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wistfulcynic · 4 years

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...and held her in my arms (CS January Joy Day 9)

HAPPY JANUARY EVERYONE!!

So. This fic. I was not going to write it. I’ve had little ideas in my head for a while of a CS college/university AU but I didn’t really want to dive into anything new. But then the thing I intended to write for @csjanuaryjoy just began to feel a bit uninspired and uninspiring so I thought what the hell I’ll write down some ideas for a college AU and somehow it turned into this monstrous one-shot. (Yes I know there are one-shots longer, but this is GARGANTUAN for me.) It has some smut and some misunderstandings and miscommunication and mutual pining by the truckload, plus Captain Book because they are my forever BroTP.

I hope you enjoy!!

Gratitude as ever to @thisonesatellite for whipping this into shape and also just general awesomeness.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan does not want to think about Killian Jones. She doesn’t want to think about his eyes or his face or that time he pressed her against a wall at a frat party and made her forget her own name. She definitely does not want to think about that. But when they are partnered with each other on a project they both are determined to ace she can’t avoid him any longer... or the feelings growing between them.

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @stahlop @mariakov81 @kmomof4 @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @snowbellewells @snidgetsafan @tiganasummertree @shardminds @jonirobinson64 @jennjenn615 @superchocovian @courtorderedcake

ON AO3

She’s pressed against the wall, the sounds of the party fading into the background as his lips devour hers. He tastes like beer and corn chips and God that shouldn’t turn her on nearly as much as it does. She clutches at his hair as his hand slips beneath her shirt to cup her breast, the other digging into her thigh as she hitches her leg over his hip and grinds against him. He tears his mouth from hers and stares at her, panting, pupils blown, and then she pulls him back down to her lips…

“Miss Swan?”

The sound of the professor’s voice snapped Emma from her memory and back into the small seminar room, made warm and slightly stuffy by the early afternoon sun slanting through its tall windows.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear the question.”

“Perhaps because I didn’t ask you one,” said Professor Gold, fixing her with that unblinking stare of his that had been setting undergrads quaking in their boots for twenty-five years. “I merely wished to confirm that you are in fact present in this classroom. In mind as well as body.”

She could feel heat creeping up the back of her neck and had to force herself not to squirm. “Yes, Professor. Sorry.”

Professor Gold stared at her for another painful moment then looked away. Emma sighed in relief. “As I was saying,” the professor intoned. “Your pair research papers will constitute twenty-five percent of your final grade, something I’m sure you are already aware as no doubt you have all read the syllabus with great care and attention.”

Emma could tell her classmates in the Political Science seminar wanted to groan, but didn’t dare do so in front of Professor Gold. As and nor did she.

“I do not wish to have any bickering about choosing partners so I have chosen them for you myself,” Professor Gold continued. “You will find this list—” he held up a sheet of paper “—affixed to my office door should you have need to reconfirm the pairings that I am about to announce.” His gimlet stare swept the room. “Are there any questions?”

There weren’t.

He nodded. “Excellent. Now, Mr Booth, your partner will be...”

Emma listened as the professor read out names, trying not to fidget but feeling herself grow increasingly tense as name after name was called but none were hers… or his.

“…and last, but I feel quite certain—despite this morning’s momentary lapse—not least, Miss Swan you will be working with Mr Jones.”

Breathe, Emma.

She glanced across the conference table to where Killian Jones sat slouched in his chair. His posture was relaxed but a pink flush began to creep across his cheekbones as he sensed her gaze on him and then his ridiculous eyelashes fluttered and their eyes met.

Memories assailed her again—of those eyes dazed and wanting… her fingers in his hair… his tongue in her mouth… his hand between her legs… She tore her eyes away and focused on her notebook as Professor Gold reminded them of the requirements and due dates for the pair project, then quickly gathered her things and fled the room as soon as he dismissed the class.

She was halfway down the hall before Killian caught up with her.

“Swan!” he called, “Wait!” His fingers snagged the sleeve of her jacket and she spun around and yanked it away.

“What?” she snapped. Knowing she was being ridiculous and that she couldn’t run away or avoid him when he was her damn project partner made her extra defensive.

He looked taken aback by her tone, then resigned. “I just—” he attempted a smile “—I just thought perhaps we should exchange numbers. For the project.”

She scowled. “I’ll see you in class on Tuesday.”

“But we’re going to have to work outside of class as well,” he pointed out. “You heard the crocodile, this is a quarter of our final grade and I don’t know about you but I intend to ace it.”

“The crocodile?”

“Gold.”

“Yeah, I got that from context but why do you call him a crocodile?”

“Don’t you think he looks like one?”

He did a bit, in his cold, reptilian eyes, but she’d be damned if she agreed with Killian Jones about anything. “Not scaly enough,” she retorted, and he laughed, a deep, rich laugh that settled low in her belly and throbbed there.

“So,” he said, still with a wide smile and eyes bright with mirth, “…numbers?”

Emma hesitated, scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, not to give him her number. “I just—I don’t think—” She stumbled a bit as the light went out of his eyes and his smile faded.

“All right,” he said, taking a pen from a pocket on the side of his satchel and grasping her hand firmly before she could snatch it away. His fingers were warm and slightly rough on the inside of her wrist as he held her hand steady and scribbled some numbers across the back of it. She held her breath, her heart racing, watching the tip of his tongue play at the corner of his lips as he finished writing and looked up, straight into her eyes. His face was inches from hers, his breath warm on her cheek as it had been that night, his touch on her skin achingly familiar. Emma swallowed through her parched throat and forced the memories away.

Killian blinked rapidly and gave himself a small shake, dropping her wrist like it burned him. He cleared his throat. “There,” he said. “That’s my number. Do with it what you will. But let me reiterate, Swan, we will need to work on this outside of class. I’m going to get an A out of that old reptile if it’s the last thing I do.”

His expression was dark and stubbornly determined, a muscle ticking in the corner of his jaw. She watched it dance, mesmerised.

He frowned. “Is there something on my face—” he began, then from down the hallway someone called “Jones! Hey, Killian!” and he turned to see who it was.

A leggy brunette sauntered up and kissed Killian’s cheek, then made a production of wiping her lipstick off it with her thumb. “Hey, Ruby,” he greeted her, submitting to both the kiss and the cleanup with a fond smile that made Emma’s teeth grind. “What’s up?”

“Oh my God, you’ll never guess who just agreed to play at my party on Saturday!” Ruby waved her phone under Killian’s nose. “DriftWood! That band, the one we saw at the festival last month, you remember?”

“Aye.” Killian took the phone and smiled as he read the screen. “Ah, brilliant, I liked them.”

“I fucking loved them, gah I can’t wait!” She took her phone back from Killian and did a little dance. “This party is gonna be so amazing. You and Belle are coming, right?”

“Of course, lass, we wouldn’t dare miss it.”

“Smart man.” Ruby grinned her megawatt grin then appeared to notice Emma for the first time. “Hey,” she said. “Um, Emma, isn’t it? Mary Margaret’s roommate?”

“Yeah,” said Emma between clenched teeth, wondering why the hell she was still standing there.

“I thought so. You can come too, if you want. Open invite, and MM will be there.”

“Thanks,” said Emma shortly. “I’m busy.”

“Oh.” Ruby glanced at Killian but he said nothing. “Well, if you change your mind—”

“I won’t. I’ll see you in class on Tuesday, Killian.” She turned and stalked down the hall, fingernails digging into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists to stop them shaking.

“Ugh, I don’t know why you like her,” said Ruby, watching Emma disappear around a corner. “She’s such a bitch.”

“She’s not a bitch.” Killian could still feel the softness of Emma’s skin, the thrum of her pulse beneath his fingertips in tune with his own pounding heart. His whole hand was tingling, and he flexed his fingers absently. “She’s just—closed off. I think she must have been hurt in the past.”

Ruby snorted. “Haven’t we all?”

“I’m not just talking about your girlfriend of five minutes breaking up with you, Rubes,” Killian chided. “I mean real pain.” He saw a lost girl behind Emma Swan’s eyes, someone who’d been left alone. He was all too familiar with how that felt, but it wasn’t something he could talk about with Ruby. “Anyway, never mind,” he said, smiling at her. “Have you had lunch?”

“Why do you think I came to find you?” Ruby grinned as she wrapped both her arms around one of his and rested her chin on his shoulder. “You owe me ten bucks from last weekend and I will totally accept payment in the form of cheeseburgers.”

Killian laughed. “Cheeseburgers it is then.”

When Emma got back to her dorm apartment that afternoon she scrubbed Killian’s number off her hand. But not before she programmed it into her phone. Just in case, she told herself. In case she got on a roll with the project and had something to discuss with him before Tuesday’s class. She held her breath as she saved the new contact then turned her phone upside down on the side of the sink as she washed her hands.

She only had one class on Fridays so the next afternoon she went to the library to get started on her research. She was heading back to her table with an armload of books when she caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket in the corner of her eye and ducked back into the stacks just in time to avoid Killian as he walked by. Peeking around the corner of the shelf she saw him sling his satchel onto a table just two away from where she’d left her things and shrug out of his jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair.

He wore dark jeans and a grey t-shirt with ‘Bristol Rowing’ in faded letters on the chest and before he sat down he rolled his neck and shoulders, the muscles across his back visibly flexing beneath the worn-thin fabric of his shirt.

“Ugh, seriously have mercy on us,” groaned a voice to her left. Emma turned to see two girls with their heads close together, books clutched against their chests, watching Killian intently.

“He’s just unfair,” said one, by the sound of her voice the same one who had just spoken. “No guy should be allowed to look that good.”

“Right?” replied the other. “He’s in my American Lit class and I swear I want to die every time he talks. That accent. Is he still with that Belle chick, do you know?”

“I think so. I see them together like all the time. Last week on my way to work I saw them going into the history museum, if you can believe it. I guess that’s his idea of a fun date.”

“Ugh. Too bad.”

“So too bad,” agreed the first girl. “I wish she’d share. They can go to boring-ass museums together in the day and then at night I’ll take that home and climb it like a tree.”

“Ride it like a bronco,” giggled the other.

“Bang it like a screen door in a hurricane.” They collapsed against each other, laughing, and Emma saw that Killian had plugged some headphones into his laptop and was tapping his foot as he opened a document. He didn’t even notice his fans, she thought snidely, firmly ignoring the twisty ache of regret threaded with guilt that thinking about Killian’s girlfriend always caused her. When she was certain his attention was fully on his writing and music she slipped quietly into the study area and over to the table where she’d left her things. Quickly gathering them along with the books she’d selected, she headed for the checkout desk. She’d study at home, she thought.

Emma worked on her various papers and projects all Friday evening and most of the day Saturday, and late Saturday afternoon found her sitting on the couch in her pajamas with her glasses perched on her nose and her hair in a messy bun, a book balanced on one knee and her laptop on the other, typing frantically, so engrossed that she didn’t notice Mary Margaret until her roommate plopped down on the sofa next to her.

“Are you still working?” she said, by way of greeting.

Emma peered over the tops of her glasses. “I have eighteen credits this semester, MM,” she replied, “it’s a lot of work.”

“I know, but you push yourself too hard,” said Mary Margaret, frowning in that mother-hen way that Emma found both comforting and deeply irritating. “You need to take a break, Emma, or you’ll break yourself. Why don’t you come to Ruby’s party with me, have a night off?”

“I’d rather write all my essays twice,” muttered Emma, glaring at her screen. “The second time in pig latin.”

Mary Margaret’s expression shifted into one of fond exasperation. “Don’t be like that, it’ll be fun!”

“No, it’ll be fun for five minutes then you and David will disappear into a dark corner and I’ll be left alone with Ruby who hates me and—her friends,” retorted Emma.

“Ruby doesn’t hate you!”

“Every time she sees me she pretends we’ve never met before.”

“She—”

“And you know she does, Mary Margaret, you’ve seen it yourself!”

“Well, okay, that’s not very nice,” Mary Margaret conceded, “but she’s really great once you get to know her.”

Emma snorted.

“And what’s wrong with her friends?” Mary Margaret continued, then her eyes narrowed. “Or by ‘friends’ do you actually mean ‘Killian’?”

Emma shrugged. “It’s just… awkward with him.” Seeing him with Belle, she didn’t say.

“What, because you two kissed once? Emma that was way back last semester, he probably doesn’t even remember.”

“He doesn’t.”

“So what’s the proble—oh. Oh. OH. Oh I see.”

“What the hell does that me—”

“You like him.” Mary Margaret’s eyes were wide. “You like him!”

Emma scowled. “No I don’t.”

“Yes you do! You like him and you hate that he doesn’t remember making out with you! Oh my god this explains so much!”

“It doesn’t—look, MM, look.” She closed her laptop and her book and set both on the coffee table, then turned to Mary Margaret with a pleading gesture. “Look,” she said again.

“What? What am I looking at?”

Emma took a deep breath. “Killian and I, we—we didn’t just make out,” she said.

“What!” Mary Margaret’s shriek nearly rattled the windows. “What did you do?”

“He—got me off. With his hand.” She winced as Mary Margaret’s jaw dropped and barrelled on before her roommate could ask any questions. “And I absolutely intended to return the favour, at least,” she said. “Though really what I wanted was to find someplace private where I could fuck him stupid.”

“Well. Naturally.”

“And you’d think,” Emma continued, “that in a damn frat house there would be an empty room somewhere, but on the way to look for one we sort of got distracted by, well…” she waved her hand and Mary Margaret nodded eagerly.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“What happened was the party got busted and everyone scattered. We were in an empty hallway that was suddenly full of people running and in all the confusion we got separated. I looked for him once I got outside but I couldn’t find him and so I just—went home.” Emma shrugged again.

“But—why didn’t you ever talk to him about—”

“I did,” Emma interrupted. “I saw him the next day, outside the library.” With Belle. “And he—well, he made it clear that he didn’t remember, or didn’t think it was anything worth remembering.”

Mary Margaret frowned. “Are you sure? That really doesn’t sound like him. Maybe he was just being—“

“I’m sure,” said Emma flatly. She could still feel the hot humiliation of it, the crushing sensation in her chest when she saw Belle clinging to his arm, laughing at something he’d said. Could still hear the dismissive words he’d spoken, annihilating the fragile hope she’d been stupid enough to let herself feel.

She swallowed past the hard lump in her throat and gave Mary Margaret a tight smile. “So you can see why I’m not exactly eager to be around him,” she said.

Mary Margaret was still frowning. “I guess so,” she replied. “But there will be loads of other people there, you know, it won’t be hard to avoid him. And Ruby’s booked a band that’s supposed to be really good.”

“I know, but—”

“And you could really use a night of fun, sweetie.”

Spending the night dodging Killian and Belle was hardly Emma’s idea of fun, and when you added Ruby to the mix, plus the fact that she wouldn’t be able to drink because she could not trust herself in the vicinity of Killian Jones if she were in any way impaired, and it began to sound like actual hell. She shook her head firmly.

“I’m sorry MM, but I really don’t want to go.”

“But—”

“Look, I’m going to finish this history paper then work for a few hours on my PoliSci research and after that I promise I’ll watch a movie or do something else relaxing, okay?” she said. “You go to the party and have a great time. And tomorrow maybe you and David and I can have lunch together.”

“Well, okay, if you’re sure,” said Mary Margaret, still with her worried frown.

Emma forced a smile. “Definitely. Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She texted Killian on Sunday afternoon. As much as she hated to admit it the unavoidable fact was that he was right. They were going to need to meet outside of class to get this paper written if they wanted a decent grade and she was just as determined to get an A as he was. Professor Gold was a notoriously tough grader and even if Emma wasn’t currently rocking a 3.8 GPA with only a semester and some summer classes left before graduation, she would still want to get an A from Gold, just to prove she could. For the challenge.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Killian’s motivation was the same.

She texted him not really expecting a reply; he was surely hung over and in no mood to think about studying, she thought, and so the buzz of her phone less than a minute after she’d sent the text took her by surprise. His message said that he had also made a start on research and was available on Monday afternoon if she wanted to get started on the project. Emma didn’t need to check her schedule to know that she was available at the time he suggested but she did anyway, and debated for several minutes before finally replying that was fine and she’d see him tomorrow.

Her stomach was twisting with nerves when she arrived at the library and saw him waiting for her in front of the check-out desk. He gave her a bright smile which just made it twist harder.

“Hey, Swan. I’ve staked out a carrel for us,” he said.

“Already?”

“I, uh, had some other stuff to work on so I got here an hour or so ago.” He scratched at a spot behind his ear and Emma frowned. He wasn’t lying but her internal lie detector was telling her it wasn’t the whole truth either. There must be another reason he’d gone early to the library.

She followed him up to the fifth floor, where instead of communal study tables small clusters of carrels were scattered among the stacks, a perfect haven for people who preferred to study in solitude. Emma loved it there.

Killian headed straight to a carrel in the farthest corner of the floor, just beneath a large window where sunlight dappled by the early-spring buds of an ancient oak tree made shadow patterns on its scarred wooden surface.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, scratching behind his ear again. His other hand was shoved deep in the pocket of his jeans and his shoulders tight with tension, and Emma realised with a jolt of surprise that he was nervous. Flirty, confident-to-the-point-of-arrogance Killian Jones was nervous. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“It’s good,” she assured him with a small smile. “Perfect actually. I love this corner, it’s so peaceful.”

His smile bloomed again. “That’s it precisely. I come here as often as I can.”

“Mmm, me too.” Emma declined to mention that she’d seen him there more than once and resented his presence in her preferred space. Or that she’d wished, deep down, that they were the kind of friends who could share it.

She swallowed hard as they sat next to each other at the small table, its high walls protecting them from the view of anyone who didn’t expressly look to see if the carrel was free. They were sure as hell sharing the space now, and she wasn’t sure her heart could take it. Of course, it would help if she could look at his hands without thinking about where they’d been and what they could do there, or his lips without remembering them trailing fire up her neck as she clutched at his hair.

She cleared her throat and looked away. “So,” she said, to fill the silence as she pulled out her books and laptop. “How was the party?”

“Oh, uh, it was fine. Fun. DriftWood was great, and apparently they’ve just been scouted. I have a feeling they’re going to be big.” He shot her a grin. “Selfishly, I hope they are so I can be smug when I tell my grandchildren the tale of how I saw them before they were famous. Beatles at the Cavern Club for our generation.” He laughed, and Emma couldn’t suppress an answering smile.

“You like music then?” she asked.

He nodded, a bit warily. “I do, but I don’t really like talking about it. People get so passionate about what they like and don’t like, and it tends to make them judgemental.”

“Yes!” Emma turned to face him, forgetting her nerves in her excitement at someone saying what she’d always thought. “I hate that so much, when people make judgements about me as a person because of the music I like. So I listen to the Jonas Brothers sometimes, so the fuck what? I listen to other stuff too!”

Killian bit his lip and she froze. Fuck.

“You’re judging me about the Jonas Brothers, aren’t you?” she said.

“I’m not.”

“You so are!”

“Honestly, love—”

“You’re such a hypocrite.” Emma glared at her screen as she opened the document with her project notes, slamming on the keys far harder than necessary. She didn’t see Killian’s hand twitch towards her, just a shiver of movement before he deliberately closed his fist and pulled it back.

“I’m not judging, Swan, truly,” he said. “I agree with you completely, we like what we like and that’s fine.”

Emma shot him a glance from the corner of her eye. “You’d be a lot more convincing if you didn’t look like you were trying not to laugh,” she retorted.

He laughed.

“Oh my God I should never have told you anything,” she groaned, letting her head fall onto the table.

Killian leaned closer, still not touching her but close enough that a tingle spread across her skin at his nearness. “Okay, look, the Jonas Brothers are not something I personally am into, but if it will make you feel better I’ll confess that in certain moods I like to play Taylor Swift at an obnoxiously high volume,” he said, and when she dared to peek up at him his expression was open and earnest.

She sat up. “Seriously?”

“Oh yes. Sometimes I even dance.” He smiled. “Is that an embarrassing enough admission for you?”

“Oh, more than.”

“Good.” His smile widened into a grin, and she felt her own lips curl in response. Their eyes held for a moment, their hearts pounding, until Killian blinked and made a gruff noise in his throat. “Anyway, um, the band.” He opened his laptop and typed in the password. “I chatted with them a bit after their set and they were talking about going on to a club, but I ended up having to leave early because Belle wasn’t feeling well.” Emma stiffened, the smile fading from her face. “Which means I was far less hung over yesterday morning than I expected,” Killian continued, “and was able to spend the afternoon getting started on my research, and—Emma? Are you okay?”

She forced her lips to curve. “Fine,” she replied, “I’m fine. Show me this research.”

He did, and she was surprised by how good it was, then surprised at her surprise. Of course he was good at research, she thought, almost in despair. Everything about him seemed expressly designed to check every box on her ‘perfect man’ list. Everything except his beautiful, smart, elegant, charming, and very nice girlfriend.

He had come up with ideas and conclusions that were exactly in sync with her own, even filling in some of the gaps in the reading she’d done, and in her enthusiasm about finally working with someone whose intelligence and engagement in the project was equal to hers Emma completely forgot her hurt and resentment towards him, forgot Belle, even forgot their kiss. She forgot everything, in fact, except Killian’s smile and the blue of his eyes, his razor-sharp mind and how damned much she enjoyed his company. They talked through the plan for their whole project, divided up the research and brainstormed ideas, and wrote their outline. It was the most productive group project meeting Emma had ever experienced, and when her phone alarm buzzed to remind her of the time she felt genuinely disappointed that it had to end.

“I have a class at four,” she told Killian almost apologetically. “So I should probably be going. Um, do you want—should we check in again on Wednesday?”

He nodded eagerly. “Aye, let’s. Same time and place?”

“Works for me.” She gathered her things together and put them in her backpack, slung it over her shoulder then turned to look at Killian. He was watching her with a soft expression that made her chest flutter and her belly clench.

“This was—well it was—great,” said Emma.

“It really was.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite a team.”

She tried not to smile, but the tug at her own lips was irresistible. “You might be right,” she conceded. “At least for PoliSci projects.”

“It’s a start.” The look in his eyes was so familiar, the same look he’d had at the party. She still remembered it, all of it with perfect clarity, despite all she’d had to drink. The heat in his eyes and how they seemed to caress her face, the way they kept darting to her lips as he licked his own until she couldn’t take any more and had grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dragging him upstairs to the empty hallway and giving in to the lust that she’d felt since the first time she saw him.

“Hey, you guys.” They started in surprise and turned to see Belle approaching, strolling gracefully in those towering heels that Emma could never quite get the hang of. Her warm smile encompassed both of them. “How’d the meeting go?” she asked.

“Great.” Killian grinned at her. “We got a lot done.”

“So are you ready for a coffee break?”

“Absolutely, I could use a shot of caffeine. Swan, would you like to join us? You should have time to grab something before your class?”

Emma felt like she’d been doused in icy water, so numbed that she missed the eager note in Killian’s voice, the hopeful yearning in his eyes. Silently she cursed herself for getting caught up, again, in her attraction to him, letting herself forget that there could be nothing between them except this project.

“No,” she snapped, and suppressed a flinch at the looks on their faces. She could hear how rude she sounded and as much as she hated it, she needed that rudeness, needed the distance it put between her and people who had the power to hurt her. People like Killian, who got past all her defences without even trying and left her far too vulnerable. “I should go. I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Bye Belle.” She turned and left, forcing herself not to run.

Killian watched her go, his heart in his throat and his blood still humming with the effects of two hours spent tucked away with her, so close that he could feel the heat of her skin and smell her hair, and see the gold flecks in her eyes whenever they met his. He felt dazed and off kilter but also triumphant, certain now that everything he’d always suspected about Emma was true—that behind those walls she kept so firmly between herself and everyone else there lay a woman worth knowing. A bloody brilliant woman whose wry sense of humour matched his own and whose perspective and ideas challenged him in a way he couldn’t remember ever being challenged before. It was exhilarating and intoxicating and glorious, and he was so, so fucked. And so not in the way he wanted to be fucked by Emma Swan.

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” said Belle, observing him with an amused smirk.

He scowled at her. “Are you mocking my pain?”

“I’m mocking your Victorian-maiden pining,” she shot back. “It’s been months since you got off with her and I bet you still think about it every day, don’t you?”

Killian could feel himself turning red. “Maybe.”

“Still sneak glances at her across the table in your seminar, still get coffee every morning at that place you hate because it’s where she goes,” continued Belle.

“Shut up.” Killian shoved his laptop into his satchel and flung it across his shoulder, avoiding Belle’s eyes.

