#twelve and fifteen hate capitalism

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

[youremy-celebrity]

god's favourite // my hero academia (social media au) [on hold]

a part of me hated all of you

shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

genre: youtuber/influencer au, fluff, crack, a lil angst, wealthy yn

warnings: swearing, sexual themes, capitalism haha, violence, bakugo is in this a little bit

disclaimer: i'm going to do my best to portray an influencer lifestyle as well as a heiress lifestyle without any personal experience lol so if its inaccurate i'm sorry! also i'll be using blackpink members as a "face claim" for yn so haters go away 😠

taglist open! send an ask to be added :]

profiles!

part one: gonna sound like an ass but

part two: somebody woke up and chose violence today

part three: don't praise the job stealers

part four: ok boomer

part five: you a radar or smth

part six: thank the lord you didn't embarrass yourself

part seven: gotta milk it while i can

part eight: please don't ruin my life

part nine: nice political answer

part ten: even after i told him to be nice

part eleven: whatever

part twelve: bc that's a felony

part thirteen: ahem

part fourteen: truly breathtaking

part fifteen: who is it

part sixteen: text y'all soon

part seventeen: you're fucking famous

part eighteen: i trust hitoshi

part nineteen: i just need some space for now

part twenty: the morning after

part twenty-one: can’t wait to fire all of them

part twenty-two: aren't you a ray of sunshine

part twenty-three: ya sure fam

-

main masterlist

<3

[goodluckclove]

I'm having a lot of fun talking with people about why they struggle in their writing, and I figure I'd share a little bit about what would keep me from writing. It's especially relevant given how soon Blind Trust is coming out - and, like I said, if you're willing to be real to me I'll be real right back.

I'll put it under a read more, as I've had the amount of alcohol that it takes me to be extra loose - meaning half of one canned cocktail. And I don't want to freak anyone out who doesn't want to see me feel a little more angsty than I tend to be online. But as I said before, I want to be honest about the craft as much as I urge others to be.

Here we goooo. Say goodbye to proper capitalization babies, Dad's getting funky.

so i started writing when i was twelve years old. i wrote carnation, a 10k word zombie novella about thinly-veiled representations of me and my two best friends at the time fighting zombies. it wasn't very good. i never wrote anything before. i enjoyed it though, so i proceeded to keep writing, near-constantly for the next fifteen years.

here's the thing, though, and it's something i don't see a lot of elder writers talk about. probably because it's not a super pleasant thing to hear, but i'm pretty sure i could pull it off.

uh, my name is clove gardener. i'm twenty-seven years old now. and i do not think i'm that good of a writer.

i don't think i'm bad. i mean, i've been published. i've worked as a copywriter and a ghostwriter. i've written for work for a few years now, so - like - objectively it must be passable. i don't hate my writing. i think it's accessible, which is cool. but if you were to ask me hey do you think you're a good writer? i would skirt around the question without answering directly until i could figure out a way to change the subject.

at this point i don't think that's going to go away. the improvement, though, has been that i barely think about that anymore. it's like there's a little dipshit in the back of my head, and occasionally he will hiss-whisper this is shit what are you doing until I find a way to shut him up.

i kind of feel like that's just the thing that happens when you're a writer. it's the camp i'd rather be in, at least. because the alternative is that i'm a really good writer who might consider themselves capable to claim authority and tell you how to do things i actually know nothing about. i'd rather have doubt. maybe less than what i have now, but still.

writers, i think, overlap with theater kids in the sense of being dramatic little piss babies. i am proud to say that i am significantly less of a piss baby than i potentially could be, especially considering that i'm in writing and theater. but you're bound to be a little dramatic at some point.

i think in the six-ish months since i've started blind trust, i've had maybe two creative existential crises. that's pretty good. that's reasonable. and they were not too unproductive either. i've learned that you can feel whiny and pitying and scared and self-loathing, and still do the thing.

i don't think you should publish your book. cool, ryan (i named my inner dipshit ryan). i'm doing it anyway.

nobody actually wants to pay money for it. yeah, ryan. maybe.

you're a terrible writer. i like it, though. i want to see how it ends. so let's keep going.

if you're wanting to publish/self-publish, and you think you don't have a chance because you aren't a beacon of self-assurance and confidence - guess what, buddy, i don't think many of the greats were. it's almost a stereotype i've seen of famous writers also being angsty weirdos who crumble into despair because the apple they ate was slightly too mealy (this is based on nothing but i can see it happening to kafka). if you think you can't be a writer because you aren't like me - friend, colleague, son, daughter, child, we are both angsty weirdos and that's okay.

last week i sobbed because riley showed me a video where a kiwi bird was sad and we had to spend the rest of the night watching videos of kiwi birds before donating to a kiwi bird charity. i make one phone call to the doctor and i have to lie down for the rest of the day. i am kind, i am fun, i am funny, and i am also like three bad dice rolls away from a breakdown. you can be both of those things. i have nuance.

i'm fine, by the way. it's been a good day. i'm just stressed about publishing because the thought of asking people to pay Human Currency for my work makes me deeply uncomfortable. but we're going to fucking deal with that, aren't we, ryan?

i don't know if this is unprofessional to reveal, but if it convinces one person to pursue a life in writing even though they sometimes take a trip to the Panic Zone, fuck it. i'm fine, you're fine, we're all going to be fine.

we should name our inner dipshits. drop your dipshit names below. ryan is your classic little goblin, but he's dressed like an e-boy. i think he vapes. i hate him.

[orthodoxadventure]

Bright Tuesday

Commemorated on May 7

Commemoration of Saints Raphael, Nicholas and Irene of Lesbos

The audacity of those who hated the Icon of the Lord and the might of the godless came to Nicaea, /and those who were sent there inhumanly tortured a widow who devoutly revered the Icon of the Mother of God; but by night, she and her son cast the Icon into the sea, crying out: “Glory to you, O pure one, for the impassable sea has given you its shoulders. Glory to your straight way, O you who alone are incor­rupt.”

You strove in contest on Lesbos for the sake of Christ God; sanctifying her by the discovery of your relics, O blessed martyrs. Therefore, we honor you, God-bearer Raphael, together with Nicholas the deacon, and the virgin Irene, as our divine protectors, and intercessors with the Lord.

The Newly-Appeared Martyrs of Lesbos, Saints Raphael, Nicholas and Irene These Saints were martyred by the Turks on Bright Tuesday (April 9, 1463) ten years after the Fall of Constantinople. For nearly 500 years, they were forgotten by the people of Lesbos, but “the righteous Judge... opened the things that were hid” (2 Maccabees 12:41). For centuries the people of Lesbos would go on Bright Tuesday to the ruins of a monastery near Thermḗ, a village northwest of the capital, Mytilene. As time passed, however, no one could remember the reason for the annual pilgrimage. There was a vague recollection that once there had been a monastery on that spot, and that the monks had been killed by the Turks.

In 1959, a pious man named Angelos Rallis decided to build a chapel near the ruins of the monastery. On July 3 of that year, workmen discovered the relics of Saint Raphael while clearing the ground. Soon, the Saints began appearing to various inhabitants of Lesbos and revealed the details of their lives and martyrdom. These accounts form the basis of Photios Kontoglou’s 1962 book A Great Sign (in Greek).

Saint Raphael was born on the island of Ithaka around 1410, and was raised by pious parents. His baptismal name was George, but he was named Raphael when he became a monk. He was ordained to the holy priesthood, and later attained the offices of Archimandrite and Chancellor.

In 1453, Saint Raphael was living in Macedonia with his fellow monastic, Deacon Nicholas, a native of Thessaloniki. In 1454, the Turks invaded Thrace, so the two monks fled to the island of Lesbos. They settled in the Monastery of the Nativity of the Theotokos near Thermi, where Saint Raphael became the Igoumen.

