#trying to determine how kids who are 'good at math' do math to try to teach it to everyone else

[silver-grasp]

It's true that it's not unusual, when reading fast, to *not* be looking at every letter in the word - I mean, that's how we miss typos, especially in our own work. And the brain does fill in gaps. But that's not how you should TEACH reading. Oh my god.

[waterrinmelonn]

I've been itching to read a fanfic of LaDS characters as modern rich kids going to College. It was at a point where I actually started drawing the thought in my previous post but that's still not enough to quench my mind so here's the idea. For anyone who wants to take this idea and actually make something out of it be my guest!✨

So I wanted to change things up a notch. My idea for this AU is that all of them are international students studying in the same Prestigious University but with different degrees:

Zayne - Bachelor of Medicine.

He'd be a chinese international student and follow in his parents footsteps of becoming a Doctor. He's actually around the same age as MC Here. He's famous for participating and winning many international competitions (e.g. math olympiad, chess championships, international science fairs, etc). He eventually got many scholarships and was accepted to many other prestigious schools but ultimately decided to settle for something unexpected. Many of his relatives are proud of him but he found very few things to enjoy during his youth thanks to the pressure he felt so it was hard for him to show or experience enjoyment in his life. His achievements go beyond his age and if he wanted, he could have actually probably graduated and become a doctor much younger than this. But he had a feeling that being patient would reward him with something more fulfilling.

Sylus - Bachelor of Mechanical Engineering

I think we can all agree he'd be a Chaebol but like, in a good way. His father is a Korean businessman(who he doesn't get along with) and his mother was a Russian model(he loves his strong-willed mother). He ultimately decided to go study abroad to piss off his dad who was trying to force him to follow in his shoes by studying under business. Everyone in his family back in Korea saw him as a thorn but they couldn't really do anything about his decisions since he was the only heir to his Father's company. His aura feels charismatic and assertive but he's surprisingly quiet and distant unless he's spoken to, he's also a nerd despite not looking the parts. He's running out of time and excuses to keep him from getting sent back to korea, but he was determined to not let go of his fulfilling life just yet.

Rafayel - Bachelor of Fine Arts

I don't really need to explain much about why he'd choose that degree in the first place. His Japanese Mom(Famous Architect) and Indonesian Dad(Business Man) would raise him in Indonesia for the majority of his childhood, but move back to Japan during his teens. He's actually already a pretty famous painter and has had his work displayed in art galleries during his youth, many of his paintings had already been exhibited but he tends to keep a low profile when it comes to himself due to a past incident he committed. He wanted to take it up a notch and see how far his passion for the arts could go so he decided to study abroad to find more inspiration as a fine arts students. Who knows, he might even find his muse if luck is on his side.

Xavier - Bachelor of Astrophysics

Though he doesn't act like it and doesn't seem to like talking about it, he is in-fact royalty by blood. You'd think he'd be part of the Brits when I mentioned he was royalty but you're wrong. He's a Spanish Baddie. His Mother is a Spanish Princess and his Father is a Chief Police Inspector. He didn't really have much freedom either considering his parents' positions. He grew up with strict discipline by both sides. He finally snapped and rebelled against his parents, ran away from home and stayed with his uncle and aunt(his temporary guardians) for the meantime after getting an approved scholarship at the university he aimed for. He always had an interest for space, stars, and the cosmic frontier. Now that he was no longer bound as "Prince Lumiere of Spain" he could be anything he wanted for the meantime. And he wanted to savor that as much as he could.

Caleb - Bachelor of Aerospace Engineering

I don't have to explain this all that much either. The concept of him still being MCs childhood friend is still there. His Filipino Mother(Aircraft Pilot) and Chinese Father(NASA Scientist) were previously immigrants who grew up in the country they immigrated im. They moved into a nice neighborhood after having Caleb, eventually meeting the neighbors(MCs parent). His love for the skies was always in his heart since childhood so when he received a scholarship to go to his dream school he was livid. He became very popular around the campus pretty quickly. By the time MC entered the same school he already had a lot of connections, secrets, admirers, and was actually part of a fraternity. So many things changed but one thing was for sure, his memories with the ones he loved will stay forever.

Plot wise it can honestly lead to anything but the main idea is they're all studying in the same university with different passions they're pursuing but despite everything, they still manage to get themselves intertwined with her whether they like it or not. It's a concept that's full of drama with a hint of romance, in-depth understanding of each character, how far they're willing to go to reach their goals, and how they show what kind of person they are with handling each situation they're in. I'm not gonna put MCs degree so people can have creative freedom with her based on their interest lol.

[bluemantics]

the art of tending

Keith has a lot of scars. Some are more visible than others, but Lance makes sure each one receives the proper care that it requires. In the morning, as he sweeps into the kitchen with languid stretching, he slides up to the counter beside his love. Ever the early-riser, Keith smiles at him as he scrambles eggs. 

“Good morning, Lance.” Keith isn’t one for pet names, which never matters— the way he says Lance is enough. It echoes in the crisp morning air, traveling out through the ajar windows. 

It’s too early for words, so Lance cradles Keith’s jawline in his hand. He relishes in the feeling of his wedding band pressing softly against Keith’s scarred cheek for a moment before pressing a kiss into its slight ridges. His husband hums, content. 

They linger in mornings, now. And both of them are endlessly thankful for the ability to wake up slowly, together. 

Throughout their days on Earth, teaching occupies a large sum of their time. The students at the Garrison are brilliant. Lance has a fondness for one girl in particular, a 16-year-old named Vidhi who loves the simulator and loves pranks even more. He scolds her, of course, in an attempt to not be obvious with his favorites. Still, she knows that she can always come to him. It’s a source of pride for Lance. 

As wonderful as they are, they can also be… challenging. Lance is grading papers when Keith storms into his empty classroom at lunchtime. He throws himself into the chair opposite Lance with a drawn-out huff, dramatically leaning forward on the desk. 

“Carlo, again?” Lance doesn’t even look up, continuing to work. 

“He’s skipping math. I asked him about it, and he said that he’d rather fly, and that he doesn’t like the other kids. In less polite words,” Keith explains, balling up his hand in a fist. “I want to be there for him, I do, but he isn’t ever there for himself. It’s so—“ 

“Oh, Keith,” Lance clucks his tongue, drawing a glare out of his beloved. 

“Don’t do that,” Keith complains. “Just say what you have to say.”

“Carlo is a trouble kid right? Always does what he wants? Kinda a lone wolf?” Lance levels an unimpressed look at Keith. 

“Yeah?” Keith raises an eyebrow, clearly confused and frustrated.

“So, he’s like you, babe.” A range of emotions flash over Keith’s face. Indignation morphs into thoughtfulness before settling on realization. 

“Oh, shit.” He pushes back his bangs, eyes wide, and looks down at his hands with panic. “How am I supposed to even start with him? He’ll see right through me, and I am not equipped to handle an emotionally unstable kid. This is a horrible—“

Lance grabs Keith’s hand, forcing him to meet his eyes. “This is a wonderful idea. Who better to help him than a person who understands him? Who will treat him like an equal?”

“I don’t know where to begin, Lance,” Keith whispers. Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s knuckles.

“Yes, you do.” He uses his free hand to turn around the frame on his desk. In it is a picture of the team, all smiling proudly while hugging one another. Lance taps the photo. 

“Shiro.” Keith follows his gesture, grabbing the photo and looking at it contemplatively. 

“Shiro,” Lance agrees, watching him take that information in. “You don’t have to be perfect, red. God knows Shiro wasn’t— he was just as young as we are now— but if you can do what he did for you… that’s powerful stuff.”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles, glancing back up at Lance. “Okay, yeah. I can try.”

“I know this is hard,” Lance tells him. “There is no other person who could do this for Carlo, Keith. Not a one. You’ve got everything you need, and if you ever need help, you can always call him. You lived it first. Now pass it on.”

Keith stands abruptly and places the frame down on Lance’s desk, determination set into every muscle of his frame. “I’ll talk to him.” He swivels on his foot, turning to fast-walk out. 

“Up-bup-bup! You’re forgetting something!” Lance calls over. 

“Oh, yeah.” Keith grins, spins back to his partner, and draws him up into a kiss. It’s as grateful as it is fleeting. 

It leaves Lance’s heart fizzing with energy as Keith dashes out, adding a new pep to his grading. Lance is always relieved when he can soothe the pain from Keith’s oldest scars, the ones on his mind.

Eventually, when they turn in for the night, Keith will wince at the pull of his aching muscles. He’ll twist in their bed, trying to get comfortable until Lance finally gestures for him to move in front. Then, with quiet and calming hands, Lance will rub out the soreness from a long day of training and hard work. He makes sure to gently pull aside Keith’s long hair when necessary, lets his fingers skirt over the hard lines of Keith’s back. 

Keith will lean into his touch, as always. They’ll talk, voices long and low, about everything. Their classes. Hearing from teammates. A hard workout. An annoying call from family. Even, in their most difficult moments, they might mention missing some aspects of the war.

Those kinds of discussions are only reserved for nighttime. When the air from the windows is chilled, the stars are up instead of around, and Lance’s hands are tracing lines across Keith’s ribs and his shoulders. He maps out every scar from memory, pulls out every memory from each scar. 

Over time, Lance will lose his ability to speak, capable of just monosyllabic words. 

Keith will notice. He can never stop noticing. His eyes will wander over his shoulder, see his husband’s lids droop, and, with the grace of a much less rugged man, will ease Lance slowly to lie down. 

In a matter of seconds, Keith will wrap around Lance. They’ll close their eyes, limbs tangled, hearts thudding slowly in time. 

No “I love you” needs to be said when every action, every tender caress and guiding word, leads them to the same place day after day. 

[inspired-lesson-plans]

This is a very long post. If you do not have the time, then please at least do the quick activity up top. The lesson plan that took me 4 days to write will follow the ⁜ symbol.

HW Due Mon:

Open https://mysolartime.com/ in a new tab and allow the website to track your location.

Open https://www.utctime.net/ in a new tab.

Reblog this post the current UTC time and your local time, using the following format:

21:00 UTC, 4:00 local

4. Vote in the following poll.

⁜

Social Studies, Grade 5, Geography 6.1.5.GeoSV.3: Demonstrate how to use digital geographic tools, maps and globes to measure distances and determine time zones, and locations using latitude and longitude.

Do Now:

Provide students with a paper copy of a population density world map and 2 minutes to fulfill the following instruction:

Draw lines on the map in order to separate the world into 24 time zones. Try not to separate dense population centers into different time zones.