“Still do most of your studying in the library, hoping you’ll see her here.”

“Bloody hell, you make me sound like a stalker,” he grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Belle’s smirk softened into sympathy. “No, just a guy with a serious crush,” she said gently.

“Aaand now I sound fifteen.”

She snorted a laugh. “What you are is smitten, Killian, actually smitten, and that’s not a word I ever thought I’d need to use in real life. It’s adorable and also deeply pathetic.”

“Thanks a lot, mate, you’re always such a comfort to me,” he snarked as they began to walk towards the elevator.

They were halfway to the ground floor before Belle spoke again. “You know you could just ask her out,” she said.

“I did!” Killian threw up his hands in an exasperated gesture. “You were there, and I’m sure you remember that her refusal was pretty unequivocal.” He could still feel the pain of it, of all his hopes of finally having a chance with her ground to dust under the heel of her boot.

“Maybe if I hadn’t been there it would’ve gone differently,” Belle muttered under her breath.

The elevator dinged as she spoke and Killian frowned. “Sorry, what?”

Belle shook her head. “Nothing. But I do feel I should remind you how you’re always the one who says that if you want something you have to fight for it.”

“That doesn’t apply to people, though, unless they want it too. If she wanted me…” He remembered the party, remembered the struggle to control his racing heart when she appeared at his elbow smiling a wicked smile and flirting back at him, remembered losing his breath and his sanity as she leaned in close and let her fingertips trail up his thigh. He remembered the sizzle of the connection he’d felt between them, the understanding he could have sworn she’d felt too. If Emma wanted him, if she gave even the smallest hint that she was open to something happening between them, he would fight like hell for her.

If.

“But she doesn’t,” he continued gruffly, “she’s made that perfectly clear.” He swallowed hard as the familiar ache squeezed his chest.

“But if you—”

“Belle, please, can we talk about something else?” he implored, and after a short pause she nodded. Killian hunched his shoulders as they walked the short distance to the coffee shop. He could still feel Belle’s eyes on him and sense her concern. But there was nothing she or anyone else could do. Emma had made her decision, he just had to find a way to live with it.

To Killian’s relief Emma seemed fine in class the next day, smiling softly when he entered the seminar room and their eyes met, setting his heart racing again. The seat next to her was empty and he hesitated just inside the door, debating whether he should sit in it. Before he could decide if she would welcome or retreat from him, August swaggered into the room, plopped himself right down in the seat and proceeded to attempt to flirt with her.

At least she wasn’t any more receptive to August than she was to him, thought Killian crossly as he sat in his accustomed seat across the table from her, watching the scene play out from the corner of his eye. August’s philosophy-and-creative-writing-double-major pretensions never failed to get on his nerves and from the look on Emma’s face whenever the other man opened his mouth they got on hers as well.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or annoyed that he was apparently lumped into the same category as August bloody Booth.

The subject of their seminar class was Topics in Political Philosophy, and despite Professor Gold’s cold eyes and often cutting remarks Killian had always enjoyed it. The crocodile was a brilliant mind, one of the reasons he’d chosen this university for his year abroad, and debating him was the kind of fierce challenge Killian lived for. He knew Gold liked to bait him, to play devil’s advocate and watch him squirm, and he prided himself on never giving in.

Ordinarily when he and Gold got caught up in one of their sparring matches the other students would sit back and listen, not daring to venture a remark. Today, however, as he was catching his breath after an impassioned argument in favour of migrant rights and waiting for Gold to fire back, he was astonished to hear a voice, cool and confident, coming to his defence.

It was Emma. He spun in his seat to look at her and she caught his eye, giving him a little smile before refocusing her attention on Gold. The professor turned to her with a raised eyebrow and slightly bared teeth.

“Interesting point, Miss Swan,” he said. “And why do you think that?”

It was Gold’s most terrifying question, one that pinned the student on the spot and forced them to support their argument with solid evidence. Most crumbled beneath the pressure of it and of Gold’s unblinking stare, but Emma sat up straighter, green eyes glinting as she threw down a Plato quote and followed it up with Rousseau, smoothly shoring up the weak points of Killian’s own argument with irrefutable authority.

Gold stared at her in silence for so long the tension in the room became unbearable, drawing out endlessly as the rest of the class waited, barely daring to breathe, until finally he gave a brusque nod. “Well argued, Miss Swan,” he said.

As one the other students turned and gaped at Emma, who herself turned to Killian with a triumphant grin that was also, somehow, shy.

You are amazing, he wanted to say, wanted to shout it, wanted to leap across the table and kiss her. But Gold was already moving on to another topic, and Emma returned her attention to her notebook, and Killian released a shaky breath and tried not to wonder what the fuck he was supposed to do with all these feelings.

Emma normally fled the seminar room as quickly as she could once class ended but that afternoon she gathered her things slowly and timed her exit to coincide with Killian’s. He noticed of course, and gave her a bright grin.

“That was sheer brilliance in there today, Swan,” he said. “You are officially my hero.”

She shrugged, ducking her head to hide her pleased smile. “Professor Gold always says I should talk more in class, so…”

“You absolutely should,” said Killian vehemently. “Especially if you’re going to be saying things like that.”

“And now I’m worried I’ve set the bar too high,” laughed Emma.

“Nonsense. I’m sure that was only scratching the surface of what you have to offer. Remember, I know how you research.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, managing to infuse the word research with such suggestive inflection that Emma felt herself blush.

They walked in silence for several minutes, Emma simply following Killian where he led without really noticing their path as she steeled herself for what she had to say to him.

“Look, Killian,” she said finally. “I want to apologise.”

He frowned at her. “Apologise?”

“For how I acted yesterday,” she clarified. “I was rude to you and to—to Belle, and I’m sorry.”

Killian shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “You have nothing to apologise for, love.”

“No, I do,” she insisted, and rushed on when he opened his mouth to argue. “Please, just let me say this. I know I can be… hard sometimes. I push people away. But I don’t want to push you away. I mean, I want to... I want… damn it!”

Killian stopped and turned to her, and she noticed that they were standing in front of the main doors to the student union. “What do you want, Emma?” he asked gently.

“Can we—” she twisted her fingers together, avoiding his eyes. “Can we be friends?”

She looked up at him just in time to see something flash across his face, something that looked almost like hurt. But then he smiled. “Of course we can. I’d be honoured to call myself your friend.”

She huffed a breath as her stomach fluttered and jangled with pleasure and nerves. “I don’t really know how to reply when you say stuff like that,” she said.

“You could just say ‘yes’.”

She frowned. “Yes?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“Well,” said Killian, striding to the door of the union and opening it for her with a small bow. “First I say ‘I’m going in here to get some lunch would you care to join me,’ and then you say…” he gestured at her, eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” she said, fighting a smile.

“Brilliant.” He grinned at her as she preceded him through the door. “How does pizza sound?”

“Sounds great.”

Time to put the past behind her, Emma told herself firmly as they stood in line for pizza. What happened happened and she couldn’t undo it, but she had to find a way to work with Killian and also, damn it, she liked him. And he seemed to like her. That was enough. It would have to be.

Killian slammed his book shut, shattering the studious silence of the library and making Emma jump. Another student in a nearby carrel shot them both a dirty look and she shrugged apologetically.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I can’t do it any more,” he declared. “I cannot study another moment, Swan! I protest! I revolt!”

She rolled her eyes. “Bit dramatic.”

“Emma. Look at the weather today,” he said, gesturing to the window behind them, where the oak tree had sprouted tender, pale green leaves and the sky was a blinding and unclouded blue. More than a month had passed since they’d started their regular library study sessions and during that time spring had decidedly sprung. “It’s gorgeous out there,” Killian continued, “we are all but finished with this project—which is a work of sheer and unadulterated brilliance, guaranteed to knock the crocodile’s socks off—and I refuse to remain indoors any longer. Let’s take the afternoon off.”

“I have a class—”

“Skip it.”

She stared at him, mildly shocked. “I can’t skip a class!”

“Why not? Will you fail if you’re not there on this one occasion?”

“Well, no.”

“Will the professor die from missing you?”

She snorted. “No.”

“Skip it! Take the afternoon off. Come for a walk with me.”

“A walk?”

“Aye, Swan, a walk. Where you put one foot in front of the other and propel yourself forward.”

“I know what a walk is, Killian.”

“Really? Because you sounded uncertain.” He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes again even as a grin tugged at the corners of her lips.

His grin dimpled his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes and made her stomach clench in a way that was by now so familiar she hardly noticed it. “Let’s get coffee and walk down to the pier and look at the sailboats,” he said eagerly. “I’ll show you the one I intend to buy someday.”

“You want to buy a sailboat?” she asked in surprise. This was the first she’d heard of any such intention, though she knew Killian so well now she sometimes forgot they hadn’t always been friends.

“Oh yes. And sail it around the world,” he replied.

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’d like to, anyway. Liam naturally thinks that would be a foolish waste of time. But if the sailboat were mine, well, he couldn’t do anything to stop me, could he?”

Emma smiled and shook her head. “Liam just worries about you,” she said. “You’re lucky, to have someone who worries.”

Killian was instantly contrite. “You’re right, of course, love,” he said, with that look in his eyes that always made her want to throw herself in his arms and just sink into him. “And in truth I will probably not go around the world on a sailboat, but instead find a job after graduation and settle down to fifty years of grind like a good little cog in the machine.” He grinned as Emma laughed. “But let’s go look at the sailboats anyway.”

“But—”

“No arguments, Swan, we’re having an afternoon off.” He stood and slung his satchel over his shoulder. “Come on.”

They got coffee from the little shop just off campus that they now considered their regular place, where they went every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after their study sessions and before Emma’s four o’clock class. Cups in hand, they strolled through the small, residential neighbourhood where student rentals sat alongside slightly run-down family homes until they reached the water.

A weatherbeaten wooden pier stretched out before them, with a small rocky beach on their left and a marina far in the distance to their right. They went to the end of the pier and sat, their feet dangling just above the surface of the water, and watched the boats out on the blue horizon.

“That one,” said Killian, pointing. “That’s the sort of boat I want.”

Emma looked at the one he indicated, a sleek and shiny sailboat that was certainly attractive but not nearly as much as Killian’s face, with its soft, wistful expression that to her surprise she realised she’d never seen before. She shook her head, a wry little smile on her lips. Months of struggling to avoid looking at him, she thought, and now after four short weeks of friendship she knew all his faces, every subtle nuance of his expressions. She knew what he looked like when he was happy, when he was frustrated, when he was angry, when he was lost in daydreams or when he was about to say something outrageous. She knew what he looked like when he was listening to her with that focused attention that made her feel like she mattered, and when he wanted to take her hand but held himself back.

Because he wasn’t sure how she would react, Emma knew, and she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t sure how she would react either. For as much as she still wanted him and wished things between them could be different—a feeling that only grew stronger the more they learned about each other—the idea of making herself so vulnerable to him again was terrifying. And, of course, there was still the small matter of his girlfriend.

Belle had never again shown up at the library when they were studying, and Killian rarely mentioned her. When he did it was always casually, in passing: a story she had told him when they were having dinner, or something funny they saw at one of Ruby’s parties. Parties Emma herself could never bring herself to attend despite Mary Margaret’s repeated pleas. Her friendship with Killian had become so precious to her and her feelings for him so deeply personal that she couldn’t stand the idea of exposing any of it to the eyes of Ruby or Belle. Even Mary Margaret didn’t know how close she and Killian had become, or that much of the time she spent at David’s, Emma spent at their apartment with Killian.

“Swan!” Killian chided, giving her an exasperated frown. “You’re not even looking!”

“I am!” Emma pulled herself from her reverie and looked back at the boat. “It’s—okay, I don’t know anything about sailboats but it looks… nice?”

He laughed. “One of these days, woman, I will take you sailing, and teach you how to appreciate a vessel such as that one.”

Emma smiled as a rush of warmth flooded her. She doubted she would ever get tired of hearing him say things like that. Things that suggested they would stay in each other’s lives once their project was finished. That he treasured their friendship as much as she did. That he wouldn’t leave her.

They sat on the pier for nearly two hours, watching the boats and talking aimlessly until the breeze off the water grew too brisk and they wrapped their jackets tightly around themselves and headed back to campus.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then?” said Killian when they reached the corner next to the sciences building where he had to turn left to get to his apartment and she continue straight to go to hers. “Your place?”

“Yep. Come by about four.”

“I’ll bring the beer.”

“Killian, we are still going to have to get some work done, especially since we wasted today.”

“Wasted?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She huffed. “You know what I mean! It was fun and yes, we probably did need the break but it’s put us behind schedule.”

“Never fear, Swan,” said Killian with a smile, leaning in so that their heads were almost touching. “We’ll be able to get everything finished tomorrow. And then, beer.”

She laughed, her heart pounding as she watched him lick his lower lip and then bite it. “All right, all right. See you then.”

“See you then, love.”

Emma headed home, still with the silly, happy smile spending time with Killian always put on her face. She let herself drift into daydreams as she crossed the campus and was just cutting through the small lawn behind the library when she caught sight of Belle and Ruby sitting close together on the grass. Emma stopped abruptly, wondering if she should turn around and go home another way. They hadn’t noticed her yet so she still had time, and after the lovely afternoon she’d just had she really didn’t want to get stuck making awkward small talk with Killian’s girlfriend and someone who always pretended not to remember her name.

Before she could decide what to do, Ruby wrapped an arm around Belle’s shoulders and pulled her into a kiss. A soft, deep kiss that looked well-practiced, with Belle’s hand fisted on the sleeve of Ruby’s jacket and Ruby’s fingers twined into her hair. It was intense and intimate, comfortable but also hot, the kind of kiss that only happens between people who have kissed before and intend to continue doing so well into the future.

Emma gasped and then she reeled, stumbling backwards and around the corner of the library where she leaned weakly against the wall, struggling to get her head around what she’d just witnessed.

Killian, was her first and frankly only thought. What am I going to say to Killian?

It wasn’t her business, obviously. What went on between him and Belle was between them, and Emma very decidedly did not want to get involved. But she couldn’t bear the idea of him being hurt, and if Belle was lying to him, running around with Ruby behind his back, then his heartbreak was all but inevitable.

Her own heart was already hurting for him.

What was the right thing to do here, she wondered frantically. Would it be better for him to find out from her or from Belle? Was Belle even planning to tell him? Was it a case of ‘he deserves the truth’ or ‘keep your nose out of other people’s business’?

Emma’s mind raced as her feet carried her blindly back to her apartment where she smiled vaguely at Mary Margaret and waved away her attempts at conversation, then retreated to her room. Dropping her backpack carelessly on the floor, she kicked off her boots and her jeans and crawled into bed, wrapped the duvet tightly around herself and tried desperately to think.

She was no closer to a decision about what to do the following afternoon, and as the clock ticked ever closer to Killian’s arrival her thoughts became more and more muddled. Surely it was best to say nothing, she thought. Leave it between Killian and Belle. But could she? Could she spend the evening with Killian, listening to his gorgeous voice and looking at his precious face, all the while knowing he was about to have his heart broken?

But could she bear to be the one to break it?

Her bell buzzed and she took several deep breaths before opening the door to see Killian standing there with a wide smile and a six-pack of brown bottles which he presented to her with a flourish.

“Wait till you try this beer, Swan. It’s made in this place not far from—what’s wrong?”

“What?” She attempted a smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Love, you’re practically vibrating with tension, it’s clear that something’s troubling you. You can talk to me about it you know.”

Emma laughed a bit hysterically. “I really can’t,” she said.

“Of course you can,” said Killian softly. “You can tell me anything.”

There was the faintest note of hurt in his voice, a tiny furrow between his brows caused by her reluctance to confide in him, but he couldn’t know just how much more painful the secret he was trying to pry from her would be.

“I can’t tell you this,” she whispered.

His frown deepened and he looked at her for an uncomfortably drawn-out moment before giving a small nod. “As you like, Swan. But you know I’m always here if you need someone to talk to.”

She forced herself to smile, digging her fingernails deep into the skin of her arms to stop herself from grabbing him, from wrapping her arms around him and shielding him from every hurt. “I know.”

Fuck Belle, she thought with a sudden fierce fury. Fuck her for doing this to him, for treating his heart so carelessly, for hurting him. Emma couldn’t imagine letting Killian go. If he were hers she never, ever would.

God she wanted that so much. Wanted the freedom to touch him whenever she liked, to rest her head against his shoulder as they sat on the pier, to let her hand brush his as they said goodbye. Just those small, casual touches that carried so much intimacy. She wanted the freedom to tell him how she felt, to hold him in her arms and kiss him as she had before, to feel his hands on her again and to finally get hers on him.

Belle had had that freedom and she’d thrown it away, and the unfairness of that, the waste of it, made Emma so angry she couldn’t stop tears from welling up in her eyes and overflowing onto her cheeks.

Her habit of angry-crying was seriously inconvenient.

Killian had his back to her as he set the six-pack on the counter of her little mini-kitchen. “Anyway, about the beer,” he said, glancing back with a grin that fell from his face at the sight of her tears, replaced by a look of panic.

“Emma!” he choked, almost stumbling in his haste to get to her side, stopping just shy of touching her and flexing his hands helplessly in the space between them. “Emma, love, what’s the matter? What’s happened?” He lifted his hand as though to touch her cheek then yanked it away and stuffed it in his pocket. “Please talk to me,” he implored. “Let me help.”

Emma wiped furiously at her cheeks but the tears kept falling. “You can’t help,” she said.

“But why? Has someone done something to you? Has—”

“No! No. I’m fine.”

He scowled. “You are obviously not bloody fine.”

“No, I am, really. I cry when I’m angry, that’s all.”

“Well then, what’s made you angry?”

“Killian, please,” Emma swiped at her cheeks again, and in frustration turned away from him. “Don’t push me on this, it’s something I just—I—I won’t tell you.”

She heard him gasp, a sharp, hurt intake of breath that she could swear actually cut into her. “All right,” he said. “If that’s what you want. Perhaps I should just go.”

“No!” She spun around again, her heart cracking at the sight of the blank expression on his face and the pain in his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“I think it’s best, Swan, as you clearly don’t want me here.”

“No, I do!” she implored. “That’s not it at all, I just—it’s just this thing I can’t tell you about—”

“This thing that’s upset you so badly it’s made you cry.”

“Yes it has, but I—it’s not my business.”

“It must be, or it wouldn’t bother you so.”

“It—concerns someone I care about. But if I tell them, it will hurt them.” She met his eyes, silently pleading for understanding. “If your friend saw something that they knew would hurt you to hear about, would you want them to tell you?” she asked him. “Even if it wasn’t really something they should be involved in?”

“Without knowing the precise details of the situation it’s hard to say,” replied Killian. “But I think yes, I would want to know the truth. Regardless of the source.”

“And you wouldn’t blame the source for telling you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Okay.” Emma nodded. “Okay.” She pressed her hand against her stomach and drew a deep breath. “I saw Belle kissing Ruby,” she said, watching carefully for his reaction. There… wasn’t one.

“Where were they?” he asked.

“In that little grassy area behind the library.”

“Ha,” he said. “Well, it’s about bloody time.”

“It’s—what?”

“They’ve been sneaking around for months, I’m glad they’re finally taking it out in the open,” he said. “Belle had her doubts; she was hurt badly in her last relationship and with Ruby being… well, Ruby, she didn’t want to jump in too quickly.”

“Wait, wait… you knew about them?”

“Of course I knew, they’re two of my best friends. They thought they were being so covert, but you can’t play a player,” he said with a faint grin.

Best friends. Emma struggled to process precisely what he was saying. “But—isn’t Belle your girlfriend?”

Killian stared at her. “No.”

“Since when?”

“Since… always?”

“But I thought… everyone says… what?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “We went out a few times at the beginning of last semester,” he said. “I’d just started here and everyone I met seemed to think we’d be perfect together and they kept trying to set us up, so we gave it a shot. But there was just no spark, though we really liked each other so we agreed to be friends. At no point was she anything like what I’d call a girlfriend.”

She continued to gape at him and he scowled. “Emma, I asked you out,” he said, with an edge of anger in his voice. “When Belle was standing right there. Do you really think I’d do that if she was my girlfriend?”

Emma felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. She had thought that, in fact, and had continued to think it even after she got to know him well enough to see that he wasn’t at all that kind of guy.

“You told her I was just someone you met at a party,” she said in a small voice. “It sounded like you were saying I wasn’t anyone important, or that you were trying to explain me away so she wouldn’t suspect you’d—” she broke off as the creeping heat turned her cheeks pink.

His ears had gone bright red. “I’d what?” he asked gruffly.

“Nothing.”

“That I’d kissed you?” he pressed. “That I’d watched in awe as you came on my fingers?”

Emma gasped. “You do remember!”

“Of course I bloody remember! Several times a day, usually. I can’t get it or you out of my damn head, and believe me I have tried. You’re not an easy woman to forget, Swan.”

“But you always acted like—you never said anything!”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘I fancy you madly and still dream about my fingers in your cunt, please let me fuck you before I lose my mind’?”

“I mean, you could have started with coffee.”

“I tried!”

“You gave up awfully quick!”

Killian huffed in exasperation. “Call me old fashioned, love, but when a woman says no, and especially when she says it as emphatically as you did, I take that as her final answer!”

“Which means you thought that that I was the sort of person to just screw someone against a wall one day and then spit in their face the next?” she snapped. “Why would I do that?”

“That is precisely the question I’ve been asking myself for months now.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging at the dark strands. “I thought—I hoped—at the party, before we kissed… I thought that we had a connection. That you might actually be interested in me. And what I said to Belle the next day, about how we met… I was trying to tell her that I had actually met you, properly I mean, and that I’d talked to you, because she knew how I—” he broke off with an uncertain glance at her.

“How you what?” she encouraged, barely daring to breathe.

“How I had a thing for the gorgeous blonde in my politics lecture,” he said softly. “The one who never even looked at me and disappeared after every class before I had a chance to talk to her.”

“I looked at you.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

“Well yeah, I mean, you’re not exactly hard on the eyes. But I—I saw you. In class, whenever you talked the things you said I just—I always felt like you got me. Like we were coming from the same place, you know?”

“Aye, I definitely do know. I felt the same. I tried so many times to catch you so I could introduce myself but you always ran off straight after every lecture and I never seemed to be quick enough.”

“I had another class right after that one, on the other side of campus. I had to run to get there.”

“So you weren’t running from me?”

“No! I wanted to talk to you too. To get to know you. Why do you think I approached you at that party?”

“Well, you did seem to have rather more than conversation on your mind.”

“Okay, fair enough. But we talked, didn’t we? Before, er—”

“Before you dragged me upstairs and had your wicked way with me?”

“Oh my God.” She pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks and he laughed.

“Aye, love, we did talk.”

“And I felt that connection, just like you. Enough to make me want to… you know.”

“Drag me upstairs and have your wicked way with me?” He was smiling a smile she hadn’t seen since the night of the party, the cocksure one with the predatory edge that made her thighs clench.

“Yeah… that,” she replied in a breathless voice and watched his eyes darken.

“Emma, does this mean—” His smile faded into something far more yearning and he reached up, slowly and with a wary caution that squeezed her heart, and brushed his fingers across her cheek, wiping away the lingering dampness from her tears. She drew a sharp breath and pressed her face against his palm, shivering at the electric tingle his touch sent dancing across her skin. He hadn’t touched her the whole time they’d been working on their paper, she thought, not once. Not so much as a brush of elbows in the study carrel. He’d been so careful to respect what he thought she wanted.

She looked up at him, at his eyes so soft and hopeful. “Does this mean what?” she whispered.

“Does it mean you might want to—that we could, perhaps—”

She closed her fist into the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. He groaned into her mouth as his arms wrapped tightly around her, his fingers sinking into her hair. She hummed and twined her own arms around his neck, opened her mouth beneath his and let herself be swept away, her blood pounding with the need to get her hands on him, get as close to him as she could, the same desperate urgency she’d felt at the party compounded now by all the feelings that had been slowly growing between them over the past four weeks.

When they broke for air and he leaned his forehead against hers his eyes were almost the same as they had been that night, dark and alive with heat and desire but this time completely sober. There would be no forgetting this, for either of them, and no turning back from it once they’d taken this step.

Emma wanted to take it. She was ready, more than ready, and he was—

“Emma,” he murmured once he’d recovered enough breath to speak, and the gravel in his voice made her ache.

“Hmmm?”

“Please let me fuck you before I lose my mind.”