In the spring of 1463, the Turks raided the monastery and captured the monks. They were tortured from Holy Thursday until Bright Tuesday. Saint Raphael was tied to a tree, and the ferocious Turks sawed through his jaw, killing him. Saint Nicholas was also tortured, and he died while witnessing his Elder’s martyrdom. He appeared to people and indicated the spot where his relics were uncovered on June 13, 1960.

Saint Irene was the twelve-year-old daughter of the village mayor, Basil. She and her family had come to the monastery to warn the monks of the invasion. The cruel Hagarenes cut off one of her arms and threw it down in front of her parents. Then the pure virgin was placed in a large earthen cask and a fire was lit under it, suffocating her within. These torments took place before the eyes of her parents, who were also put to death. Her grave and the earthen cask were found on May 12, 1961 after Saints Raphael, Nicholas and Irene had appeared to people and told them where to look.

Others who received the crown of martyrdom on that day were Basil and Maria, the parents of Saint Irene; Theodore, the village teacher; and Eleni, the fifteen-year-old cousin of Saint Irene.

The Saints appeared separately and together, telling people that they wished to be remembered. They asked that their icon be painted, that a Church Service be composed for them, and they indicated the place where their holy relics could be found. Based on the descriptions of those who had seen the Saints, the master iconographer Photios Kontoglou painted their icon. The ever-memorable Father Gerasimos of Little Saint Anne Skete on Mount Athos composed their Church Service.

Many miracles have taken place on Lesbos, and throughout the world. These Saints hasten to help those who invoke them, healing the sick, consoling the sorrowful, granting relief from pain, and bringing many unbelievers and impious individuals back to the Church.

Saint Raphael is tall, middle-aged, and has a beard of moderate length. His hair is black with some grey in it. His face is majestic, expressive, and filled with heavenly grace. Saint Nicholas is short and thin, with a small blond beard. He stands before Saint Raphael with great respect. Saint Irene usually appears with a long yellow dress reaching to her feet. Her blonde hair is divided into two braids which rest on either side of her chest.

Saints Raphael, Nicholas, and Irene (and those with them) are also commemorated on Bright Tuesday. Dr. Constantine Cavarnos has given a detailed account of their life, miracles, and spiritual counsels in Volume 10 of his inspirational series Modern Orthodox Saints (Belmont, MA, 1990).

The Appearance of the Ivḗron (Portaίtissa) Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos on Mount Athos

This Icon was the property of a pious widow who lived in the area of Nicaea in Asia Minor during the time of the iconoclastic Emperor Theophilos (829-842). When the Emperor’s men arrived there to find and destroy every holy icon, this faithful widow threw the wonderworking Icon of the Theotokos into the sea. Then she beheld a strange wonder. The Icon stood upright on the water and traveled westward across the waves in this position.

After a time the Icon arrived in front of the Ivḗron Monastery on Mount Athos. A certain ascetic named Gabriel took it from the water, and gave it to the monks. They built a small church for the Icon near the gate of the monastery, and placed the Icon there. From that time it was known as the Portaίtissa, or Gate-Keeper.

Since then the Most Holy Theotokos has worked many miracles through her holy Icon. She has cured those who were possessed by demons, healed those who were lame, and given sight to the blind. At the same time, she has protected the monastery from every danger and saved it from invasions of foreigners. Among those who received benefit from the Portaitissa was a Russian princess, the daughter of Tsar Alexei Michailovitch (1651).

The Icon arrived at the Holy Mountain on Bright Tuesday in 1004. Therefore, the Ivḗron Monastery celebrates this radiant festival even to the present day. The Divine Liturgy takes place in the church by the sea, where a spring gushed forth at the place where the Icon had rested.

The Ivḗron (Portaitissa) Icon is also commemorated on February 12, March 31, and October 13.

Ktitórissa or Bematárissa Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos of Vatopaidi Monastery. (Παναγία Κτιτόρισσα ή Βηματάρισσα)

When certain Arabs invaded Vatopaidi Monastery, Hierodeacon Savva, the Bematáris (custodian of the sanctuary) was responsible for the sacred relics and other valuables kept there. He managed to hide the Icon and Constantine's Cross in a well of the Holy Altar, with an oil lamp burning before them. The monastery was looted and the monks were taken captive and brought to Crete. Seventy years later, Hierodeacon Savva was released and he returned to his monastery. There he found some young monks whom he didn't know, and they knew nothing about the hidden relics. Then they uncovered the well and discovered the Icon and the Cross standing upright upon the water, with the oil lamp still burning!

Today the Ktitórissa Icon is in the synthronon (stone seats behind the altar) of the Holy Sanctuary, and it is also called the Foundress, or Builder, because her discovery may be related to the rebuilding of the monastery by three brothers (the monks Athanasios, Nicholas and Anthony) who lived there around the end of the X century.

In memory of this event, the Paraklesis (Canon of Supplication) to the Theotokos is sung every Monday evening, and the Divine Liturgy is served every Tuesday morning in the katholikon. The Ktitórissa Icon is honored on Bright Tuesday, when it is taken around the Monastery in procession.

The Martyrs of Saint David of Garesja Monastery in Georgia in 1616 (also April 4)

Venerable Patápios, Nikon, and Hypomonḗ.

These Saints struggled in a cave where the Monastery of Saint Patápios was built (in the metropolis of Corinth). There the skulls of Saint Patápios the New and Saint Hypomonḗ are treasured, and also the jaw of Saint Nikon the New. These holy relics were placed in silver reliquaries by the Most Reverend Metropolitan Panteleimon (Karanikola).

Saint Patápios is also commemorated on December 8.

[Text from OCA]

Although your holy Icon was cast into the sea by the widow who could not save it from its enemies, O Theotokos, it has been shown as the Guardian of Mount Athos and the Gate-Keeper of Ivḗron Monastery, driving the Enemy away and delivering those who honor you from all misfor­tunes and dangers.

Let all of us honor the Holy Martyrs who contended for Christ as our protectors and wonderworkers, whose relics were hidden beneath the earth for many years, and who have revealed themselves to us in wondrous ways: Raphael, Nicholas, and Irene, as well as those who contended with them, as protectors and wonderworkers.

[heartstringsduet]

Oversharing

I was tagged by @chaotictarlos @carlos-in-glasses @welcometololaland @alltheprettyplaces ONE: Are you named after anyone? I'm actually nearly named after my mom. My dad insisted but her nickname was Michelle and she didn't really want me to be called that and steal it from her. Oops? Dad won?

TWO: When was the last time you cried? Sunday.

THREE: Do you have kids? No and getting closer to 90% of not wanting any and if then probably adopted.

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot? Not a lot but not opposed to it.

FIVE: What sports have you played/do you play? When I was 10, I tried to join a gymnastics class. At the very first lesson the teacher pulled me aside and told me I wasn't good enough to join because my body wasn't made for it (aka not bendy enough). Yeah. That motivated me a LOT. Hates PE always though. Why fucking grade that? Only now in my twenties do i feel like sports can be fun. I'm still not good at any though.

SIX: What’s the first thing you notice about people? If their face is kind.

SEVEN: What’s your eye colour? Grey-blue.

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. (though that question is weird. Sad endings would have made a better comparison no? Anyway.)

NINE: Any special talents? Not to brag but I'm the clumsiest person you'll meet. Bella Swan? You've got nothing on me, babe. If I don't die in the weirdest stupidest way possible I'll have let myself down. Pretty sure my friends would like to put me in bubble wrap.

TEN: Where were you born? The capital that Berliners live in because Berliners are people not donuts.

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies? Writing, drawing/painting, embroidery, cooking, going on walks, being a hobby therapist, biking, watching silly reality tv, dancing (only Just Dance, don't think I go back on my statement on sports earlier), singing, photography.

TWELVE: Do you have any pets? No. But throwing myself on the pets friends or family have if they're cuddly.

THIRTEEN: How tall are you? 163 cm. A tiny square.