⁎

Class Discussion:

Use the projector to share and discuss the maps of any students who are willing to share. Have fun with this, there are bound to be some good ideas and bad ideas because 5th grade is like that.

Then, project the official world time zone map, and discuss the good ideas and bad ideas present here.

Exemplary discussion points:

The 0-point of the timezone map is the Prime Meridian, which cuts right through England. Why do you think it's in England?

How come some countries like the US and Brazil are cut into multiple time zones, but China isn't?

Why do you think the lines are pretty straight in Europe, Africa, and North and South America, but so confused in Asia and the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans?

⁑

Direct Instruction:

Long ago, nobody really cared about the exact time. All you really needed was sunrise, sunset, and noon, and you could figure those out with your eyes. If you wanted to be fancy, you could put a stick in the ground and trace its shadow over the course of the day to measure out hours.

Perhaps the first recorded complaint of time-keeping technology comes from Rome in 250BCE.

The gods confound the man who first found out how to distinguish hours! Confound him too Who in this place set up a sundial To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions! When I was a boy, My belly was my sundial: one more sure, Truer, and more exact than any of them. This dial told me when it was time To go to dinner, when I had anything to eat; But nowadays, why even when I have, I can't fall-to unless the sun gives leave. The town's so full of these confounded dials, The greatest part of its inhabitants, Shrunk up with hunger, creep along the streets. [x]

In other words, "Kids these days are always looking at their sundials. Back in my day, there were only three times, Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. All we needed to tell the time was our stomach!"

Please note this was a satire, so if it sounds funny, you are correct.

But for 18th century British sailors, accurate timekeeping was no laughing matter. These sailors used fancy math (called trigonometry) to calculate their latitude. So long as they knew the angle between the sun and the horizon, and the time when that angle was measured.

Ship's captains would keep logbooks of these measurements. That way, another ship's captain would be able to reference the logbook in order to replicate the journey, much like replicating a science experiment.

Now... think about this... how can you do that unless the next captain is using the same time as you. We take this for granted today, but how can you be sure that two clocks are synchronized?

Scientists in the town of Greenwich, England (pronounced gren`-ich) recorded the solar noon every day of the year and calculated the Greenwich Mean Time. By keeping an accurate and exact time in one exact place, GMT eventually the Coordinated Universal Time (UTC) for everyone in the world. That's why in the time zone map, the 0 runs through one specific part of England.

This is important. For the first time in human history, the clocks in different places were synchronized. Solar noon happens at a different time in London than it does in Greenwich, but if they both use GMT (otherwise known as UTC), then they can coordinate their schedules. This was very important for railroads, where exact, coordinated schedules are very important.

Soon, the entire country of England existed within a single time zone.

When the United States built railroads that spanned vast lateral (East-West) distances, they needed to create different time zones for cities that were far apart from each other, such as New York and Chicago. Thus, the US became the first country with multiple time zones.

As the rest of the world industrialized, they needed to pick their time zones. You can see this on the map. Each time zone is, at least in theory, as wide as 1/24 the circumference of the Earth. It's like the space between the numbers on a clock! Most countries are smaller than this, so they can comfortably fit within a single timezone. Others, like Brazil and Australia, divided their landmasses into two or three time zones.

China did not have widespread industrialization until post-WWII dictatorial communist rule. This was a very uncaring and inconsiderate government, to put it mildly. Suffice it to say that for Chinese farmers in the far west, having to get up 2-3 hours earlier every day would have been the least of their worries.

⁂

Modeled Activity:

Show students how to use this Day and Night world map as a way to visualize the day and night cycle across the world.

Additionally, show them how to use https://mysolartime.com/ to find their current time where they live.

Give students a moment to calculate the difference between their Local Time and the official time in their time zone, and what that means.

(I am currently in Philadelphia, which is 11 minutes East of New York City)

Finally, show students how to use https://www.utctime.net/ to find their exact, current UTC.

Have students calculate the difference in minutes and hours between Local Time and Official Time.

00:41 - 19:30 = -5:11 (Philadelphia is 5 hours and 11 minutes East of Greenwich, England)

Explain that every internet connected device in the world uses a service like this one, then adds or subtracts hours to fit the time zone of your current location.

Higher Order Learning:

Students work in small groups to look up the local time in different major cities around the world, recording their data on a worksheet. As they do, they should discuss the following questions:

Are time zones still relevant in our always-online society?

If you can know your Local Time and the UTC any time you look at your phone, then what purpose do time zones still serve?

How would it feel for schools and businesses to use UTC instead?

How would you feel if your school day went from 4:20-10:50 UTC?

Finally, each student must individually write at least 3 sentences responding to the following question:

Would you advocate for or against your school district dropping references to the time in your time zone and instead referring to UTC and Local Time? Why or why not?

[rose24207]

I need more need for Lando and popular reader. So when you have time, I have this request waiting for you. ⬇️

Need Lando who has a crush on reader but she has never really noticed him, but one day a teacher tells her she has to study with Lando to get her grades up, because he has the highest grades and can help her. So they start studying and actually getting to know each other and one day a guy reader use to date teases Lando about reader just using him for his mind so she can past the exam to stay in cheerleading so lando insecure and sad starts not opening up to reader and she catches on and begs him to tell her what's wrong. And happy ending with surprise kiss.

An unlikely pair

Summary: Lando has always had a crush on you , but you never really noticed him. When a teacher forces you to study together, you begin to get closer, but doubts arise when your ex teases Lando, making him feel like he’s just a tool for you to pass exams.

Genre: Nerd!Lando, AU, fluff, angst

TW: None!

A/N: this turned out better than I thought! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando had always admired you from afar, but you had never noticed him. He was just another face in the classroom to you, the quiet kid who kept to himself, always hidden behind his books or headphones.

You were a cheerleader, popular, surrounded by friends, and he was… well, not. You barely even acknowledged his existence, and Lando was perfectly fine with that.

At least he could continue to admire you from a distance, even if you'd never know.

Then came the announcement.

“Y/N, can I speak with you for a moment?” Mr. Jennings, your teacher, called from the front of the classroom one day after the bell rang. You hesitated before walking up, wondering what this was about.

“You’re falling behind in your grades,” Mr. Jennings began gently. “And if you want to stay on the cheerleading squad, I’m going to need you to bring your grades up. I’ve spoken with Lando, and he’s agreed to help tutor you.”

You blinked in surprise. “Lando? You mean Lando Norris?”

“That’s right. He’s at the top of the class. If anyone can help you, it’s him. You’re going to meet with him after school to catch up on your work.”

Lando? Help you? This was going to be… awkward. You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Lando wasn’t exactly someone you hung out with, and the thought of having to study with him made you a little self-conscious.

But what could you do? You needed those grades, and Lando was probably the only one who could help you out.

The first study session was exactly as uncomfortable as you’d imagined. You sat across from him at a quiet corner of the library, surrounded by textbooks and notebooks. He barely looked at you at first, only flipping through pages and scribbling notes, clearly focused on the task at hand. You tried your best to pay attention, but the silence between you was deafening.

Finally, Lando broke the silence. “So, what’s the deal? Why are you struggling with math? I thought you were good at this stuff.”

You shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’ve just been distracted lately, I guess. Cheerleading, hanging out with my friends... school just hasn’t been my priority.”

Lando nodded, pushing a paper toward you. “Well, I can help you with this. But you have to try too. I’m not going to do it for you.”

From then on, the sessions became a little easier. Lando had a way of explaining things that made everything seem less complicated, and with each lesson, you found yourself opening up more. He wasn’t just the quiet kid in class anymore; you saw how kind, patient, and determined he was. He had a sharp mind, sure, but there was also a depth to him that you hadn’t noticed before. The more you learned from him, the more you admired him. Slowly, you began to realize how much you enjoyed spending time with him, how comfortable it felt to talk to him.

Then came that day. The one that would change everything.

You were sitting with some of your friends after practice when one of your exes, Ethan, approached. He leaned against the table with a smirk, his gaze shifting to you.

“So, you’re still studying with Norris, huh?” Ethan teased, his tone condescending. “What’s next, Y/N? Gonna use him for his genius so you can keep your spot on the cheer squad? I mean, it’s not like he’s good for anything else.”

Your heart dropped. You knew exactly what he meant. Lando was smart, yes, but he wasn’t the popular kid. He wasn’t the type of guy you’d date. You wanted to snap at Ethan, but his words stuck with you.

Was that how Lando saw you? Was he just a stepping stone for you to stay on the cheerleading team? You felt a wave of guilt hit you, and for the first time, you started to wonder if Lando felt like he was being used.

The next time you saw Lando, it was different. He was quieter, more distant. The warmth that had been between you during study sessions was gone. He kept his answers short, his eyes never quite meeting yours. You could feel the change, and it hurt. It was clear he was upset about something.

After a few more sessions of this coldness, you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Lando,” you said one day, grabbing his arm before he could leave the library. “What’s going on? You’re acting different.”

He pulled back slightly, avoiding your gaze. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

You could see through his lie. “No, you’re not fine. Something’s bothering you. You’ve been distant, and I don’t know why.”

Lando sighed, finally looking at you, his expression full of hesitation. “It’s just… you. I don’t know why you’re still spending time with me. You only need my help to pass the exam, right? After that, you’ll forget about me, just like you’ve forgotten about everything else.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You had no idea he felt like this.

“Lando, no,” you whispered, stepping closer to him. “I’m not using you. I’m not using your brain or your grades. I just… I like spending time with you. I like you.”

Lando stared at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “But… I thought you only cared about the cheerleading stuff. You’re popular. You have everything you want. I’m just… the guy who helps you pass.”

You shook your head, shaking off the sadness that had been building up inside you. “You’re not just that. You’re amazing, Lando. You’re smart, and funny, and kind. I don’t need you to help me just to stay in cheerleading. I need you to help me because I want to be with you.”

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of your words sinking in. Finally, Lando’s lips curled into a small smile, his insecurities starting to fade.

“You really like me?” he asked softly, as if the idea was still foreign to him.

You nodded, your heart racing. “Yes, Lando. I really do.”

Before either of you could say another word, you moved forward, cupping his face gently. And then, without thinking, you kissed him. It was soft at first, full of hesitation, but then the tension between you melted away, and it deepened—one of those perfect, unexpected moments you never saw coming but always wanted.

When you pulled away, Lando’s face was flushed, his eyes wide, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. But then, the corners of his mouth lifted in a grin.

