ahead of most of his pack.

“King to-” Her tongue stuck out as she concentrated on the board layout instructions, trying to find her place. “King to E3!”

“Um, first of all, the king piece is not allowed to move more than one square at a time. Second, since it is the most important piece, the singular goal of the game is to keep yours alive while defeating the enemy’s. Therefore it is ludicrously ill-advised to position your king into such immediate danger, and in most cases would automatically lose you the match” Star’s opponent responded matter-of-factly.

Star scratched her head in puzzlement, replacing the piece. “Why is the king so slow? My dad was literally a king and he can run at highway speeds.”

“Perhaps the Mewman traditions are different, but the Earthly ways of the monarchy are enshrined in a-

“Alright, whatever. Then I have my Queen ride the horse into combat! No, wait, can it be a warnicorn instead?” She ripped off a corner of the scoring sheet and deftly curled it into a cone before placing it on the top of the plastic figure with a satisfied grin.

“Although an intriguing concept, there is no precedent in the ancient tradition of the sport for-” Mariposa interrupted her tirade by kicking the edge of the table, which knocked over Fred’s black king. See, now this was the sort of thing she could see herself getting into!

“Checkmate!” Star shouted with a wide grin, one decidedly not mirrored by her opponent or any of the onlookers.

Cornball Tryouts

“Well, Mariposa, that was a bust. But cornball is a Mewni thing, so I’m gonna super nail it this time!” Star set Mariposa down and removed her from the baby carrier. “Stay right here, you little angel,” she cooed before jogging over to the group of hopefuls discussing strategy. “Hiya everyone!”

One of the girls who resembled a fox waved in welcome. “Sup, I’m Bleck, I was the Monster Cornball League’s ace stickler for a few years.”

“And I’m Jason, I was Mewni Cornball Alliance’s forward maizeman.”

Star shook both their hands. Did something seem familiar about them? “I’m-”

“Star Butterfly, we know,” Bleck responded. “You set up that integrated game on Mewni. Sorry about that, by the way. We were the captains and it, um, kinda got out of hand.” Ah, so that’s why Star recognized them.

“Yeah, that was our bad.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck shamefully with one hand with his other on Bleck’s shoulder. “I’ll be honest, this whole ‘monsters and Mewmans and Earth Mewmans all together’ thing is still new to me, but don’t wanna let some petty grudges get in the way of some good old fashioned cornball. These Earthers are crazy competitive, we’ll need the best team we can to have a chance of even making regionals.

“Speaking of which,” another Mewman spoke up warily. “Does anyone know anything about that new teenage husker that already made captain? CB Nation says she’s already poised to be hotter than Jispy Jenkins.”

“I heard she’s the reason the Cassidy bros quit moat guarding.”

“Well I heard she averaged 50 shucks per game in her rookie season.”

A hush fell over the group; as much as Star loved the sport she never really followed it, but it was still clear just how good this mystery player was.

“I think that’s her…” one of the monsters said, pointing at a shadow emerging from the clubhouse. “Oh corn, hold me!” He fainted on the spot.

“Star? Star!!!!!!!!” It was hard to make out details against the glaring sunlight, but there was a webbed hand waving at her. Wait, was that-

“KATRINA!” Star dashed as fast as her legs could carry her to meet her friend who was doing the same. Katrina scooped her up in a big slimy hug. “You’re so big now!” The girl was now taller than Star, with a stocky build, but her big sparkly eyes still had every bit of youthful wonder that she remembered. Given how much of a powerhouse Buff Frog was, Star could only imagine the athletic potential his kids could have.

“Yeah, I’m starting ECCC this year! I got a full ride scholarship as team captain! Sorry I haven’t been talking to you as much lately… I’ve been so busy working towards this, it’s a dream come true!” Katrina set her down and glanced over towards the sidelines. “Is that Mariposa over there! Hi, baby! Wow, humans age really slowly. You and Marco better not take too long getting your own kid, Auntie Katrina still wants to still be spry enough to play with ‘em.”

Star’s face heated up. “I- Katrina, you- We aren’t-” She stammered incoherently. This was going to take some getting used to.