She laughed and grabbed him by the shirtfront again, tugging him behind her and into her bedroom. The minute they were through the door she pulled the shirt up and off him, tossing it aside.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to see you naked?” she asked as she trailed her fingers up his chest.

“I hope at least six months,” he replied, snaking an arm around her waist and yanking her flush against him, pressing his mouth to her neck.

“Longer. Since—oh, God—since the first day of class last semester.”

“What a coincidence,” he murmured against her collarbone, hands sliding beneath her shirt and snapping open the clasp of her bra with a deft twist of his fingers. “That’s precisely how long I’ve wanted to see you naked.”

“Well then.” She pushed him away and held his gaze as she whisked off her shirt and bra in one move, smirking as his jaw slackened at the sight of her bare breasts. He stepped closer again, letting his fingertips trace along her collarbone and over the curve of her breast, across the hardened tip of her nipple.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

“Me too.” She trailed her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, over the smooth skin and muscles firmed by rowing and into his hair, pulling him close and thrilling at the hiss of his breath through his teeth when her breasts pressed against his chest. She kissed him again, open-mouthed and hot, as his hands roamed her back and downwards to curve over her ass and pull her hard against him. The feel of his erection cradled between her thighs drew a ragged moan from deep in her throat and she clutched at him with desperate fingers, trying to pull him closer. But Killian, despite the dazed lust in his eyes when he broke the kiss, was not a man to be rushed. With a wicked smirk he sank to his knees and pressed his face against her belly, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her yoga pants and pulling them down, following their progress with his lips.

She gasped. “Killian—”

“Hmmm?” He buried his nose in the soft patch of curls between her thighs.

“Oh my God.”

“You smell so good,” he growled. “I could smell you on my fingers, the morning after the party. I’ve never been so sorry to wash my hands.”

Emma clutched at his hair, her head spinning, and at the first stroke of his tongue through her folds her legs nearly collapsed beneath her. She could hear herself moaning, needy, desperate cries that grew louder as he licked deeper, his tongue stroking and pressing against her clit until she came with a hoarse scream, gripping his head to keep herself upright.

He stood quickly, catching her as she stumbled and collapsed against his chest, pulled her head into the crook of his neck and tangled his fingers in her hair. She could feel his cock pressing insistently against her hip and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on it.

Just as soon as she got her breath back.

“That’s two,” she gasped when she could speak again.

“Two what?” he murmured into her hair.

“Two times you’ve made me come. I feel like I owe you.”

He chuckled. “The night is young, Swan.”

“Considering it’s like five in the afternoon.”

“Exactly.” He leaned back to look down at her, grinning that cocky grin that had lust stirring in her belly again. “And I have many, many suggestions for ways you can make it up to me.”

She let her hand trail down his abs, beneath the waistband of his jeans to wrap around his cock, a saucy grin of her own curving her lips when he gasped. “Oh really,” she purred. “Do tell.”

The following Monday morning Killian met Belle for coffee, like always.

“Hey,” she said as he got in line next to her. “I wasn’t sure you’d show. You went dark all weekend, is everything okay?”

“Aye.” He could feel himself flush and rubbed at his neck behind his ear. “Never been better.”

Belle’s eyes widened. “You slept with Emma!” she cried.

“I—what makes you say that?”

“Oh my God, you did! You actually did!”

“All right, okay, I did,” he hissed. “Keep your voice down. How the hell did you know?”

Belle grinned smugly. “You have the worst poker face ever, that’s how.”

“It’s why I prefer dice,” he muttered.

“So tell me everything,” she said, clapping her hands together. “All the details.”

“I am absolutely not going to do that.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Okay fine, but at least tell me she isn’t going to blow you off again. This isn’t another one-time thing?”

The door opened with a jangle of its bell and Killian looked up to see Emma, slightly breathless and with a shy smile on her face as she approached them. His heart soared, and the smile he gave Belle was pure happiness. “Definitely not just a one-time thing,” he said.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #college au #college/university au #captain swan #captain book #smut #mutual pining #long one-shot #...and hold her in my arms #profdanglaisstuff #cs january joy #csjj2020

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swanlake1998 · 4 years

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Pointe Magazine Article: "Our Studio Is Failing Its Students of Color": One Dancer's Experience of Racism and Microaggressions

By: Alexis Carter-Black

Date: July 10, 2020

(cw: racism, anti-black racism)

I recently spent a Saturday night with my husband and my 17-year-old dancing daughter, who sobbed at the foot of our bed. My daughter revealed her experiences with implicit bias and overt racism in school, and especially in the dance studio.

For six years, she has danced at a classical ballet school tied to the city's ballet company. The previous six years were spent at a mid-sized recreational/competition studio. I want to recount a few examples of the racism that my daughter shared that night.

Several years ago, her competition team was performing Disney's Peter Pan, already known for its racist imagery and narrative. My daughter was the only Black girl on the competition team and was cast as a Native American. While preparing for the competition, one of her teachers was braiding her hair as part of her costume, when this teacher exclaimed loudly that my daughter's freshly washed and flat-ironed hair was "greasy and nasty" and that she "had to go wash her hands after braiding her hair." I complained to the studio owner, who defended this teacher with the typical refrain, "she didn't mean anything by it." We left this studio a year later. That teacher—who had a litany of incidents displaying racist microaggressions toward the few dancers of color and bullying behavior toward other students—is still teaching at this studio today.

Next, my daughter walked into a less-than-welcoming atmosphere at her current classical ballet studio. As the school joined the American Ballet Theatre's Project Plié initiative (the purpose of which is to expand diversity and inclusion efforts at ballet schools around the country), a few teachers openly criticized the studio's efforts, demonstrating to their students of color their lack of commitment to the idea of diversity in ballet.

My daughter has been dismissed and ignored, given limited encouragement and few corrections. Other students—white students—have openly questioned why she received call-backs and why she was chosen for certain parts (which were few and far between). We asked for private lessons to improve her technique. We were told that the school "did not believe in private lessons" and that my daughter would only benefit from taking class with other dancers. However, we consistently watched as other dancers in the studio were offered private lessons.

Every year, there was some new rule change, like resetting the minimum level for joining the youth ballet. My daughter was consistently placed in the level just below the cut-off. Each year, my daughter watched students who were clearly not as skilled as she was promoted to the next level. She asked her teachers what she needed to work on to improve. Some simply ignored her request. Those who responded stated that she was a hard-worker, was technically proficient and was not behind. However, her placement and treatment were inconsistent with those statements. The teacher who had been the most unkind stated that she should not be "making excuses" for her placement, even though the conversation was phrased as "What can I work on to improve?" When my daughter received a high score on her ABT test, this same instructor pointed out in class that the ABT examiner "must have really liked you." She did not make the same statement to the white dancers who scored well.

In recent years, my daughter has begun to dread dance. She does not want to take certain teachers' classes and begs to skip on the days that they teach. She knows that she will be placed in a lower level, ignored in class, criticized for her body type and height, and told not to use her muscles (a common critique of Black dancers). She has asked to quit dance altogether. I continue to encourage her to work hard and improve, and they will not be able to deny her—advice that I honestly do not even believe anymore.

We have few options for classical ballet in our city, which is why we have chosen to stay. I have hired private teachers from outside of our studio. We have traveled outside of the state to attend summer intensive auditions held by other schools and companies. After spending time in privates and attending other summer intensives, my daughter has received comments from her teachers about how surprised they are at how much she has improved. Yet, her status never changes. She is not elevated. She is not nurtured. She is not supported. They have torn her down and depleted her confidence and self-worth. And then they tell her that she was not moved up because she lacks confidence—the very thing that they have taken away from her.

My beautiful dancing daughter with her long lines, gorgeous port de bras arms and high arabesque has been denied equal treatment in the dance world. She stated a couple of years ago, "It just seems like they want me to fail." At this point, I cannot disagree with her. As she enters her senior year of high school, I worry if she will get into a college dance program. I worry that she has already lost too much time to make up for what she did not receive from her studio.

Our studio is failing its students of color. Tolerating bullying teachers. Promoting one Black student as the poster child for the studio's commitment to diversity, while ignoring other promising students of color. Giving one-year scholarships to Project Plié students while not nurturing the growth and retention of all students of color.

My daughter sat sobbing at the foot of my bed because she has done everything right, yet the world that she loves and has embraced since she was 5 years old does not see her and does not love her back.

#article #ballet #pointe magazine #racism #anti black racism

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wingsofkpop · 5 years

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Finding SKZ - 4: HH00

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, heavy Angst, pinch of Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, violence, blood and gore, possible triggering topics

word count: 6,4k

synopsis: After rescuing an abandoned hybrid from his fate of death, he has one other favor to ask of you. Not only do you have to find his eight other hybrid brothers, but you have to keep them safe from the deadly dangers of your city: Miroh

chapter directory

The cold air dissipates as you enter through the doors of your apartment building. You release a sigh at the change of temperature, adjusting the strap of your bag to lay more comfortably on your shoulder. Not really in the mood to strike up a conversation, you quickly dart past the evening security guard talking to one of your neighbors on your floor. Unfortunately, just as you were about to reach the elevator button, your name is called:

“Oh, (Y/N)!”

You curse under your breath, muster as best of a smile as you can and turn to face the elderly woman. A bright grin was across her wrinkled face, and for a second, her expression reminded you of a recent horror movie you saw. You can’t remember the name, but it did have some sort of demonic old lady that went around trying to eat her grandkids.

You hum, trying to distract yourself from the image in your head, “Hi, Ms. Friel. I was just-”

“-Sweetheart, how many times have I told you to just call me Paula?” Ms. Friel chuckles and shakes her head, “Ms. Friel was my mother. Bless her soul.”

Awkward.

“Right, sorry.” You take a quick peek at the clock mounted above the security guard’s desk. With a weak smile, you continue, “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I-”

“-I just wanted to talk to you for a moment, dear. This won’t take long.”

You really wish you had it in you to deny her request, but you couldn’t. Curse your mother for raising you to respect the elderly.

You nod, “Of course. What is it?”

“Well, I just wanted to ask you if someone else has been staying in your apartment recently.” The older woman tilts her head to the side. Her icy stare pierces straight through you, almost as if she can see the dark secrets you’re keeping to yourself. “I’ve been hearing noises. Even when you’re away.”

You were afraid of this. Ms. Friel has always been all up in your business ever since the day you moved in. When you were still together, you had given your ex-boyfriend a key so he wouldn’t have to wait outside your apartment whenever your classes ran late. The first time he used it, Ms. Friel called the cops on him, when you specifically told her your boyfriend was allowed in your apartment. She claimed she thought he was a thief and was just looking out for you. You know she was actually looking out for herself though.

All the more reason not to tell her you’re currently housing three hybrids. With more coming.

You shrug, “It’s just my friend. His dorm is getting renovated so he’ll be staying with me until it’s done.”

Ms. Friel hums, “Oh, I see. Does he ever leave the apartment? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him leave.”

“You’ve probably just missed him the last few times,” You laugh awkwardly, nearly leaping in delight as the elevator doors open with a ding. A few others file out while you push your way in and feverishly press the button for your floor. You throw your neighbor one last smile, “Sorry, I have some work I really need to finish. It was good to see you.”

Thankfully, the doors close before she can reply and you’re free to sink back against the metal wall with a sigh of relief. You lift a hand to brush back your hair while simultaneously thanking the gods for saving you from that situation. The last thing you need is your neighbor to go snooping around your apartment and find something she’s not supposed to. You should still warn the boys though.

When the doors swoosh open again, you waste no time in making a mad dash for your apartment. Usually, the days where you have both class and work are bearable. But today just sucked. Your professor was in the worst mood so now you not only have your final next week, but you have to turn in a research project on a topic you barely know anything about. On top of that, two of your coworkers are sick, or “sick”, and your boss needs you to work a double shift both Saturday and Sunday which your workload really cannot afford right now.

Chan and you were also supposed to go hunting for Felix, who you may have a possible lead on. It’s not for sure though. It really surprising how many hybrids in Miroh are called Lee Felix.

As soon as you push open your apartment door, the aroma of something cooking has your mouth watering. You never got the chance to eat anything other than a granola bar this morning and a bag of pretzels during your lunch break, so you were pretty hungry. Whatever Chan was making really wasn’t helping the your stomach’s anger.

After taking off your coat and shoes, you wander into the living room where you find Woojin sat watching some movie on Netflix. He turns at your presence and a warm smile lifts to his lips, “Hi, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re home.”

At his kind words, the hardships of your day seem to melt away. You return his with a genuine smile of your own and answer, “Thank you, Woojin. Trust me, I am too.”

“Hard day?”

“A little. But it’s over now.” You allow your body to sink into the sofa with a sigh and lay your head on Woojin’s lap. The hybrid chuckles, his ears bouncing with his laughter, as he places a gentle hand on the top of your head. Your eyes flutter shut at the soothing touch. Exhaustion finally beginning to take its toll on you and you were truly tempted to surrender to it, but a familiar voice has your eyelids parting again:

“We missed you, you know.” Chan stands in the kitchen door with a soft smile across his face. Four mugs, likely filled with his special ramen recipe, were balanced on his muscular arms. The smell has your tummy rumbling again which the hybrid caught. He rushes over to where you’re laid down and offers one of the cups, “Here. I can tell you haven’t eaten all day.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “How do you-?”

“-Because I know you.”

An foreign silence arises in the space between you and the wolf hybrid. Shocked, you dumbly take the food and mutter a quick thanks, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight blush spreading across your cheeks. You sit up and begin to delve into the soup, the liquid slipping down your throat and settling in your aching stomach like a dream. Woojin also starts to eat while Chan calls for Seungmin, who emerges from the bedroom with your laptop in his hands along with a bright grin across his face.

“I think I found Hyunjin.” Your spoon clatters against the mug as you drop your utensil out of surprise. The older hybrids were no better with Chan staring wide-eyed at the youngster and Woojin trying not to choke on his mouthful of noodles. Chan shakes his head, “W-What do you mean?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, “What do you think I mean? I found Hyunjin.”

“Like actually?” You ask, forgetting all about your appetite and setting the ramen aside. “What did you find?”

The three of you watch as Seungmin settles himself on the chair beside the couch and places the laptop on the coffee table in front of you and Woojin. He fiddles with the mouse pad, giving Chan the time to take the seat next to you, and turns the screen to face your direction.

The page was pulled up to an Instagram about some sort of hybrid entertainment program. There was only so much you could see, but you could tell this “show” was pretty popular. There were over one thousand followers following whatever this was. Then again, you didn’t like how shady some of the posts seemed.

Woojin speaks first, “I don’t understand. What is this? Why would these people have Hyunjin?”

You turn to Seungmin to receive an answer, only to find that his face had grown much more paler. Panic moves in the depths of your gut, and just when you were about to inquire about his silence, Chan beats you to it:

“I’ve seen this before. It’s a hybrid fighting ring.” Your panic shifts in nausea as you turn to peer at the hybrid with an incredulous look. He meets your gaze and nods toward the laptop, “Look at one of the videos.”

Balanced on the edge between curiosity and confusion, you do as Chan suggests and slide onto the floor to pull up the most recent video posted on the account. Almost immediately, shouts and cheers spills through the speakers of the computer and you almost debated turning down the volume. But your focus is snatched by the situation taking place in the video.

Horrified, you watch what seems to be a pitbull hybrid lunge for a bloody cat hybrid. He knocks him to the ground with a powerful leap and proceeds to lay punch after punch on his already marred face. The feline collapses to the ground, his face already beginning to swell after the violent attack. Victorious, the pitbull climbs to his feet and flashes the crowd a bloody smile and winning pose. The video tries to play again, but you’re quick to stop it again. Once was enough, maybe too much.

“Wow.” Woojin’s whisper awakens you from your trance, and you turn to see him with a faraway look on his face. Chan reaches over to place a gentle pat on the older hybrid’s shoulder before leaning over to put a comforting arm around his shoulder. Woojin shakes his head, “After the circus, I didn’t think it could get any worse…”

You try to overlook the stone forming in the back of your throat and instead turn to Seungmin, “So what about Hyunjin?”

Seungmin gulps, “W-well, he’s considered the “runt” of the ring…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they use him for easy wins.” Chan sighs, still in the process of comforting his blank-faced brother. He glances at you with sad eyes and continues, “Basically a person who’s looking to make quick cash from a fight will put their hybrid against him, the weakest fighter, and is destined to win.”

“But that’s horrible,” You scoff, suddenly disgusted at the realization of why this Instagram is so popular. “This whole thing is horrible.”

“Humans are horrible.” Seungmin pipes up, but quickly waves a dismissive hand toward you, “All except you, noona, of course.”

Chan sends you a weak smile, “It’s like you said, (Y/N). Miroh is dangerous for hybrids. Always has been.”

And it always will be. “We should come up with a plan and get Hyunjin out of there as fast as possible, who knows what he’s been through at this point…” You trail off, gazing at the laptop screen with a sullen expression. First Chan, then Seungmin, then Woojin… How much worse could this get?

Seungmin chuckles, “Way ahead of you, noona.”

The beagle hybrid steals the device again to feverishly search for something else. After a couple seconds, he turns it back around and points to the screen, “They have a fight scheduled for this Friday at midnight. All we have to do is show up.”

Briefly skimming through the information, you shake your head, “Maybe, but we still need to figure out how we’re going to get Hyunjin out. Then again, our plan last time didn’t really go as planned.”

Ouch. Through the corner of your eye, you can see the guilt spread across Chan’s place. You felt ashamed for saying it, but even so, you’re not really wrong. This time, you need to be careful and have some sort of order of operations.

Hyunjin’s life depends on it.

~~*~~**~~*~~

“How much, again?”

“$50.” At the taxi driver’s answer, you pull out two twenties and a ten from your wallet and hand them over. Your driver accepts the money, types something onto his credit machine that prints out a receipt and hands it back to you. With a final goodbye, you join the two other hybrids outside the car.

Chan looks up from your phone, “Everything okay?”

You nod, “Yeah. All good.”

“Good.” The hybrid turns back to the device and speaks into it, “Seungmin, that’s your queue. Show us the way.”

After a lot of arguing, Woojin and Chan found it best that Seungmin remain back in your apartment for this mission. The beagle was less than happy with the decision and even went as far as trying to convince you to change his brothers’ minds, but Chan wouldn’t budge on this one. Though, after what happened last time, you really can’t blame him. Anything could happen. Anything dangerous, that is.

“Right,” Seungmin’s voice is a bit shaky over the line, meaning that your phone probably wasn’t getting the best signal. “You guys are gonna head straight down this street and make a left into an alleyway just before you pass the barber shop.”

“Thanks, Min. We’ll keep you on the line as long as we can. (Y/N)’s phone may lose signal.”

A sigh emerges over the call, “Don’t worry about me. Just find Hyunjin and bring him home.”

Woojin replies, “We will, no doubt. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Sure, hyung. Be careful.”

And with that, Chan, Woojin and you make your way down the dim, barren street. The place where you’re hoping to find Hyunjin is quite literally, the worst part of Miroh you’ve ever stepped foot in. Rundown buildings on streets with very few lamps. Lewd and inappropriate graffiti plastered on every available surface. Shops with boarded up windows and indestructible, metal doors. Everything screams shady.

These parts of town are what people usually call “The Forgotten.” Basically, after WWIII, when these parts of the city were destroyed in bomb raids and warfare, the new government never invested any money into fixing them back up. Only unemployed, homeless and other unlucky individuals end up living in these parts. A lot of hybrids make their way here too from what you’ve seen in the news.

The three of you reach the alleyway in one piece where you spot the door you’re supposed to enter through. Unfortunately, your phone call with Seungmin doesn’t last the trip. With a sigh, Chan offers your device back which you accept and stuff into the pocket of your jeans. He nods and murmurs, “You guys remember the plan?”

“Yeah.” You hum and before you can bite your tongue, you reply, “Do you?”

Chan’s eyes glitter within the darkness, boring into your own with some sort of emotion you couldn’t read. It stays like that for a moment, just the two of you staring at each other before he ends the moment with a stiff nod, “Yes. I do.”

“Great. Let’s do this.” Woojin pushes past the both of you to take up the lead. You and Chan have to sprint to keep up with his quick pace, halting just when you reach the door. After making sure each of you were ready, the bear hybrid reaches forward and pushes open the obstacle. Instantly, your nostrils are hit with the scent of hard liquor and cigarette smoke. Scrunching your nose, you follow Woojin through the doorway, peering behind your shoulder to make sure Chan was on your tail. He was.

You piece together you guys had entered an abandoned car shop, judging by the vast open space and totaled vehicles. It was pitch black all except for some lights in the center where you could already catch a glimpse of some sort of iron cage. Dozens of people surrounded the structure, sipping from red cups and inhaling from cigars. Looks like the excitement hasn’t started just yet.

“Come to see the fight?”

You nearly jump at the new voice and barely stop yourself from colliding into Woojin. You step beside the male and discover the source of the question. It was some middle-aged man, maybe forty, with barely any hair atop his scalp and tobacco stains all across his teeth. His eyes were beady almost like a rat’s, and a shiver crawled down your spine when he rakes them down your body.

“Yeah. It’s our first time.” Woojin hums, nodding toward the makeshift arena. “Hasn’t started yet?”

“Nope. Have to give them some time to get the little freaks ready beforehand.” From the corner of your eye, you see the bear visibly tense. “And welcome. Allow me to buy y’all some drinks on the house. I’m thinking tequila for the pretty lady-”

“-And I’m thinking you can fuck off.” The sudden growl is followed by an arm around your waist. You peer up to see Chan sneering toward the man, his eyes narrowed with disgust, “Look at her like that again and I’ll throw you in the ring myself.”

The pervert takes the message loud and clear and quite literally makes a mad dash for the closest group. You shake your head, “Chan, that really wasn’t the smartest idea.”

He drops his limb from your body, his expression once again calm, and shakes his own head, “I wasn’t going to let him look and talk to you like you’re some piece of meat. You can’t smell his perverse intentions like I can.”

Instead of arguing further, you choose to let the moment go and make your way in the direction of the cage. The two hybrids follow closely behind you, and if it was the right time, you would have made a joke about having your own personal bodyguards. But to be honest, you were very grateful for it. Especially for what Chan did.

You just try not to think about the butterflies fluttering in your gut.

“Keep an eye out for the owner. She has to be around here somewhere.” Chan reminds both you and Woojin as you station yourself on the far-end of the ring where fewer people were. You nod and set out to do just that, scanning groups for any sign of a familiar face. You’re unable to find the woman you saw in pictures who is the supposed owner of the fight center, also fighters like Hyunjin. Yet, there’s still no luck when a bell sounds and a person enters the cage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for joining us today. We are well aware in how eager you are to get started.” The suggestive tone of the announcer's voice has your blood boiling and fists clenching at your sides. These people come here to get enjoyment out of watching hybrids beat the living shit out of each other. How sick has the world actually become? “As always, our night will consist of three rounds. The winner of the first round will go on to the next, and so on. Are you ready to have some fun?”

A round of cheers erupts throughout the garage and echoes in your ears like a haunted siren. The announcer throws his hands up and shouts, “Amazing! Let’s meet our first pairing of the night:

“Our newcomer is a doberman pinscher with claws and teeth like knives, weighing over two-hundred and twenty pounds! Welcome, the Destroyer!” You flinch as a burly hybrid darts around the arena to snap his teeth at you and everyone else through the metal chains. The people roar wild at his show, feet stamping and hands applauding in delight. Out of instinct, you move closer to Chan beside you who’s leaning onto the cage with one hand weaved through the chains. His eye catches yours.

This is not going to go well.

“And for his opponent, we have everyone’s favorite puny dalmatian hybrid weighing in just under one-hundred and thirty pounds! Everyone give it up for the Runt!” Though the volume isn’t as hefty, some still cheer as Hyunjin makes his way into the ring. Your stomach turns at how small he is compared to the Destroyer, his skinny figure nothing against the doberman’s muscles. His short, spotted ears were drawn backwards indicating his fear. Then again, you could tell how scared he was just by the look on his face.

Behind you, you hear Chan inhale a heavy gust of air. Without thinking, you reach and take his hand into your own, hoping to calm his obvious tension. His voice is pained when he murmurs, “They cropped his ears.”

“Guys, over there.” Woojin’s comment awakens the both of you from your reverie, and you’re quick to snatch your hand away from Chan’s. You follow where the bear is pointing, finding the woman you had been looking for earlier just across the ring. You move to head toward her when you’re stopped by Chan.