FOURTEEN: Favourite subject in school? English, German, Math, biology

FIFTEEN: Dream job? I don't dream of labor. (but also, someone pay me for my writing and art pls.) I tag @herefortarlos @strandnreyes @miidnightraiin @actual-sleeping-beauty @wtfuckevenknows

[directlyat-thesun-moved]

Bishova December Day 22: Trick Shopping

(so I’m at the point of making my own prompts if I don’t like the original one.)

“I hate capitalism,” Yelena huffed, carrying an empty shopping basket through a target.

“You don’t hate capitalism,” Kate corrected her, “You hate getting gifts for people.”

Yelena sighed dramatically. “There are so many options, and there are three children to buy things for! Between us, that’s six gifts just for the kids. If we include Laura, Clint, and each other, that’s twelve gifts total.”

“Come on,” Kate said, changing the subject as she pulled Yelena toward a display of toys. “Nathaniel might like these.”

“There are fifteen different brands, Kate Bishop!”

[two hours later]

Yelena flopped down on the couch. “That was exhausting. How do you do all of that every single year?”

Kate shrugged. “I dunno, it doesn’t feel like that big of a deal to me.”

It was then that Yelena realized Kate was holding a roll of tape. “What’s that for?”

“Wrapping presents, of course.”

Yelena had to physically hold back a scream. “We’re not done?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

@on-the-outside @pride-potato @i-dont-know-nor-care-go-away @delphiniumblooms @cartersbishova @geeky-gay-greek @agentramsey

[bzedan]

💖thank you for the tag @onceuponabibliophisla

ONE: Are you named after anyone?

Theoretically no, but it was pointed out my first name is much like a girl version of an Irish ballad about a highwayman. My middle name is a version of a parent's and it is getting changed big time baby when I can afford it.

TWO: When was the last time you cried?

I was having a Rough Time™ in May and had a big sob. Mostly I'm more one to have their eyes water at a few tropes I'm quite soft for and a book I finished recently got me good.

THREE: Do you have kids?

Not at all and cannot!

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Rather a bit. But I also like more direct shittery so I think my application of sarcasm is often overplayed for the bit.

FIVE: What sports have you played/do you play?

I was in dance for quite a bit as a young person, then track. I like putt-putt, which isn't a sport but I mean it's the closest I actively desire/pursue.

SIX: What's the first thing you notice about people?

Clothing/accessories and hair, because it's a nice way to get a cold read on how the rest of the interaction will go. No, I'm an incredibly trusting person.

SEVEN: What's your eye colour?

Technically hazel! But it's a bit of a lovely mess of gold/green/brown that has got me a lot of "you'd be so pretty without glasses" and it's like? Excuse me, these lenses protect you from my Protagonist Eye Colour.

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings?

Why not both?! Love a scare, love a happily ever after, am aware enough of myself that actually, my vibe is haunting and sad and the ending is existential hope.

NINE: Any special talents?

Asking me where to find something will increase your odds of finding it yourself 50% - and I'll also happily look a thing up, if the odds fail.

TEN: Where were you born?

The Grass Seed Capital of the World

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies?

Reading, trying new craft techniques, bookbinding, sewing/embroidery, miniatures (that one is kept in the back pocket because it'll spiral), RPG and puzzle-type video games, thinking about wayfinding as it relates to museums/parks/games, and going to parks, arboretums and botanic gardens.

TWELVE: Do you have any pets?

Cannot in this apartment and at its size I would not want one, tbh. Someday!

THIRTEEN: How tall are you?

A towering 5'2"

FOURTEEN: Favourite subject in school?

Photography, did it all four years of high school, shot for the school paper, etc. Like classic subjects I quite hated them all but Lang Arts was fine.

FIFTEEN: Dream job?

More or less what I am doing, which is solving problems via spreadsheets and doing a lot of work that I call "ship's AI" ("ship, where is X?" "ship, how do you?")

I shan't tag anyone because I am a coward but please grab this for yourself if you desire!

[the-chaotic-christian]

Ember's Blood, Chapter 1: The Capital

Part 1

“Wait here.”

Smalls looks up, surprised out of his bad mood. He doesn’t want to be here, in this overcrowded, dirty city, devoid of any sort of happiness. They had passed two corpses on their way in, and the main square (which they had barely peeked at, they’re not trying to get killed) still smelled of soot and burnt flesh from the day’s executions. No one is out; it’s far past curfew. It makes Smalls uneasy.

“How come?” He asks.

“Because Mr. Jemison won’t appreciate you knocking any of his glasswork over.” Wilfred replies, tone light but hand on his sword. His eyes flick briefly towards Smalls, then back to the shop they’re standing in front of. It’s decrepit and illy cared for, like most buildings in the First Warren. It offers little to look at; Smalls doubts anyone would choose it for a networking base on purpose.

“I wouldn’t knock it over.” Smalls protests, rolling his eyes. Unlike most rabbits of fifteen years, Smalls has the capability to stay quiet and unnoticeable, only making himself known when necessary and slipping into the shadows when it’s not. He’d been trained to do so.

So it’s odd when Wilfred forgets that.

But this isn’t the first time he’s pulled something like this, and it’s growing increasingly annoying. Wilfred’s been acting absurd for weeks now. After the arrival of a letter that had visibly upset him, Wilfred became strangely withdrawn and increasingly quiet. Smalls had even gone so far as sneaking to discover what was in the note; but had been caught to his chagrin. Wilfred hadn’t even lectured him much; not like he usually did.

“We have to go to the capital.” He’d said.

“Why?” Smalls asked, not keen on the idea.

“Trust me.” Had been Wilfred’s only reply.

And a fairly stupid one, in Smalls’ opinion. But he hadn’t bothered pushing. Wilfred wouldn’t crack.

“I’m going inside.” Wilfred interrupts his thoughts, hand trained on his sword, acting as if he hadn’t heard Smalls’ earlier statement.

“Keep watch. If there’s even a hint of trouble-”

“Signal. Yes, I know. I’m not twelve anymore, Wilfred.” Smalls reminds him. I’m nearly sixteen.

Wilfred relaxes slightly, the muscles in the hand clenching tightly around the handle of his sword loosening.

“You’re right. I should trust you. But be careful. There’re wolves on the prowl.” And with that cheerful reminder, he disappears into the dark shop. The building on a whole looks very empty and abandoned to Smalls, and he grimaces, annoyed at being kept in the dark-literally. He begins to pace, hand on the hilt of his sword. The reminder of their enemy sets him on edge, and he wishes more than anything to not be where he is.

Smalls hates The First Warren. The old capital is a crumbling decay and ruined because of the violent occupation. The wall’s being reinforced and finished, and eventually all in-and-out access to the place would be nonexistent. Based on their current information, that ‘eventually’ will become a reality within the next week or so. Smalls and Wilfred need to be gone by then, long, long gone. I’ll go insane if we stay here much longer, He thinks, glaring at the cobbled ground. He sighs and directs his gaze up.

Clouds are gathering above, blocking out the pale sickle moon. Smalls can see raptors circling high up, waiting (and probably hoping) to find someone out past curfew. Smalls knows they can see immensely far and hopes the dark back-road and towering buildings around him will protect against their sight.

Smalls fiddles with his sword pommel, tempted to draw it simply to feel safer. Footsteps approach, the swing of a door and Smalls squints in the darkness to make out the form of Wilfred. His sword is drawn.

“What was that about?” He asks, hoping for a legitimate answer this time around. Wilfred has a bad habit of withholding vital information until the very last possible moment before Smalls needs to know it.

“Some intel.” Wilfred replies vaguely, swinging his pack onto his shoulders in one clean movement and re-sheathing his sword. Wilfred takes off at a fast pace, annoying Smalls. He knows I’m shorter, why can’t I get a break? He jogs to catch up with him.

“What kind of intel?” He questions.

“I’ll tell you in the morning. Are you in a rush, lad?” Wilfred’s pointed look is as-pointedly ignored by Smalls. But he does admit;

“I don’t like it here….It’s……all wrong.”

Wilfred sighs. “I agree. This place isn’t what it should be, the occupation has knarled it into something demented and evil.”