“So… this is real?” he asked, his voice playful now.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back at him. “This is real.”

Thank you for reading!

[awyeahitssam]

Harry is seven when she writes a story about a man who made humans into piñatas, carefully stuffing them full of candy and sewing them together. 

Extremely disturbing, her English teacher writes on it in pretty, swirling letters. Excellent work. 

Harry keeps it under a floorboard in her cupboard, and while she always finds a moment to frown at her poor spelling when she pulls it out, the praise ignites something warm in her each time. 

Excellent work. It's the first time anybody has ever said that to Harry. She's determined that it won't be the last. 

Harry likes to write. English is the only class she allows herself to do well in, because her other scarcely passing grades will balance on the report. She writes fantastical things, horrific things that she does not yet identify as horrific, hopeful things, depressed things. Harry is trapped in a cupboard with a single school spiral and a thousand ideas, and so she creates. 

She fills half the pages, front and back, before she realises she needs to write smaller. She begins to fit two lines on a space meant for one. Still, the notebook is filled inside of a week.

Harry waits until her maths teacher isn’t looking, and filches one from his desk. It lasts a week and a half.

Harry becomes used to stealing. Once, she’d only done it to keep away that awfully nauseous feeling of not having eaten for too long. Harry finds, now, that she is more hungry to write than she is for food.

Her English teacher continues marking her papers in pretty cursive.

The most morbid thing I have ever had the pleasure of reading.

A chilling masterpiece.

Very good work, Harry. Take pride in the considerable improvement your grammar has seen over the past several months.

Harry hoards every word of praise, and lets it repeat in her mind when Aunt Petunia rants about what an awful, stupid, useless thing she is. Perhaps Aunt Petunia is right that she’s awful—good girls don’t steal—but Harry does not think she is stupid. Mrs Powers thinks her writing is useful, even if nothing else she does is. 

So Aunt Petunia derides her, and as she does Harry begins to make a game of overwriting the words as they’re spoken with Mrs Power’s praise. After a while her shoulder’s stop creeping up around her ears when she is told off, though the one time she accidentally smiles, she’s dragged by her hair and thrown into the cupboard for her disrespect. After that, she still plays her game, but is careful not to let anything show on her face.

She watches people closely at school now, trying to work them out instead of trying to avoid all notice. Harry observes their interactions, and sometimes they’re friendly, sometimes unhappy, and sometimes there is conflict, which is a very important writing device. 

Jasmine and Edgar are the most popular kids in her class. Edgar, though, is very unhappy to share a birthday-week with Jasmine, and very unhappy that they both to have parties on the same day, Saturday. 

Edgar has never liked Jasmine. It takes Harry a lot of watching the boy to figure out that it is because his father sneers at people with dark skin, and he mimics his father whenever he can. 

Jasmine’s skin is the same colour as Harry’s except she is pretty, and nice, and everything Harry is not. She is also hurt by Edgar’s behaviour—Harry can not even imagine being hurt by such mild insults—and Harry finds a fascination in how that hurt seems to change her.

When Jasmine starts crying after three days of Edgar being mean to her, her tears are nothing like Dudley’s. Her sobs are genuine and trembling. It hurts something in Harry’s chest to see her so sad, and she understands the way people try to soothe her upset. 

The boys do not like to see a very nice little girl like Jasmine cry, and even some of Edgar’s best friends go to comfort her. Most of the girls do not like that Edgar has been mean to Jasmine when she is always nice to everyone, and they make it known in strange ways. Some yell at him in high-pitched voices, some ignore him completely, and some cross their arms and stare at him with narrow eyes. 

Harry watches Jasmine, and she sees the girl looking around with wide, red-rimmed eyes, realising the way her crying has garnered sympathy. Then, Harry sees the steely kind of look that enters her eyes. For the rest of the day and then week she works to turn their entire class against Edgar, and Harry thinks the attempts are clumsy at times, and obvious, but she roots for Jasmine anyway.

Everybody except Edgar’s very best friend goes to Jasmine’s birthday party, and Edgar comes to school on Monday quiet. He still does not like Jasmine, and looks at her with mean eyes, but he also seems like he’s been defeated.

Harry wonders if she can ever defeat Dudley like that. 

Throughout the entire week of watching, Harry scribbles out all of the different reactions she notices.

She wants to know more. 

She wants to know how people react in all different scenarios: she’s hungry for it, because she wants to write it, because writing is important.

Words are important.

They can make you feel so bad you want to not exist anymore, or they can make you so happy you feel like you can float out of your skin.

One day, Harry talks to Jasmine, just to see what the girl who seems very, very nice will make of a not-nice girl like Harry, with short, messy hair and too-big clothes. She knows she looks poor (she is poor), and Jasmine’s family has money, but they aren't rich. Harry knows the other girls frown at her sometimes, maybe because they can’t braid hair as short as hers, maybe because she’s weird, maybe because she doesn’t claim to be a tomboy like the other girls that wear shorts and tee-shirts and is so still and so quiet and so ominously watchful.

(She learned the word 'ominous' last week—she likes it a lot. She thinks that’s what her entire existence is: ominous.)

Jasmine is polite to Harry, returns her hello, and gives her a sort of weak smile before hurrying back to her friends. She’s not kind, not exactly, and Harry guesses it’s obvious that she’s a freak, and even very nice girls like Jasmine know it’s better to stay away from such unnatural things. She does not try to say hi again. 

She starts writing about people in her classroom, using different names. Jasmine is her favorite to write about, though Harry calls her Lily, which is Harry’s mum’s name. She makes her bold and a bit more careless than Jasmine is in truth, makes her say what she thinks, and do what she likes, and not care about whether other people like her. 

Harry begins to write about herself, too, a character named Alias that doesn’t let feelings play across her face, even though she feels a lot. She tries to make them friends, but they can’t be.

Alias is self-contained and Lily is too powerful in her own boldness.

She sets them against one another in conflict, instead. Writes how she might react to bold, brash declarations, too-big gestures and careless actions that nonetheless show care. She finds herself snickering into her arm to muffle her amusement at how very outraged Lily is by Alias. They are the opposite of each other. 

Harry wonders, sometimes, if she is that to her mum. Perhaps it would be good to be: after all, her mum was silly enough to marry a man who got into a car drunk and killed them both in a crash. 

The next paper she submits to Mrs Powers gets a new kind of a remark. Excellent characterization.

The blankness Harry pulls around herself falters. She grins down at the paper, blatantly proud in the middle of class.

Mrs Powers hums softly and places a hand gently on her shoulder. Harry’s gaze jerks up in alarm, and Mrs Powers offers her a kind smile that has sharpness underneath, and nods her head in what looks like—like approval.

Warmth blasts through Harry like a firework. 

She’s hungry to write more.

[twoa-plus]

it’s 2:00am and this is more of a character thing than a genuine theory but *claps hands for the drama* same coin theory. what if both of the stans are bill

or like. a parallel to him. like i said this isn’t a super serious theory i’m mostly just back on my character analysis bs lol

so i haven’t gotten to talk abt this much but i am a firm believer in that there is not a superior stan. from a personality perspective this is obviously entirely subjective, but i mean that there isn’t a superior one when it comes to their objective traits and how useful they are

ford is. ford. i don’t really have to say anything here he’s super smart can play the piano or whatever etc etc. however one thing that i will say that i think is important here is that i am like. 99% sure this man has a higher tolerance to The Horrors than other humans do. dude spent 30 years in that portal and came out pretty much the same level of crazy, and we all saw what happened to fiddleford. i know fidds saw bill take off his exoskeleton or whatever but u can’t convince me that ford traveled the multiverse - with all sorts of monsters and non-3d dimensions and god knows what else - for 3 decades and didn’t see some shit that would make anybody else lose it. like at this point u could tell me this guy could have a casual conversation over tea with cthulu and be fine and i’d believe u

as for stan - and i mean this in the absolute best way possible i love this guy - he’s like the world’s most charismatic cockroach. he’s fantastic with people and just straight up refuses to die. for the first point i don’t just mean this in the conman way, when it comes to the people that actually matter stan always manages to win them over in some way or another (soos, wendy, the kids, ford, etc) and one does not simply survive for a decade on the street without needing the occasional favor from someone who actually likes you. “oh but rico-“ man when u’ve been living as a homeless criminal for a decade and the list of people that want to kill u consists of 1 person and the government u’ve done pretty damn well. anyways as for the cockroach point, he’s alive and has his memories. i don’t even have to say much here stan went through all of That, lived through the series itself including The Literal Apocalypse, metaphorically (something something people are just a collage of their life experiences) died at the end of it all and then came back to life. that’s hardcore as hell man. in a less literal interpretation of the “refusing to die” bit, he’s also just. insanely determined. the biggest example is ofc him never graduating highschool and yet teaching himself god knows how much math and science and whatnot over the course of 30 damn years because he just refuses to believe that he can’t save his brother. stan pines is a force of nature i swear

[additional note while im already ranting about this guy, im not a personal believer in the “stan is just as (academically) smart as ford” theory. first of all i feel like this entire theory is kind of rooted in the idea that he has to be/be on the same level as “the smart one” to have value, which is an idea that the stans’ entire backstory is based around criticizing, and i think stan has something just as if not more valuable than freakish intelligence - raw fucking grit. he wasn’t the one to open the portal back up because of some intellectual advantage, he was the one to open the portal back up because he wanted to, god damn it, and best of luck to you if you’re gonna try and stop him.]

anyways as for the same coin thing, everybody knows the stan part. his casual references to the impending apocalypse, “you’ve been buying gold, right?”, him being such a good conman, etc etc. while i’m already ranting about stan’s determination, bill’s got that too - he’s been trying for like thousands of years to take over the world and he just Won’t Stop. point is there’s a lot of character traits they share

(i know in the original same coin post a pretty major point is stan not making a deal with bill, but i think that could probably be pretty easily explained without the need for divine intervention. the only times bill makes a deal with someone without them summoning him first is after he’s kind of left on a loose end with gideon, and everyone knows stan wouldn’t fall for his lies in the first place)

bill also shares a lot of traits with ford, though. both have some kind of physical anomaly (bill’s eye & ford’s hands), both can see/understand things others of their species can’t, they’re both egomaniacs (listen i love ford but the guy has issues), etc. u could even argue that, at least at the time they meet, they have some kind of connection through their loneliness

so. with the theory of “bill was reincarnated to make up for what he did,” what if it wasn’t just stan? what if he was split in two, and his “reincarnation” is both of them? they’re flawed enough to make it a lot harder for either of them to take over the world (ford’s lack of social skills & stan’s lack of freakish academic knowledge), and they have something bill doesn’t - each other.