“C’mon, Star, I’m kiddiiiiiing. I’m already four, I’m not a kid anymore. Anyway, are you here for the team? That’s so cool! You’re always so great at everything, you’ll definitely make the team.” She finally turned to the rest of the attendees to begin the session. “Alright, welcome to the ECCC cornball tryouts, I’m really happy you’re all here! Let’s go over some logistics. Practice is five days a week in the evenings until the league begins on Dartuk 30. That’s the 26th of September for all the Earth people here. We’ll have two regular matches each week and will be travelling most weekends. If we want to show who the real cornballers are, I’m going to need your complete dedication to this squad! School’s important too, but otherwise this will be your life while you’re on my team, so let’s talk drills-”

With each passing sentence, Star’s anxiously fidgeted more and more. It was… intense, more than she’d ever expected. She was ecstatic that Katrina was finding so much success and joy doing this and felt her heart swell with pride as the crowd hooted and hollered in support, but was this really what she wanted most for herself? While Star was zoned out, Katrina had apparently wrapped up her speech and everyone else had already dispersed. Katrina took Star’s hands and shook them up and down excitedly. “Are you as pumped as I am?”

“Yeeeeeeaaaaaah…” Star hesitantly cheered, casting a nervous glance back at Mariposa who now was booping Star’s purse repeatedly with her nose. “About that…”

Driver’s Ed

Maybe I should just learn to drive so I can visit Marco myself, Star pouted. “I could get us a pair of matching cool car driver sunglasses, so we can be rad Earth style,” Star whispered to Mariposa while Miss Skullnick (who was apparently working at the college now, and was human again) finished going over her slides.

“And that’s the introduction for this seminar series on automobile safety. Any questions?”

Star raised her hand and Skullnick sighed heavily before calling on her. “Is there a way I can start driving next week?”

“Get out!”

***

“Today sucked,” Star gloomily groaned. She was curled up sideways on a bench in one of the open quads while Mariposa was using her stomach as a pillow for her late afternoon nap, tuckered out after a recent diaper change. “I mean, it was so cool to see Katrina again, and in a weird way I almost missed Skullzy too, but I’m still completely stuck. But hey, at least I got to spend a day with you.” Star gently stroked Mariposa’s soft brown hair. Now that she thought about it, getting to spend hours a day with the adorable tot was one of the only consistently rewarding parts of the past week, it seemed. Even Meteora’s shenanigans were heartwarming in their own way, namely one that involved way more property damage. Her eyelids drooped shut, heavy with the weight of everything on her mind.

She couldn’t have been out for more than a minute when a child’s voice startled her. “Hello? Are you sleeping?” Was that Mariposa? No, it couldn’t have been, her mind concluded as she exited her half-conscious delirium. A small monster child, no older than the human equivalent of four or five with some features of an elephant, tugged on the sleeve of her dress with tears in his eyes. “I’m scared.”

Star rubbed her eyes and gathered everything into one corner of the bench so she could make room for the child. “What’s wrong, little guy? I’m Star.”

“My- my name’s Trevor but Mom and Dad call me Trev. I was playing on the slides but then everyone was gone,” Trevor began sobbing pitifully.

“OK, it’s OK. Let’s take a deeeeeeep breath, OK? Like this.” She inhaled as much air as she could, puffing up her cheeks and chest before blowing all of it out with an exaggerated flair. The boy nodded and took a small breath. “Again!” Star repeated, and he followed, back and forth until he had calmed down and was grinning at her absurdly over-the-top routine. “Feeling better?”

“A little.”

“How about we play a game? I’ll say one word, and you say whatever word comes to your mind. Ready?” He sniffled once, but nodded.

“Candy.”

“Tasty.”

“Dancing.”

“Fun.”

“Snuffleupagus.”

He cracked up a bit at that and she grinned back at him. “Silly.”

“School.”

“Sad.”

“Why does that make you sad?”

“My brother’s busy at school here all day now, so he has daycare watch me instead. My group was at the playground and Felipe bet I couldn’t go on the big slide so I did but I got stuck and when I got out, everyone was gone.”

“You poor thing,” Star responded. “I know how you feel. Tell ya what, let’s go try to find them together!”

“Can- can we stay here?” Her heart broke at how obviously terrified he was of the situation and the prospect of any more unfamiliarity wasn’t something he was ready to deal with at all.

“For a little bit, but then we really should get you back to the daycare.”

“OK,” he said somberly. “Who’s that?” He pointed at Mariposa who was crawling in circles around the bench.