He gives you a pointed look before shaking his head, “After the fight, remember?”

“But Hyunjin-”

“-It has to be after, (Y/N). We have to watch him fight.”

He means watch him lose.

Even so, knowing the intensity of the situation, you relent and return your gaze to the ring. The announcer was rambling about rules and other things you barely cared about. You were more focused on the trembling dalmatian hybrid and how there was no good end to any of this. You could hope all you want, Hyunjin’s not leaving here unscathed.

“Three… Two…” With each number, the announcer steps back further and further away from the hybrids. Your anxiety grows at the clear line of charge the doberman has toward Hyunjin. One knock and he’s down.

“One!” At the screech of a bell, the Destroyer takes off toward Hyunjin. Horrified, you watch the dalmatian hybrid barely duck away in time for the other to zoom past. He dashes to the other side of the arena while his stronger opponent gathers his bearings. Hyunjin was safe for maybe a minute before the doberman is off again. Blood lust written all across his face.

Hyunjin isn’t as lucky this time. He manages to dodge a punch, but the other hybrid is smart and drags his other hand up to scratch at his arm. The gash immediately starts to bleed, blood spills down Hyunjin’s flesh and taints the ground red. Cradling his wounded limb, Hyunjin fails to see his opponent throw another punch and takes a hit right in the nose.

He falls back onto the ground with a sickening thud and a sharp cry. Your heart aches at his desperate attempt to flee in trying to back away from the approaching hybrid. The doberman only grabs his ankle and yanks him toward him. He picks the dalmatian up by his throat and tosses him against the caged boundary, only to trap him there. Unable to watch, you hide your face in Woojin’s shoulder, and shudder with every crack of skin against skin and bone against bone that reaches your ears.

You don’t look back until the announcer calls victory for the Destroyer. Tears brim at your eyelids at the sight of Hyunjin’s limp body against the cage, his face swollen and caked with blood. A couple younger boys emerge from the shadows to drag him out of the ring while the announcer announces the next opponent.

“C’mon, now’s our chance.” You almost forgot about your previous objective until Chan grabs your wrist and starts to drag you through the crowds, Woojin close behind. You reach the woman just in time for the bell to ring and the second round to start.

Her steel eyes gaze across the three of you with disinterest, lips pursing at the rather violent crack of bones that ensues. With a sigh, she hums, “Can I help you?”

“How much for the dalmatian hybrid?” In your previous plan, you weren’t supposed to be so blunt, but after seeing Hyunjin in such a manner, you couldn’t help it. The hybrid has had to endure this time and time again for god knows how long. You’d be damned if he stands it any longer.

The woman rolls her eyes, “He’s not for sale. If you want a dalmatian hybrid, just go to the fucking pet store.”

“We don’t want any dalmatian hybrid.” Woojin backs you up, crossing his arms over his chest. “We want him.”

“Well isn’t that too fucking bad, cause it ain’t happening. I suggest you quit wasting my time before I have my guys kick your asses out.”

Before she can walk away, you stop her with a hand on her arm, “Wait, please. Just hear us out-”

“-Sweetheart, I paid good money for that bastard only to find out he was a runt. He brings in easy pay, so like I said before, no deal.” Defeated, you allow the owner to escape your grip and recede into the cheering crowds. With her departure, the hopeful piece of your soul crumbles to dust. So much for the plan.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. Angling your head, you peer at both hybrids. Woojin’s expression was contorted into disappointment and frustration while Chan was staring at the ruckus going on inside the arena. You didn’t like the intensity of his gaze. Something about it made your skin crawl.

The bear hybrid scoffs, “Great. What are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, “We have to find another way I guess. Maybe come back-”

“-No.” Chan’s sudden voice interrupts your own. Wide-eyed, you turn to the wolf hybrid only to find his eyes still on the cage. It seemed as if the Destroyer won the second round too, although he was a lot more bloody and marred than he was with Hyunjin. Chan sighs, the sound long and heavy, and meets your gaze, “I have a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes narrow, studying the way Chan shrinks beneath your stare. “Why am I not going to like it?”

“What if we could win Hyunjin somehow? Like as a prize?”

At first, confusion overtakes your mind at Chan’s strange words. You open your mouth to inquire further, but then your eyes transfer to the ring again. The realization hits you like a firm kick to the chest, and for a moment, you thought your heart had stopped. Feverishly, you shake your head, “Absolutely fucking not. It’s not happening.”

“(Y/N), please. Just consider-”

“-Consider what?” Winded and crazed, you throw your hands up and continue, “I am not throwing you in a fucking cage so you can get your ass beat. We find another way-”

“-And what if there is no other way!?” Chan cries, stepping closer to put his hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N), this might be the only chance we have at ever getting Hyunjin back…”

You wince as his words travel straight into the depths of your heart. Unable to meet his gaze, you look instead toward the Destroyer who’s hastily licking at a wound on his wrist. Your eyes linger over his sharp claws, bulging muscles and the fangs poking through his lips. When you speak, you will yourself to remain strong, but you can’t help the crack in your voice, “I can’t let you do this… He could kill you, Chan, you could fucking die... “

The hybrid cups your cheeks with both hands and forces your eyes to connect. With a weak smile, he chuckles, “I’m not dying on you anytime soon, (Y/N). That would be the worst decision on my part.”

You can’t reply,

“Listen to me,” He swipes his thumb over your cheekbone. His whisper is faint, loud enough for only your ears to listen in, “I know I can win this. I can get Hyunjin back. I just need you to trust me.”

Everything inside of your head was telling you to say no, to laugh in Chan’s face and call him an idiot for ever attempting. But the softer part of yourself was telling you the opposite. Beneath his brown-eyed gaze, you felt helpless, trapped in a war between your head and heart. Memories flash through your mind like sparks of fireworks: You see Woojin’s scarred palm in your rearview mirror. You see blood pooling on the floor like an ocean of waste. You see the stupid leash around Seungmin’s neck. Most importantly, you see Chan sat defenseless in that dark alleyway.

Before you can change your mind, you nod your head, “You better win.”

Chan smiles, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. He hums, “I will. For Hyunjin and for you.”

~~*~~**~~*~~

Surprisingly, Hyunjin’s owner actually agreed to your offer. If Chan wins against the Destroyer, she’ll hand the dalmatian hybrid over with no other questions. You didn’t like the spark of excitement that entered her eyes when you told her Chan was also a wolf hybrid. Or how she asked if Chan has ever been “aggressive” with you before. That didn’t sit well in your stomach.

“You okay?” You turn your gaze away from the cage at Woojin’s concern. He tilts his head, and if he hadn’t had his beanie on, his ears would be twitching too, “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“If anything goes wrong, then I probably will be.”

Woojin shakes his head, “(Y/N)-ah, Channie is going to win. There’s no doubt about it.”

While Woojin’s persistence somewhat eases the nausea stirring inside your stomach, it doesn’t make it falter entirely. It’s not like you didn’t have faith in him, because you certainly did, he’s strong, clever and agile. But you just can’t stand the guilt that if something bad happens, Chan’s life is on your conscience. You took him in that night so you’re responsible for anything bad that happens to him.

That’s all this feeling was… right?

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have yet another surprise show for you all tonight.” Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watch the announcer as he walks around the ring. You try to ignore the sight of the Destroyer, seething with brutality and hunger. “An unexpected challenger has decided to test their luck against the Destroyer. We’ll see who comes out on top tonight.”

You debated covering your ears to avoid the loud applause, but force your hands to remain clasped into your lap. The announcer waits for the crowd to die down before continuing, “Our next opponent for the night is none other than a wolf hybrid, folks, weighing over one hundred and sixty pounds. Everyone, put your hands together for Bang Chan!”

Your heart picks up as Chan languidly steps into the ring. He was shirtless, the planes of his muscles apparent in the stage light. The combination of his tanned skin and blonde hair made him seem like a beacon - your beacon - of hope. He surveys the crowd outside the metal cage, stopping when his eyes connect with yours. He sends you one of his soft smiles and a wink. And you can’t help the upturn of your own lips.

You mouth for him to be careful. He nods, looks at you one last time then turns to his opponent.

The announcer shouts, “Count with me, folks! Three… two…

“One!” The bell shrieks like a banshee, the sound cutting into your ear drums. With your heart racing, you watch Chan and the Destroyer begin to circle one another. The doberman obviously knew this round wasn’t going to be as easy as his last few. You didn’t know if that knowledge gave you hope or fear.

All of a sudden, the doberman charges straight at Chan. You hold your breath as your companion dodges his attack and also trips him in the process. The other hybrid goes flying against the chainlink barrier face first, his body colliding with a rough clank. Your relief doesn’t last because he’s on his feet in less than three seconds.

Chan goes for him this time around, effectively picking him up and throwing him back against the cage. He lands a right and left hook on his face before delivering a couple hits to his stomach. The Destroyer groans in pain, clutching his torso. The wolf backs off and allows his opponent to catch his breath. He takes the time to look in your direction and send you another smile.

You almost do the same until movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. You gasp and scream, “Chan, behind you!”

It’s too late, the Destroyer takes the wolf by surprise and collides into his back. Chan attempts to regain control, but the doberman had his arms pinned to his sides, his knee driving blow after blow into his waist. Each strike sends an ache to your own chest. You weren’t the only one though, Woojin was anxiously chewing at his own lips too.

Chan manages to free himself and shove his opponent away. His stance was a lot shaky, but he deals a right hook with no trouble at all. The doberman stumbles, giving Chan just the right moment to charge himself.

Forcefully, Chan knocks both the other hybrid and himself to the ground. The two tustle for power over one another, rolling across the floor of the ring. To your disappointment (and sanity), the Destroyer gains the upper-hand, straddles the wolf and delivers one strike to the face after another. Similar to his final takedown of Hyunjin.

Screaming rings in your ears, and it took you a moment to realize it was your own. You were screaming for Chan - for your hybrid. You had never been so panicked in your life, the night at the circus never compared to this. Chan. His name was all that left your lips:

“Chan!”

Your calls somehow give Chan the strength he needs to turn the tables and flip the other hybrid so he was beneath him instead. He knocks out the doberman with not one, or two, but many, many punches. The fast pace in which his arm moved back and forth made you dizzy. You felt like you could faint, but it probably wasn’t for that reason.

The next few moments move by in a blur. The announcer pronounces Chan the winner of the night and the owner returns with an unsteady Hyunjin leaning on her shoulders. The younger hybrid quite literally launches himself into Woojin’s arms, sobs and cries and thank yous falling from his lips. You barely have time to relish the heartfelt reunion before Chan returns, frantic and wide-eyed.

“We have to go now.”

“What do you mean? Hyunjin-”

“The cops are here, (Y/N)!” Your excuse falls short on your tongue at Chan’s response. Your relief from before is stripped away like an adult takes candy from a child, and you almost forgot to breathe. “We have to go. Right now.”

Chan, with a firm grip on your wrist, leads you through the bustling and panicking crowds and into darkness. Woojin is not far behind with Hyunjin on his back. His pace grows quicker at the booming voices that echo through the garage, indicating that anyone who attempts to escape will be shot. Your heart beat picks up.

“Shit,” Chan hisses when the four of you reach the back wall of the building. You’d expect they have some sort of backdoor in places like these, but apparently not. Instead there was a single, broken window a couple feet above your heads. “Shit. We’re so fucked.”

“Not necessarily. Just climb up. Let me go first.” Woojin offers. Chan nods, waits for Woojin to transfer Hyunjin onto your shoulders and lifts his brother up to the escape. Woojin fits through easily, and after a few seconds calls for Chan to send Hyunjin.

You hand the dalmatian over. Through the corner of your eye, you notice the beam of flashlights flitting throughout the garage and whisper, “We need to hurry up. They’re starting to search the place.”

Chan doesn’t reply, but heaves Hyunjin up a lot faster than he did with Woojin. He falters though, obviously hurt from his fight earlier. You rush to help him and manage to get the younger hybrid out the window. Even so, the lights are a lot closer. You won’t have enough time for the both of you to fit through. Just one.

“Here. You go.”

Chan shakes his head, “Absolutely not. You first.”

“There’s no time for arguing. I’ll be right behind you.” The lie is bitter when it leaves your lips, but you know you have no other choice. Chan, knowing your time crisis, takes the bait and allows you to help him up to the window. Once you’re sure he’s able to get out of his own from there, you rip your hands away and murmur, “I’m sorry.”

If Chan called for you, you didn’t know because you were already taking off further into the darkness. You follow the back wall as much as you can, finding yourself among various totaled car and truck. Nonetheless, you could still see the lights slowly closing in. It was only a matter of time before the police find you and you’d be fucked.

But at least the boys are safe.

Just one you were about to give up hope, an arm suddenly yanks at your leg and tugs you beneath one of the cars. You try to scream, but a palm stops any noise from leaving your lips. The stranger hums a warning just as dozens of feet passed by where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, convinced they’d be able to hear the pounding of your heart and you’d be caught anyway. But somehow, there is a god.

The police fall away and all that’s left is you and your unknown savior. Only when they’re sure your captors wouldn’t return does the stranger remove their hand. You silently cough and scoot away from the figure, harshly whispering, “Who the hell are you? Why did you-?”

“-We’ll talk later. Right now, we have to get out of here.”

You can tell its a male from his deep voice. Just as he’s about to slide from your hiding spot, you grab his arm and yank him back, “No. Tell me who you are first.”

The stranger sighs and gives you a pointed look through the darkness, “I think you’ve been looking for me actually:

“The name’s Minho. Lee Minho.”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #bang chan x reader #bang chan au #stray kids #bang chan #woojin #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #i.n.#kpop fanfic #kpop au

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lyricfulloflight · 5 years

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Rumour Has It: Part 2

A modern Cherik AU, powered, university setting.

If you haven’t read part one, here is a link:

https://lyricfulloflight.tumblr.com/post/188224206227/rumour-has-it

Tagging @gold-from-straw because she kindly asked to be tagged if I kept going. If anyone else wants to be tagged for future additions, let me know!

I will be focusing on my long WIP for the next little bit, so I don’t expect to update this ficlet series for at least a week - fair warning.

Rumour Has It - Part 2

Erik sat in his seat and groaned. He could not believe that Professor Garcia was going torture them this way. Group work. How could he do this? Erik had actually been enjoying this class until two minutes ago. Professor Garcia wasn’t a mutant, but he was married to one and had a mutant child, so he was very much aware of the struggles of mutants in society and was relatively sensitive in how he approached the topics covered in class. He also openly encouraged debate, which made class lively and far more interesting than it would have been in a traditional lecture format. But this, this was cruel.

“I am assigning everyone a random partner. And yes, before you all jump down my throat, the selections were totally random, I used a computer program. Your pairings are final. You will not change partners, I don’t care how much to plead with me about it. You will work on this assignment – together – for the rest of the year. It accounts for thirty percent of your grade, so this is not to be taken lightly. The list of pairings is right here -” Professor Garcia held up one sheet of paper, “and I will post it up front at the end of this class. Now, let’s talk about the Identification Act of 1985...”

Erik spent the rest of the class half listening to the professor and half absorbed in glancing around to look at all his classmates to try and figure out who would be the worst person to be paired up with. There were half a dozen humans in the class who had apparently signed up just to give speeches about how dangerous mutants were and how identification and separation was “essential for national security”. Erik wasn’t sure he could work on an assignment with one of them without it leading to him punching one of them in their smug human face. Otherwise, Erik figured one classmate was pretty much the same as any other. Regardless of who he was paired with, Erik refused to let this stupid group project bring down his grade point average.

The class ended with a rush of students clamoring to the front of the class to get a look at the list of student pairings. Erik sat at his spot and slowly loaded his notes into his backpack. There wasn’t any reason to rush – the list would still be there in five minutes when the crowd cleared, or his partner would find him before he even had to get up and look.

With his head bent over zipping up his bag, the first thing Erik heard was someone clearing their throat.

“Hello. I believe we’re partners.” Said a crisp British voice.

Erik leaned back slowly, something like dread curling in his stomach. He looked up at the man in front of him and found himself looking into the impossibly blue eyes of one Charles Xavier.

“You are Erik Lehnsherr, yes?”

“Yeah.” Erik spoke, determined to react normally – surely it couldn’t that bad to have been paired up with the most promiscuous man on campus. “That’s me.”

“I’m Charles, Charles Xavier.”

Charles held out his hand and Erik found himself reaching out, and having his hand grasped in a surprisingly firm grip.

“I think it best if we meet to talk about the assignment as soon as possible.” Charles continued. “I have to admit my schedule is quite full and it may be difficult for me to arrange time to meet with you if we don’t plan ahead.”

Erik bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making some sort of snarky comment about Charles ‘schedule’, which the majority of the university seemed to think involved enough sex for about three healthy young men, and instead nodded in agreement.

“I don’t have class until later this afternoon. We could go to the library now and sort something out, maybe pick our first topic from the list Garcia gave out?” Erik suggested.

“Excellent. I have about an hour before my next commitment.”

Erik found himself walking about a step behind Charles as they exited the classroom. Xavier was a startling fast walker and even though Erik had a good five inches on him at least, he found he had to consciously keep himself from falling behind the shorter man.

He was so focused on lengthening his stride to keep up with Charles, he almost ran right into him when the other man stopped abruptly only a few meters outside the humanities building.

“Found a new fuck, have we Charlie?” Sebastian Shaw’s voice dripped with contempt.

“If you’ll excuse us Sebastian, we were headed to the library.” Charles said blandly, head held high.

“You know he’ll have sex with anything that breathes, right Lehnsherr? If you want to join his pussy footed little Mutant Human Alliance, you don’t have to sleep with him, even though everyone knows he’s slept with the entire group.”

Erik glared at Sebastian but said nothing – there was nothing to say to his baseless accusations.

“Fine.” Sebastian shrugged. “Just wrap it up – who’s know what diseases Charlie has by now.”

Sebastian cackled as he walked away, waving his fingers in a jaunty fashion as if he was saying goodbye to a couple friends, not two people he’d just insulted.

Charles didn’t spare a second to look back at Sebastian, he simply soldiered on and Erik followed him in silence until they found an empty study room at the library.

“Does he do that a lot?” Erik asked.

“Hmm, what?” Charles frowned, apparently confused by Erik’s question.

“Shaw – does he go around saying shit about you all the time?”

“Oh, that.” Charles waved a hand dismissively. “Sebastian doesn’t like the fact that I run a Mutant Human Alliance – it clashes far too much with his ‘Brotherhood’ and their belief in mutant superiority. He likes to try to get back at me with petty insults.”

“He’s an asshole.” Erik grumbled. “And his ‘Brotherhood’ is practically a terrorist organization – their blog has a list of all the human politicians they’d like to ‘eliminate’.”

“I’m aware.” Charles sighed. “I feel the less attention I give Sebastian and his efforts, the better. Now, the assignment – was there a particular piece of legislation you wanted to look into first?”

Erik let his desire to dig into Sebastian’s insults about Charles’ sex life drop. It wasn’t really any of his business.

Working with Charles was nothing like Erik had thought it might be. Charles did not flirt – he didn’t so much as bat his eyelashes. He was completely professional and focused the entire hour they’d spent in the library.

It only took about five minutes for it to become clear that Charles was incredibly intelligent and well versed in mutant legislation. He also wasn’t afraid to voice his opinions, or disagree with Erik. They both agreed they wanted to pick the broad topic of ‘Mutant Identification and Suppression in the Education System’, but spent a good fifteen minutes arguing over which specific piece of legislation to analyze first.

Erik was impressed. A lot of people, well most people actually, backed down in the face of Erik’s tirades, but not Charles. In fact, he hadn’t missed a beat – he was ready with a calm rebuttal to every argument Erik offered. Erik finally, after much back and forth with Charles, compromised by agreeing to start with Charles’ top choice (the Dangerous Mutant Identification Act of 1999), but only after Charles explicitly agreed to end with Erik’s top choice (the Mutant Segregation Bill of 1961).

The meeting ended with a quick check of their schedules and a plan to meet every Tuesday for a brief face to face chat after class and to have a longer collaborative work session every Saturday morning.

Erik walked home feeling unexpectedly happy about the whole thing. It seemed that working with Charles was going to be fine, even if he was nothing at all like Erik had expected.

One might think a man described as the biggest slut on campus would look a certain way. Sean had asked if Xavier was pretty and… he was so much more than that, and yet also, strangely less. Today, he’d been wearing an oversized knit sweater, the type you might see a fisherman wear to keep out the cold, paired with rather ill-fitting corduroy pants. The entire ensemble did absolutely nothing to highlight Charles’ body; clearly he had a body somewhere under all that fabric, but Erik couldn’t have told you if he was thin, muscular, pudgy, or somewhere in between. Despite his complete lack of fashion sense, Xavier’s face more than made up for his clothing choices. His face… his face was achingly handsome. It wasn’t quite pretty, not with its slightly too large nose and the freckles, but it was somehow better because of its flaws.

No, Charles Xavier wasn’t pretty. But damn if Erik was going to tell Sean that Charles’ eyes practically glowed when he was talking about something that got him excited, or that his lips looked just as impossibly red up close as they did from across the room, or that he cheeks flushed an enchanting shade of pink when Erik had teased him about how many books he’d had stuff in his book bag. Erik wasn’t going to share any of that with Sean. Sean’s head would probably explode from excitement from the knowledge that Erik had been within five feet of the infamous Charles Xavier.

No, Erik thought, he’d just keep his newfound knowledge of Charles to himself. No need to add fuel to the already raging inferno that was the Charles Xavier rumour mill. How difficult could it possibly be to keep one little secret from his freshmen roommate?