bill is alone. that’s his whole problem. he killed everyone he loved, treats everyone new he meets like shit, and now he’s Like That. throughout it all, the one thing the stans have always had - even if it was just in their memory - is each other. “oh but ford-“ shhhh. shhshhshshshhsh. shut up. ford has Problems but i genuinely don’t think he ever stopped loving stan. love is weird, first of all, and secondly he clearly never stopped trusting him. no matter what he might say about stan being a liar or a conman or whatever, who’s the one person he goes to when he’s forced to admit he needs help? ford is a weird guy and has an… odd way of showing it but he loves his family just like the rest of the pines and i will die on this hill

i’ve been writing this for over an hour straight and i think my brain is melting but i’m sure at this point u get the idea. both of the stans, together, serve as a parallel to bill, and the one thing they have that he doesn’t is love. that’s what killed him.

something something killing an interdimensional dream demon with the power of friendship and this gun i found

[mintedwitcher]

Peter played that scene so so well, it's gut wrenching, I still haven't been able to watch anything after that. And oliver saying that was *him* sobbing and there were other takes with buck trying to shoulder his way in (but maybe he didn't do enough, right eddie?)... I already miss their father son dynamic, I don't think they really thought this through past "oh it would be such a good shock value to kill the father figure, the person who fought for his will to live". So many potential storylines for buck but also little scenes that really made the vibe of an episode are gone

I think that entire episode was just incredibly done. and this is why I'm so loud about criticising the show when it falls short because look! look what they're capable of! when they have a storyline they're passionate about, look what they can do with it! and then they immediately fumbled it.

I've said before that I actually believe this is Bobby's perfect ending - he went out saving his family. and with what we know about him - the drinking, the passive suicidality, the struggle he's had his entire life - it fits. I've had a lot of time to think about this story and while I don't think that the actual writers might have considered this, I think this is actually a good end for Bobby, because it fulfils the desire he's had since day one: to save his family.

everything we knew about Bobby, right from season one, is that he wants to be with his first family again. yes, he's overcome that suicidal urge, he's not actively seeking death anymore, he's content with his life, he still wants to be with them. he still wants to save them, through saving others. He's still atoning, even though he threw out his little book of names. he's still not done. so what can he do? what is there to do? two of his teammates - his family - are dying, he won't allow that. he's lost one family, he doesn't intend to lose another, not ever. it's why he fights so hard. it's why he's so determined on the job, he will not let anyone go through what he went through when Marcy and the kids died.

it's simple math. one antidote, two infected people. who is Bobby Nash going to save? himself? or the man who saved him?

we talk a lot about Athena and crediting her with saving Bobby, and she did, in her own way, but so did Chimney. he's a big part of how Bobby has even made it this far, and he's a major contributor to Bobby seeing himself as worthy of life to begin with. Chimney is a major part of why and how the 118 became a family, not just a team, and I think we tend to forget that, but Bobby never did.

so of course, of course, Bobby is going to save the man who gave him that family. he's going to save the man who saved him, all those years ago, when he was still raw and breakable.

I think, no matter who was in that room, no matter who was infected, the outcome would've been the same. Bobby Nash always, always, put his team - his family - before himself, and this was just another example of that. If it had been Hen, or Ravi, or Buck, or even fucking Eddie suffering that infection, Bobby still would have given them the only dose of the cure, because what else is he going to do?

this got away from me, I had to go back and read your ask again to actually address the rest of it lmao

anyway, yeah, I agree that I don't think the writers really put enough forethought into it. 8x16 was good, but 17 and 18 were absolute trash. it was an immediate fumble, and that's so bitterly disappointing, because 8x15 was so good.

I have my own ideas as to where the story could go from here, but we saw in 8x18 that they're basically just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks, so I doubt that anything actually meaningful will come from it. all I know right now is that if Certain Theories are correct, season 8 will be the last season I ever watch of this show.

[maybe-some-words]

Hot Chocolates

May01st 2025 | Day Six | Alternate Universe

Rating: G

Words: 663

Featuring: Echo, Ahsoka & Barriss

Relationships: minor Barriss/Ahsoka

AU where Echo and his brothers run a chocolate shop, and Ahsoka drops by after school often.

AO3 Link

Tuesday afternoons were always quiet at the store. Echo didn’t mind. He’d survived the morning rush – not that he could actually call four customers in as many hours a rush – and had put away the day’s delivery within half an hour of signing for it, which was rare. He’d even had time to take apart the coffee machine and give it a thorough clean. Though it didn’t need to be done for a few days still, Echo found himself counting stock in the back room to keep himself occupied.

Fives had a theory that something about Tuesday put people off of chocolate. He had joked about writing a paper on it, and had been rather offended when there’d been an instant agreement between Tup and Echo that he wouldn’t have the focus for it. Besides, if he wanted to claim people didn’t want chocolate on Tuesdays, he’d have to contend with one of their best customers.

Echo recognised the laughter that bounced into the store as the door opened. He ducked out of the cool room and made his way back to the front of the store. He found Ahsoka standing in front of the usual display, eyeing off the small chocolate bars that came in two-for-one deals. She had a friend with her today, dressed in the same school uniform and weighed down by the same large backpack. Echo gathered from their interlaced fingers, and the way the other girl was looking at Ahsoka the way Ahsoka looked at chocolate, that this was Barriss.

“Hey, Ahsoka,” he greeted. “How was school?”

“Hi, Echo! It was good, we- Wait, where’s Tup?” Ahsoka questioned. “Doesn’t he normally work Tuesdays?”

“He does,” Echo confirmed, “but he’s out of action with a stomach bug at the moment.”

Ahsoka winced. “Tell him I said to get well soon.”

“Will do. What’re you after today?”

Ahsoka hummed. “Not sure. Barriss, what do you like?”

“Nothing with nuts,” Barriss stated. “Or caramel. Or liquorice. Or-”

“So, plain chocolate for you,” Ahsoka summarised, rolling her eyes a little. “Oh, do you like hot chocolate?”

Barriss nodded.

“Echo, can we have hot chocolates?”

Echo grinned. “Sure can, kid. Go pick ‘em out.”

Ahsoka darted off to the line of hot chocolate powders by the counter, dragging Barris behind her. Echo followed, powering up the coffee machine as Ahsoka talked Barriss through the different options available. The two of them settled on one of the darker powders after a moment of debate, and Echo heard the clink of coins on the counter as he got to work.

Echo caught snippets of conversation over the sound of the milk steaming. Barriss had a brother and liked math. Ahsoka still hated math, and had gotten in trouble (again) for sketching dogs in the margins of her workbook. Barris’ PE teacher had tripped down the stairs and broken his arm, which she determined was karma for the time he joked about cheating on his wife in front of the whole class. Echo, sprinkling chocolate powder over the froth, was inclined to agree.

“There you go. Careful, they’re hot,” Echo warned, holding out the drinks.

Ahsoka giggled. “They are hot chocolates.”

The two of them accepted the cups, hands wrapping around the cardboard sleeves.

Ahsoka, who Echo had determined some time ago must be fire-proof, barely waited for taking a big sip. She sighed contentedly.

Barris waited a minute before trying hers. She hummed, closing her eyes. “That’s really good.”

“I told you!” Ahsoka proclaimed, grinning. “Echo’s hot chocolates are the best.”

Echo smiled. “Thanks, kid.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. “Are you catching the bus today?” he asked.

Ahsoka looked at her watch and cursed quietly. She grabbed Barriss by the wrist – gently, so as not to endanger the hot chocolate – and pulled her towards the door. “We have to go. Thanks, Echo!” she called behind her, pushing out the door. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“See you Friday, kid.”

@may01st

[tony-stark-official]

What's one thing that you live by? What's the best advice you would give to someone?

Thanks for the ask, this one is making me think.

I've been trying for a few days now to come up with one answer for this. Part of me wants to say "Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk," and that one's great and all, but there's so much more to it. This is long as shit but I hope some of you take the time to actually read it.

I'd say in terms of advice, it would be that intelligence is a lie, I think. The fact that the I.Q. system as a whole caters to discrepancies and strengths that heavily rely on whether or not you're neurodivergent. Processing speed, "age-appropriate" behavior, and verbal skills all being issues in that area that will absolutely TANK your score. Plus there's the fact that it was written with so much cultural bias that they had to completely rewrite it multiple times for non-western audiences. It's a bullshit system. People will try to separate you into "creative" or "smart". "Book-smart" vs. "street-smart". They'll say you're not as quick as someone else, and that makes you less intelligent.

The thing is, information and skills can be learned. Neither of these, whether you have them in spades or not, have anything to do with how intelligent you are at all. Creativity is intelligence. Social understanding is intelligence. Charisma is intelligence. All of these things aren't about how fast you can do a math problem, it's about the shit in your brain. How well you pick things up, what sticks, how you apply it, the connections you make. You can't put a score on something so vastly different for each person.

It's like taking a speedboat, a tugboat, a sailboat, and a warship and ranking them all on how fast they are to determine the best one. Objectively they can all do that at varying levels, sure, but there's no one best boat out of those because it can go the fastest. They're just all designed for different things. People are like that too. Putting a number on how well your brain works according to a set of parameters isn't going to determine shit other than how well you fit into those parameters. Intelligence is a lie. You can't just measure it like that. Look around you- that guy you went to high school with who almost failed out, but could figure out just what play to make to win the game? He was smart. The kid who was in all advanced classes but never talked to a single person? Smart, too. The one who never knew what was going on in class, but could fit in with any clique and had a great relationship with everyone? Smart. They're all smart. It just presents differently.

Stupid people exist, but they're much harder to find than you might think. Usually it's just ignorance or a lack of resources. Like I said, most of those things we consider smart things? They have to be learned, and not everyone has the opportunity to do that. And some people... they just don't care enough to. So yeah, intelligence is a lie. IQ is a lie. Putting a number or a quantifier or a comparative value on anyone's brain power is a lie. You just can't do it and expect to get something useful out of it, least of all an overall quantifier for how "good" someone's brain is at doing brain things.

I was gonna go into how I live by the idea that ethics are just a matter of time, but I'll throw that in another post at some point. This one is long enough as is.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Actually, I know Kaminari is into Minecraft, but is anyone else in 1-A a gamer? Like, is there anyone specific who jumps out at you as liking a specific game? Personally, I feel like Koji likes Animal Crossing, Sero is clearly a Spider-Man fan, but Iida always surprises people by being an amazing Mario player. Then you've got Shoto, who never really played video games, so everyone is determined to introduce him to their favourites.