“Oh, this is Mariposa! She’s my boyfriend’s sister.”

“What’s a boyfriend?”

Of all the conversations Star thought she might have today, this was far from one of them. “It’s like… boyfriend and girlfriend are like what a mom and dad are before they become a mom and dad.”

“My Uncle Matt is Mom’s brother but Dad calls him brother too. Does that mean she’s your sister too?”

Star met Mariposa’s eyes for a moment. It was weird to think about, but… was Trevor even wrong? She’d been living with the Diazes for almost all of Mariposa’s life, after all. There wasn’t a clear definitive answer in Star’s mind, but she needed one to sate the boy’s unending curiosity. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“Cool! My big brother’s awesome. I miss when we used to play all the time. You’re really cool, too.”

“Thanks. I know change can be scary, but I’m sure your brother misses you a lot too. Sometimes big kids and grown-ups have to do grown-up things for a while, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still love being your brother.”

A few voices echoed in the distance; once they were close enough for Star to make out the words, she realized they were calling Trevor’s name. “Over here!” she shouted back in their general direction. A large elephant monster with ripped jeans and ear piercings ran as fast as he could and gave Trevor a tight hug. “Hey, Trev, buddy, where’d you go? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“It’s OK, Star took care of me.” It came out muffled from how his face was still buried in his brother’s arms.

“Woah, wait- Star? Like, the Rebel Princess Star Butterfly?”

“That’s me. Or was me,” she shrugged.

“I was your biggest fan for years! Remember the cave hideout? Don’t think I introduced myself then, I’m Geoff.”

“Oooooh yeah, you were with the ‘alternative monsters’! How have you been?”

“Pretty dope. Once that wicked Cleaving thing happened, we found a bunch of humans just like us! Being alternative is just, like, normal now. They even sell clothes with all the holes in them already so you don’t have to do any work! It’s nice to just get to be myself now, and I don’t think I’d ever get to do that without everything you did. You’re the best, Star. And thanks for taking care of lil’ Trev here. C’mon, buddy, let’s get you home.”

Trevor hopped up on his brother’s shoulders for a piggy back ride and waved. “Bye, Star! Bye Mariposa!”

“You must be a miracle worker with the kids,” the human man who had run up with Geoff finally spoke up. He had a thick beard and glasses and wore a red flannel shirt and jeans. “I’m Antonio, by the way, I run the ECCC Child Care Center. We just call it the Six Cs.”

“Nice to meet you,” Star responded. “I just did what anyone would, really.”

“No, you definitely made Trevor’s week. He just joined on Monday and he cries almost all the time from missing his family. We see that a lot, but it’s definitely hitting him harder than most, going from being at home all the time to being with a bunch of strangers for hours a day.”

Star unconsciously turned away and rubbed her arm. “Yeah, I… I know the feeling.” She shook it off and turned back towards him. “So, what happened with Trevor?”

“One of the girls got a splinter on the playground. Everyone was busy trying to keep her calm when we left the playground that we skipped headcount. I called Geoff right away, he was very understanding. It’s no excuse, but we’re way too short on people right now with all the new students.” His attention suddenly pivoted to Mariposa who was reaching up to grab at the fabric of his shirt. “This is Angie Diaz’s kid, no? May I?”

“Yeah,” Star dumbfoundedly responded after a moment’s hesitation. “You know her?”

Antonio hefted Mariposa up like she weighed nothing and gently rocked Mariposa back and forth in his burly arms. “Her older son, Marco, used to come here every now and then. Heard through the grapevine not too long ago that she had another kid, I asked if she’d be coming to the Six Cs but she said she already had someone at home. I take it I’m talking to her?”

Star’s eyes widened. Angie had said that? She was the only one who didn’t have plans most days, so… it had to be her. “Marco’s my boyfriend. I was their foreign exchange student for a year, then he came to live with me on Mewni for a year, and then… well, you’ve probably heard about how the Cleaving happened.”

“Afraid not, I don’t keep up with the news much these days. I just try to take care of all the kiddos as best I can, doesn’t much matter to me what goes on with the world. So what brings you to this humble campus?”

“Well, Marco’s going to school here now and I don’t have much else to do, so... yeah.”

“Ah.” His deep voice was laden with sympathy, and with that one word Star felt like he immediately understood her turmoil. “Well, if you’re ever looking for something to do, we could use someone like you on the team.”