#cherik #cherik fic #rumour has it #cherik univeristy au #lyric writes #lyric writes too many cherik fics at once #part 2

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 4 years

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SEEING THE UNIVERSE THROUGH NEW LENSES Like crystal balls for the universe’s deeper mysteries, galaxies and other massive space objects can serve as lenses to more distant objects and phenomena along the same path, bending light in revelatory ways. Gravitational lensing was first theorized by Albert Einstein more than 100 years ago to describe how light bends when it travels past massive objects like galaxies and galaxy clusters. These lensing effects are typically described as weak or strong, and the strength of a lens relates to an object’s position and mass and distance from the light source that is lensed. Strong lenses can have 100 billion times more mass than our Sun, causing light from more distant objects in the same path to magnify and split, for example, into multiple images, or to appear as dramatic arcs or rings. The major limitation of strong gravitational lenses has been their scarcity, with only several hundred confirmed since the first observation in 1979, but that’s changing...and fast. A new study by an international team of scientists revealed 335 new strong lensing candidates based on a deep dive into data collected for a U.S. Department of Energy-supported telescope project in Arizona called the Dark Energy Spectroscopic Instrument (DESI). The study, published May 7 in The Astrophysical Journal, benefited from the winning machine-learning algorithm in an international science competition. “Finding these objects is like finding telescopes that are the size of a galaxy,” said David Schlegel, a senior scientist in Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory’s (Berkeley Lab’s) Physics Division who participated in the study. “They’re powerful probes of dark matter and dark energy.” These newly discovered gravitational lens candidates could provide specific markers for precisely measuring distances to galaxies in the ancient universe if supernovae are observed and precisely tracked and measured via these lenses, for example. Strong lenses also provide a powerful window into the unseen universe of dark matter, which makes up about 85 percent of the matter in the universe, as most of the mass responsible for lensing effects is thought to be dark matter. Dark matter and the accelerating expansion of the universe, driven by dark energy, are among the biggest mysteries that physicists are working to solve. In the latest study, researchers enlisted Cori, a supercomputer at Berkeley Lab’s National Energy Research Scientific Computing Center (NERSC), to automatically compare imaging data from the Dark Energy Camera Legacy Survey (DECaLS) -- one of three surveys conducted in preparation for DESI -- with a training sample of 423 known lenses and 9,451 non-lenses. The researchers grouped the candidate strong lenses into three categories based on the likelihood that they are, in fact, lenses: Grade A for the 60 candidates that are most likely to be lenses, Grade B for the 105 candidates with less pronounced features, and Grade C for the 176 candidate lenses that have fainter and smaller lensing features than those in the other two categories. Xiaosheng Huang, the study’s lead author, noted that the team already succeeded in winning time on the Hubble Space Telescope to confirm some of the most promising lensing candidates revealed in the study, with observing time on the Hubble that began in late 2019. “The Hubble Space Telescope can see the fine details without the blurring effects of Earth’s atmosphere,” Huang said. The lens candidates were identified with the assistance of a neural network, which is a form of artificial intelligence in which the computer program is trained to gradually improve its image-matching over time to provide an increasing success rate in identifying lenses. Computerized neural networks are inspired by the biological network of neurons in the human brain. “It takes hours to train the neural network,” Huang said. “There is a very sophisticated fitting model of ‘What is a lens?’ and ‘What is not a lens?’” There was some painstaking manual analysis of lensing images to help pick the best images to train the network from tens of thousands of images, Huang noted. He recalled one Saturday during which he sat down with student researchers for the entire day to pore over tens of thousands of images to develop sample lists of lenses and non-lenses. “We didn’t just select these at random,” Huang said. “We had to augment this set with hand-selected examples that look like lenses but are not lenses,” for example, “and we selected those that could be potentially confusing.” Student involvement was key in the study, he added. “The students worked diligently on this project and solved many tough problems, all while taking a full load of classes,” he said. One of the students who worked on the study, Christopher Storfer, was later selected to participate in the DOE Science Undergraduate Laboratory Internship (SULI) program at Berkeley Lab. Researchers have already improved upon the algorithm that was used in the latest study to speed up the identification of possible lenses. While an estimated 1 in 10,000 galaxies acts as a lens, the neural network can eliminate most of the non-lenses. “Rather than going through 10,000 images to find one, now we have just a few tens,” he said. The neural network was originally developed for The Strong Gravitational Lens Finding Challenge, a programming competition that ran from November 2016 to February 2017 that motivated the development of automated tools for finding strong lenses. With a growing body of observational data, and new telescope projects like DESI and the Large Synoptic Survey Telescope (LSST) that is now scheduled to start up in 2023, there is heated competition to mine this data using sophisticated artificial intelligence tools, Schlegel said. “That competition is good,” he said. A team based in Australia, for example, also found many new lensing candidates using a different approach. “About 40 percent of what they found we didn’t,” and likewise the study that Schlegel participated in found many lensing candidates that the other team hadn’t. Huang said the team has expanded its search for lenses in other sources of sky-imaging data, and the team is also considering whether to plug into a broader set of computing resources to expedite the hunt. “The goal for us is to reach 1,000” new lensing candidates, Schlegel said. TOP IMAGE....This Hubble Space Telescope image shows a gravitational lens (center) that was first identified as a lens candidate with the assistance of a neural network that processed ground-based space images. The lens is artificially colorized and circled in this image. (Credit: Hubble Space Telescope) CENTRE IMAGES....A ground-based space image of a lensing candidate identified in the study (left), and a Hubble Space Telescope image confirming the lens (right). (Credit: Dark Energy Camera Legacy Survey, Hubble Space Telescope) LOWER IMAGES....These two columns show side-by-side comparisons of gravitational lens candidates imaged by the ground-based Dark Energy Camera Legacy Survey (color) and the Hubble Space Telescope (black and white). (Credit: Dark Energy Camera Legacy Survey, Hubble Space Telescope)

#space #science #Astronomy #physics

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virgilsinferno · 5 years

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SPILLR » CHAPTER TWO

important :: this is a horror fic and may contain triggering content

tw :: mentions of a toxic relationship, death mention, nightmares

word count :: 3761

notes :: i may or may not have accidentally deleted this the first time when i tried to open photoshop sdfhdf

intro || 1

Saturday morning. 2:10 am, to be precise. Virgil couldn’t sleep, so he sat on the windowsill and sketched out the view he could see from the window. He did that for a while until he got a craving for some Doritos. Logan’s parents never buy any chips, which meant there were no Doritos lying around in the house. Roman might keep a stash in his room, but they don’t talk as much so that would just be plain awkward. The only way he could get himself a bag of Doritos or two is by going to a convenience store. Alas, the nearest one was a 15 minute walk.

Not to worry, it’s for a good cause anyways—if one could call satiating the need for junk food a good cause. He put on his purple hoodie, moving quietly and carefully as to not wake up Logan. They’re friends. They can sleep in the same room and share a bed if they wanted to.

Endurance was one of his strengths, so he ran to 7-11 to get to the Doritos faster. Upon entering the store, he was greeted by the sound of door chimes. He had already memorized where the aisle with the chips were. Virgil’s movements could be compared to a robot programmed to take a particular path. On the way to the cashier, Virgil also grabbed two cans of Pepsi. One for him, and one for Logan. They had no coke in stock, which was highly disappointing. He paid for the items and opened one bag of chips on the way out.

As he ate his chips, he made sure to chew much more slowly than he’s used to, in case he needs his sense of hearing to get away from danger. That’s the downside of eating anything crunchy when you’re walking outside… alone… in the dark… ‘cause the street lights aren’t working.

While on the subject of needing the sense of hearing, there was the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching his direction. It could mean a lot of things, but the first thing that popped up in his mind was that someone started jogging way too early. Best case scenario: they’re just a jogger. Worst case scenario: they’re a jogger and they know him personally and they’re going to start a conversation with him. He puts his hood up, in hopes that whoever that was, they’d leave him be and keep on jogging.

“Virgil! Virgil, hey!” They called out. He started walking faster. They still managed to catch up.

“Oh thank the heavens,” they said, walking beside him and matching his pace. “For a second, you had me thinking you were someone else.”

“That’s what I was trying to do.” Virgil retorted. He focuses on walking forward. He does not look at who’s next to him.

“Geez kiddo, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“No.” Virgil says through a mouthful of Doritos. A sign that he’s lowering his guard. They walk in silence for a short period of time.

“By the way, I’m Patton! We have a few classes together.”

Virgil looks at him. He’s definitely seen him around at school. Didn’t he wear glasses? Maybe he’s got contacts on. The guy was just as sweet as he looked. Although he’s heard a few rumors about him… not being as nice as he looked, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The guy looked as harmless as a pink butterfly stuck on a marshmallow. He could be wrong, but what’s a better teacher than your past mistakes? If he were to die that night, he hoped that Logan would still get his Pepsi.

“I know.” said Virgil.

“So… where are you headed to?” Patton asks, trying to start a conversation between them going.

“Home.” Virgil responds. It’s not quite true, but not entirely false. A half-truth, if you will. The Castillo residence became his second home, just as the the Armati residence became Logan’s second home. To put it shortly, they hung out together a lot in each other’s homes.

“Oh okay, why are you up so early then?”

“None of your business.”

“Sorry.”

A part of him thinks that he was a bit too harsh, but another part of him wants to keep his guard up. He stayed quiet. Patton no longer asked any questions. Once again, they walked together in awkward and uncomfortable silence. That was, until, it was broken by Patton’s phone going off.

“You don’t keep your phone on silent?” Virgil scoffed.

Patton apologized once more in response, then did it again as he gestured to his phone, indicating that he’s going to answer the call. Virgil nodded and began to eat slowly.

“Dallon, please stop calling me, I’m going to delete your number. No, I’m not at home right now. Why should I tell you? I’m gonna hang up, and if you keep spreading rumors about me, so what? I know the truth. Goodbye, Dallon.”

In the short amount of time that Virgil has gotten to know Patton, he thinks Patton is the strongest person he’s ever met. Yet again, he doesn’t socialize too often.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes filled with genuine concern. He’s not sure if physical contact would help, so he decides on not placing a hand on Patton’s shoulder and instead tilts the open bag of Doritos towards him, allowing him to grab a handful of chips. Patton gladly takes some.

“Yeah, just getting rid of toxic people.” Patton says with a weak chuckle. He starts to feel uncomfortable and changes the topic entirely. “Have you heard that Clara went missing?”

“Who?” Remembering names obviously isn’t Virgil’s strongest point.

“The girl who sits at the front in Math class? Really light blonde hair? I think she bleached it.”

Wait… that girl? Virgil’s pretty sure that Patton just described the girl he saw in his dream when he took a nap. Well, Logan says he took a nap on his bed due to physical exhaustion. What did he even do yesterday?

“Uh yeah. Yeah, I’ve seen her around.” Virgil says, looking away. Patton gets a text notification. Virgil continues to walk, unaware that Patton has stopped walking.

When he turns to his left to ask about something, that’s when he realizes that Patton wasn’t walking beside him. He looks behind him and calls out Patton’s name, feeling a bit scared that Patton left him because he probably didn’t like talking to him. Apparently, he was just reading a text message on his phone with the brightness turned all the way up.

Why is his phone emitting such a strong white light? It can’t be the flashlight, since it’s coming from the screen itself, so perhaps the brightness level is at its maximum? Virgil walks towards Patton, thinking that he’s simply reading a text message. But as he gets closer, he starts getting uncomfortable.

Anyone would find this level of brightness in such a dark area a nuisance and lower it. Patton did not flinch nor squint. He just stared at his phone with his mouth slightly agape. A few more steps closer and Virgil sees that Patton’s eyes were glowing white. As bright as his phone screen. He panics and drops the paper bag containing the open bag of Doritos, the unopened bag of Doritos, and the two Pepsi cans. Thankfully, the paper bag stood upright and none of the contents spilled out. He immediately slaps the phone off of Patton’s hands, causing it to fall on the ground. He sighs in relief when he saw Patton’s eyes become normal again. That was the freakiest shit he’s ever experienced his entire gosh darn 17 years of living. For a moment he stood as still as a statue due to the shock of what just happened, but quickly recovered and brushed it off as his eyes playing tricks on him.

He picks up the phone and checks if there are any cracks from the fall. There were none. For a second it glitches and a single eye is on the middle of the screen. It disappears just as fast as it had appeared. Virgil blamed this one on the fall. He hands Patton his phone back then takes the paper bag that was on the ground.

“By the way, I was gonna ask you if you knew when Clara went missing.”

Patton looks at him with the most baffled expression on his face. “Who?”

“Blondie from Math class? Weren’t we just talking about her a few minutes ago?” Virgil supplies, slightly confused as to how the hell Patton forgot what they were talking about so quickly.

“There’s no one named Clara in Math class. Trust me, I know everyone at school.”

That was weird. Maybe he accidentally edited a memory? Yeah, he’ll go with that.

It wasn’t long before Virgil and Patton were standing right in front of the Castillo residence. He didn’t know if Logan would mind him bringing someone along, nor did he know if Patton would even want to hang out with the two of them. From what he had observed throughout their conversation, it seemed that Patton’s a genuinely good guy.

“Hey, do you wanna come over at my best friend’s place?”

“Oh! Yes please, I don’t think going home right now would be a good idea…”

“Alrighty then.”

Virgil knocked on the door and was greeted by Roman, Logan’s annoying younger brother. Seriously, how does Logan deal with him? He’s trying to be less rude to him, since Roman is obviously trying to be nicer to him. Back then, they only spoke to each other when they were throwing an insult at one another. They slightly talk more than before, but mostly to discuss their opinions on Disney films, musicals, and music they’re currently into.

“Ah, it’s you again, Gloom Boy!” Roman exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. He started listening to Waterparks, and thought that Virgil would be proud of him for that reference. Logan would be glad that they’re getting along.

“Huh. One reference to Waterparks doesn’t make us instantly best friends.” Virgil said in a teasing manner. So maybe they could be friends after all.

“I think it can!” Roman huffed.

“Whatever you say, Awsten Knight-in-shining-armor.” Virgil said with a playful smile.

“You just gave me a nickname! We truly are friends now!” Roman was so overjoyed, that he hadn’t noticed Patton standing next to Virgil. “And who’s this puffball over here?”

“Hi, I’m Patton!”

“Roman Castillo, at your service.” He bowed like the dramatic little theatre geek he is. Patton giggled, and Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay, now get in the house because I just tried baking and I need someone to try the cookies for me. I already woke Logan up to ask him, but he said he didn’t want to get poisoned.”

“Oooh! I love cookies!”

Then the perfect idea came to Virgil’s mind. “You two go do that, I’ll be in Logan’s room.”

Now that Patton went to eat cookies with Roman in the kitchen, he could discuss what happened earlier with Logan. That is, if he was still awake. If not, he’d just wake him up.

He went up the stairs two steps at a time, having a firm grip on the paper bag instead of the railings. Logan never locked his door, so he slammed it open in dramatic fashion. His best friend was used to this and paid him no mind, focusing on reading the newspaper before him. Virgil called out his name and tossed one of the two Pepsi cans at him. Logan caught it due to his fast reflexes. It wasn’t as cold as when Virgil bought it, but that was fine.

“I have an issue. I think my eyesight is getting worse.” said Virgil, sitting down on the bed next to Logan.

“Then you need to get your eyes checked.” Logan deadpanned.

“Random question, have you heard about any missing people?” Virgil asked, fiddling with his hoodie strings.

“In fact, I have. The newspaper from yesterday says that 7 people have gone missing recently. Two of which are students in the school you go to.”

“From… my school? What’re their names?”

Logan flips the pages of the newspaper. “Let’s see… Oh, perhaps I remembered it incorrectly. There is only one missing person from your school. Dallon Montgomery, 17 years old. Do you know him?”

And where did he hear that name, again? Could it be? “I don’t, but Patton knows everyone from school. He might. Is there anything about a girl named Clara?”

“None that I know of.”

Virgil nodded. This is fine, he thought. Just his mind playing tricks on him again. The sun hasn’t even risen yet and things were already fucking with him. He excused himself for a moment and went down to the kitchen. Virgil took the plate of cookies and dragged the other two by the arm, causing them to follow behind him. Soon enough, all four of them were in Logan’s room, sitting on the bed with their legs crossed.

“Patton, you mentioned a Dallon earlier. What’s his real name?”

“Dallon Montgomery, why?” Patton replied through a mouthful of cookies.

“Virgil who is this?” asked Logan through a whisper, tugging softly on his best friend’s hoodie.

“Ah, right, introductions. Patton this is Logan, Logan this is Patton. We’re friends now, I think.”

“Of course we are, you sweet shadowling! By the way, Logan, we have the same glasses! Except you can’t see them because I left them at home.”

“Why am I here?” Roman whined, taking the Doritos from Virgil. He got a glare, but they’re on good terms so it’s fine.

Chaos ensues. The other three keep talking, which is good since they’re getting along, but Virgil had to discuss something with them. So much was going on, so Virgil grabbed his phone that was under his pillow (or Logan’s pillow, for that matter) and played an air horn sound effect. It caused Logan and Patton to jump in surprise, and Roman let out a deafening high-pitched scream.

Virgil smirked. “Anyways, as I was saying, something weird is going on. First I get a Spillr account-”

“You didn’t follow back.” Roman interjected. Virgil rolled his eyes and continued speaking.

“So I get a Spillr account out of the blue. I never downloaded it, I never made an account. But guess what, I wake up from a 3 hour nap and had a dream that I did in fact make one and even used fake information. I think it’s much more fitting to call it a nightmare, so that’s what I’m calling it. So in this nightmare, I didn’t end up creating an account but I do remember it said something weird about how I used incorrect information and that I should try again.”

“Where are you going with this?” His best friend asked.

“Eventually, I got murdered by the dark void. But before that, there were other two people who made an appearance that I can distinctly remember. One’s a girl with bleach blonde hair. She sits at the front of the class and owns a tumbler containing dark-colored liquid. The other is a boy with freckles all over one side of his face and yellow eyes. Which, I think are probably contact lenses.”

The description of the boy Virgil had mentioned was too familiar. Logan felt like Virgil had just described his good friend, Dmitri. “I’m going to interrupt for a moment. I know someone with freckles on the left side of their face and uses contact lenses with unique eye colors. His name is Dmitri, perhaps you know him?”

“No? I’ve never met anyone with that name ever.” Virgil replied.

“What are we supposed to do with this information? Interpret your dream?” Roman joked.

“And whilst walking with Patton moments prior to this, he mentioned something about a girl in Math class going missing. He described her as how I described the girl in my dream. He said her name was Clara. Before that, he got a phone call and I know eavesdropping is wrong but he was next to me so I could hear what Patton was saying. He mentioned the name Dallon. Also, at one point, his phone was glowing and so were his eyes and I freaked out and slapped the phone out of his hands but that’s not important. Or is it? Okay so after that phone incident, I asked him about when Clara had gone missing but he said he didn’t know anyone at school named Clara.”

By now, the other three were confused as hell. Logan spoke up. “Could you talk a bit slower? There is so much information that I can’t comprehend.”

Virgil sighed. “Let me put it in a timeline for you.” He rummaged through the bedside drawer and fished out a piece of paper and a pen. He drew a line and a few points and began explaining.

“Yesterday I took a nap here on Logan’s bed. I cannot recall anything that happened before I fell asleep so don’t ask. I woke up before dinner and found out that I had a Spillr account. I deleted it because that shit is creepy as hell and overrated. My phone glitched momentarily and I think it’s just my eyesight going bad, but all the app icons turned into the Spillr one, so that’s fucking freaky. Early this morning I went to 7-11 and bought two bags of Doritos and two cans of Pepsi. When I was walking back here, that’s when Patton saw me and started talking to me. I didn’t want to talk to him at first, but look where we are now. Then these events go as follows: Patton gets a phone call. Patton tells me about missing girl from Math class. Patton’s phone does the glowy thing and so does his eyes. Again, my eyesight is really bad but I swear his phone glitched and I saw an eye for a second. Patton forgets mentioning Clara. Now we’re here and Logan’s telling me that he knows the boy I saw in my nightmare.”

“That is… a lot to take in.” Roman comments. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying that I think something strange is going on, and that things aren’t what they seem. I feel like I’m in some sort of danger.”

“Nonsense. If your eyesight is that bad, then let’s see how well you can read letters from a 20 feet distance.” He takes Virgil to one side of his room, where the Snellen eye chart is hung on the wall. Needless to say, he had perfect 20/20 vision despite being on his phone all the time.

“But L, what I’m trying to say is that my eyes are making me see things. I know I don’t need glasses.”

“Ah, but you would look adorable in them.”

Roman, Patton, and Virgil stared at him in shock. His brother speaks up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I am merely stating a fact. It’s true. Would you like to see the proof?”

“Yes please! Oooh, I wanna see Virge with glasses!”

Logan takes out his phone and goes through the album titled “Favorites” in his camera roll. He shows the other two a picture of Virgil wearing non-prescription glasses. The other two gush over the picture as Virgil retreats to hoodie town.

The sudden knocking at Logan’s window gave them a shock. Virgil runs back to the bed and takes out a baseball bat that was hidden underneath since it might be a robber and they could all die at that very moment. Patton squeaks and grabs Logan’s arm.

“Who dares enter this household?!” Roman threatens, drawing back the curtains. The room was on the second floor, but the first floor had a high ceiling. There was nothing nearby—like trees, for example—that could give easy access to the window, unless the person had a ladder.

No one was outside the window, except for a piece of torn paper attached to the window with tape. Roman opens the window and snatches the piece of paper.

Written on it were the words “I see you.” and below it was a drawing of an eye similar to the Spillr icon.

“I’m siding with Virgil, this is scary!” Patton says, still clinging onto Logan’s arm like his life depended on it. Logan didn’t seem to mind.

“You know what? Me too.” Roman adds.

They look at Logan who appeared to be deep in thought.

“This is but an elaborate prank.” He says.

Then Roman receives a notification. He takes out his phone to see what it was. There was nothing. His phone started to glow a bright white and his eyes felt so drawn to it, he couldn’t look away. Virgil screamed and threw it on the beanbag, which was quite far from the bed, but it landed on the beanbag anyways.

“That’s what happened to Patton earlier! This is not a prank, L!”

“That happened… to me?” Patton asked, clearly terrified.

“Roman, give me the piece of paper.” His older brother demanded.

“What paper, Lo?”

“The one that was on the window, dumbass!”

“What do you mean? Did you start putting your research papers on the window? You have a lot of space on the walls, you know.”

“Roman, stop playing dumb.”

“I really don’t know anything about papers on windows. Hold on, lemme post on Spillr that I baked cookies.”

Logan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too early for this bullshit. Virgil on the other hand, was freaking out along with Patton. Their new friend had released Logan’s arm from his death grip and moved closer to Virgil.

“Um, who changed my lockscreen to this ugly thing?” Roman asked, showing his phone which had a white eye icon in the middle with a solid black background. Similar to the drawing on the paper.

Patton spots the torn piece of paper on the floor, and hands it to Logan. “Look, I found it!”

“That’s great, Patton.” He mutters.

It was folded again. Logan unfolded it but this time, instead of one eye, the entire thing was covered in eyes with the text remaining the same. Roman could’ve switched it, right? He folds it again then unfolds it, and it was back to how they had originally seen it. One eye and the text in the middle.

“I’m calling Dmitri and inviting him over. He might know something.”

“This early?”

“Don’t worry Patton, I’m certain he sleeps at 4 in the morning.”

“Wait Lo, why don’t we call our parents?”

“Roman, while that is a good idea, I don’t think they’ll believe us.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist :: @anon-e-has-a-tmblr @baddeceit-ohsorrydeceit @but-jesuschrist-im-never-good @captainlilithrouge @cats-fandom-universe-room @cryptidcherrry @deceit-is-a-lil-bitch @easyidentification @effortiswhatmatters @human-being-kinda @ilovemygaydad @insanetentacles @keeshy-ekho @lemon-towns @lesbian-aesthics-are-my-aesthic @lokisuggests @lopaviro @lucifer-just-needs-a-hug @mychemicalpanicattheemo @prplzorua @roanoaks @rosepyxels @starrycari @strickenwithclairvoyance @suyun-doo @therealmoshar @theultimatemomfriend @unicornlogansanders @what-even-is-thiss @whizzie72 @why-should-i-tell-youu2

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts fic #fanfic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #platonic analogical #platonic moxiety #familial logince #platonic prinxiety #platonic royality #platonic logicality #horror fic #human au #SPILLR

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leatha-starks · 4 years

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Hello beautiful people!

This post is bittersweet and quite long.

I’ve been back in the states for 8 days now, after my program shut down and sent everyone home due to the pandemic currently making its way around the globe (you may have heard about it?) My last few days in Prague were stressful, chaotic, sad and tiring, just to name a few of the emotions I was feeling. It started with my parents calling me at 2:30 in the morning and telling me to pack up my stuff because a travel ban was being put in place- thus the chaos ensued. After that call I was up and about, as were my roommates and many other students. We were all communicating with each other, most people freaking out, others really confused. A few left immediately, and honestly I don’t know how they packed their stuff so fast. And others said they were leaving later in the week. In all honesty, I didn’t really know what to think or what to feel. The next couple days were basically meetings with our whole program, our last classes, and the verdict that the program was being shut down. Everyone started saying their goodbyes. It was pretty heartbreaking.

Friday, March 13th: I spent the day walking around Prague, taking pictures, and looking for gifts for a few people, and I guess just taking in what would be my last couple days in Prague. It was sunny and it was beautiful, but it was also sad.

Saturday, March 14th: this was my last official day in the Czech Republic. I went back to the school to return some things I had checked out and there ended up being a group of us there. And we decided to make the most of it - we group ordered from Wing Haus to be delivered to the school, and then we set up shop in one of the classrooms. I logged into Netflix and we all sat, ate wings, and watched Shrek 2 together and it was probably the most precious moment of my entire time abroad. One of our advisors even joined us. It was definitely a memory I will cherish forever.

Sunday, March 15th: my official goodbye. I woke up, finished packing, carried my three heavy suitcases down four flights of stairs and Ubered to the airport. There was absolutely no one outside. It was like Prague became a ghost town overnight. Now, you would think things wouldn’t be as stressful once I got to the airport but that just wasn’t the case.

The check in desk doesn’t open until two hours before the plane is expected to take off, so naturally, I got there two hours before the plane was expected to take off. And the line was long and moving extremely slow. My plane was set to leave at 10:50AM. I got up to the airport at 8:50AM and didn’t get up to the desk until 10:20AM. So at this point I’m already stressed. And then the woman tells me that she can’t find my connecting flight in London which means she can’t send my luggage all the way to Seattle, she can only send them to London. And I have NO IDEA what that means for me once I get to London, but she tells be that when I get there I can just go to the transfer desk and send my luggage forward. By the time this whole exchange ends, it’s 10:30, and I’m in Terminal 1, and my flight is in Terminal 2 which apparently is an unnecessarily long trek. So now I’m running through the airport and I go through this thing and I have to get my passport checked and then I’m lost trying to find my gate and I get to the gate at 10:40 and I get on the plane. The stress ends for about 2 hours until I land in London.