I think while Denki is the only Gamer™, everyone else has their handful of games they love and enjoy.

You know Izuku owns ever All Might-based videogame that's come out.

I could see Mina getting really into those like. The Love Nikki type games? Battle through fashion stuff.

Momo is def good at strategy-based games and the like.

And Jiro + Guitar Hero? No contest.

I;m gonna go on a Todoroki Tangent though because you brought up Shoto in that his knowledge of things like games is So Weird™

Because like. He did have some free time and ability. Enji may have pushed Shoto harder than he should've, but a lot of his justification is "I don't do anything to him that I wouldn't do to myself" so while he is frustrated at the idea of rest days he does understand their need for overall performance and also needs his own rest days.

It's the same concept on how people took the comment of Enji;s control over Shoto's diet to mean starving him. Enji is trying to make sure that Shoto is functioning at peak performance so he knows what it takes to maintain a Hero's lifestyle and adjusts accordingly, whether it be things like rest days or making sure calorie intake is high enough.

Don't get me wrong: it was still too much for someone as young as Shoto, and none of it was on Shoto's body's schedule and he should've gotten more free time and rest days. But there /was/ downtime.

Plus there's the fact that Enji isn't around 24/7. He has a job with demanding hours. So while he'd tell Shoto "Once you're done with schoolwork for the day, start on the training exercises you already know how to do until I get home and we can work on the next lesson"...... Enji wasn't around to enforce that. That fell on Toya, Fuyumi and Natsuo, who were much softer with Shoto. Toya was at first the most begrudging "you're lucky dad lets you train to be a Hero how dare you squander it?!" but Fuyumi gives him the Disappointed Dad Expression™ and he caves lmao.

Shoto couldn't slack off entirely, that would get noticed. But if he finishes some math problems and wants to just. Take the hour to vibe instead of heading over to get some exercise in he can.

Now it's still not enough. Especially not enough for him to really get into most videogames because by the time he gets through a tutorial he has to quit. But he did have some attempts

But there's also a weird thing in like. When he would watch shows. Because that was more often left up to his siblings who are much older. Teenagers don't really want to sit down and watch Disney. So there's still a weird gap in his pop culture knowledge compared to other kids

[clairebonnet]

POKEMON GRANADA AU ARVEN INFO DUMP‼️

Arven was behind to say the least. Despite being the son of the two greatest minds in the world—and only 22–, he was thought of and treated like a complete dud. Really, Arven was very smart, he was just never taught how to properly read or write, or do math. Her brain was never nurtured in a loving environment. He had no support in his early schooling, but still tried desperately to catch up. He spend long nights with Maschiff, trying to catch up with the class, but always falling short. Other kids thought he was weird, and he was often the subject of tormenting. Arvens clothes were all old and dirty, he was always sick, as he never knew how to properly feed himself, and he always got into trouble for falling asleep in class. Arven was a complete punching bag, and would often cry when others picked on him. Really, he just wanted the acceptance of his peers, but he always seemed to draw the short straws in life.

High school changed a lot of things for Arven. For one, he grew- like, a LOT. He stood at just about six and a half feet, and towered over the people who used to call him cruel things. Arven was much too gentle for his own good, and still tried his best to connect with peers. School didn’t get any better, Arven was held back his freshman, and senior year. Maschiff evolved, but was no longer all Arven had in the world. His Home EC teacher, Mister Sugaro became Arvens role model. Sugaro took Arven under his wing, seeing his potential, and taught Arven how to cook properly, take care of himself, and would even help as much as he could with reading, writing, and math. Professor Sugaro eventually transferred to teach in the culinary program of Granada Academy. He offered Arven a spot in enrollment with reduced tuition (He was paying for it).

By some miracle, and intervention from a divine force (Sugaro), he was accepted into Granada Academy. Arven, for the first time in his life, excelled at culinary arts. He’s the best in his class… but just that one. He still struggles heavily with all the extra courses he takes. Arven had friends for the first time in his life, everyone seemed fascinated by him due to his parents. Arven spent much of that first year figuring himself out. He turned out to be quite smooth with girls—and guys, before he realized he was only an ally—. However, many of his friendships fell to the wayside after he realized that people only wanted to be around him just because they thought he was a big deal. Pretty soon, most people got bored of him, and moved on, leaving Arven all alone again.

Arven is now enrolled in Granada University! He still totally sucks at school, but was initially very popular with students! Arven found himself surrounded a majority of the time. He even played up the fact that he’s the son of the professors to get in good with groups. He even turned out to be quite the laddies man—and what the heck? It’s college, he’s exploring—guys man, before discovering the same gender wasn’t something he was interested in. (Straight ally) Arven finally found his footing, but almost IMMEDIATELY got dumped by those said groups. It turned out people who wanted to know him because of his family’s supposedly wealthy status are not the sort you want to hang around. They kicked him to the curb after they found out he was blowing hot air, and Arven was yet again all alone.

During the summer of his first year, Arven went out looking for his mother, determined to find her and… well, he wasn’t exactly sure. Yell at her?? Cry and hug her?? To see why she had abandoned him for most of his life? But all he knew is that he nodded to see her. He traveled to Area zero, encountering a terrifying Pokémon that was unlike anything he had ever seen, his partner Mabosstiff pushed him aside, and charged the creature, sending himself and it deep into area zero. Arven stayed for weeks, waiting for his first and only friend. Finally, Mabosstiff returned to him… in a state. Dark black crystals jut out from under mabosstiffs skin, which caused his trouble walking, and mobility. Slowly, over the course of the next year, mabosstiffs condition would worsen. Mabosstiff must’ve been subjected to terastilization, but his desire to return to Arven allowed him to overcome it— not without damage. Now Mabosstiff stays in his pokeball, unless it’s time to eat, or try a new treatment. Arven is desperate, and is willing to try anything… he HAS tried everything… until he finds a scarlet book while searching through the lighthouse. Things look grim.

Suddenly, going into his second year of college, Arven isn’t concerned with friends or grades—all he wants to do his help his buddy. Claire Bonent, his new roommate, initially buts heads with Arven, their strong personalities bashing against each other. He finds out that she has Koridon, the strange creature that took his mom away, and he heard her talking with the professor about it. It deepens his distain for her— for hanging a relationship with her that he had longed for. Eventually, growing desperate enough, he begs her for her help searching for the mystical herba mystical hidden all over Paldea, bugging her until she begrudgingly agreed. He still hasn’t told her why he was so desperate.. but he promised it would help Koridon.

[cmdrfupa]

Happy Birthday, @courtneedsleep 🫐🫐 This is a Gojo certified fic so I'm hoping its to your liking. You're the best and I hope your day is filled with love!!

an: This is just straight up crack 😮‍💨

Satoru Gojo wasn’t used to struggling. He was the strongest and made sure that rang true with every move he made. But when it came to winning over Courtney, the talented pianist and math wizard, his usual charm wasn’t quite enough.

He first saw her during one of her piano performances in a quiet café, her fingers dancing over the keys with such grace that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Like watching live art as her concentration on the melody made him swoon.

Gojo being Gojo, he figured his usual grin and confident attitude would do the trick. But Courtney? She didn’t bat an eyelash. She hooked arms with her friend and walked out of the cafe, completely focused on her agenda for the day.

That’s when Gojo realized he had a challenge on his hands. “Guess it’s time to consult the experts,” he said with a grin, determined as ever. ‘Something has to work.”

Step One: Seek Advice

Megumi

Gojo’s first stop was, naturally, Megumi Fushiguro. It was always fun to pester the kid, and Gojo was convinced that Megumi secretly knew more about romance than he let on.

“Megumi!” Gojo called, draping an arm over his protege's shoulder. Megumi didn’t even flinch, used to this kind of behavior by now. “I need some advice.”

Megumi’s brows knitted together in a frown as he looked up from his book. “If this is about how to avoid paperwork, I’m not helping.”

“No, no, it’s much more important than that.” Gojo grinned, stepping in front of Megumi and blocking his path. “I need to know how to impress Courtney.”

Megumi paused, looking mildly confused. “Why would you need to impress her? You’re Gojo Satoru. Isn’t that usually enough?”

“That’s the thing! My charm isn’t enough for someone so cool, so demuretsy,” Gojo said, waving his hands dramatically. “So, I need a plan—a real plan.”

Megumi closed his book with a sigh. “Why don’t you just ask her what she likes?”

Gojo’s face fell flat. “Ask her? Megumi, where’s the fun in that?”

“Maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the point. You’re trying to court her. You’re showing her that you are a gentleman.” Megumi muttered, moving to walk around Gojo. “Right now, it sounds like you’re over-complicating things. Again.”

“I am not over-complicating anything!” Gojo protested, trailing after him. “I’m making things better.”

“Uh-huh,” Megumi said dryly, clearly uninterested in Gojo’s theatrics. “Here’s a tip: don’t be strange.”

Gojo gasped. “I am not strange!” He then blinked as Megumi shot him a look. “Okay, maybe a little, but I’m endearing, right?”

Megumi didn’t respond, opting to bury himself in his book again. “She mentioned the chamber music society having a recital later this week. Maybe take her.” he repeated. “Or; Ask her what she likes.”

Gojo huffed, brushing off the lackluster advice. “Fine. I’ll just ask someone who knows what they’re talking about.”

Megumi didn’t even bother looking up. “Good luck with that.”

Shoko

Next, Gojo headed to the infirmary where Shoko was finishing up her rounds. If anyone could give him good advice on wooing someone smart, it had to be Shoko, right? She had brains, after all.

He burst through the door, all energy and smiles. “Shoko! You’ve gotta help me!”

Shoko looked up from her clipboard, raising an eyebrow. “Gojo, I’m busy. What is it this time?”

“It’s important!” Gojo exclaimed, running behind Shoko as if he were a puppy needing instruction. “I need advice on how to impress Courtney.”

Shoko exhaled slowly, setting her clipboard aside. “You want advice from me? Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely! You’re smart, she’s smart, it’s a perfect match.” Gojo flashed a toothy grin.

“Uh-huh,” Shoko muttered, walking out to the courtyard as she took a drag from her cigarette. “And why exactly do you think I’d know how to help you court someone?”

“Because you’re a genius!” Gojo leaned forward, eyes sparkling with hope. “Come on, I need something good.”