Smalls’ fists involuntarily clench.

He longs to act, longs to restore what’s been lost. But….he’s seen the results of hasty action. And he remembers watching the riots and protests as a child. His mind also unhappily supplies images of the day awful Lord Falcowit had put an end to it all.

“It won’t always be this way.” Wilfred adds.

“I hope so.” Smalls replies, trying not to sound too despondent. He’s tempted to add more, preferably some backhanded, passive-aggressive jab at Wilfred’s frustrating secrecy. But Wilfred apparently can read minds, because the look he gives Smalls is enough to sway him from acting on his inclinations.

“Where are we sleeping tonight?” He asks instead.

“Not in the city.”

“I thought we were staying on for a few more days.” Wilfred shakes his head. “No, we’ll leave tonight.” His tone shifts slightly, and Smalls glances at him, sensing the difference. What is going on? The question’s been rattling around inside his head for weeks now, and he has too little information to answer it.

“Oh, and this is for you.” Wilfred hands Smalls a thin stack of letters, bound together with twine.

“Evan?” Smalls questions, unable to read the address due to the darkness.

“That’s who I assumed.”

I haven’t got anyone else who would write to me, Smalls muses. Evan’s his older brother by a year. They’d spent much of their childhood together and had stayed in touch consistently ever since they’d been split after the massacre. Smalls slips the letters in his pack.

“Where are we going to stop?”

“Where do you think is best?”

“That depends. Which direction are we trying to go?”

“Northwest.”

Smalls considers for a moment. “We’d have to get across the black gap tonight.”

“Yes.”

“And we can’t go to the citadels, yet.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“But the tunnels aren’t completely blocked, correct?”

“Yes.” They stop walking.

“Half-moon would work.” Smalls decides at last. “It’s bound to be empty this time of year.”

“Five miles out.” Wilfred muses. “And at least a two-mile dead run, up and down, over debris and other obstacles. You up for that?”

For the first time since entering the city, Smalls grins. “Always.”

[babydotcom]

imagine you are fifteen years old taking your little sister to the grocery store because your dad is busy and your grandmother is old and you need food. as you turn a corner you accidentally ram your shopping cart into God with a capital G and he promises to show you the world you’ve never seen from inside the ten square miles of your hometown in exchange for your company. you hate the risk but your demigod sister has untapped potential and an unrelenting determination to get ghost, so you follow God with a capital G through heaven and hell and back. God with a capital G is twelve and wiser than even your grandmother and treats everything like a game and he’s your brother now and suddenly you would (and have and will) kill and die for him. your first love becomes a different god and you add her name to the list of things (your childhood, your vulnerability, your parents, your safety) you don’t have the time to grieve right now (or ever) and you become a man on foreign soil and your dad isn’t there to see it. you are fifteen and God with a capital G’s best friend and your little sister-- sisters, now-- are the most powerful demigods on the planet and you are the only one keeping three divine tweens focused on saving the world and you are still not allowed to say fuck.

[wonieleles]

project: stay single — yang jungwon

synopsis: when being the youngest and only girl of the park household, strict parents and overprotective brother and cousins are a given. therefore, park y/n sworn off dating until she enters college (not that she had much of a choice). but when the awkward but terribly cute yang jungwon is placed in her lab group, she finds herself wanting to break the number one rule in her family—no dating till college. or maybe they could be just friends, right?

pairing: classmate!jungwon x fem!reader

genre: smau, high school au, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining (?), instant attraction, forbidden love but not really, fluff, (attempted) crack, slow burn cause they’re two socially awkward kids 😕

warnings: my humor, not grammarly approved grammar, lots of deez nuts jokes, death/suicidal jokes (kinda), inaccurate time stamps, typos (most likely intentional), occasional bathroom jokes will include specific warnings in the chapter if necessary

started: july 7, 2022

status: ON HOLD!

taglist: open! just send an ASK to be added! replies will be ignored.

note: this is my first smau, so please bear with me. also this is not an accurate depiction of any idols since i’m just using them as characters, and therefore will be creating my own version of their personality for this story. i hope this doesn’t upset anyone, i just thought it’d be easier than using random face claims for made up characters

profiles: park family and co | everyone’s favorite idiot nerds | chem hate club

chapter one: sunghoon abuse 😢

chapter two: ALREADY???

chapter three: i was hacked !!!

↳ bonus chapter one: park family shenanigans

chapter four: and they actually talked? without help???

chapter five: chaos at 3am

chapter six: the beginning of the nishimura riki murder plot

chapter seven: god answers prayers (REAL !!)

chapter eight: sunghoon GET OUT OF THE GOD DAMN BATHROOM

chapter nine: ynwonshipper acc (0.4k words)

chapter ten: can i have a lawyer?

chapter eleven: funny story i almost died

chapter twelve: just keeping it 💯 😎😜😆🤩

chapter thirteen: yn’s fbi agent era?

chapter fourteen: oh no

chapter fifteen: the idiots’ dilemma (0.6k words)

chapter sixteen: riki’s metal bat kink (UNCONFIRMED)

chapter seventeen: maybe it’s cause i do … like him

chapter eighteen: jang wonyoung is a liar (with a capital L)

chapter nineteen: autocorrect strikes again?

chapter twenty: be delusional !!

chapter twenty one: sunoo was right 😱

chapter twenty two: hear me out but i think i’m psychic (0.3k words)

chapter twenty three: tutor x tutoree trope?!

↳ bonus chapter two: and they were WHAT??? (0.8k words)

© 2022 wonieleles. all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works on any platform.

[amakumos]

boomerang － jake sim!

SYNOPSIS: you and jake sim have always been academic rivals. it was always you against him for top of the class, and jake is sure that you two were made to hate each other. a couple years later when you debut and become an idol, you find yourself talking to him again - but it’s in a group chat with other aussie idols, and perhaps you realise that he isn’t that insufferable. PAIRING: idol! jake x idol! fem! reader GENRE: smau, crack, enemies to lovers, slowburn kinda, idol au WARNINGS: swearing, ignore timestamps, some alr debuted idols r in a group i created laughs, photos of ive’s yujin will be used as y/n only to visualise the outfit / concept  FEATURING: enhypen, lily of nmixx, felix and bang chan from skz, rosé from blackpink, yoon jia, kim doah and kamimoto kotone from gp999 STATUS: COMPLETE AUTHOR’S NOTE: helloooo here is the jake smau as promised!! my first smau for hyung line woooooooo LETS GAUR !! this is going to b a long one (40 chapters most likely!!) permanent taglist will already b tagged and thank u to sophie @chicksung​ for coming up w the title ^_^ 

EQUATION FOR DISASTER, THE SEQUEL TO BOOMERANG IS OUT NOW!

PROFILES: ONE / TWO

ONE － jake?? fanta spiller jake?? TWO － 5th grade science fair THREE － thank you wikihow FOUR － passive aggressive communication FIVE － hangout gone wrong SIX － oscar winning performance SEVEN － praying on my downfall EIGHT － its going down NINE － this is not slay TEN － forget but not forgive ELEVEN － jay my bff TWELVE － eye twitches THIRTEEN － star crossed haters FOURTEEN － silly little people in my phone FIFTEEN － mr bang pd-nim why SIXTEEN － try not to argue challenge SEVENTEEN － 247 what EIGHTEEN － pure luck NINETEEN － shocking development TWENTY － ur not as bad as i thought TWENTY ONE － selca…? TWENTY TWO － think twice? i dont even think once TWENTY THREE － disbandment era TWENTY FOUR － hatred with a capital h TWENTY FIVE － math olympiad TWENTY SIX － hide from the cameras TWENTY SEVEN － rumour rumour rumour TWENTY EIGHT － oh shit TWENTY NINE － buzzfeed quiz THIRTY － giant question mark THIRTY ONE － sunoo best wingman THIRTY TWO － romance what?? no way THIRTY THREE － you remembered THIRTY FOUR － call that chemistry THIRTY FIVE － in a bro way THIRTY SIX － inkigayo sandwich THIRTY SEVEN － high five THIRTY EIGHT － u + me = ??? THIRTY NINE － disbeliebe FORTY － reunion SPECIAL CHAPTER － manager gc shenanigans

[axwalker]

First Impressions

Thanks to @mskaneko   for the AMAZING edit on the mood board. I was so excited to use it!!! I love it ❤️❤️❤️

Book: TRR

Pairing: I’m boring, Drake x Alexis (MC)

Synopsis: After an awkward first encounter, Drake and Alexis become best friends. They spend all their summers together until something happens in year ten. Will they be able to get over it? Or is their friendship forever doomed? 