I’ve never been to the London airport before, so I don’t understand anything. When I land, I have a 2 hour layover, I follow the others until I find the connections wing, or whatever. I get on a bus that will take me to a separate terminal where my connecting flight is. When I get to that terminal, I go through this whole chaotic thing to try and get my boarding pass. I talk to four people and finally this guy is able to find the flight and print out the boarding pass. And then I ask him about my bags and he tells me that I should’ve picked them up in the terminal and re-checked them! So, super stressed, I go down to the baggage claim of terminal 5 (I landed at terminal 3) and I find the help desk (there is no transfer desk by the way) and I talk to this very kind lady who does everything she can to help me. She calls in a favor, and asks this guy who is in charge of baggage over at terminal 3 to find my bags and bring them over and load them onto my flight. He says he’ll do it. She says they’ll be there. And I say okay. Now I have to get back into the airport because I had to leave the security area to get to the baggage claim. So I make my way back up, go through security, and get to my gate 20 minutes before boarding, just hoping that my bags gets onto the flight. Spoiler alert: my bags did not make it onto the flight. When I landed in Seattle, I went through customs, got to baggage claim, and they were not there. So I talked to another lady, she takes down my information, says she’ll find the bags and keep me updated. I say okay, and leave to go meet my parents and tell them about the terrible day I had just had.

Sunday night I got a text that they had located my bags (they were still in London) and that they’d be on the next flight out to Seattle.

Monday night my bags were delivered to the house and I got all my stuff.

And now I’m 8 days into self-quarantine and I am bored out of my mind. I’m happy to be home but also sad I had to leave my program at all. I miss everyone there and I hope things die down soon.

If you read this far, props to you. And I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!

✌🏼

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meteorit3737 · 4 years

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The morning sun stubbornly shone directly in the eye, Cameron moved her head to the left, then to the right in an attempt to hide from the omnipresent light, but she did not succeed. She buried her face in the pillow and carefully opened her eyes. She felt well, despite yesterday’s raid on the pubs. Apparently, the pill brought by Haley helped. That's just the body was somehow constrained. She raised her head and immediately saw the reason for the constraint - she and Donna intertwined, like creepers, Donna's head lay on Cam's hand.

On the one hand, it was nice, on the other hand, the hand was noticeably numb. It’s strange, Cam thought, I've never been a fan of sleepy hugs, maybe this is Donna ... But it was impossible to blame everything on Donna, given that Cam’s arm and leg were on top of Donna’s body. Cameron lay still for a moment, listening to her friend's calm breathing, but then she took her call from the body, she carefully unraveled and went to the bathroom. The mirror reflected the terrible state of her costume and hair. Cam grinned, thinking how real vampires would appreciate their appearance, because they did not reflect in the mirror. She threw off her clothes and took a shower, after which she wrapped herself in Donna’s bathrobe. In the guest room, she kept a change of clothes just in case, and now this occasion has come.

Cameron left the bathroom and saw that Donna was also awake, sitting on the bed and rubbing her whiskey with a pained look.

- Hello! How are you? asked Cam.

- It's been better. And how are you?

- Not bad. I think this is because I drank an Alkazelzer pill yesterday, and we were able to pour only half a glass into you.

- We? Who are we? - Donna looked at Cam, trying to remember how they got home. The memory was fuzzy.

- Haley and me. She met us when we arrived and helped us get here. And then we both passed out.

- Mmm, this explains something, - Donna lifted the vampire jaw from the folds of her skirt and extended it to Cam. - I came across this with my hand, opened my eyes and almost screamed.

- I'm sorry I dropped my teeth in your bed, I won't do it again, - Cam laughed and Donna laughed after her.

- God, I'm a terrible mom! I don’t remember how I came home, my underage daughter had to give me a hangover remedy ...

- And you slept with a vampire jaw at your side and didn't even notice it! Come on, take a shower, feel better. I took your robe though. But I can make coffee while you're in the shower.

Cameron helped Donna get up and directed her to the bathroom door. Donna turned around at the door and giggled.

- With a jaw? In this state, I did not notice a whole vampire at my side! Fortunately, he was unarmed, so I hope all my blood is with me.

- Even vampires in the morning want more coffee than blood! - smiled at Cam and went to change clothes in the guest room. Donna closed the bathroom door and began to get rid of the witch’s costume, unsuccessfully trying to remember at least something after returning home. Did she and Cam fall asleep together? Damn, why doesn't she remember anything?

The shower actually eased her condition. Donna was glad that it was Saturday (well, parties are best scheduled for Friday, right?), dressed in home clothes and went to the kitchen. It smelled nice of freshly brewed coffee, there was a mug of steaming drink on the table, and next to the table stood Cam in a T-shirt and jeans, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a polaroid photograph, which she thoughtfully examined, in the other.

- Everything is good?

Cam flinched slightly, turned and nodded. Donna took her mug and took a couple of sips. The coffee was made the way she liked. From this fact in her stomach warmed. Or is it from coffee? Donna drank more before looking back at Cameron. Cam seemed to be waiting for this and handed her a photograph. In the photo, they were sleeping next to each other in their Halloween costumes. Calm faces, disheveled hair, Donna on her back, half-turned head turned toward Cam, and Cam on her side facing Donna, resting her hand on her forearm. Donna hardly looked up from the picture and turned her head to Cam, who looked at her in anticipation of a reaction.

- It's cute. Yes, we are drunk, but cute. But where from?

- Hailey, - Cam shrugged. - She left a note.

On a sheet torn from a notebook it was written: "Good morning, mom and Cam! My friend and I went to the cinema, then to the library, I will come after dinner. You are so funny in costumes, especially Cam! You need to go to such parties more often! If you need to more pills, they're on the table. Bye! "

Donna just now noticed an alkazelzer on the table. She shook her head and drank more coffee.

- Great coffee, by the way. Thanks! I already feel better.

- It's all your coffee maker, - Cam shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and, looking away, asked: Can I ... There are two such photos, will I take one?

- Of course, Cam, you didn't even have to ask!

Cam smiled softly and took a second photograph from the table:

- I’ll take her to my car so as not to forget.

Donna watched Cam for a few seconds, then went to the refrigerator and attached a picture to him with a magnet. This was the first photograph that appeared on it since Donna began to live in this house. Before the divorce, the Clark family refrigerator had photos of girls and families, children's drawings, and after the divorce, Donna’s refrigerator was clean and she never thought about it. Now she seemed to start a new story, new pleasant memories. And the first frame of this story was she and Cam. And Haley as the author of the photograph. Donna thought for a second and attached Haley's note.

There were steps nearby, Cameron returned. A strangely awkward mood had already left her and she cheerfully asked:

- How about some more coffee? And breakfast? There's a great bakery nearby, by the way! They have delicious donuts.

- Yes, Haley said they were almost like mine.

- Do you know how to make donuts? Donna, you're just a storehouse of talent!

Donna smiled and took out the dishes to knead the dough.

- Will you help?

- Of course! - Cam enthusiastically responded. - I hope this is no more difficult than fixing a hard drive, because we could not cope with it.

- Oh, believe me, this time we are waiting for a resounding success! Speaking of deafening ... - Donna handed Cam a mixer. - Check that it works.

Cam plugged the mixer into a power outlet, took it in her hand as if it were a gun, and with a short press of a button she made a sound from the mixer, pretending to shoot, and then defiantly blew imaginary smoke from an imaginary muzzle. Donna could not help laughing. They worked together and after a while drank coffee with donuts, both very pleased with themselves and with each other.

While washing dishes, they tried to calculate how many bars they visited yesterday, and constantly lost count. Gradually, the conversation turned to where it all began.

- What will happen to this moron, will you fire him? - asked Cam.

- Peters? I don't know. - Donna shrugged. - I should have fired him, but remember how scared he was? It is unlikely that he will now come close to me.

- And rightly so! - Cameron twisted a towel as if it were Peters' hand, then she straightened it and hung it in place. It reminded something of Donna.

- Cam, how did you do that? Made him let me go? It looked like some kind of secret trick from spy movies.

They finished the dishes and Donna went into the living room, Cameron followed.

- Well, actually it’s not very difficult, - Cam sat on the sofa and stretched out her arms in front of her. - You fix it with your left hand, not allowing him to straighten his elbow, take it with your right hand and turn his wrist.

- Show me! - Donna stood in front of Cam and held out her right hand.

- Seriously? I do not want to hurt you.

- You won’t do it. Show it slowly.

- Okay...

Cam stood up, Donna grabbed her hand:

- Here, I’ve grabbed you. So?

- It's a little different, but, in general ... The movements are almost the same.

Cam moved her hands smoothly, pressing Donna’s palm to her hand and not letting go, and with her right hand turned Donna’s wrist. And although she moved cautiously, the pain in her wrist forced Donna to kneel down. Cam immediately released her hand and sat down beside her, anxious eyes looking at her friend:

- Hey how are you?

- That's cool! It was a little painful, but already gone. How does is called?

- Nikkyo, one of the basic techniques of aikido.

- Did you learn this in Japan? Show me something else?

- Ummm ... Actually, this is the story of my next failure.

- Failures? Can not be! - Donna got up, took Cam by the hand and sat on the sofa, sitting next to her.

- I came to practice aikido because I had to do something other than programming and games. Tom came home late, and we had a difficult relationship after ... Well, after Comdex and that trip to USA. And dojo classes were a way to get distracted. My sensei was very patient, but a year later he admitted that he had never met a person with such unable to aikido as I was.

- No! - Donna shook her head incredulously.

- Yes! He said, I think too much before performing the desired set of movements. To get up here, keep your foot there, turn your arm around here ... It's like a program code, and it’s like I write it again each time, and the body must remember it myself. He tried to teach me how to memorize techniques with my body, not my head, but then realized that it was useless and focused on one technique - nikkyo. He said that in most life cases, one is enough. I worked out only its variations. Sensei ordered the other students to suddenly grab my hand so that I would not have time to think and the body would react automatically. And you know, it worked! One day Tom and I had a fight, I turned away from him, he wanted to turn me around, took my hand and I automatically applied nikkyo. This, of course, did not help our relationship at all.

Donna introduced this picture and gave a laugh. She tried to drown it and bit her lip, but the more she fought, the more laughter seethed in her. Cam stared at her, raising her eyebrows.

- Sor ... Sorry, I know this is not funny, but I ... I just can’t ... I imagine the face of Tom, suddenly brought to his knees by his wife ...

Donna couldn't hold back any longer and laughed, and Cam laughed too, looking at her. They looked at each other and laughed to exhaustion. When the last rumble of laughter subsided, Cam brushed away the tears that appeared in her eyes:

- Thanks. It was like laughter and tears at the same time and so ... purifying.

- What could be better than a good cry? Just a good laugh.

Donna reassuringly took Cam's hand, felt a reciprocal squeeze, and unexpectedly hugged Cam. And her heart began to beat faster when Cam hugged her back.

#theresebelivett #read more please and tell what you think #they don't obey me #halt and catch fire

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bolbianddolanhouse · 5 years

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BNHA self insert AU

rNani the heck is this? Read here!

Chapter 28: Finally! Some Good Fucking Food!

It’s a month into the second term and a whole lot of technical things were studied. That all changes when the second wave of villain attacks affect the school.

-Intel dorms, Saturday evening-

“I’m getting real fed up with these hero kids fucking everything up!” huffed Mimi as she threw herself on the common room rug “we can’t do shit on this fine Saturday night!”

“It’s not that bad” Hansai raised his voice from the kitchen “we can still turn up in our dorms!” he opened the booze cupboard but was greeted by Jin holding a paintball gun.

“Not so fast bucko!” Jin cried out as he cocked the gun “we gotta ration the booze! It’s only been 3 days since the word on the house arrest for all dorms” he hops out the cupboard “think this through! If we drink all the booze now, how are we going to get more if our rules don’t change?” he turns to the others “we all have to wait it out until we get house arrest lifted on all intel.”

“I hate that you’re right on this one” I groan from the couch “we don’t have a choice, its operation: Sober Waiting Game” I lazily levitate myself to the window and see the security robots on high alert patrol “stupid hero program and their public displays of quirks! Yall aint shit!” I shake my fist at whoever was peering through the other dorm’s window.

Meanwhile, at the hero dorms

“Hey I think the intel kids are mad at us” Kaminari said as he was looking out the window.

“How do you know?” asked Shinso as he walked up to the window.

Kaminari points to the second floor window to see Palma-san shaking her fist at them “I��m 90 percent sure that’s Palma-san cursing us out.”

“It was uncalled for that the school put them on the same house arrest” Uraraka meekly said as she walked up to the window to see “none of them were involved.”

Shinso gets sees an opportunity to get closer to Palma-san “Well in whatever case, I’ll be in my room” he turns to leave the commons room “don’t disturb me.”

Everyone that was in the commons room see him walk in his room and looked at each other in confusion as he never said anything like that before. But they shrugged it off and didn’t question it further.

Shinso:[Hey, how are you holding up on your end?]

Palma:[Not the best, we’re bored]

Shinso:[Wanna come over to my room? Just us?]

He didn’t have to wait for a text back, she teleported in with a beanbag and a bag of hot cheetos.

“Sup” she uttered as she crunched on a cheeto “hope you don’t mind my beanbag chair, didn’t have the will to get up from it.”

“Not at all” he chuckled “you look awfully comfy.”

“Yea, there’s not much to do but laze around in our lounge wear” she sank farther in the chair “we usually have parties or go out to downtown on nights like these” she sighed “and like, we could all say fuck the rules and Jin could teleport us to wherever we want to go or disable those security bots, but we promised no hijinks until the house arrest gets lifted.”

“Well, I guess we could just hang out and get to know each other better” he said as he sat on his rug to get on the same level as her “I don’t know much about you or your many talents.”

“You want to get to know me?” she gave a face of doubt “why though?”

“I hear about all your feats and triumphs” he praised “but I want to know the real you, the side that doesn’t get announced.”

She crunches on more cheetos “Well, I’m some Cali girl that’s gotten into some deep shit” she pauses a moment to think of the next thing to talk about “I’m just trying to be happy with what I’ve got.”

“But what about all your talents?”

“I’ve just gotten lucky” she picks up another cheeto “it’s always been like that.”

“Do you want to be here?”

“Heh, nope” a longing smile spreads across her face “I wanna be back home with my family, eating carne asada and frijoles. I want to be in the arms of my love, I want to cause chaos with my friends at the local swapmeet” she sighs “so many things I want to go back to but I can’t because I’ve committed myself here.”

“So what’s making things worthwhile?” he asked confused “you don’t seem totally miserable.”

“Well, don’t know about you” she put her cheetos beside her beanbag “but my sense of adventure and spry nature is what makes things interesting” she gently levitates Shinso “aren’t you a little curious to run your little paws on me, kitty?” she smirked as Shinso responds eagerly “aww look at you! Kitty wanna play with me? Kitty wanna cuddle up and have some fun?” Shinso obediently nods “come here then.”

The moment she puts him down, Shinso crawls on to her and starts to softly feel her features. He felt the soft texture of her curly hair, the exaggerated curve of her waist to her hips, her sweet little hands and her.... oddly muscular calves? Her scent is what really got him, like a flower garden and a hint of something sweet.

“I have to say” he cooed as he sniffed her shoulder “I like your scent, er I mean, is that too weird?” he instantly took back his creepy comment.

“A bit? hehehe” she giggled “you’re not the only one, Tenya always deep sniffs me when we hug” she ran a hand through his hair “it’s mostly the dried sachet I carry to suppress my quirk.”

He gives a weird face “That’s new, why the heck do you need your quirk suppressed?”

She explained everything “...I don’t really like the other methods” she sighed “honestly having telekinesis feels like a curse.”

“Why does it feel like that?” he was confused.

“Well it’s so hard to control and delicate” she closed her eyes “I haven’t had a proper nights sleep since I was 5 years old, when my quirk manifested, and I have so many quirk related health issues that have no remedy” she floated up with Shinso and the beanbag “if I get too stressed, I lose control of it and I could die! It’s fucked up but I just accepted it to be my fate.”

“That’s heavy, I’m sorry to hear that” he struggles to find the right words to say.

“Yup, I hope if I have kids, they’d get their father’s quirks” she opens her eyes “so they don’t have to bear the burden that’s my quirk” she scoffed at herself “bold of me to assume that I’ll live or keep someone long enough to have children with me.”

“Whoa that got dark” he tried to change the subject “but why think that you’ll never get there?”

“I’ve just given up on the prospect that I’ll find my one and only” she turned to look out the window “I came here alone, I’ve suffered alone so I’ll just die alone too. And it’s not like I’m sad about it” she tried to reassure Shinso “I’ve cried my tears and I planned out my life as a single woman.”

“What if you get a boyfriend?”

“Coolio, he can stay in my house if he doesn’t mind my floating.”

“What if you do get married? Children?”

“I’ll just have to figure it out from there!” she giggled “I didn’t factor in those things, it just feels like something out of my dreams that seems unattainable” she turned to face Shinso “it’s going to take a very strong and patient man to be my life partner.”

“You’re pretty, smart and strong” he grabs the floating bag of hot cheetos “you have boys fawning over you! Any one would be a fool to not keep you in their lives!” he eats a cheeto and instantly regrets it “oh fuck hot, hot HOT!”

She bursts out laughing “pendejo! can’t handle the spice?”

“NO!” he chugs his cold tea after she sets him down “you ate these like they weren’t spicy!”

“I’d been eating spicy since I was old enough to get solid food” she floated everything down and crunched on some cheetos “hot cheetos are snack spice! You should taste what we eat on a normal basis.”

“Hard pass” he pants with his tongue out “I’d kill for some of that rice milk drink you made though.”

“Go drink some milk fool!” she teased as he ran out to the kitchen “what a wuss.”

“AHHH SHINSO-KUN! ARE YOU OKAY?!” cried out some of the boys that were in the kitchen.

“Oh my God he’s drinking all the milk! Ew” gagged Jiro “that just the nastiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

I float out to where everyone was “Sorry yall, Shinso couldn’t handle the spice.”

“Palma-san? What were you doing with Shinso-kun?” asked Sero as he wiped the sweat and milk off of Shinso’s face.

“Just talkin’ and floatin’” she crunched on some more cheetos “Oi Bakugo! Get in on this shit.”

“Fuck yea!” Bakugo aggressively gets some and munches on them “that’s some good shit! God I miss eating your cooking” he gets more cheetos “you’re the only one that gives a spicy option to meals and your ethnic snacks and candy are the best!”

“Aww you miss me miss me?!” I teased to a very laxed Bakugo. He didn’t get irritated at the comment, just kept getting cheetos and crunching on them. “Anyways, fuck y’all for the house arrest” I spat out to really voice the feelings of the intel program “Now WE have to be on our best behavior to get considered for ban lift.”

“But can’t you just teleport anywhere?” Mineta spoke up “and what about your skinny friend with the portal quirk? Seems like you didn’t have a problem coming here.”

“Stupid they’ll get caught anyways!” Sero said as he finished cleaning up all the milk “they have earpieces that have a tracker so they can communicate and find each other” he turned to Palma-san “thats how they warned the school in time for the villain attack.”

“It’s true” I sighed “we were only involved in the communication part of the villain attack, things could’ve gone south if we weren’t coming back early from off-campus training.”

“We are very fortunate Ita, thank you” Iida stepped forward and bowed “on behalf of our class, I apologize.”

“Oh jeez Tenya no need to be so formal with the apologies” I cringed upon his gesture “but I should be warping back, looks like Shinso is pleading me to leave with my ethnic snacks from hell.”

“NO please stay!” Iida reached out to stop her “lets have a nice chat over apples.”

“Depends, will you let me eat unpeeled apples?” I arched my eyebrow.

“Yes, like the heathen you are” he cringed at the compromise “I’ll even slice them for you.”

“Oh fuck yeah!” I yelped as I give the bag of hot cheetos to Bakugo. Everyone was too weirded out by the idea of unpeeled apple eating, so they went about minding their own business. I sat on the floor, against the bed, of Iida’s room and I wasn’t thinking much about his sudden want for me to stay until he entered the room. Once he closed the door and locked it, his whole body language changed from ‘affirmative’ to ‘distressed’. “Tenya? You good?” I asked in a very concerned tone “you didn’t ask me to stay just to chat, did you?”

He sits in front of me, setting the bowl of apples down with a hard sigh “I’m not okay Ita” his voice was cracking a bit “this attack has been taxing me emotionally and I get that I’m the class rep and it’s my responsibility to keep everyone together and be strong but I-”

“But you’re at your limit huh” I finished his sentence and he nodded as he took off his glasses. “You poor thing” I softly spoke as I crawled over to hug him “tell me everything that’s bothering you, I’ll listen.”

He proceeds to talk it out with some tears as she lets him lean on her. Her back rubbing really helped him calm down and get comfortable. “...thank you for listening to me” he turned to make eye contact with her “I haven’t had time to myself and I don’t really trust anyone else with these things.”

“It’s no problem” I smiled warmly to assure him “you always listen to me and my problems, it’s the least I could do.” I start to rub is temples “when was the last time you just relaxed?”

He closed his eyes as he felt the her touch worked it’s magic “I don’t even know, it’s been pretty tough since starting school here” he moans softly “can you just keep doing that but all over my head?”

I giggled “you mean a head massage?” I switched to scalp rubbing “sure, just relax and let me work my magic.”

After a thorough head massage, he sits up and pulls her closer. Before she could say anything, he embraces her in a very needy way. “I wish I could just keep you close like this always” what is this boy trying to get at? “I’ve grown accustomed to your company and...softness.”

“My softness?” I uttered confused “has nobody hugged you as a child?”

“Rarely, your embrace feels like a mother’s love and the comforts of home” his hands shift on her back “do you ever feel like you found something you didn’t know was missing from your life?”

“I have yet to find it” I relax into the hug “but I have a feeling that my life is going to fall into place once I do.” I levitate an apple and take a big bite out of it, making the most wet sounding crunch.

“Okay, hug time over” Iida almost ejects her out of his arms “you might be cuddly but you’re also a skin-on-fruit eating heathen.”

I let out a cackle “nobody’s perfect Tenya” I take another bite out of my apple “these are some juicy bois.”

He couldn’t contain his laughter “you’re so silly Ita! Apples don’t have genders!”

I bust out laughing at that dumb retort and we spent the rest of the evening in that silly mood. Just being ourselves again and forgetting about the conflict that’s going on.

-Fast forward one week, Monday in homeroom-

“Okay everyone I have good news and two pieces of bad news” Diya announces to the class grudgingly “GOOD NEWS, the ban has been lifted on all intel” we all cheer but he waits for us to finish to give us the rest of his announcement “bad news 1: our activities planned for this term have been for the most part cancelled until further notice and bad news 2: we have to train the 1st years to be on par for full program defense in case of another villain attack.”

We groaned and cried out in disappointment as a class, the activities planned were a beach training day and other off-site weapon training. Plus the 1st years aren’t on par for anything really, unlike us, they have terrible team chemistry. We’ve seen their weapons training sessions and they end in disaster and most of the class in the nurses office. Jin raises his hand.

“Yes Matsui?”

“You mentioned full program defense, does that mean we not only have to learn another formation but also add more protocols?”

“Yes, it means precisely that” he exhales stressfully “from now to the end of the term, we’ll be all hands on deck and drill in another 10 protocols.”

I raise my hand.

“Put your hand down Palma, you can’t file a complaint over what our ‘Supreme Rat Overlord’ ,as you put it, called into action.” Diya wasn’t having any of our sass today.

I huffed as I put my hand down to cross them “Well that wasn’t very cash money of the Rat.”

“But you do have more liberties Palma” Diya says as he shuffles through some papers on his desk “since you’re in the hero program as well, you’re providing us with intel on them and increasing their chances of safety when you’re with them.”

“Oh so she’s like plain clothes security for them when it’s class time!” Yuka blurted.

“I guess that would make sense” Hansai thought out loud “those students really like your company regardless on if you have to be there or not.”

“Ugh that’s mega annoying” I groaned as I slid lower into my chair “that means I have to learn their new protocols too.”

“Oh man, press F in the chat for Palma-san’s sanity” Mimi bellowed for the class to participate.

“F” the class chanted in unison.

-After school, in the hero wing-

“Hey Palma-san” waved Shinso as I turned out of the classroom “that was quick, I thought you’d take more than 10 minutes.”

“Naw” I responded as I rubbed my face “unlike other teachers, Aizawa gets shit going if they need to be done.”

“What did you need to submit to him anyways?” he asked as we turned toward the front entryway “you were so stressed out over it that it concerned me.”

“Protocol conflicts” I sighed harshly “since I’m in both intel and hero programs, I abide by both of the given protocols for whatever situations. If I find a conflict that can’t be worked around or get technical, I have to report it so when the time comes neither group will get reamed for breaking protocol.”

