#when you rely on 'no child left behind' and do not bother to catch students up and just push them to the next grade

[menlove]

lots of talk rn about how fucked up the US education system is rn (like "8th graders not knowing the first 7 letters of the alphabet regardless of income/ability" fucked up) w lots of reasons given like covid, lack of parent engagement, "kids these days being lazy", etc. and while i definitely think at least the first two have impact on the situation

mostly i'm just like....... all of these things people are pointing out is problems that low SES teachers & students have been pointing out for decades. these are problems that students have been struggling with for decades in low SES schools. and now that it's applying to rich white kids too people are talking about it. but it has always been a fundamental flaw and issue in our schooling system. and the biggest issue here is, imo, that we are living in late stage capitalism & our school system was NOT built to handle a single thing going on rn. just like it wasn't built for lower-class students to thrive. the problem is now most households and schools are facing the same issues these lower SES households and schools have always faced.

but it's just a little wild bc for years the concerns and problems that teachers and students in lower SES schools have brought up have been routinely ignored and brushed aside and these students just got pushed along and the schools kept getting less funding and no one bothered to try and fix it so now we have a crisis bc it's happening everywhere

[xx-state-of-mind-xx]

Phantom

A fic based off the song Phantom by Of Monsters and Men. Enjoy :)

Phantom – Of Monsters and Men

All this time wasted and all this time gone You are still waitin' on me Every time you leave the house Remember you're not safe But you are hardly ever

And all those times that I could swear I heard you speak You spoke in such a low voice Of how if you could choose, you would choose not to feel 'Cause you are hardly ever happy

Sometimes I find myself standing in those stairs With eyes so blank and unsure Realizing this is not where I want to be And not where I want to go

And I don't mean to somehow, always to disagree But I feel that you do not see In order to love, you have to be all you can be And mostly, you have to love yourself

Oh, with all this time wasted and all this time gone You are still waitin' on me Oh, but if I could choose, I would choose not to feel 'Cause I am hardly ever happy

I am hardly ever happy, hmm-mm

Hmm-mm I am hardly ever happy

Dovey’s POV:

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my aching forehead and stare helplessly at the mountain of paperwork still on my desk to do. The sun has long since left the sky, the brilliant scarlet glow fading to a deep navy blue blanketed in a smattering of stars. My thoughts drift inevitably to my Evil counterpart as I wonder: is she staring at the same stars as I? Does she gaze with those strange purple eyes in wonder at the heavens above?

Although she’d never admit it, Lesso’s passion for knowledge illuminates her soul. I could sit for hours listening to her pour out her knowledge of the universe and never get bored, content to watch her wine-flushed cheeks smile in that soft way of hers while her eyes dance mischievously at every witty remark. I miss those long lazy evenings we’d spend talking and laughing, drinking wine, grading papers, or sometimes just basking in the other’s company. And the first time we kissed… in that kiss was passion, like a million thoughts condensed into one moment. One moment of bliss. One moment of peace. One moment of love. Oh, it was so wrong but it felt so, so right.

And yet… I didn’t do anything with it, convinced that Evers and Nevers couldn’t be together, let alone two women. I pushed her away, ignoring the feelings that bubbled up inside. After that Lesso seemed to tiptoe around me, never sure where she stood in our complicated relationship. She moved tentatively, almost as if seeking permission to push any further. She didn’t show this, of course. If anything, she became colder and more detached than ever. But I knew. I knew the pain I left in her heart after drawing her in too many times. Those purple eyes. Those damn violet orbs that gave her away. Every single time. All this time wasted and all this time gone. You are still waiting on me.

A soft knock breaks me from my thoughts and I lift my head wearily - I have no patience to deal with another whiny student.

“Come in,” I all but groan. I nearly fall off my chair in shock when a familiar head of red curls pokes around the corner.

“You busy?”

“Ah no. No! Not at all!” My mind is spinning as Lady Lesso sinks down in a chair opposite, relying more on her cane than usual. Her eyes are vacant and unsure, and she holds herself with the kind of awkwardness one would associate with a teenager or even a child, so unlike the figure of dominance and grace I’m familiar with. She fiddles with the head of her cane nervously and her violet eyes stare emptily through the window behind me. I suppress the urge to find out what is bothering her as that will only scare her off. Instead, I settle for drawing the visit out.