WORDS: 860

MASTERLIST HERE

A/N: I wanted to post this last week so I have two @wackydrabbles​     here : 115 (Was that support to hurt?) and 116 (“I don't believe you.”) Both in bold. 

A/N 2: For reasons, almost all chapters are in Alexis’ POV 

THANK YOU TO  @burnsoslow​   for beta reading. You’re such an incredible friend  ❤️❤️❤️. I made some changes after she read, so all mistakes are completely mine! 

Warnings: Some NSFW eventually. And as usual, a very frustratingly stubborn and blind Drake and Alexis. 

I’m kind of nervous about writing a fluffy series where nothing over dramatically happens. I hope you’ll enjoy it. 

For the prologue I’m tagging my whole list, if you don’t like or comment I’ll drop your tag next chapter, no hard feelings! 

 Twelve Summers Ago 

On the night of orientation at the University of Cordonia, I spot him. He's dressed in stonewashed jeans and a U of Cordonia Soccer team shirt, despite having been at college for all of fifteen hours tops. He looks nothing like the sort of artistic, bohemian people I imagined being friends with when I chose a school in the capital. But I'm here alone (Hana, my new roommate,  was basically kidnapped by her parents, who seem oddly strict so she couldn't come to any of the orientation week events), and he's alone too, so I walk up to him, tip my diet coke toward his shirt, and say, "So, do you go to the University of Cordonia?" 

He stares at me blankly. I laugh and say it was a joke. He replies something about spilling on his shirt and a last-minute outfit change. He frowns and my cheeks go pink from embarrassment. And then his eyes dip down to me, sizing me up, and his face changes. I'm wearing a pink floral maxi dress, all my friendship charms, good luck bracelets, and brown leather sandals. Sure it's a little colorful, and I don't match the other girls wearing heels and mini dresses, but he reacts to this fact as if I'm also holding a poster that says "FUCK Jeans" on it. I ask him where he's from because I'm not sure what else to ask for someone with whom I have no other context apart from a few hours of campus tours, a couple of the same boring talks on life in the city, and the fact that we hate each other's clothes. 

"A little town in the south, Valtoria." he answers." 

"No shit!" I say, stunned. "I'm from Valtoria, too! "I'm Lexie," I tell him, admittedly with a little too much excitement.  

"Drake," he says and shakes my hand. When you imagine a new best friend on your first day of college, you never name him Drake. You also probably don't imagine him dressing like a model that your new school paid to dress their clothes, or barely looking you in the eyes, or speaking to you as if he was angry for no good reason beyond his dislike of your colorful -- if a bit hippie -- clothes. I decided that if I'd looked at him for five more minutes before crossing the room, I would've been able to guess that he was a jock from Valtoria, because these two facts match with his snarky attitude and U of Cordonia shirt. I'm sure that the longer we talk, the more excruciatingly boring he'll become, but we're here, and we're alone, so why not be sure? 

"So, what are you here for?" I ask. 

His brow furrows. "’Here for’?" 

"Yeah, you know," I joke, "like, I'm here to meet a wealthy television producer in need of a much younger fifth or sixth wife." That blank stare again. "What are you studying?" I clarify. 

 "I'm going to be a veterinarian." There isn't a hint of doubt in his voice as he answers me, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

"What about you?" I hear him ask in a deep baritone that I'm sure most girls find attractive. Not me; I'm more attracted to kind-looking guys. Brooding and grumpy don't do it for me. 

"Not sure yet." I lift my plastic cup. "Literature or translation. I love theater and dancing, too. Maybe teaching or journalism. There are so many things to do and see. How can you choose only one?"

"Because I love animals."

“I don’t believe you. There are so many things I love. I just can’t seem to commit to anything.”

“Well, I am focused.”  I feel very proud of myself for containing a massive eye roll. 

Over the next painful fifteen minutes, I learn he's here on academic scholarships, and he learns that I'm here on loans. I tell him that I'm an only child if you don't count my duchy stepbrother Trey. He tells me he's the oldest and has one little sister. He asks if I've seen the gym yet, to which my genuine reaction is "Why?" and we both go back to our awkward silence. He is tall, handsome, brooding, eager to see the gym and start his bio classes. I'm tall, too, but not nearly as much as him, loud, bohemian and the thing I want to see the most is the library. Also, I'm hoping someone will come by and invite us to a real party. When I tell him this, he looks at me in a way that makes me wonder if I suddenly grew a second head. By the time we part ways, I'm more than a little disappointed with my first college experience.

Was that support to hurt? I think it was supposed to be fun. I promise myself that I'll talk to someone funnier next time or at least who knows how to smile. Before leaving the party, I  steal a bottle of wine and walk to my dorm, deciding never to talk to that brooding jock ever again. 

[universallywriting]

Let not ignore the rampant sexism and racism in the show and as shown by astrucs tweets himself. Let’s also not ignore how the show does sympathetically portray rich characters. Like come on now.

No piece of media will ever be perfect. Everything you watch is going to contain problematic things. We all live in societies that are sexist and racist that idolize the rich. Unlearning all these things take a lifetime, if it can ever fully be done at all.

If the problematic things in the show make it unenjoyable to you, or racist or sexist to you, that is an opinion you are absolutely allowed to have. But I'm not going to be upset for a show that clearly pushes progressive messages for not pushing them perfectly, while shows that don't even make an effort get a free pass because they just sidestep anything controversial.

The only way we're ever going to get better media is to encourage people to try, to fail, and to correct them and set them on the right path whenever we can.

MLB absolutely has sexism, and racism, and has never come out to say that capitalism is unacceptable and wealth is exclusively gained through exploiting the workers. Like, I'm not crazy. I'm not out here saying that MLB is a flawless show, or that all shows should be like it, or that this is what perfect media looks like.

But I'm going to praise Miraculous for doing shit that other shows aren't doing - just like I praised Steven Universe, and Owl House, and Kipo, and She-ra.

When I was fifteen a group of white kids stared at my face and tried to guess my race like I was an animal in the zoo. When I was twelve I was told that no boy would ever like me if I kept acting so smart and confident. When I was seventeen, a friend laughed and said that bisexuality was fake and something people said when they were afraid of coming out as gay.

I know what hate looks like. I know the awful things this world is full of. I'm not going to stop pointing out when good shit happens, because I know plenty of people who need the reminder that the world is getting better.

There's no need to come to my inbox acting as if I've never thought about the problematic facets of this children's television show. If you would like to have an actual discussion about what I think about specific elements of the show, I am all too happy to discuss and analyze the places where the show fails.

But if you just walk up and say "actually, this is racist" like. What do I do with that? Please come back with shit like "It's uncomfortable that Nino and Alya are paired up as the only dark-skinned POC". Come back with shit like "It's distressing the way the fandom idolizes Adrien and is more concerned with him than Marinette, despite her being the main character". Come back with "It's frustrating that queerness is only vaguely implied, without the overt representation that we're starting to see in other children's shows."

See, I can talk about that. I'd love to talk about that. If you actually care, and you actually want someone to discuss these things with, please hit me up and we'll chat.

But if your goal was just to try to mock me for enjoying a show, consider me mocked. I'm a fool for thinking that MLB is anything but fascist propaganda. Consider me thoroughly shamed.