“How many did you find?”

“Nearly all 10 new protocols conflict with intel’s new ones” we cross the school gates and into the sidewalk “If we got attacked again before I noticed the conflicts, yall would’ve been fucked because all I could do is rescue Bakugo and Todoroki because they aren’t hero license holders for more than 5 months!” I let out a giggle “imagine the rage Bakugo would be throwing when I have to get them to a safe area.”

“That does sound bad, you have a good sense of logic” Shinso pondered on my explanation “can’t believe the school is trusting you with that information.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to run off with these protocols” I smirked “my schooling is being paid for by the government that I’ll eventually have to work for and it’s not like I can leak this info to anybody in the United States, because there’s no hero schools out there” I look at Shinso “so by being responsible with this information and being proactive in the resolutions, I prove to them that I’m a trusted asset and they’re investing well in my education.”

“No hero schools back home? Hmmm” Shinso starts to connect the dots “does that mean that you did a full year of high school before coming here?”

I nod but also start sweating ‘oh crap I think I said too much’ I think to myself.

“Wow, I’m sorry you had to leave like that” his tone changes to something more empathizing “leaving your friends behind and family to a country full of strangers, I see why you feel the need to do things on your own” he stops walking just before the dorm perimeter “you feel abandoned and scared since you stepped foot here, you’re trying to mask all of that with your capabilities to keep everyone away from your past.”

I turn pale, he clocked me for everything I thought I was doing a good job at doing! He steps closer to me and I flinch, reflectively stepping back and put my arm up to block an attack, bad move on my end. He stops to put his hands out, like he was taming a wild animal. He takes another step and I don’t move but I don’t move my arm away either. Another step, I wonder why isn’t he using his quirk to freeze me in place? And what is he trying to do? Why here? Why now? My questions distracted me from him and his arms gently wrapping around me snapped me out of my thoughts.

“What are you-”

“Shhh, Ita” he softly spoke “I get it now, why you are the way you are and the pressure put upon you. It’s not fair and whoever hurt you so you had to ripped away from home, may the universe punish them!” I didn’t know what to say, I just stood there, dumfounded by the near accuracy “you don’t have to tell me the full story right now but know that I care about your wellbeing. And that’s rare for me to say.”

“Hitoshi” I broke my silence and hugged back “thank you, I’ve been waiting for someone to just stop trying to pry and just be understanding that I’ve been through my worst nightmares and barely survived” my face starts to creep up with a hard blush “it’s comforting to know that you care.”

“Why?” he asked as he pulled away from the hug and caught sight of my flushed face.

“Oh, uhh” I start stammering “no particular reason-” I lock eyes with a familiar item thats poking out of Shinso’s backpack, a fucking pill container with a full nug of weed inside! I can’t let him know that I know what I saw so I blurt “hahaha good talk BYEEE!” and I teleport to my dorm. I peek from the common room window a perplexed Shinso walking up to the dorms and disappear inside.

“What the hell was that?” Yuka asked me when I turned to walk back to my room “don’t try hiding it Palma-san! I saw you do your little panic run-turn-to-teleport!” she narrowed her eyes and got snarky “you like that purple haired boy, don’t you?~”

“Ah fuck you caught me!” but right when I said that, Tetsutetsu jumped out from behind the couch.

“I KNEW IT!” he yelled “my boy finally warming up to you, I’m abouta cry some manly tears!”

“What the hell? Yuka are you trying to get us in trouble?!”

“Take a look at the full ban rule” she pointed to a packet on the counter “Jin did some snooping to get the full tea on our liberties.” She made 4 of herself to prevent me from changing the subject “so~what did you say that made you panic?”

I sighed and snickered “Okay so like, he almost clocked me on my past and was like ‘it’s ok I get it now and I care about you and thats rare’ right” I hold it together for the next part “and I’m like ‘oh I’m so glad that you care’ because I’m that bitch and I start blushing and he saw and that got me a lil fucked up that I looked away from him and saw that he got some of that good good” I pause to let Yuka gasp “yeah and I’m like damn he’s tight as fuck if he sparks up like me but I looked sus and I panicked a bit.”

“Thats cute though!” Yuka exclaims “OH you should drop in on a roof sesh and be like ‘oh? you’re here too?’ and see where the night takes you.”

I didn’t want to hear anymore Yuka date ideas “I’ll see BUT I wanna know the hot tea on this ban and where the hell it says the tin man is allowed to be here.”

“HEY!” Tetsu yelps at my comment.

“Oh sorry, Tin ADOLESCENT” my retort made Yuka laugh as I made my way to the packet. I spent about an hour on the 5 page with size 11 font packet to find every work around and liberties we could hark on. “So the ban was only for the dorm students, not because we were involved” I ponder a bit more “if they made a huge deal about us too, why wasn’t this packet made available to us sooner?”

Jin turns to place a cup of cucumber water in front of me “re-read the bottom of page 3″ he said as he turned the page for me and points at the section “it says something about targeted students and the students associated with them are to be under surveillance until ban is lifted.”

“Yea, it’s to prevent kidnapping and negotiating with the enemy right?”

“Not only that” he takes a sip of his cup “the school knows what we did at operation Lion’s Den. We put an authoritative eye on our class because of it” I stressfully put my head in my propped up hands “hey don’t be hard on yourself! The blame for any of this was that broccoli lookin ass and the aggressive twink.”

“I guess but that doesn’t make me feel less bad about it” I softly slam my head on the counter “and I assume that you found that I have to prevent them from any sort of recklessness on our off-site training?”

“Right on the money!” Jin finger-gunned at my guess “but you’ll have Mimi and I to help you with that since we’re the team with the most experience.”

I wasn’t liking all these changes but it was relieving to know my friends are going to be by my side. The days pass and I get more and more curious on Shinso’s weed preferences and routine. With some careful observation and some bribing of the 3rd year intel students, I’ve gathered that his dealer is some 3rd year business student and he smokes 3 times a week. He’s always alone when he does with occasional company from Aizawa, uses a glass piece to smoke out of but no intel on his choice of strain. Also, the more I notice, Shinso has warmed up to me to the point where he doesn’t chuckle at my wit but instead laughs genuinely. He’s given me more affection by giving me hugs and wiping the sweat off of my face when we do training. Much to my relief, nobody is noticing all this and I find the right time to wiggle in that I also smoke.

-After school, on the way to the dorms-

I do a deep sniff of the air “hey you smell that?”

“Smell....what?” asked Shinso, visibly panicked.

“That smell” I do some quick sniffs like a dog finding their bone “the smell of that sticky-icky” I sniff toward Shinso “hmmm, well wherever it’s from, disappointed to know that they didn’t invite me.”

“Wait, you know it’s weed?” Shinso asked bewildered at my coolness “but how?”

I giggled “Silly Hitoshi! I came from California, weedtopia of the United States!” I pointed at his bag “also I took a lil peek at your bag and I can’t believe you just carry your nugs in those pill bottles” I make a hand gesture “at least put it in a rolled up pair of socks until you get to your dorm.”

Shinso stood there with his mouth open and red faced, he could not believe that I knew so much. “S-so hmmm” he stammered “you wouldn’t happen to smoke yourself...do you?”

“I do, who wouldn’t after dealing with those kids all day” I sighed “invite me to your smoke sesh sometime, I’d love to show you a good time.”

He caught on to my flirt and just turned more red “Umm yeah for sure” he tried to be cool about it “how about tonight? On the rooftop?”

“I’d like that” I responded with out breaking a sweat “see you later~” I turn and teleport out into my dorm. I start freaking out a bit because I can’t believe I just did that. I walk out to the commons room to express my freak out “guys I’m fucking reeling! I got myself in the infatuation zone with that purple haired boy.”

“The one with the eye bags and brainwash quirk?!” Mimi exclaimed “you got a smoke sesh with him?!” I nod and everyone squeals in excitement “when for?”

“Tonight at usual getting high hours on the hero rooftop”

“Bitch what are you doing telling us?!” Yuka scolded me “you should be getting ready! it’s T-minus 3 hours until real getting high hours.”

“It’s just a smoke sesh Yuka”

“Don’t you want to get in the commitment zone?” she made a good point “didn’t you tell us that what’s his face isn’t interested in what you’re dropping?” she pushes me to my room “it’s time to get pretty and forget about that goody goody glasses boy!”

As I get ready, I start to recall all the times Iida didn’t pick up on my advances in comparison on how Shinso picked up on mine right away. If I play my cards right, Shinso is the one, no doubt about it. I check the time, it’s nearly 7pm, he’s probably on his way to the roof but I didn’t want to seem desperate so I waited until he got there to teleport over.

“Hey~” I say as I teleport in sight.

“Hey yourself” Shinso responded “you look really cute.”

“Oh thanks” I may have tried too hard to get in the commitment zone, I wore my finest sporty capri leggings and a cat crop top “it’s just my comfiest sesh wear.”

“Thats what I like alot about you” he said as he pulled out a few pill bottles out of his pencil pouch looking bag “you don’t try hard to look cute or pretty, you can pull off anything and you’d get complimented.”

“Thanks...so what you smokin?” I tried to change the subject “are you a sativa lad or indica enthusiast? or a hybrid edgelord?”

“What’s your favorite?” he sneered at me “since you know so much?”

“Pues, I smoke indica to help me sleep since my quirk can activate while I sleep” I start explaining as I pull out my pill bottles and rolling papers “but I love to smoke hybrids when I’m with others.”

“Oh you’re a joint girl” he oogles my variety of rolling papers and blunt wrappers “can’t say I can roll to save my life, so I’m a piece person.”

“Figured that much about you” I pick up a pill bottle “but you have some nice ones, back home the boys usually just have the cheap ones and they break in your hands” I grind a chunk of nug “it totally kills the mood! Thats why I took the time to perfect the art of joint rolling.” I start rolling up a joint on my thigh with grace “see? can’t ruin the vibes if you know how to roll” I lick the edge to seal and twist the end to finish the joint. I hand the joint to Shinso and he gives me a surprised look.

“For me?” he takes the joint from my hand “what’s the strain?”

“One of my favorites, Pineapple Kush in a pina colada flavored rolling paper” I get giddy to explain it “it’s an indica that has a pineapple-y taste and with the flavored paper, it’ll taste like summer! Plus the indica will help you knock out if you’re having trouble falling asleep.”

He palms the joint “Wow you really know your stuff huh?” he tucks it in his pouch “I’ll save it for a sleepless night, but I show you my favorite” he picks up one of his bottles “OG Purple Kush, semi grinded in the bowl.”

“OH! Have you ever mixed it with some Purple Paralysis?”

“With what now?!” he asked as he popped open the bottle.

I scan through my bottles to find it “this one, Purple Paralysis” I hand him the bottle “its a sativa and it’s not the strongest but mixed with OG purp, it’ll make you inspired to do some song writing or poetry.”

“Hmm, I’m intrigued” he looks at me with curious eyes “grind some so we can smoke it, I really want to feel what you mean.”

We combine the two in Shinso’s piece and smoked, the effects hit and we started to really have a good time.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” I asked as I poked his forehead “you look like you have an idea.”

“I was just thinking that I was wrong about you” he smiled and made eye contact with me “you know your stuff and I should listen to you more” he smirked “actually I think everybody should, you’re amazing Ita.”

“Oh stop it you!” I blushed and playfully pushed him “you talk me up too much but I feel like that sometimes” I lay down, resting my head on my bag “that everyone should listen to me because I do know a thing or two about the given situation but I don’t know” I sigh softly “I never wanted to be the leader but the leader isn’t doing anything either so I’m just stuck as the voice of reason.”

“You don’t want to be a leader?” Shinso lays next to me “is it because of your family dynamic?”

“Not really, it’s more that I don’t like authority and I don’t want to be hypocritical and be an authority too.”

“Oh damn thats deep” Shinso looks up at the night sky “I should write that down and pin it to my wall.”

“Oh lordt que de dije that mixing the two will result in this” I giggle “I’m glad that you wanted to smoke with me tonight” I look up at the sky “it’s a lovely night to get high with someone and get lost in thought.”

“Yeah, a lovely night” a silence followed, just vibing and stargazing. Shinso turned to her “you know, you’d make an excellent wife someday” their eyes met, her’s having a confused look “you’re beautiful inside and out, anyone would be a fool to not keep you around and make you happy.”

“I believe you” I smiled and blushed “you told me sober and under the influence, it must be true.”

We spent hours just talking with some flirty undertones, plans for more sessions to come. I go to bed feeling happy that finally I have someone that’s interested and responds to my advances. Not only that but I really feel that Shinso is going to be endgame with me. I could genuinely say that I am falling for him.

-Chapter 28 End-

#bnha #mha #self insert au #not canon #chapter 28 #will update regularly #ask me anything #as promised a chapter in mid october #next chapter in 2 weeks #in time for thanksgiving break #also did yall appreciate the weed knowledge #of course I made Shinso a weed smoker #did you expect anything less?

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loquaciousquark · 6 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E15 (Apr 24, 2018)

Hello hello hello! As @eponymous-rose is away doing Important Science, I’m covering TM recap duty tonight! Tonight’s guests: Marisha & Liam. Tonight’s announcements:

This Saturday is International Tabletop Day! G&S is running special programming all day to celebrate.

VM Origins #6 is out at all available online comic retailers. The final touches are being placed on the comic collected edition; details to be released soon!

Wednesday Club airs tomorrow at 7pm PST.

826LA hit the $35,000 reward tier this week! This means Matt will be hosting another Fireside Chat soon. (Liam reveals that the vintage robe & a tiger ring Matt wore in the last chat were gifts from him after a certain jazz-hands-related event in the last campaign.) As a reminder, all donations are doubled up to $40,000 thanks to a generous critter matching donations.

Pillars of Eternity is out in two weeks! Reminder that the characters of VM will be playable as voice sets in this campaign; the new portrait art for Vax was released this week. Check it out at versusevil.com/criticalrole! Liam extols Travis’s voice acting and the “finesse” in his performance and hopes that fans will be very happy with it.

Reminder: Dani Carr hosts Critical Role Recaps every week.

CR Stats for Episode 15

48 natural ones this campaign so far ($4800 from D&D Beyond to 826LA!)

67 natural 20s so far, even without a Lucky rogue!

Over both campaigns & 51 initiative rolls, Ashley averages only 9.5 on her initiative rolls. :( However, she’ll be on Talks next week! Yay!

Beau is super into working for the Gentleman right now. As long as she makes friends in high places, she’s happy (in part because she knows they won’t last long).

Liam doesn’t miss trap duty at all. (He’s enjoying being a screw-up wizard.) That said, he still enjoys watching Sam bring his magic touch to his old class.

Beau fundamentally trusts that people will always act in their own self-interest, which is why she told Jester to take care of herself first. To Beau, selfishness & survival are synonymous--most people want to make sure they aren’t going to get caught or killed. That’s how she can trust untrustworthy people to work for the good of the group, and why she thought Caleb & Nott needed to be part of a bigger conversation.

Sam, of course, very briefly FaceTimes into the show with the knowledge that Liam called him a comedic genius. He wishes everyone to know that this is accurate, does a remarkable Howdy Doody impression, and leaves.

Caleb didn’t have any experience with the Zone of Truth spell before and paid close attention while it was being cast, but “nobody asked him any questions, so I guess it’s fine.”

Caleb’s one-on-one with the DM hasn’t changed his playstyle or character interpretation yet, since it didn’t reveal anything significant. He does think it might have given Caleb a mildly different outlook on certain things/his mood a little bit, but no fundamental shifts yet. Beau’s one-on-one shifted her perspective a lot--she doesn’t respect authority at all, so being put in her place was a good check on her personality & took the edge off her wrecking-ball habits. Both Marisha & Brian talk about respecting someone willing to call them out on their crap.

Gif of the Week: this glorious thing by @scottc_miller on twitter. Poor everyone. Poor drunk Nott.

Beau is officially warming up to Molly. Awwww, my heart. “I don’t know if Molly’s warming up to Beau, but...” Brian: “Self-preservation, guilty until proven innocent...an optimist!”

Molly’s amnesia reveal hasn’t really changed Caleb’s opinion of him. He does trust that Molly told the truth within the Zone’s context, but he knows that may not be the whole truth. The only person who’s changed in Caleb’s estimation is actually Beau; Liam talks about a low score he rolled on an arcana check on the magical symbols, which Beau surpassed, and in the moment Caleb realized that meant Beau must have had some formal schooling. “A little checkmark went ‘boop!’ in a box.”

Beau is aware of her own terrible flirting with women, & Marisha references Beau’s strong preference to be in charge in her interactions. Marisha also talks about some of her Meisner acting classes/acting methods in how scenes are structured and it’s actually really, really cool. Liam segues into his first week in NYU at his very first voice acting class where they laid on the floor and did “pelvic thrusts” to loosen the diaphragm. Marisha recalls her college voice acting teacher telling her she was terrible and shouldn’t pursue voice acting because she spoke from the back of her throat.

All of Caleb’s spells have been selected for RP reasons over functionality/utility. Liam knows it’s not the most optimal build &, as might be expected, doesn’t care in the slightest. You go, boo.

Liam and Marisha giggle over fighting such a classic old-school monster as a gelatinous cube. Liam honestly wishes Frumpkin could have been dissolved; Caleb emphatically does not. Marisha remembers finding the old cube mini with Matt which could be opened up so other minis could fit inside, and they sat in their living room for some time putting minis inside it. The pair that slays together stays together. Liam also remembers a Comic Con that had light-up gelatinous cube minis which he attended riiiiight after meeting Marisha.

Fanart of the Week: this by @sephiramy! Look at how good everyone looks, awwww.

Liam jokes that he personally excluded Quebec from the giveaways and it’s inexplicably hilarious, especially given Matt’s apologies for it on the regular show.

Beau’s hand going numb on the cube attack didn’t phase her at all; she’s still in the “adolescent” phase where she isn’t afraid of any bad things that might happen to her.

In re: screwing the DM with in-universe D&D choices: “Path of the Duck for the fuck.”

When it comes to HP management, the rest of the party is trying to make sure they can get people up when they’re down, especially since Jester canonically dislikes healing. Marisha reflects on the last campaign where she & Sam often filled the blanks around Ashley’s healing, and feels everyone’s trying to fill a similar role now. Liam and Marisha would ideally like another healer, but neither Beau nor Caleb are paying much attention to maintaining a balanced party comp.

The cat’s paw version of Caleb’s spell was always planned given his attachment to Frumpkin.

Liam talks about pre-stream puzzles from campaign one, including a complicated hydraulic puzzle that Taliesin’s dragonborn paladin sidestepped with one brute force elbow. He also remembers a child’s square puzzle that took “a group of adults an embarrassing time to solve.”

Cast- and staff-wide digression into puzzle-shaming Gandalf for flunking the Moria door riddle. Gandalf the Grey--more like Gandalf the Bad at Riddles, amirite

Beau’s ability to solve the magic puzzle feels to Marisha like the lessons your dad makes you learn as a kid, even though you never think you’ll use them--(such as being made to learn to change your own oil despite thinking you’ll always use AutoZone), but then you end up using the skill later on and resent it the whole time.

Caleb’s increased participation in discussions lately is an intentional choice on Liam’s part.

Beau’s improvement in dealing with the rest of the M9 is due to her becoming more comfortable with them.

Caleb recognizes Fjord’s arcane power, but doesn’t question it at all due to the magical nature of their world. (Neither Liam nor Caleb trusts Fjord to be neutral good: “He spat saltwater out!”)

Marisha makes a great point about how everyone in a D&D party is by definition magical and special, but everyone in the M9 right now feels like they’re still discovering what that means. Liam points out that VM very much felt like strong, special people with greatness thrust upon them; M9 feels like a troupe of random carnies.

Marisha on why she’s playing a human in D&D when so many possibilities exist: “Some people like playing ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.” She likes going from an all-powerful half-elven archdruid prodigy to a schmo who can just punch things really hard.

While discussing impostor syndrome, Brian quotes David Milch: “So much of the accomplishment in art comes not from the discovery of one’s gift but from its acceptance.” He likes that the leveling system supports the slow growth of a character in an RP sense and allows the character to learn and accept his or her strengths. He likes that it’s not straight escapism, it’s the combination of one foot in reality and one foot in fantasy.

Liam points out that since their group is very theater- and story-driven, they often use the leveling process to support story choices and character growth over class optimization. Marisha relates it back to the choices in Disney movies, where sometimes the protagonist discovers their innate power & embraces it in order to succeed, vs. where sometimes a protagonist must overcome an innate feature and rise above it in order to succeed. She loves that dichotomy. (Brian feels Scanlan represented similar principles in the last campaign.)

Liam’s favorite moment of the last episode was Sam’s small drunk goblin irritation.

In re: the rising from the floor at the end of the last episode, Liam hopes there’s a way to talk their way out of any upcoming fight, since Caleb’s pretty tapped. Beau: “This is fine.”

After Dark: I Know What You Did Last Summer Edition

On transferring from the relationship between Vax & Keyleth to Caleb & Beau--both Liam & Marisha have had some disputes about everything that went down in the High Richter’s house. Marisha: “I wouldn’t use the word ‘disputes.’” Liam: “What would you use?” Marisha: “...Clarifications?” They both are struggling with how much their in- and out-of-game relationships have changed over the course of the two campaigns.

The crew photoshops Liam’s hairy V-necked chest onto Marisha live. What even. How.

Marisha does miss some things about spellcasting, but enjoys watching everyone else struggle with concentration checks and saving throws.

Liam and Marisha both enjoy building characters and then assigning the classes that fit their story, instead of deciding what class to play first & building a character to that.

Brief aside where both Marisha (not Beau) & Caleb (not Liam) talk about how much they love Jester.

Liam discusses in- and out-of-player knowledge when it comes to Fjord. Liam knows there’s an eldritch horror behind him, but Caleb has no clue. Marisha sees him as the altrustic half-leader who’s hiding a lot. Liam hypothesizes that someone was about to die, and Fjord saved whoever it was by offering himself to Cthulu. Liam doesn’t think Fjord is good-aligned. Marisha doesn’t trust his smarts.

Marisha tells a story about Taliesin’s hair at C2E2. They were doing group photos when a family with a little girl came up who asked Taliesin his favorite hair color. He answered “I’m really into the peacock fade with the blue and the fade into green and the purple and the emerald,” and the poor girl was a little overwhelmed. (Marisha once answered her second-grade teacher’s question about her favorite color as “iridescent” and feels the teacher was more impressed with her vocabulary than her color choice.)

If they were pulled into Exandria today, Marisha would like to be a wild magic sorcerer or a paladin; Liam would be a wizard.

If the M9 were stuck in a cavern with no food, Marisha would eat Fjord first since he’s probably already a little salted.

Beau’s martial artistry is inspired by Ip Man.

Liam steps out for a moment after a coughing fit, then returns in order to stand very, very close to Brian. Close enough that Brian’s ear rests on Liam’s stomach. Close enough that Marisha feels left out and both of them cuddle on Brian’s lap to end the show. I’m glad I’m not kidding.

See you Thursday!

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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hcfhhgg · 5 years

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Hi @pixiesandink , I hope better late than never...Here your Secret Santa gift. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and all that. I hope you are having a good time with your snow :-)

By the time Iida and Midoriya returned with their umbrellas, Uraraka was sitting in a garbage container and refused to leave. “It’s my home now.” she puffed, sitting cross-legged, arms folded above her chest while slowly sinking into the mass of thrown away class assignments and shredded meeting minutes: “I live here.”

“It’s a garbage container.”, Iida argued, having faced to many pointless discussions to care much whether his reasons mattered to her.

“Its paper.” She explained: “Soft and comfy. And I don’t have to walk to school at all.”

“That’s inappropriate and probably illegal,” he continued, chopping the air, as he was wont to: “And dangerous on top.”

“It’s a single room flat in a good area,” she shook her head in overplayed disappointment: “People murder for this kind of place. And it comes fully furnished,” she gestured at the paper surrounding her.

“This is the school yard.”

The UA towers stood high to their right, looking foreboding against the grey afternoon sky, the tinted windows reflecting the fading light in deep blue, seeming eternal and calm against the wind beaten branches of near standing trees, shrill signing birds flitting between their branches, hiding from the oncoming storm. It smelled of rain, and the promise of an evening spent huddling in the common room, hoping the electricity would hold while fighting over blankets, their voices drowning out the sound of rain beating against the windows.