Shoko studied him for a long moment, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You could always impress her with math.”

Gojo blinked. “Math? Why math?”

“She’s good at it, right? And you’re essentially a walking TI-84 plus,” Shoko said dryly. “You might win her over with just how smart you can be.”

Gojo looked confused for a moment before brightening. “That’s genius! I’ll show off the mathematician-level math equations and blow her mind.”

Shoko couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out.”

As Gojo prepared to charge off on his new mission, Shoko called after him, “Oh, and Gojo?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Don’t mix up your math and your sorcery,” she smirked. “We don’t need you accidentally summoning something or blowing a hole through someone’s chest while trying to impress her.”

Gojo winked. “No promises.”

Nanamin

After his interesting conversation with Shoko, Gojo’s last stop was Nanami Kento. Convincing the ever-serious sorcerer to help with romance advice was going to be a challenge, but Gojo was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Nanamin!” Gojo sang as he appeared beside Nanami during his lunch break.

Nanami sighed, barely glancing at Gojo as he sat his sandwich down. “I told you not to call me that.”

“But Nanamin,” Gojo grinned, leaning against the wall, “I need your help. This is an emergency.”

“If it’s an emergency, it’s probably because of something you did,” Nanami muttered, not looking up from his newspaper.

Gojo waved him off. “No, no, this time it’s serious. I’m trying to impress Courtney.”

Nanami’s eyebrow twitched. “Why are you asking me for advice?”

“Because you’re reliable!” Gojo said, plopping into the chair across from him. “And Courtney likes smart, down-to-earth people. And I know you used to be pretty close, So, I figured you’d know what to do.”

Nanami set his newspaper down, staring at Gojo like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If she likes smart people, I’m not sure why you’re involved.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Rude! I’m smart in my own way.”

Nanami adjusted his glasses and sighed. “Fine. If you want my advice, Courtney appreciates nature. She tends to go on walks for mental clarity and stimulation. Why don’t you take her somewhere peaceful? Somewhere quiet.”

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “A nature date! Perfect! Thanks, Nanamin, I knew I could count on you.”

Nanami raised a hand. “Don’t… call me that.”

But Gojo was already gone, darting out of the room with his newfound “brilliant” idea. Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting that he had offered any advice at all.

Step Two: Execute Plan… Poorly

After talking to Shoko, Gojo decided that math could be his way in—but not by showing off. No, this time, he’d pretend to be a bit clueless, all to get Courtney’s help. It was a foolproof plan.

Later that afternoon, Gojo found Courtney sitting in a secluded part of the library. A short stack of books on one side as she seemed to be mentally dissecting an equation. Her focus was intense, her brow furrowed as she tapped away at the numbers, slouched with no regard to anything outside of her studies.

“Hey, Courtney!” Gojo greeted, sliding into the chair beside her. “Whatcha doing?”

Courtney looked up, offering him a polite smile. “Just working through my study guide... Why?”

Gojo fidgeted for a moment, trying to appear just a little less confident than usual. “Funny you should mention math. I’ve been having a bit of trouble with…uh…differential equations.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You? Trouble with math? You’re like a calculator on legs.”

Gojo chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I know, hard to believe, right? But it’s true! This calculator is showing an error. I could really use some help. Could you explain it to me?”

Her expression softened, and she nodded, already reaching for her calculator. “Of course. What are you stuck on?”

Gojo slid a piece of paper toward her with a complex problem he’d scribbled down earlier—something he could solve in his sleep, but that wasn’t the point. The point was watching Courtney as she worked, seeing her in her element. She took the paper, her fingers tapping away at the calculator with practiced ease.

“So, let y= mx +c be the equation of all the straight lines touching the circle…” she began, her voice taking on that thoughtful, problem-solving tone Gojo found oddly captivating.

As Courtney leaned in to explain the math problem, Gojo found himself momentarily distracted—not by the numbers, but by her. Something was mesmerizing about the way she moved, the focus in her eyes when she was solving a problem. She had this quiet confidence, not the flashy kind like his, but the kind that came from truly knowing who she was.

She was so damn smart. Smarter than him, even—not that he’d ever admit that out loud. It was the way her mind worked, the way she saw the world, always curious, always asking the right questions. And, of course, she had this incredible talent with the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys as effortlessly as she worked through equations.

But it wasn’t just her intelligence or talent that made her amazing. It was her kindness. The way she was always so patient, even when she knew she was miles ahead of everyone else. She never made him feel stupid, even when he was faking it just to spend time with her. Instead, she made him want to be better—not because he had to, but because he wanted to deserve the way she looked at him.

She wasn’t afraid to call him out, either, her sense of humor sharp but never cruel. She could tease him, and roll her eyes at his antics, but there was always this warmth behind it, like she saw through all his nonsense and still liked him anyway.

He had been with plenty of people before—admired, even loved by many—but Courtney was different. There was no pretense with her. She didn’t care about his title or his power; she cared about the person beneath all of that. And that scared him a little, because, for the first time, it felt like someone saw him. Saw all of him.

And damn, he liked that. He liked her.

Gojo leaned in closer, feigning confusion. “Wait, wait. Can you go over that part again? I’m not sure I follow.”

Courtney glanced at him, her expression patient, though her lips quirked slightly in amusement. “Alright, Differentiating wrt x we gets you dy/dx – m = 0. Here, let me show you.” She tapped a few more buttons on the calculator and handed it over to him, the screen flashing the results.

Gojo stared at the numbers for a second, pretending to concentrate, though in reality, he was more interested in how focused and serious Courtney looked when explaining something. He handed the calculator back. “Wow, you’re really good at this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Courtney smiled, shaking her head. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Gojo tilted his head, his grin softening. “Maybe, but it’s more fun when you explain it.”

Courtney paused, her eyes meeting his. “Are you really having trouble with this, or…?”

Gojo blinked innocently, placing a hand over his heart. “Me? Having trouble with math? Of course not! I just, uh, like spending time with you.”

Courtney stared at him for a moment, then let out a small laugh, realizing what he’d been up to. “So you tricked me into a math lesson just to hang out?”

Gojo leaned back, grinning widely. “Guilty as charged.”

Courtney shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” Gojo teased, his voice warm and playful.

Courtney smiled, unable to argue with that.

While Courtney doodled, Gojo pulled out a small portable keyboard from behind the bench, much to Courtney’s confusion. He set it up quickly, brushing invisible dust off the keys.

“I figured,” Gojo began confidently, “that we could have a little duet since you love music and need could use a little background noise with your drawing! You know, a Toru-Court jam session.”

Courtney tilted her head, both intrigued and concerned. “You… play piano?”

“Of course!” Gojo said, with all the confidence of someone who definitely didn’t know what he was doing. “I’ve got a natural talent for it.”

Courtney sat back, interested to see where this was going. Gojo hit a few keys with gusto, producing a jarring cacophony of sounds that could only be described as an assault on the ears. He attempted a scale, but it sounded more like he was mashing the keys randomly.

Courtney winced, but the look on Gojo’s face—so proud and unaware of how terrible he sounded—made it hard to be mad. He was trying.

“Satoru…” Courtney said, biting back a smile. “Maybe you should stick to your day job.”

Gojo looked up at her, confused for a moment, before laughing sheepishly. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. Music isn’t for everyone.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe it’s not for you.”

Gojo pouted but shrugged off the failure. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit defeat… for now, pretty.”

After failing at both math and music, Gojo was determined to make the nature date his big win. Nanami had suggested something peaceful and quiet, and while Gojo wasn’t sure how to do “quiet,” he figured being in nature would impress Courtney. She loved spending a bit of time outside to clear her mind so this should be perfect.

Gojo planned a late afternoon nature walk. He led her to a beautiful nature reserve just outside the city. The trees were ablaze with autumn colors, and the air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and earth. For the first time this week, Gojo felt like maybe���just maybe—this would go according to plan.

Courtney seemed genuinely relaxed as they strolled through the woods, her eyes scanning the treetops and the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Gojo, for once, managed to keep his mouth shut, enjoying the moment as Courtney spoke softly about the current Sonata she was sight reading for.

But, of course, it didn’t last long.

As they walked, Gojo’s attention was suddenly caught by a bird flitting from branch to branch overhead. His eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Hey, look at that!” he exclaimed, pointing at the bird. “I bet I can catch it.”

Courtney barely had time to process what he said before Gojo was off, leaping into the air as he displayed his athletic abilities, bounding from tree to tree in pursuit of the bird. Leaves fluttered to the ground as Gojo darted through the canopy, his laughter echoing in the otherwise quiet forest.

Courtney stood still, a mixture of confusion and amusement crossing her face. She watched as Gojo, in all his infinite energy, chased after the poor creature like a kid trying to catch fireflies.

Moments later, Gojo reappeared, not with the bird, but holding a very unimpressed-looking squirrel in his hands.

“I got something even better!” Gojo beamed, holding up the squirrel triumphantly as if it were a grand prize.

Courtney’s eyes widened in disbelief before she burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “Toru, put the squirrel down.”

Gojo blinked, looking at the squirrel, who glared back at him with the kind of judgment only a small, furry animal could manage. “Oh, right.” He set the squirrel gently on the ground, and it scurried off without a second glance.

“Why did you…?” Courtney started, still laughing.

Gojo scratched the back of his head, his grin sheepish. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Despite the silliness of it all, Courtney couldn’t help but smile. His efforts, while completely ridiculous, were oddly endearing.

Step Three: Courtship Achieved

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Gojo and Court found themselves lying in the grass by the peaceful riverside. The water reflected the warm glow of the sunset, and for once, Gojo wasn’t trying to show off or do anything outrageous. He just sat there, quietly watching the river flow by.

Courtney glanced at him, a soft smile on her lips. “You know,” she said after a moment, “you don’t have to try so hard.”

Gojo looked at her, genuinely confused. “Huh?”

Courtney laughed lightly. “I like spending time with you. You don’t need to impress me with math, music, or…” She trailed off, smirking. “Squirrels.”

Gojo’s face lit up in realization. “Really? So, you mean I don’t have to catch a deer or something next time?”

Courtney rolled her eyes playfully. “No, definitely not. Just… being here is enough.”

Gojo stared at her for a long moment, his usually carefree expression softening into something more sincere. “Well, that’s easy. I can do that.” He wiggled to lie his head in her lap, grabbing her hand and placing it in his hair. “If you don’t mind.”