[myherowritings]

YOU SUCK AT GAMING

— You’re a YouTuber known for your chaotic yet wholesome content and Shinsou is a gamer who keeps getting accused of being an eboy. One day you upload a video trying your hand at gaming and Shinsou tweets out about how much you suck.

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

genre: youtube au, crack, humor, fluff

status: completed

asks: 👾 | memes: 🤡 

warnings: mentions of alcohol and weed, sexual references/humor, toxic past relationships!! (mainly crack/fluff, but contains mature themes and suggestive content; 16+!)  

a/n: eboy!gamer!shinsou is finally here and I’M SO HYPED AHHHH,, beware: this social media au contains dumb gaming references, an overuse of memes and emojis, and big crackhead energy. i really hope y’all enjoy!! xx sof

introductions

🎮 part one - so i’m a gamer now...

🎮 part two - tiktok reject eboy headass 

🎮 part three - a whole ass potluck

🎮 part four - best gamer gorl

🎮 part five - help wanted

🎮 part six - pls forgive me senpai

🎮 part seven - that’s more like it, kitten

🎮 part eight - some weird sort of foreplay

🎮 part nine - hottest clown in clown school

🎮 part ten - e, f, g-boy

🎮 part eleven - first date kinda nervous

🎮 part twelve - save the smooch for later

🎮 part thirteen - ok clout chaser

🎮 part fourteen - anime girl nosebleeds

🎮 part fifteen - what the frickity frackity fuck

🎮 part sixteen - upsetti spaghetti

🎮 part seventeen - are you kitten me???

🎮 part eighteen - y/n’s b-words

🎮 part nineteen - from one e-boy to the next

🎮 part twenty - embarrassed horny uwu love

🎮 part twenty one - think we fooled them?

🎮 part twenty two - just dance party

🎮 part twenty three - bakugou and the condiment bottles

🎮 part twenty four - a denny’s parking lot

🎮 part twenty five - rich ppl stoves

🎮 part twenty six - can we talk?

🎮 part twenty seven - maybe kinda sorta

🎮 part twenty eight - eboy noodle gamer arms

🎮 part twenty nine - just date already

🎮 part thirty - love at first sight

🎮 part thirty one - orgy at denki’s

the end

bonus scenes

👾 valentine’s day special - operation ilovebot

lovely fanart 

🎨 fanmade cover 

🎨 ysag!yn + nn!yn chaos

🎨 tiktok famous eboy!shinsou 

🎨 soft eboy!shinsou 

🎨 our lord and savior eboy!shinsou 

🎨 eboy!bakugou sketch

🎨 eboy!bakugou that makes me fsjfhjkffj

🎨 pt.1: “did an eboy just call me cute?!”

🎨 pt.1: shinsou said damn y/n is cUTE cute 

🎨 game night with a cheating eboy

🎨 eboy!shinsou art that makes me want him to step on my throat

🎨 y/n about to vibe check shinsou’s ass

🎨 crackhead impersonates an eboy and apologizes to herself

🎨 part 2 aesthetic u.u 

🎨 ysag doodles ft. rate the eboy fit

🎨 smol ysag eboy!shinsou sketch

🎨 shinsou aesthetic

🎨 pink y/n aesthetic

🎨 eboy king y/n

🎨 y/n calling shinsou a eboy headass

🎨 y/n + shinsou love child

🎨 “hello ham fam” (y/n turns denki into an eboy!) 

🎨 angsty emo eboy!shinsou

🎨 eboy!shinsou wiTH A BEANIE

🎨 “you’re kinda hot for a dumbass”

🎨 soft plant painter!deku who hates capitalism 

🎨 the y/n duo 🥺 (i’m so soft fhsjfhfs)

🎨 pt.7: “kitten” => y/n is now pregnant

🎨 eboy!shinsou with the floofiest hair

🎨 soft girl!y/n

🎨 y/n as a clown that i would let step on my throat

🎨 ysag edit! 

🎨 bakusquad + y/n youtube sleepover

🎨 the y/n duo cute as always

🎨 rated e for edgy

🎨 gamer gurl y/n

🎨 tired thirst trap eboy shinsou

🎨 doctor daddy and nurse kitten

✏️ “just like that” [shinsou x y/n smut, nsfw, 18+!!!]

🎨 pt.3: eboy!denki but with blond hair 

🎨 y/n in a kitten sweater + thigh highs...i’m ready to risk it all for her

🎨 y/n [redacted] shinsou’s [redacted] during a livestream ;) [semi-nsfw!]

🎨 neko y/n!! 

🎨 ysag cover ft. shinsou with tats

🎨 y/n in cat ear thigh highs and shinsous’ shirt (wifey material)

🎨 eboy!shinsou with a frEAKING LIP BITE YO 

🎨 ynlovebot and ilove shinsou aka best stan accts ever!!

🎨 ghosty todoroki aesthetic wallpaper

🎨 pt.14: shinsou making y/n blush during the livestream

🎨 shinsou the superior eboy

🎨 pretty boy eboy shinsou

🎨 shinsou about to nut [nsfw, 18+!]

🎨 y/n sees wet shirtless shinsou straight out of the shower

🎨 y/n repping shindaddy merch 

🎨 the biggest shiny/n stans

🎨 pt.17: y/n breaking shindaddy’s heart [comic of the party!] 

🎨 shiny/n being cuties [16+, slightly suggestive!]

🎨 pt.18: sleepy shiny/n cuddles!!!

🎨 pt.18: MORE sleepy shiny/n cuddles

🎨 pt.17: kaminari is ready to party

🎨 pt.20: shinsou squishes y/n’s kirby cheeks

🎨 pt.20: y/n falls asleep on shinsou during the livestream

🎨 pt.18: shinsou sleeping on the T I D D Y

🎨 “pasta, you asshole” -- bakugou’s cooking channel

🎨 pt.25: shiny/n angst [only click if you want to cry]

🎨 shiny/n webtoon style!!!

🎨 our fav e-couple shiny/n

🎨 angsty shiny/n mini webtoon tt.tt [tw: domestic violence from akuhei]

🎨 shinsou drawing!

🎨 you suck at cooking -- bakugou naked in an apron 

🎨 shinsou’s forehead tattoo: “date me, you clown”

🎨 e-girl!y/n

🎨 ghost hunter!todoroki tiktok

🎨 pt.30: shinsou and y/n adopt a puppy!

🎨 shiny/n sleepover 

🎨 valentine’s day kny cosplay

🎨 shinsou sketch! 

🎨 eboy gamer shinsou

🎨 denki marshmallows

✏️ “pro gamer move” [nsfw, smut, 18+!]

🎨 eboy!denki

🎨 ysag!shinsou vs. toya!shinsou

🎨 ysag!shinsou @ toya!shinsou (pre-part 25) 

[wayward-lives]

Why do you hate Tony Stark hand over the receipts

There are so many reasons holy shit

First up: this totally misogynistic rape joke in Age of Ultron. For those of you who don’t know, Prima Nocte, also known as Droit du seigneur, was a practice in mediaeval Europe that allowed lords to have sex with any woman they wanted on their wedding nights, even if the woman was unwilling or already married.

Two: This transphobic joke in Iron Man 1:

“Speaking of manned or unmanned, you gotta get him to tell you about the time he (Rhodey) guessed wrong at spring break. Just remember that: spring break, 1987. That lovely lady you woke up with - what was his name? Was it Ivan?”