“Tea? I was just about to make some,” I smile. Lesso nods absently. Still trying to discern the mood, I set about preparing it all on a tray. I hear a soft murmur – so soft that I don’t know if I actually heard it and when I glance up at the other woman, she’s looking at me with her mouth open as if she wants to say something. As soon as she catches me watching, she drops her head and I smile gently. I take the tea tray over to the low table in front of the fireplace and motion her over.

“Shall we go over here? It’s much more comfortable.”

We sip in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of the flames before I glance up at the other woman and find her still looking at me with words on the tip of her tongue.  She looks down quickly.

“Lesso, dear?” She turns her weary face toward me and I give her an encouraging smile. “Is there something bothering you?” Instantly the Evil Dean’s guard goes up and her face morphs into an unreadable expression.

“Thank you for letting me stay.” She says finally. “I just… needed a distraction tonight.”

“Of course, anytime,” I reassure her but there’s something still bothering me about the situation. From the way she’s so vacant but also in the way she doesn’t seem like her usual sharp self. She seems softer somehow, almost blurred at the edges and I get the sense she’s not entirely here. Physically maybe, but mentally…

“He’s still with you, isn’t he.” It’s more of a statement than anything and I frown at the way Lesso tenses and at the realization of what she’s risking just by coming here.

“Always.” Comes the whispered reply. I nod and silence falls between us once more as we finish our tea. I know little of what occurred between her and Rafal but the limited knowledge I have gleaned from Emma and from Lesso herself has given me enough insight to realise the danger of her situation. My heart breaks for the woman, for the child she once was, so full of innocence and wonder. I see her face soften in the gentle glow of the firelight as she stares transfixed into their depths, focused on something for her eyes only. Every time you leave the house. Remember you're not safe. But you are hardly ever.

“Hey, I’m always here you know, if you ever need anything.” She smiles softly, not quite meeting my gaze and nods.

“Thank you.”

“Anything at all.” I whisper.

“Feel like getting beaten at chess?” I ask, pulling my chessboard out from a drawer and setting it on the table.

“Challenge accepted, princess,” Lesso smiles, arching her brow, some of the life returning to her face.

We begin, me playing white and her black as always. Although she plays well, I beat her easily in a few quick moves. After a few more rounds, Lesso throws her pawn down when I take her king for the fifth time that night.

“God, Princess, are you sure your not cheating?”

“You know what they say, Good always wins.” She leans back in her chair, cheeks rosy from the heat of the fire.

“It seems they do.”

I grin at her and she rolls her eyes in response, seemingly back to her usual self. “Well, I suppose I better be off, or I’ll fall asleep just sitting in your office, Dove.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t mind that,” I tease, helping her up off the sofa. She turns away, busying herself with her heavy grey coat but I don’t miss the way her smile fades or the soft words that slip barely audible out her mouth. And all those times that I could swear I heard you speak you spoke in such a low voice of how if you could choose, you would choose not to feel 'cause you are hardly ever happy.

We linger in the doorway, unwilling to part.

“Sorry for intruding on your evening, Clarissa,” she says. Not princess, not dove, Clarissa. The thought makes me shiver.

“Don’t apologise. I quite enjoyed it.” My gaze lingers on copper curls, drifts down to perfectly arched brows over those enchanting violet eyes before landing on plump pale lips. Before I can stop myself, I reach up and catch those lips in my own. All the breath seems to leave my body as her eyes flutter close, lips moving against mine in a soft kiss. Lesso draws back first, leaning her head on the doorframe, looking slightly woozy as she slides her tongue over her lips as if tasting the last of our union. I lean forward again when a slender figure presses against my lips, stopping me in my tracks.

“Don’t,” she whispers. I open my eyes in confusion. The Evil Dean smiles sadly.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

I nod as a single tears slides down my cheek. “Good night, Leo.”

Lesso’s POV:

I stand unmoving on the elegant marble steps, my left hand placed on the gilded banister, staring at the crowd beneath. A rainbow of swirling ballgowns makes idle chatter with teachers, parents, and prospective suitors, waiting, hoping for someone to notice them. Waiting for a prince to scoop them up in his royal arms and make their problems disappear with a kiss or a magical solution.

A coward’s solution.

I glare with disdain at the tables lined with punch bowls and snacks, at the small orchestra in the corner and the shimmery, showy decorations lighting up the hall.