For the first time in the entire day, Gojo felt content just being still. As they sat side by side, watching the sun dip below the horizon, he realized that maybe he didn’t need to be the strongest or the most impressive when it came to Courtney. He saw Courtney and Courtney saw him. The strongest and the smartest enjoying the smallest moments in the biggest moments.

“So for your birthday, I was thinking something small, intimate.”

“Wait, huh?”

“Wanna get ice cream later? I think there’s a new shop on the way back to mine. We could also look at an ice cream cake for your birthday!”

She looked down for a moment, “ Satoru, you’re going too go overboard.”

“No such thing.” Satoru yawned out-loud, stretching up to expose his midriff. “I’m Satoru Gojo and you’re Courtney. Overboard is simply the bare minimum when it comes to you.”

Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto!

[infinite-riches]

I Just Want You to Know I Tried

Summary: He felt numb. Ground down. Empty.

His alarm cuts through the silence of his room, not that he needed it. The red numbers blinked brightly in the dim space. 04:45.

C’mon, MacTavish. Get up.

It’s like this every morning.

Or: John "Soap" MacTavish is a burnt out gifted kid who finally hits his limit.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 3090

Warnings: none :)

A/N: Burnt out gifted kid Soap has been bouncing around in my head for the past couple of weeks- enjoy <3

As always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): I Just Want You to Know I Tried

Twenty-nine years old. He had gotten so far in 29 years, and yet it somehow still wasn't enough. 

16.

His mam and da had always told him how proud they were, what a good example he set for his younger sister, and how his older sister could learn a thing or two from him. 

School always came easy to him. He flew through coursework for maths and sciences, especially chemistry, much to the chagrin of his older sister, Isla, who spent many a night pouring over her textbooks, and his younger sister, Nora, who saw his achievements as something to be bested. To top it all off, he was a star athlete— the best goalkeeper the county club had seen in years. 

But when it came down to it all, he didn’t feel like he was enough it didn’t feel like he was doing enough.

Then there was that little flyer— an ad from the local recruitment office plastered with some line about “being more for your country”. That memory of the weekend his cousin brought him on base to show him around cycled through his mind, and what he remembered seemed interesting.

He called his cousin and was on base the following weekend, too.

It became a habit. Eventually, it was less about seeing his cousin and more so about talking to his roommate, who specialized in demolitions. 

Soap was hooked. He could imagine the formulas and calculations in his head, and it finally felt like something big was clicking into place for him. 

18. 

Try as he might, they couldn’t let him join until he was properly 18, no matter what story or excuse he came up with. But once he was in? It was everything he needed— the structure that helped him thrive in school, the firm commands like the ones his football coach gave, plus, the goal of making the SAS shining in the distance.

No one could deny how driven John MacTavish was. He excelled in every aspect of training and even then didn’t let himself stop. His commander had his recommendation for the special forces written up before John could even ask— 3 months before he was even eligible. 

John pushed himself even harder. He trained almost day and night, determined to make it through selection on his first attempt. He got his hands on any training material he could and spent every spare second he had scrounging up any spare information he could get from his CO.  

20.

It was the hardest 5 months of his life. And at the end of it all, he became the youngest to ever pass selection. All his hard work had paid off in spades, but he still wanted more. 

So he learned everything he could. Took the opportunity for specialized training, devoured whatever books he could get his hands on, worked out until his muscles ached and begged for mercy, studied until he fell asleep atop his notes— whatever he could to try and quell that desire for more. 

He was Icarus, flying higher and higher. 

25.

He was home for the holidays when his phone rang. It was John Price. 

“I’m heading up a new task force and want y-” had barely left the older man’s lips when John said yes. 

He was on a flight out a week later, despite his family’s protests and Isla’s pleas for him to slow down and enjoy life just a little while he was young.

The words did nothing to shake his hunger like his sister had hoped they would. He was fully consumed by his need for more, and the 1-4-1 was his ticket. He knew he couldn’t throw this opportunity away.

27.

Two years under the leadership of Captain John Price and Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley had pushed him even further. He was supernaturally clean in the field, a menace with C4, and something to be truly feared when he had his hands on his favorite sniper rifle. 

Even with his hardened edge, he retained all the warmth and joy of a ray of sun.

Price and Ghost had decided it was time for him to start taking on more responsibility, starting with the rookies, so Soap took over their training anytime the team wasn't deployed. Rookies looked on as if he was something more than human. An impossibility in the world they all dedicated themselves to. 

And then his bedroom door would shut, and everything would crumble to pieces. Unlike Atlas, he couldn’t bear the weight, and the sky would slip from his shoulders. 

28.

It took every last ounce of strength he had to kick his boots off and shed his sweat-stained clothes. He stood under the scalding stream until his skin went numb, the thought of having to wash his hair a nauseating concept. 

The words still rang in his ears. “Son, I think you should look into officer training.”

Price wanted more. He wasn’t enough.

It was all too much.

29. 

He had every intention to go for his officer training, but then there were the missions. More and more just kept landing on Laswell’s desk, and in turn, they were handed down to Price. 

He felt numb. Ground down. Empty. 

His alarm cuts through the silence of his room, not that he needed it. The red numbers blinked brightly in the dim space. 04:45.

C’mon, MacTavish. Get up. 

It’s like this every morning. He has to force himself out from between the sheets. Despite how exhausted he is. Despite how much he hates cold linoleum in the mornings. Despite how little coffee helps nowadays. 

The cold air on his warm skin made him shudder. 

He put one foot in front of the other, retracing the same steps from the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that… on and on. 

He all but refused to look at himself in the mirror. He had lost weight, looking gaunt and pale. He could barely remember how bright and full of life he was at 27. 

The day started with a briefing. The data recovery team had finally managed to repair a damaged hard drive retrieved on the last mission. As hard as Soap tried, the information quickly became jumbled and tangled with his other thoughts. 

Ghost had stopped him the night before outside the mess. “Things look like they’re starting to calm down again. Have you given more thought to officer training?”

Soap had felt like he could have crumbled right then and there and finally let the weight of everything overtake and destroy him. 

Instead, he did what he does best and played along, stacking something else on his plate. “Yeah, L.T., still a couple of months out from the next intake, though.”

The memory played on a loop in his mind. Officer training. Officer training? Now? He was so tired already…

The day went by like every other, filled to the brim with training, both his own and his rookies’, plus any mission prep, and now, preparing for officer training. There was no time for anything else, certainly not himself.

And then it was evening— another restless night, tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling. 

Useless. Weak. Lazy. Not enough. Worthless. 

And like usual, Soap found himself on autopilot, feet carrying himself towards the gym. 

The treadmill sounded like pure torture, but he didn’t trust himself to deadlift in this state without a spotter. Punching bag it was. 

He didn’t bother to wrap his knuckles and rarely did anymore, allowing himself to relish in the sting of freshly split skin and warm blood. 

The minutes disappeared one after another, and suddenly Soap was lost deep within his own mind. Too deep to catch himself when the day finally caught up with him, the lack of food making him dizzy and sending him off balance. He collapsed into the bag, blood-slick hands grasping to make purchase on the sweat-dampened material as his knees made vicious contact with the unpadded floor. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there in a haze and didn’t know he was crying, either. Not until Ghost crowded his vision, blocking out the buzzing fluorescents, face twisted in worry, lips moving but strangely lacking sound. 

“-nny! Johnny, can you hear me?” The Scot looked up at him, ocean-blue eyes overrun with tears and confusion clear on his face. 

“Ghost? What-?” Soap tried to put the missing pieces together, but no matter how hard he tried, there were still empty spots. 

Ghost kneeled next to him, the faintest edge of panic in his voice, his firm grasp turning Soap’s face in his hand. “Where are you bleeding from?” 

All Ghost could make out was a mess of smeared blood, sweat, and tears. There were no obvious injuries he could see. He didn’t know if that was better or worse.

“Bleeding?” Soap’s gaze seemed fuzzy as if he were far away.

“Yes, Johnny, you’re bleeding. Please, help me out here…” Ghost was begging. 

Ghost doesn’t beg. The thought made Soap’s head swim even more. He reached up, resting his hand on Ghost’s outstretched arm. “‘m fine, Ghostie.” His voice was thick with tears.

A wounded noise escaped Ghost at the sight of Soap’s knuckles. They were covered in blood, and he could see the edges of torn skin. Blood trailed down the tanned skin he loved so much, wrapping around his firm forearms like trailing vines. “Johnny…”

“‘m fine, L.T.” Soap started to pull himself away from the Brit, wobbling despite not even being on his feet.

“John, please talk to me. Let me help.” Soap could see the concern and fear in Ghost’s eyes, and that cut him to his core and sent him spiraling.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying, I promise. Please, L.T., I can do this.” Soap’s words were a babbling mess as the tears returned in full force. 

Ghost pulled the smaller man into his chest, holding him tightly and running his fingers through Soap’s hair.

Everything was starting to click for Ghost— the way Soap’s eyes didn’t shine like they used to, how his smile no longer reached his eyes, the way his laugh sounded dull. His Johnny was falling apart, and that thought made Ghost want to fall apart. 

He knew he and Price had been pushing the Scot, but the man had never given any indication that it was too much. He took everything he was given in stride and seemed ready for more at any moment. 

“Shh, Johnny. It’s okay, it’s okay…” He pulled Soap even closer, trying to soothe the broken man. “Everything is okay.”

It took Soap about an hour to snap out of the breakdown he had been stuck in. 

And with one look, Ghost broke Soap’s walls, and everything came pouring out.

“I can’t do it, Ghost. Ever since I was little, I was supposed to be the best. School, then football, then the army. It was good at first, easy even. Took in everything I could get my hands on. But then the energy just… disappeared. And I tried. I tried to keep going and keep getting better. I tried to be everything you and Price want but I just… I can’t. It's too much. I’m sorry. I can’t be everything you want, and I understand if you want me off the team, I just want you to know I tried.” His words were interrupted with little sobs as he laid his soul bare for Ghost, head buried in the larger man’s chest.

And Ghost finally understood why Soap looked like a husk of his former self— because he was. He had given everything until there was nothing left, and then still kept trying. 

“Oh, Johnny…” Ghost guided the Scot back, gently cupping his face with both hands. “I love you just as you are. Never could want more than what you are, ‘cause you’re perfect, Johnny. And I’m so sorry I didn’t see what this— what I was doing to you.” He placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, holding him close yet again as the sobs returned. 

“You love me?” His voice was soft, stuttered, and choked with tears as he lifted his eyes to see Ghost’s, the barest glimmer of hope shining through. He had feelings for his lieutenant that ran deep, but he always assumed they were one-sided. That the flirty banter was just something to break the tension on missions, something that carried over from Las Almas. 