Uraraka shifted again, sinking even deeper into her new home, as she aimlessly pulled pieces of paper from the mess. With her head at about Iidas height, she huffed lazily, shaking her head: “What did you think of the essay questions today?”

The other one leaned forwards, setting his forearms against the side of the garbage container, carefully avoiding all dirt and eying his friends new home suspiciously: “I definitively have to study when we return. They are putting significantly more empathies on their humanities program now than they did when my brother went here.”

She nodded her agreement, through she knew nothing about the schools humanities program several years ago: “That last question really got me confused. Did we cover that in class.”

“It was on one of the hand-outs, actually.” Midoriya chimed in from below, having sat himself down on the dirty asphalt besides the containers, his painfully yellow umbrella opened above him, as if to create a small cave consisting only of it, him and the worn out sweater he had thrown over his Uniform: “I hardly understood it through, anyway.” He yawned.

It was the week of test preparation, with teachers drilling theoretical information into them, even putting off part of their physical regime in favour of endless repetition and practise tests.

“I didn’t read those.” Uraraka signed, leaving Iida torn between reprimanding her for not fully following the lessons or scolding himself for forgetting valuable class material.

“I doubt it matter through.” Midoriya went on: “Hardly anyone who is not amongst the top five solved that one. I heard Yaoyorozu say she struggled with it, even.”

“History isn’t her thing huh?” his friend asked past a struggling Iida, still undecided: “But she is so brilliant at Chemistry. Think they will keep a question even the best student can’t answer?”

This made Iida snap. Taking a deep breath and completing a few forceful chops against the unsuspecting air he made his decision known, launching into a lengthy monologue on work ethics, which, to the readers convenience, shall here be reduced to its essence: “Of course they should keep it. As students and future hero we have a duty to meet the highest expectations of not only this school, but society also. It would do you two good to remember…” he started, pushing himself of the garbage container to flathandendly point at Uraraka: “…that even the history of a pre quirk society can be relevant to your work one day.”

“Hm. You think so? But how?” his friend wondered, leaning forwards to look over the side of the container downwards: “He does have a point through.”

Midoriya shrugged, the motion hardly visible through his oversized yellow sweater: “We still have two more weeks to learn, so they might just…expect us to forget everything else.”

“Who needs a hero when you could have someone who understands a gold-standard.” Uraraka laughed, throwing her head back and glancing up at the sky, which was cloudy and unusually dark for a summer day.

“The gold-standard”, it sounded from below, the words torn away from the boy’s mouth, hardly audible against her disinterest. With one hand she took hold of some discharged papers, making them float before pushing them up into the wind. Iida huffed disapprovingly as they where ripped towards the east gate.

“How long can you keep that up?”

“Long enough.” She grinned, watching the paper disappear in the distance: “With something that light till the next shopping district maybe.” A smile broke across her face: “Have you ever drunk like an astronaut?”

Iida huffed, recognizing the abrupt change of topic as what it was, but Midoriya, who knew that the evening would be filled with relentless studying and quiet discomfort, laughed: “With a straw?”

“Yes,” she bobbled her head up and down, her knees sinking in deeper from the sudden movement: “Or like Pacman,” she looks almost proud saying it, snapping her mouth shut trying to imitate the video game character and both boys where struck by the sudden realisation that they would probably soon find out how the dirty brown spots appeared on the common room celling over the weekend.

“Yes”, the smaller boy perked up, his head bumping against the umbrella: “Like an obstacle run, weightless in the air,” he smiled up to them, waving off Iida, whose face softened at the look of excitement on his friends face: “You could train body awareness and agility. Stamina too. With all the - Is it more straining to float liquids?”

“Huh?” Uraraka tilted her head, trying to compare the effort to the lifting of a solid object and coming up empty: “It’s different I think. I can’t actually touch all of it.”

“Oh! So it is all about the surface tension?” her friend asked from below.

“I guess.” She sounded uncertain, twirling a strand of hair around her finger: “Its weird. I was not paying that much attention.” A slight blush crossed her face, remembering the last Saturday night when the common room had been to quiet, with only her and Kaminari sitting on the plush couches, trying to scare the night away with pointless chatter and bad ideas. To throw some drinks into the air had been his suggestion, the kind of drinks as well and she had agreed because she was fifteen and these here the kind of trills she should experience. Nothing more than a slight taste of danger laced with stupidity and laughter. The kind of things that made time pass quicker.

A single drop of rain landed on her face and stopped her in her thoughts, running down her nose and dropping on her lips. Laughing she licked it up, wondering about water pollution and the sense of inner tension floating liquids gave her: “Deku,” she said, reaching backwards for the lid of the garbage container: “ Iida, I think it’s starting.”

Iida looked upwards, at the grey clouds looking just a shade darker than before as he blinked away a raindrop in the corner of his eye. Ignoring the sound of the lid being closed he reached for his umbrella, feeling more drops falling on his thin hair and smiling at Midoriyas quiet mumble: “…he wont like that, he’ll…”

Alarmed his head shot up, starring at Uraraka who smiled at him softly beneath the half closed lid of the container, fitting comfortably and looking cosy lying amongst the thrash, shoulders angled slightly towards him, her legs almost entirely covered by the paper. He blinked as she burst out in laughter, her body convoluting as the scandalised look on his face deepened.

“What are you thinking? We are…” he started, frowning and jerking his head as more raindrops soaked through his hair, the sudden movement letting them drop into his face as he hit the containers side repeatedly.

“Wait, what is she doing?” Midoriya shouted from below, giggling along his friend at the taller boys attics.

“Aw, come on,” despite her apologetic smile, wide and open and not regretful at all, the girls voice was teasing as she tried to wards of the punishing lecture that was sure to follow: “I’m the one without an umbrella.”

“Something any of your friends,” Iida waved at the space behind him, indicating nothing but empty asphalt and rain: “… could have helped you with! Here,” he opened his umbrella, which was wide and dark, looking sturdy and expensive, with light brown studs at the end of its rips, just the kind of model his friends would have expected him to own and held it over the container, leaving his own back uncovered: “… we can share.”

Uraraka laughed again, pushing her head out from below the lid and under the umbrella: “You know that this is exactly the kind of umbrella I thought you had.”

It took her some wriggling and crawling to push herself from the paper, hands folded to activate her quirk a moment before she threw her arms around Iida and, with a forceful jump, let herself float almost vertically upwards, rain and dirt staining her clothing while the taller boy tried desperately to hold onto her and keep them both covered. They must have made for a ridicules picture, because when Midoriya, still seated on the ground in a small circle of dryness, peered at them from below his shelter, he began to giggle, starting with a small, swallowed sound, that soon turned into cut-off pleas to stop, please, of not for Iidas, then for his hearts sake.

It took a few minutes for the two to sort themselves out, like an overworked machine trying to pull a hot-air balloon down to earth, both moving unsuccessfully to avoid each others flailing limps, like two dancers attempting to push each other off balance, as if they where not sure if they should be fighting or help each other to float off into space to never be seen again.

“I am getting good at this.” Uraraka said, after her feet had again found the ground, her friend holding onto her shoulders as if trying to keep her grounded. Her face was slightly pale; looking sickly against her dropping wet hair she spent some time trying to push back. Still she was smiling, proud and exhausted as if she would do this again, in a day maybe, after she had gotten to spent some quality time with her bed: “Who is up for some hot chocolate?”

“I am certainly not ‘up’ anything.” The grip around her shoulders tightened, but she could hear something like happy displeasure in the boys’ voice: “But I would not mind something warm to drink. Are you coming Midoriya?” he asked, already turning towards the dorm, relived about the end of a chaos he had enjoyed all the more for knowing that it would end.

“No”, the boy chimed from the ball of yellow below: “I will not abandon this small heaven of dryness.”

“Huh?” came from above: “You too.”

“I think,” said Uraraka, a slight frown marring her face: “You broke him Deku. Congratulations. No hot chocolate for you.”, she sung, looking smug, sickly and happy at the continuation of their attics.

“But,” the teen whined: “All the dedication and patience that went into staying dry! If I get up now, I will be wet too. And I haven’t done the laundry.”

“You can wear…No.” The girl shook her head, remembering, with glee, giddily excitement and slight remorse the last time her friend had tried on any of her clothes and stretched her fourth best tight fitting shirt to a pyjama: “Your can wear Iidas clothes. Right?”

“Wha-? Yes, I am, of course, always happy to help a friend, even if it would not be necessary if said friend had done his chores.” Despite trying to sound accusatory, waving his hands through the air, the dark haired boy seemed to smile, even through he was shivering in the cold, as he tried to pull Uraraka closer to his body, using her as personal source of warmth.

“Oh really?” she muttered: “I bet…” With a slight tap to the shelve of his sweater Midoriya felt himself lifted off the ground, struggling and trying to maintain contact with the small, round patch of asphalt he had sat one, the ground darkening as the first drops of rain fell on it belatedly.

With a drawn out ‘NO’ the teen gave up his fight, stretching his hand comically towards the disappearing dry asphalt, as he was drabbed along on his right foot, trying and failing to keep at least his upper body dry as he wined along his friends cheerful chants of ‘one of us’, preparing to soon be dropped unexpectedly. He had seen Uraraka before, after all.

They made it halfway to the dorms before she dropped him, letting herself fall dramatically into his arms as soon as he had stood up and she brought her stomach under control, fainting sudden weakness and screaming as he tried to lift her over his head.

“Waaaarm.”, she groaned after he had successfully lowered her and hugged him. He hugged back until Iida threw himself over the two, slinging his arms around both their shoulders and throwing them of balance, seeming perfectly content as they all tumbled onto the ground, just a few meters from their destination.

“Now,” Uraraka chided: “Now I really need to shower.”

“You sat in a garbage container.” He replied as he rolled off them: “You should anyway.”

#pixiesandink #rainyweather #bnha #bnhagenexchange #midoriya izuku #iida tenya #uraraka ochako #writing #my fic

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pyre-prism · 5 years

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Creepypasta Story - No Adults Allowed

I’m not sure how to start this, but I suppose that might be how everyone feels when they’ve got a story to tell… well, at the very least, whenever it’s like the one I have.

Up until a few days ago, I was a teacher at the primary school in my neighbourhood; right now, I’m writing this on my laptop in my hospital room –I’m just glad that the staff here realised that I needed something to keep my mind busy… But I’m getting a little sidetracked.

I was in charge of some of the fourth-graders, and I guess my story truly begins during the morning classes when I got one of my students –a typically-shy boy by the name of Lachlan– to do his class presentation. I’d given each of them the chance to choose what they talked about, with the only requirement being that it was based from true events.

For once, Lachlan seemed happy to be standing at the front of the classroom, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he shuffled the papers held tightly in his hands. I gave him a smile, shushed the other children, and nodded at him to begin. However, my expression tightened as he spoke while I tried to keep it from falling into a confused frown, knowing quite well that such a thing would only cause the boy to stumble over his words until he fell completely silent and then force me to pull his mark down for not finishing the schoolwork.

He had launched himself into a story about a boy named Robin who he’d met on the previous Saturday, which in and of itself wasn’t the problem… the problem was that Lachlan told the class that this new friend of his was always floating in midair, that this new friend wore metal cuffs around his wrists, that this new friend could make toys appear out of nowhere…

For all of its fanciful nature, Lachlan’s story seemed to enthral the rest of the class. They stared at him with a sort of eagerness that they’d never shown the boy before, and this attention –instead of making his shyness rear its ugly head– actually had Lachlan grinning and laughing in between his sentences.

I didn’t have the heart to interrupt and remind him that the presentation was supposed to be on something that was real… In fact, I decided to let this one slide, and only talk to him about it if something similar ever came up again. When the story finished, Lachlan got an honest applause from his classmates, which seemed to snap him back to his usual self as his face became redder with each step he took back to his desk.

The rest of that day passed without any further strange incidents… but the next day, Lachlan had become the centre of attention once again. Several of his classmates crowded around his desk or followed him around the playground whenever they had the opportunity, asking him questions about his strange new friend.

By the end of the week, the sudden popularity had evolved into something much nastier, once one of the other children declared that Lachlan had made up the whole thing, and in light of the bullying they levied at him –despite my best efforts– he retreated further into his old shell than ever before. I took him to one side when classes ended that Friday, offering him a few chewy mints as a sort of bribe to keep his attention.

“Lachlan, I wanted to ask you something about your presentation.” I said, starting things with an easy opening into what I really wanted to discuss. He nodded, chewing slowly, and I smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. In fact, I think you did really well with it.”

“What did you want to talk about, then?” he asked, blinking and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

I laced my fingers together and tilted my head slightly. “I noticed that the others are harassing you over it… Are you okay?”

He started, eyes wide, and he was silent for a while before giving me a shaky smile. “I’m fine. In a way, it’s kinda nice that things are going back to normal…”

Nodding, I leaned back a bit in my chair and made a mental note to crack down even harder on the bullies under my care, offering him a bright smile at the same time while nudging the subject in a slightly different direction. “Well, if nothing else, you’ve got that new friend of yours to do things with, right? Does he go to a different school?”

“I don’t think Robin goes to school at all, actually… I’ll ask him when I see him next.” Lachlan’s smile steadied, and I couldn’t help but grin. “I need to get going, though… My mum’s picking me up, and she won’t be happy if I’m too late.”

“Alright. Have a good weekend, and tell your mother that I just wanted to congratulate you on your class presentation, okay?” I waved him out of the room and sat down to go through the day’s schoolwork.

As I worked, in the back of my mind, I ran through Lachlan’s story once again. Something about it just didn’t sit right with me, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Shaking my head, I tried to focus on my job, and eventually the tale about a floating boy named Robin who made things appear out of thin air faded into the background.

Maybe, if I’d pushed Lachlan for more information, I wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed now. Maybe we might have avoided what happened…

It was late on Sunday night when the next thing in my story took place. I was leaning against my kitchen bench, waiting for the coffee machine to work its magic, when the knife block fell over with what seemed like an ear-splitting clatter, sending the knives skittering across the bench and to the floor. A sharp yelp left me when the meat cleaver spun to a stop with its blade just millimetres away from my bare toes.

For a couple of minutes, even after my coffee had finished brewing, I just stood there with my heart beating powerfully in my chest… only for it to stop when a noise that simply didn’t belong graced my ears.

Laughter… Musical giggling of a child, seemingly coming from all around me.

“Who… who’s there?!” My voice came out louder than I’d intended but whatever the giggles were coming from didn’t seem to mind, as the sound merely grew in volume until my head was starting to spin. Frustrated, I blurted out, “This isn’t funny!” and a sudden and very empty silence was the response I was given. Once I could think straight, I picked up all of the knives, put them beside the sink to be washed, and grabbed my much-deserved drink.

Monday morning came… and the knives were back in their proper places with the knife block standing upright, as if the previous night hadn’t even happened; at the time, I actually believed I’d imagined it all. While I got ready to head to the school for a new day of teaching, I turned on the television in my living room, letting the first news program I came to fill the silence.

I wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary, if it weren’t for the news anchor starting to talk about some ‘breaking news’…

“At 3am this morning, police found an entire family murdered in their home, after being called by neighbours multiple times over the course of several hours regarding horrific screams reportedly coming from the property. While we don’t know all of the details, we can say that the home was in an absolute shambles and while police haven’t completely ruled it out, it appears that robbery isn’t the reason behind this terrible event. Both of the parents were found strangled and half-buried under numerous household objects… but their nine-year-old son was found in such terrible shape that the authorities haven’t even released the information to the press just yet. We’ll cover this story more as more information is made available to us.”

A sinking feeling started to tie my insides into a heavy knot. Somehow, I was certain that the boy they were talking about was Lachlan… I tried to reassure myself that there wasn’t anything to say one way or another, given what I’d heard, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the feeling.

Suddenly, I jolted, one hand flying up to cover my ear; it felt like someone had stuck something cold and wet into it. Looking around and rubbing my ear to rid it of the sensation, nothing out of the ordinary met my gaze, and a deep scowl pulled at my features. The knot in my gut tightened when that same laughter from the night before sounded out from somewhere near the television.

My mobile phone rang, making me jump once again. I fumbled with it for a moment before I brought it up to my ear. “Hello?”

“You heard about it, right?” the familiar voice of the school’s principal asked, skipping any of his usual preamble or pleasantries. “The murders this morning, I mean?”

I nodded, gripping the phone tightly while my other hand reached for the TV remote to mute the speakers. “Yes, it was just on the news. Do you know who they were?”

“The kid was one of yours,” he replied curtly, following it with a muttered apology before launching into the real reason behind his call. “Look, I’m calling to tell you not to come in to work, today… there was an incident at the school, too.”

I was shocked, blurting out “What? Why, what happened?” before I even realised it.

He was quiet for a while, more than long enough for the knot to start to freeze. “…The police think that Lachlan was killed at the school –in your classroom– and they’ve rightly shut it down for the day, at least, to gather evidence… The whole room’s a mess, and whoever did it fancies themselves a damned artist…”

“…An… artist?” I pressed, my voice coming out strangled and hushed; being right had never felt so disgusting and painful.

A harsh grunt was my only answer at first, but after clearing his throat, he told me… and even now, I wish I hadn’t even asked… “They used blood to paint pictures on the walls, furniture, even the ceiling! What has the police really worried, though, is this warning they left… ‘Who needs school? All he needed was a friend… I was his friend and you made me kill him… You’re next’.”

It felt like I’d been dunked in icy water. Could it be a coincidence, or had Lachlan and his family actually been attacked by that boy who couldn’t possibly exist? “Do… do they know who it’s supposed to be for?”

“Not a cl—…” his voice was cut off and sharp static filled my ear, making me wince and quickly pull the phone away. Looking at the blank screen, I scowled… I was certain I’d charged it overnight…

Again, those giggles cut through my train of thought and I looked around wildly. The sound was closer this time, and I’m not sure if it was my panic or not, but I could see a sort of rippling effect in the air –like a mirage– at the entrance to the kitchen; large enough to be one of my students, hovering about half a foot above the floor, my mind supplied unhelpfully.

At this point, I was terrified… Logically, I knew that Robin, as Lachlan had described him, couldn’t be real. It was impossible. But, so were objects falling over for no reason, let alone sounds coming from nowhere…

I walked over to the knife block and grabbed the largest knife there. Leaving my home wouldn’t do anything to protect me in the long run, as –if there really was someone in the house with me– it would simply give them free rein to do whatever they wanted while I was away… and I’d need to return eventually. As I passed by the old fireplace that I never used, I grabbed one of the pokers as well, and then I hurried into my bedroom and closed the door.

I could recharge my phone there, and once it had enough power, I’d call the police and tell them everything –no matter whether it made me look like I’d lost my mind or not.

A strange pattern of rasps coming closer to the bedroom door caught my attention, almost like a set of light footsteps on something other than my carpeted floor, and I could swear I heard a soft humming alongside it. My hands tightened around my chosen weapons, slowly at first but clenching suddenly tighter when something knocked on my bedroom door. I didn’t move… I didn’t dare move. A few muffled thumps came next; I could swear that who or whatever it was had hit the ceiling followed by the walls, before knocking again.

“Who’s there?” I tried to keep my voice from shaking, but going by the answering laughter, I didn’t really succeed. “Answer me!”

There was complete silence for a bit; it felt like hours, though it was probably only a minute at most. For all of a few naïve seconds, I thought that this whole thing was over…

Then something slammed against the door.

Just like the night before, I yelped, and then that mocking childlike laughter came once again. I was about to say something else –perhaps demand that they leave my home– when my throat went dry. The doorknob was turning.

I stared, frozen in place, as my bedroom door opened to reveal… nothing? My door just… opened by itself? I couldn’t believe it. That’s when I noticed that strange mirage-like effect in the doorway, and I sprang to my feet, holding the knife out in front of me. I tried to ignore the shaking steadily overtaking my body, made obvious by the quivering blade in my grasp, and glared at the doorway.

Whoever –whatever– it was, giggled yet again, and slowly, the rippling in the air seemed to melt away to reveal a child… floating in midair…

He seemed to wait, letting me take in his appearance with a wide sharp-toothed grin on his face, and I took advantage of that; I hoped that, if I could survive this encounter, that I could tell others about him and even provide a clear description of the strange boy…

His hair was messy and bright red, with long pointed ears peeking out from the midst of the curls –although, it almost looked like his hair was becoming more and more frizzy the longer I stared at him. His eyes were almost fever-bright –one silver and one golden– and were ringed in deep, dark shadows that stood out against his tanned and heavily-freckled skin. The clothes he wore looked like they were almost out of another time, and could even have belonged to a farm boy two hundred years ago, complete with old heeled boots that no boy of around ten years old would be caught dead wearing, in my experience.

While my eyes travelled over his form, he started to giggle again, swinging his arms and legs as if this encounter was completely normal and we’d been playing hide-and-seek, or something. As he did so, I noticed the horrendous scars that littered his lower arms, drawing my gaze down to the manacles wrapped securely around his wrists –the chains that dangled from the cuffs jingled quietly with each movement he made…

I licked my lips, forcing myself to look back at his face. “Are you… Robin? Lachlan’s friend?”

In response, his cheery expression morphed into an animalistic snarl. “Bingo! Guess you oldies ain’t always complete morons, then! Good f’you!” He floated closer to me, stopping just short of the shaking tip of my knife, then clasped his hands together and tucked them under his chin. “Poor li’l Locky… I told ‘im you bloody adults don’ like stuff they can’t make no sense of… then, ‘e jus’ had t’go an’ tell people ‘bout me.”

A soft sizzling caught my attention, and I looked closer at his hands; when he let them fall back to his sides, there were red marks where the manacles had touched the skin there. “He told people, and you hurt him for that? You hurt his whole family over being talked about?”

Robin’s hair spontaneously frizzed up to resemble an afro and he let out an almost catlike hiss through his teeth. “Not ‘coz o’that, y’damn twat! ‘Coz he wen’ an’ talked to you! A grown-up!” Again, he floated closer, skirting the blade in my hand for a moment before slapping it out of my grasp. His face was almost right in front of my own, and he spat at me. “If Locky’d only talked ‘bout me t’other kids, I’d’a been fine with it! We could’a had even more friends an’—…!” The strange boy took a deep breath, his hair smoothed out into what seemed to be its natural curly texture, and he drew back away from me, giving me space to wipe the saliva off of my cheek.

I also moved back, only to freeze once again as he bent to pick up the knife he’d made me drop. “Look, Robin, I was only worried about him… The others were—…”

“I know. I was watchin’ ‘em. They weren’t very nice, were they…?” he interrupted me, his voice dipping lower than seemed right for someone who looked that young. The hand holding my knife waved a bit in the air, as if he was testing its weight, and my stomach dropped. “Maybe, after this, I should pay ‘em all a visit, whaddaya think?”

“No!” My own hands raised, although I’m not sure if I was trying to stop him or just trying to get him to calm down before anything went too drastically awry… Regardless, he was startled, staring back at me with his eyes wide and almost fearful. His body slowly drifted down until his feet were touching the floor, and it was only after a few seconds of tense stillness that I noticed what his stare had locked onto…

The poker in my other hand.

I’d almost forgotten that I’d even grabbed it. Without thinking, I swung it at him like it was a baseball bat and his body was a very large ball.

He shrieked loudly the moment that it started to move, but the sound that came out of him when my swing hit home… I’ll never forget it. It pierced through my entire body, and didn’t seem like it was even from our plane of existence. That sizzling I noticed earlier was much more obvious now, and his body was actually smoking…

I drew the poker back, preparing to strike again, but he rammed the knife into my leg. The pain sent me to the floor, and before I could even blink, his hands had wrapped the chains on his manacles around my throat…

That’s the last thing I remember, before waking up in this hospital bed. I suppose someone called the police, or something, and they startled Robin before he could actually kill me. Apparently, just like at the school, they found pictures and writing all over my home, though they haven’t told me what the message actually was, yet.

Since waking up, I’ve been trying to figure out what actually happened… and what Robin really was. I mean, it’s blindingly obvious that he’s not human! Unfortunately, nothing really came to mind that makes any sense… then again, maybe I need to stop thinking about what makes sense, in light of what I saw…

There’s tapping at my window, now… and something red is being painted onto the glass, with nothing there to even do it…

He’s here. Has he come to finish the job? I’ll try to keep writing for as long as I can, but…

‘Found you’.

Whoever finds this, please, don’t just dismiss it as madness.

‘I like playing, but…’

I don’t think I’ll survive his second visit… I’m not crazy!

‘…NO ADULTS ALLOWED’.

…Goodbye.

#creepypasta #Creepypasta OC #Robin #story and art

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