Three: Taking the law into his own hands and fucking bombing a Middle Eastern village in Iron Man 1

Four: Blackmailing a 15 y/o into fighting for him in civil war (and yes, threatening to tell Peter’s aunt about his secret identity if he doesn’t go to Germany to fight against team cap does count as blackmail)

Five: Trying to fucking murder a brainwashed war veteran for something he had no control over

Six: Fucking off to live a cottagecore life after half the universe has been murdered, giving absolutely no help to the survivors OR his teammates who are trying to rebuild society

Seven: Building a murderbot behind his teammate’s backs, then laying the blame on all of them when the murderbot inevitably tries to kill everyone

Eight: Seeking out Thanos in Infinity War despite Strange’s protests, in an attempt to play the hero

Nine: Fucking over his employees so badly they turn to crime: see the Vulture and Mysterio

Ten: His blatant sexual harassment of Natasha when she was pretending to be his employee

Eleven: Being a fucking asshole to Steve in the Avengers (2012) when Steve has only just come out of the ice, is adjusting to a seventy-year change and culture shock, grief from all his friends being dead and who’s just trying to find some allies

Twelve: Tony Stark is a billionaire, and unless you’re an idiot who doesn’t know how economics and capitalism works, then you’d know that the only way one person can get that much money is to be a selfish dickwad and not give any away and/or fuck other people over

Thirteen: Somehow, without learning his lesson with Ultron, Stark makes a global satellite device that can dispatch a missile to kill anyone on Earth that he wants, and then gives that global satellite device to a child (???????)

Fourteen: Instead of dealing with his PTSD in a healthy way, Tony instead uses it as an excuse to treat all of his friends like shit

Fifteen: Shooting Sam because Sam dodged a missile and it hit Rhodey

Sixteen: He’s literally a warmonger????

Seventeen: He called Harley Keener a pussy when Harley admits that he misses his dad - remember that Harley is literally a child (he’s like eight or something idk I haven’t watched the movie)

Eighteen: Telling Ross about Clint’s secret family

Nineteen: Referred to Wanda, a teenager, as a “weapon of mass destruction” and hinting that she doesn’t deserve human rights

Twenty: Another rape joke, this time told to Whiplash in iron man 2 - when Whiplash is being taken to prison, Tony tells him he’ll “send (him) a bar of soap”. This is a joke about prison rape in the showers - if a man drops a bar of soap, he’ll have to bend over and then be raped

There are honestly so many more reasons but these are the ones I can think of off the top of my head, everyone feel free to add reasons why Tony Stark is literally the worst Avenger

[girls-love-girls1200]

67. Lisa x Reader

*The Job of a lifetime*

2000+ words

Warnings: cursing

When you had first shared your plan to move to the capital with your mother, for some reason the first words that left her mouth were: “Spring days in Seoul are the most enjoyable period of the year, when the cherry trees blossom and the air is crisp.” Her eyes melting into small crescent moons, a kind smile illuminating her soft features, she knew it meant that from that moment on she would find herself alone in your once always loud and full childhood home, but she didn’t mind, in fact she was proud, the youngest of three leaving the nest just after graduation. Ever since you were a toddler your mom had done everything possible to make sure you and your two brothers could live a life that made you happy, money and success had never meant much to any of you, it was always about doing something you loved. That’s why your mom had spent fifteen years of her life picking you up from dance class in her rusty old green beetle from Monday to Friday, attending every recital, sewing your clothes together, applying cream to your bruised legs. She knew that’s how you wanted to live, always on your tiptoes, sometimes on your knees, often on your backside, and so she supported you.

Now her kind words were replaying in your head on a loop, your heartbeat ringing in your ears echoed by your feet hitting the concrete at full speed. You struggled to find a reason as to way karma was battering you so hard, on the morning of probably the most important day of your life so far, not only had you poured spoiled milk onto your cereal, you had also been left stranded by your bus because of a punctured tire. You hated running, you truly believed there was a specific ring in hell for those who enjoyed the satanic activity of jogging, yet on this day you were running like no woman had ever run before. By some divine miracle you had managed to push through to the final interview round for a position as first dance assistant to one of the most renowned choreographers in the country, hundreds of extremely talented dancers had applied for the sought after position, today only twelve were left, eleven if you didn’t make it before the doors to the dance studio closed. By a stroke of luck you reached those doors as attendance was being called, bowing as you entered the room you zoomed pass the examiners, swiftly joining the eleven other girls, their gazes on you like starving vultures, you tried to control your breathing as you sat down on the last free plastic chair, in the corner where the huge dance mirror met the wall, you held your tattered dance bag to your chest, trying to regain your composure.

You dared to lift your eyes from the ground only as your name was called, a crystal clear voice cutting through the tense atmosphere, raising your hand you tried to muster up some confidence, failing as soon as your eyes met the ones of the owner of said voice. Lisa Manoban, in a simple white crop top and high wasted jeans her lean figure seemed to glow, a strict expression plastered on her stoic face, she scanned you from head to toe, you thought you heard her kiss her teeth at you as she sighed, “Give me one reason not to kick you out this second for arriving late.”

Tilting your head slightly you bit back a smile, Lisa’s eyebrows lifting in surprise,

“You haven’t seen me dance.”

A sharp gasp came from one of the girls sitting next to you, Lisa’s lips pressing in a thin line, eyes piercing through you, she gave you a quick nod, sitting down herself on the wooden floor,

“You’re going last Y/SN.”

You couldn’t hide the small smile that appeared on your face as you heard your surname coming from her mouth, and unknowingly to you, it had also caught someone else’s attention. Being last was never fun, your nerves rising as you carefully observed every girl stand in the middle of the room, performing a freestyle dance to a song of Lisa’s choice, you could read the anxiety in their eyes as the most complicated tunes poured out of the speakers, unrecognizable beats filling the space, Lisa’s eyes wouldn’t leave their body for one millisecond, her dark pupils following every single movement, as if she was looking for something very specific. Once the girl finished, she would be sent back to her place with a court nod, not a word coming from the stone-cold figure of Lisa Manoban.

It didn’t seem to go any differently as you stepped up to the small white X taped onto the floor, your fingers trembling as they played with the laces hanging from your sides, your mom had helped you pick out the outfit last night via video call, her encouraging words coming back to your mind, you took a few steady breaths as the older woman in front of you pressed play on her phone, you closed your eyes as the melodic notes typical of south Asian music filled your ears, your feet seemed to move even before your mind told them to, letting your nervousness fall off your body in fluid movements you focused on the strange melody that seemed to run through your veins, your focused gaze falling on Lisa after every twirl, you felt your body as light as a feather as you made the small space around you your own, ending your moves inches away from Lisa and her team. As the music came to halt you found yourself on the ground, slightly out of breath, your fingers hanging delicately from your collarbones, you smiled widely, bowing twice before making your way back to your seat, aware of a pair of eyes glued to your figure.

A woman in her late fifties took you quite by surprise as she invited all of you to wait outside, the selected candidate would be informed straight away. You all made your way out, a few girls breaking down in tears as soon as the door was shut behind you, others calling their parents, you made your way to the water dispenser just at the end of the corridor, pouring yourself a cup, you couldn’t help but chew on your lower lip, your nerves slowly coming back, the cool water alleviating your stress ever so slightly, you hadn’t even finished the cup when a tall figure appeared next to you, patting you on the back, Lisa didn’t even stop as she made her way out of the building, her words making you lose your grasp on the half empty cup of water that slipped through your fingers,

“See you on Monday in my studio, 9 am sharp Y/n, you’re late, you’re fired.”

Your name was echoed by the same woman who had asked you to leave the room, her gaze falling on you as also did that of eleven girls who had just missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

Monday morning you opened the doors to your dream job precisely at half past eight, wanting to avoid at all costs any sort of tardiness, you knew you had a lot to make up for, you greeted the two young girls at the reception desk with a big smile, you introduced yourself briefly, which seemed to take them by surprise before making your way to the fourth floor, a welcome email had described pretty well what your job entailed, where you had to go and the hours you were required to put in, passing by your boss’s office you were quite surprised to see it empty, as you knew classes didn’t start until half nine. Curiosity got the best of you as you started exploring the various studios and classes on the floor, all of them more modern than any dance studio you had ever practiced in, that was to be expected knowing how much these kids payed to enter the dance academy. As you walked along the empty corridor the faintest of sound reached your ears, following it once again driven by sheer curiosity you opened another door onto the biggest practice room you had seen yet, in the middle of it a slim figure sat on the ground, long legs sprawled out in front of her, enveloped in a pair of black cargo pants, you could tell she was out of breath by the way her back raised at a fast pace, head hanging low, a cascade of raven hair falling along her shoulders.