A small laugh rumbled through Ghost’s chest as he cupped Soap’s jaw in his hand, his thumb brushing against the stubble. “Yes, Johnny. I love you. Now let's get you cleaned up.” Carefully untangling Soap from his arms, he began to push himself to his feet.

“Wait!” Soap caught Ghost’s arm, bloodied fingers wrapping around the pale skin of his forearm, catching the man before he could stand. Ghost caught his gaze, looking for what else could be wrong. The concern made Soap melt a little more.

“I love you.” Soap pulled the larger man into a surprisingly bone-crushing hug for how worn he looked. “And I hope you still want me…” The words came out muffled from where he had buried his face in Ghost’s neck.

“Johnny,” Ghost felt like his heart had just split straight down the middle, torn apart by the Scot’s worry. “I’ll always want you. Don’t ever doubt that.” 

He placed a gentle kiss on the crown of Soap’s head despite the balaclava, and let the man find comfort in his chest for a few more moments. “C’mon, you need your rest.”

Without any protest from Soap, they untangled themselves, getting to their feet. Ghost guided Soap through the halls, hands intertwined, not fully able to trust that Soap wouldn’t lose his balance with how out of it the man looked. 

Soap gave Ghost a look as they walked straight past his door, but Ghost only carried on, not stopping until they were at his door. He directed Soap inside and to the edge of the bed, placing another masked kiss on his forehead. “Stay here, I’m just going to get some things for your hands.”

Soap could hear the tap start to run in the small connected bathroom as he let his eyes wander. The space was clean and organized with precision, not unlike his lieutenant. The one space that captured his attention was the windowsill. It was cluttered with photos, some torn or worn with age, blackened at the edge, others that were well kept but just as old— none of them were recent. Soap could only assume they were family, but he couldn’t know for sure, because it wasn’t something Ghost had ever talked about. 

“Johnny?” Ghost was standing at the head of the bed, not wanting to sneak up on the Scot. 

“Hmm?” Soap caught his gaze and blushed, not expecting to find Ghost without his mask. He dropped his eyes to the floor and shifted over, making more space for Ghost.

“No need, love.” Ghost knelt on the floor in front of Soap, gently lifting his hand and beginning to carefully clean his bloody knuckles. Soap hissed and jerked at the sensation, trying to busy himself with studying the room, the sudden itch to do something returning.

Ghost noticed the way Soap seemed agitated by being left to do nothing. Initially, he thought it to be the Scot’s natural drive, but now it seemed more likely to be driven by whatever anxiety had pushed him past his breaking point in the first place. 

“Talk to me, Johnny. Tell me about that new chemical composition you were testing last week.” Soap seemed to relax a little at that, his mind undoubtedly finding comfort in the familiarity of something that came so easily to him. 

Ghost worked as Soap prattled on, explaining all the different components he had tested and why. The ease with which he spoke made Simon smile. It had become so commonplace to see Soap so wound up that this was like a breath of fresh air. This was his Johnny, the one he had fallen for all those months ago in Las Almas. 

As Simon finished, it was painfully obvious that Soap was flagging. His eyelids were heavy, and he was starting to sag back into the mattress. Gently, Simon helped Soap out of his bloody mess of a t-shirt and into one of his own, laughing to himself at the way it hung off Soap’s slightly smaller form. 

“I’ll be back, okay? Just going to get myself ready for bed. You get comfortable.” Simon placed a kiss on his forehead, lips warm on Soap’s cool skin.

“Here?” The confusion was clear on Soap’s face, despite the exhaustion.

Panic began to rise in Simon’s chest, worried he was pushing too fast. “Do you want to go back to your room?” His words were soft, not wanting to pressure the exhausted man.

Soap thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not if you want me here.” Soap couldn’t resist anymore, desperately craving to be held in Simon’s arms, to let someone else do all the heavy lifting, just for a little while. 

“Always. Get yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” The door to the bathroom clicked closed, with the moonlight being the only thing to illuminate the space now. 

Soap looked over his freshly bandaged knuckles, gently rubbing his fingers over the tape. 

Simon loves me. He wants me. Wants me how I am. 

It felt good to be wanted, especially by the man he had been pining after for so long, but he couldn’t deny how unsteady he still felt. Everything still weighed so heavy on his shoulders. 

He shook the feeling away, kicking off his sweatpants and slipping in between the sheets of Simon’s perfectly made bed. He was hit by the subtle scent of peppermint, cedarwood, and eucalyptus, somehow warm and cool and home all in one scent. He let himself melt into the comfort of the space, the gentle sounds of Simon rummaging about in the bathroom providing the white noise that was making it harder and harder to stay awake. 

Soap startled at the mattress dipping next to him, rubbing the first dregs of sleep from his eyes.

“It's just me, Johnny, go back to sleep.” Simon's voice rumbled through the quiet space. Soap nodded, humming happily as he felt Simon lay behind him, an arm thrown over his waist to hold him close. 

“Love you, Simon.”

“Love you, Johnny.”

[the-ellia-west]

Ask time!

I don’t know Finn very well… how would he describe himself, and how would you describe him?

Thank you for the ask! *Blue is Finn, White is me*

-

I'm not the beat guy in the world, but I try my best, I love my friends and I want to make the world a better place. I've got some skills in ethics, law, and math, I love the outdoors and I hate being inside for long periods of time. I want to be able to fly! It's like having one hand tied behind your back. I just want to be free, but I also want to settle down somewhere. Get Married! Have a kid or something! I never really had a family. Well... I did once. Before he went and Screwed it up! ...I need to stop doing that. I hold grudges easy and it's something I'm trying to fix.

I like to help where I can, and I don't want anyone to get hurt, especially not for me. But I can't be everywhere, and I'm not sure if I'm even right half the time. Uhm... I like fighting with a sword, talking with Morena, stargazing, calligraphy, telling stories, and travelling. I've never settled somewhere that really felt like home, and I'm starting to wonder if that place even exists at all.

I dream one day of finding other people like me, and maybe if she'll take me, asking Morena to join me in the sky, searching for some place to call home. I love her. But sometimes, I wish I had more than just her.

-

Finn is a loyal loving leader who wants to do the right thing and help as many people as he can! He's a bit emotionally unintelligent but very booksmart and knows what he's doing.

He wants a family and a bit of stability in his life. He's very protective as he's scared of losing the only thing he has, and he often dreams of 'the good old days' and sometimes wishes things wouldn't change at all. He's very thoughtful and deeply determined.

He's not perfect, but he tries his best. And he's the most morally aligned of the group as well as the most prepared and the best decision maker.

Thank you so much for the ask! Please drop any opinions and questions in the comments or reblogs!

[tammyblackday]

Odd.

Throughout my lifetime, I've mimicked the people around me to learn how to "people" properly. I've been made fun of my whole life for how I talk, behave, walk, respond to others, request information, interpret instructions, hate certain foods/textures/sounds, etc.

When I was in kindergarten, I got into an argument with an adult about which bus I was supposed to be riding and was told to get on the bus they said.

It was the wrong bus. I got in trouble.

When I was in first grade, I watched a little boy with a sprained ankle get extra attention and treats. The next day, I showed up with an ace bandage poorly wrapped around my ankle. I limped (on the wrong foot). Eventually, the teacher called me out about it in front of the whole school.

It was a lie. I got in trouble.

When I was in the third grade, I wore my sister's red sequenced ballet costume to school under my green zip up sweater. My mom caught me walking home from school with my sweater off. She yelled at me to get into the car.

I never saw the green sweater again. I got in trouble.

When I was in the fifth grade, I watched a girl my mom was babysitting put glue all over the dresser drawers in my room. She then ran downstairs and told my parents that I was ruining the furniture. When they came upstairs, I was desperately trying to clean up her mess.

They believed her. I got in trouble.

Later that same year, I was at school and hadn't the time at home to do my math homework. When the teacher asked me to pass back other people's assignments, I erased someone's name and told her that it was my paper. She caught me in the lie but I panicked and convinced her it wasn't a lie. I had a full blown panic attack in the bathroom. She eventually said she believed me, probably just to calm me down.

It was a lie... but I didn't get into trouble.

I realized that if I pretended to be like other people or lied about being me that I wouldn't get into as much trouble. This is the point in my life I started "acting" normal, started lying to hid my socially-unacceptable behaviors. I stopped arguing with adults. I became agreeable. I dressed in more trendy styles. I stopped hanging around people who would get me in to trouble. Eventually, I would stop drinking, smoking, lying, stealing, etc.

Eventually, I faked my way into becoming a wiser, more socially palatable version of myself. I grew into a determined, outgoing woman who had integrity and values worthy of the people whom I deemed "better" than everyone else because they were successful, made more money, had nice things, ran businesses and government. I would begin connecting with some of the most influential people in my community (a different one, not the one in which I now live).

Then, I started becoming friends with some of them. They let me into their "inner-circle" and I began to see that many of them were no better than the other people throughout my life that I had abandoned in judgement for their socially-unacceptable behaviors from which I had strived so hard to disassociate.

It was all a lie. I was lost and confused.

This all came to be my awareness after meeting my husband. I started adapting my behaviors to better match his. I started listening to what other people said about us. I harshly judged myself for not be "good enough" for his higher quality of life through the wealth he'd built. I tried to fit into his world. I fell in love with him. He's smart, funny, and hardworking. He provided me with a sense of security that I'd never before experienced. I loved that he had continued being friends with his ex and her husband and had raised her kids as his own and still embraced them as his after they had entered adulthood. He was doing and being everything I felt I wanted in my life.

It wasn't a lie... but it wasn't the truth. I was the odd one.

There's no point to this story. There's no profound moment. Simply me realizing that I have been duped by all of society into suppressing the amazing qualities of me. I'm talented in writing, singing, photography and so much more. I have a unique fashion sense with a confident air about me, despite my social awkwardness. I think it comes from those early life moments when I didn't know it wasn't okay to argue with an adult, when I knew the truth from a lie and stood up for what was "right" no matter the consequence.

This weekend, my husband's daughter and her family stayed with us. I like them all. They're good people. She and I had a conversation about things I'd not ever really shared with anyone regarding my own financial issues and contributions to our household. It turns out that when I demanded a prenup to protect my husband's assets and keep others from believing I was actually after his wealth, they were led to believe that it was him who instigated it. It turns out that they thought I was "odd" and only in it for the money.

Well, they were right about one thing-

I'm odd.