“Really?”

“You’ve clearly got a big heart and a keen eye for how to take care of the younguns, that’s more than enough in my eyes. This one’s been staring at you almost since we started talking, she clearly trusts you more than you may know.” Huh, he was right; even while being rocked gently into slumber, Mariposa’s warm brown gaze remained firmly on Star’s face. “Well, I should get back to the staff. No rush if you’re unsure, but you can come with me to meet the crew before they leave for the night if you want.” He set Mariposa back down on the bench while Star reassembled the baby carrier and got Mariposa settled back in.

Star couldn’t say she was any clearer now on a life goal, but maybe that wasn’t what she needed right now. Looking back on the day and week thus far, even the most exceptionally crummy day in recent memory could be salvaged by Mariposa alone, so why should she be worried about more of that? Though she hadn’t really thought of herself as Mariposa’s caretaker until just a few minutes ago, her breath hitched with pride at the notion.

When she finally answered Antonio’s question, it was the least unsure she’d felt in a while.

***

Done. Finally. Marco swiftly stuffed his assignments into the binder in his backpack and hustled out the door of the student union. Cramming all his homework into one day had drained him, but it was worth it so he and Star could have the whole weekend to themselves. He liked all the things about school that Star hated, sure, but his life had changed so much and so many times that he worried he wasn’t even cut out for it anymore. ‘B’ on the pop quiz, really Diaz? The rational part of his brain knew it was fine, but the Marco of old was disappointed. He’d aced the questions he’d studied with Star, at least, so maybe the Marco of old wasn’t the one to follow.

Nachos, ever the talented dragoncycle, had founded a part-time rideshare service in the town and was busy tonight, so Marco navigated his way to his mom’s office for a ride home. “Hey Mom, hey Star, h- wait, Star?”

“Marcomarcomarcomarcomarco!” Star excitedly leapt into his arms with a barrage of cheek kisses and a crushing embrace.

“Missed you too, Star,” he chuckled, kissing her on the forehead in return before backing away to take off his backpack and slump into a chair. “What are you doing here?”

She sat sideways in his lap, hooking her arms around his neck. “Surprising you, goofhead!”

He closed his eyes for a moment and drank in her affection, letting it wash away his fatigue. “Well, color me surprised. Really glad you’re here.”

“Long day? Did you defeat the quizzards?”

“Yeah, and for the third time, it was just a regular quiz and not evil mystical quizzards giving me riddles. Besides, don’t they have a game show now?”

“Totally, totally, totally… I knew that.”

“I just kinda miss you, Star. It hasn’t been the same going all day without seeing you. I guess the last few years have made me realize I don’t want to be wherever you aren’t.”

“So cheesy,” Star cooed while pinching his cheek. His mom and Star exchanged excited glances. “But don’t worry about that anymore, Diaz, because I’ll be here now too!”

“Hubbawha?” Marco blurted out.

“Star’s going to volunteer for the Six Cs and take care of Mariposa there.”

She stood up and walked over to Mariposa, poking her nose just as she came out of a nap. “Yep, and they said I can make a schedule around yours so we can dragonpool to school and have lunch together or whatever! Plus I get to spend time with my other favorite person in the whole wide world.”

Mariposa fully opened her eyes and stared vacantly at Star for a second before smiling wide. “Ta.”

Star stopped in her tracks. “Wait, is she saying-”

“Tar. Tar. Tar!” Mariposa bobbed up and down on the desk, clearly as overjoyed about her words as everyone else was. Tears welled up in Star’s sapphire eyes as she leaned down to gently snuggle Mariposa. Marco walked over to join her and caught his mom absolutely beaming with as much pride as he’d ever seen her have. The wholesome moment was interrupted as his little sister, not content to stop, kept rambling on. “Tar! Mago! Tago! Tago!”

“Not you too!” Star sputtered out, still choked with emotion, and Marco couldn’t help but laugh.

And later that evening, after the four had gotten dinner and piled into the Diaz van for the trip home, Marco looked over to see that Star had fallen asleep on the other side of Mariposa’s carseat. He took her hand in his, yawning as he realized a nap wasn’t such a bad idea. Just before succumbing to the day, he swore he heard a soft, squeaky murmuring from the toddler next to him.

“Sihtah.”