“Doesn’t tying your hair up sound like a good idea while practicing?”

The older girl didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice, her head moving slightly to peek at her watch, not even sparing a quick glance in your direction,

“You’re early, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Shuffling in front of her you held your hand out, your eyes searching for hers, she finally looked up at you, the faintest of smiles on her face as she grabbed onto your hand, your palm almost tingling at the feeling of her warm skin against your own.

“I’m full of surprises miss Manoban.”

Struggling to keep up with her fast pace, you followed her all the way to her office, your gaze following her every movement as she sat down gracefully, wiping her slightly damp face with a small white cloth, she pulled out a lipstick from one of her drawers, reapplying it carefully, she smacked her lips twice before leaning back into her chair, her intense gaze scrutinizing your still standing figure from head to toe.

“You know Y/N, you’re the first ever dancing assistant in the history of the academy not to actually have graduated from here, some people aren’t very pleased with that, so I hope you will prove yourself.”

Taken aback by the sudden statement you smiled at the teacher, almost feeling sorry for her, you could see the hardships she had gone through just by looking into her chocolate eyes,

“You see miss, I have nothing to prove, I am not here to prove myself, I’m here to work hard, and earn your respect, but let me get this straight, I don’t have to show to anyone that I deserve to be here, because I could tell, that those eleven girls at the interview last week had no idea what having to build yourself up from zero means. If people actually got into the academy because of talent and perseverance, then rest assured that I would have been top of the class, but since one can enter only because of money, background and privilege, I have had to find other ways to learn.”

Lisa’s eyes widened at your words, her mouth opening slightly before she shook her head, keeping her opinion to herself she got on her feet, her hands resting on her hips, her whole aura expressing pure confidence,

“That’s why I chose you Y/n, I think you and I will get on great.”

Sauntering towards you her arms crossed in front of her chest, she stopped just mere inches away from your face, the smallest of smiles painted on her kind features, her long fingers delicately moving a strand of your hair behind your ear, your cheeks burning at the closeness,

“And you can call me Lisa.”

Working with Lisa proved itself harder than you had first imagined, although the job itself was physically demanding it was Lisa’s attitude that seemed to tire you out the most, the girl was the most hot and cold person you had ever met. She could go from messing around with you in her office for an entire hour to becoming an impenetrable fortress during her lessons, never allowing herself to smile in front of the younger students, her stone cold face and harsh criticism making it very easy for them to dislike her.

It’s because of that exact reason you found yourself staying in the almost empty studio with a handful of kids after midnight, not feeling comfortable enough to ask Lisa for help they would come to you, knowing the older woman would only accept perfection, some of the kids needed an extra hand, a friendly smile and some encouraging words to achieve that. The late hours unfortunately started to take a toll, your mom had been the first to point it out, she had come to visit you one weekend and immediately noticed how your cheeks seemed more hollow than the last time she saw you and you were dragging your feet more than you used to, laughing it off you blamed it on the city’s food, because nobody could ever cook like your mother, of course she hadn’t bought it, but you had managed to send her back home before she got too inquisitive on the matter.

The second person to notice your exhaustion was none other than your boss. Lisa had come to pay a lot of attention to you in the last couple of months, more than she would ever like to admit, she had noticed how your feet suddenly didn’t seem as light as they were a couple of weeks prior, your twirls weren’t as precise, and your smile not as bright as the first time she saw you dance. The situation unfortunately escalated one morning in the middle of august, the city heat had rendered life quite unbearable, and the fatigue that rattled your bones felt heavier than ever before. Lisa had asked you to help her come up with a new routine for one of her advanced classes, and so you found yourself spinning around the studio at seven in the morning, Lisa’s eyes trained on your figure, she was about to tell you to slow down when she noticed your moves get sloppier, your legs shaking, your vision started going blurry and just before your legs gave out underneath you, strong arms wrapped around your waist, her sweet scent overpowering your confused senses as she slowly pulled you to the ground with her. Lisa tried her best not to go into panic mode as she held your limp body in her arms, she rested your back against her chest, one of her hands stroked your soft hair gently as her other passed you a bottle of water.

“It’s okay Y/N just drink some water, don’t try to get up yet.”

As your vision got clearer, so did your mind, and soon enough you were very aware of Lisa’s heart beating against your back, her fingers shaking ever so lightly as she caressed you.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your soft voice made Lisa’s insides tingle, resting her forehead against your shoulder a sudden wave of emotions seemed to crash onto her, all she could think about, all she could hear, see and feel was you, her lips millimetres away from your bare shoulder blades. Overwhelmed, she got up on her feet, ignoring your lost gaze trailing after her,

“Damn Y/N you need to look after yourself, I can’t always be on the look out for you, making sure you don’t pass out during my lessons. Just imagine the shit show if you were to leave me to do these classes on my own.”

She hated herself for the venom that spewed out of her mouth sometimes, she didn’t quite know why her mind seemed to find the worst way possible to deal with her emotions, it was usually bratty teens that would face the rear end of her bitterness and that didn’t affect her as much, but in that moment, as you struggled to lift yourself off the floor, tears brimming in the corner of your sweet eyes, Lisa absolutely loathed herself.

“If you weren’t so busy being an ice-cold bitch and actually let your students be students I wouldn’t have to spend every fucking night working extra hours to make up for your lack of professionality.”

Your words bounced off the mirrors of the practice room, Lisa froze in shock at your revelation as you stormed out of the studio, regretting your harsh words as soon as you had said them, you told the girls at reception that you would be taking a couple of days off due to personal reasons. Once at home you gathered your thoughts, realizing the only reason Lisa’s words had gotten to you was because you really, really liked her, you loved being by her side every day, spending your lunch breaks together in her office, dancing so close to her that your bodies almost became one. You had fallen, pretty hard, and by the way she had spoken to you earlier, you figured it was a one-sided kind of thing, and that hurt pretty bad.

You spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing, you wanted to rest but your thoughts were racing at a hundred miles per hour, it was late at night when you actually managed to settle down, wearing your favourite sweatpants and a sports bra you hacked away at a tub of vanilla ice cream, watching some random nature documentary on Netflix. The insistent ringing of your doorbell interrupted your much needed chill time, and unwillingly you trudged to the front door, your face turning pale as the person who had occupied your mind for the entire day stood in front of you, her usual Jansport bag hanging from her shoulder, black bangs sticking to her forehead due to the heat outside, her chocolate eyes staring apologetically out you.

You tried to shut the door immediately, trying your hardest to avoid the imminent confrontation, but Lisa jammed her foot inside, a small yelp escaping her as the door trapped her leg. Swinging it back open immediately to check if she was alright, Lisa took advantage of your moment of weakness and stormed in, trapping you between the wall and herself, her eyes staring directly into your own.

“Let me apologize please.”

The fast rise and fall of her chest gave away the fact that she was just as nervous as you were, her pearly white teeth sunk into her lower lip, your pupils following her every move, Lisa took a big breath, trying to steady her nerves,

“I’m sorry, the kids explained to me what has been going on, and I’m truly sorry, you were right, I was being unprofessional.”

Her sincere gaze suddenly became hard for you to hold, your head lowering as her face inched closer,

“But there’s a reason for that Y/N.”

Her fingers shook ever so slightly as they caressed your face, reaching your chin she tilted your head, her lips so close to yours you could feel her warmth breath,

“I like you like crazy.”

You couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to, closing the gap between your two faces, your lips enveloping Lisa’s soft ones, fingers tangling in her silky waves, you sighed into the kiss, eliciting a small hum of appreciation from the taller girl, whose arms wrapped around your waist tightly, her cold fingers grazing the small of your back. You pulled away from her just when breathing became an issue, your lips tingling. Lisa’s fingers desperately searching for yours, bringing them to her lips and placing the softest kisses on each of your knuckles, a huge smile spread on your face, your cheeks almost hurting.

“I think I might like you too.”