My eyes drift inevitably to Clarissa Dovey, Dean of the School for Good, and fairy godmother of the Endless Woods. I somehow find her amidst the sea of bodies filling the grand ballroom, always drawing me in like a dark creature to a bright light. I watch her, transfixed, as she talks animatedly to a small group of parents. As usual, she is dressed in a gown of resplendent gold, layers upon layers of frills and glitter. Her hair is down tonight, carefully set curls sitting perfectly on exposed shoulders. A large pearl necklace rests on her smooth brown collarbones. On anyone else, this get-up would have looked ridiculous but on her… on her the dress is a bright sunspot, matching her brilliant personality and undying optimism.

My carefully painted lips twitch in a small smile as the woman nearly upsets a tray of champagne with her passionate hand gestures. Impossibly, her laughing brown eyes alight on mine and I find myself captured by her gaze.

In that moment, time seems to slow, and the noise of the ballroom fades out. All that exists is us. All I can focus on is us. On the buzz in my ears and the gentle eyes inviting me closer. All I can see is us.

In that moment, we are connected. Across the great room hung with banners and lanterns and set apart by hundreds of guests we are connected. Dovey’s words die on her lips as her smile fades slightly and she curtseys elegantly in my direction. I incline my head in return and lift a hand in greeting, my many rings glittering in the candlelight.

A cold hand ghosts across the back of my neck and all of a sudden, reality hits me like a blow to the stomach. The distance yawns between us once more and I am suddenly aware of all that separates us. Any chance of a more-than-friendly relationship was blown years ago. What am I doing, standing as if on top of the world, fantasizing about possibly the most wonderful woman in the world? It could never happen, I’m Evil and she’s Good. I’m broken and she’s… well, fairy godmother of the whole fricking woods. We look at each for a moment longer, warm brown eyes meeting hollow violet before she smiles again and returns to her conversation. The moment is broken but I stand there, staring at the woman I can never call my own as laughter and chatter flood my ears once more, bringing me out of my thoughts with a jerk.

I sigh and nod my head slightly toward the left acknowledging the figure dressed in red, always lurking at the edge of my periphery. I see a smirk play on those dangerous saccharine lips and am repulsed as he draws closer, pressing his body against my back, breath skittering across my ear. I shudder and move slowly down toward the party, away from him, joining the crowd as the only Never. A black raven in a flock of doves…

“Lesso?” An impatient voice jerks me back to the present and I shake myself out of my daze. The memory of that moment at the summer ball is forever imprinted in my mind, a constant reminder of all that we are and all that we could’ve been and with it, a hollowness so heavy it could almost be mistaken for sadness. Sometimes I find myself standing in those stairs with eyes so blank and unsure, realizing this is not where I want to be and not where I want to go. The woman snaps her fingers in front of my face, and I turn my attention to a slightly older but no less beautiful Dovey standing in front of me, hands on her hips staring at me expectantly. I stare back. She sighs in frustration. “The curriculum, Lesso! The curriculum. What do you think of it?”

My mind reels frantically. What is she going on about now? What curriculum? I glance down at the pages sprawled out in front of me.

Oh.

I still have only the faintest idea of what she’s talking about so I do the only thing I know. I shake my head.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no? You worked on it for months! All I did was edit it. Come on, Lesso, you can’t be serious!” Dovey’s eyes are wide with frustration. Guilt churns in my stomach but I can’t back down now, it would be weak. So I lean forward and smirk, watching as she flinches back, colour staining her cheeks.

“Did I fucking stutter? I’m saying no, I don’t like it. It was perfectly fine the way it was. I don’t need some frilly little fairy to tell me how to run my school. You have taken two classes out of the course. My villains deserve the same opportunities as you Evers so why the fuck can’t we use the Blue Forest like you?” Hurt is written all over the shorter woman’s face as I snatch up my papers and stand. We stare each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move. I open my mouth to apologise but she raises a hand to stop me.

“Thank you, Lady Lesso,” Dovey says quietly, almost sadly. “You may have your classes. I’m sorry for interfering with your lessons, I was only thinking about the good of the school, that’s all.” She takes the papers from me with shaking hands and carefully crosses out her own emerald ink. All I can do is stand there foolishly and not say a word.

“As I thought,” I manage curtly and snatch the papers from her. And I don't mean to somehow, always to disagree but I feel that you do not see in order to love, you have to be all you can be and mostly, you have to love yourself. I want to say all of this and more but in the end, I just sit down and try to tune out the rest of the meeting.

Several times I catch Dovey looking at me with those large doe-eyes and several times I catch myself reaching for her hand. A million wasted opportunities, skirting around each other.

Divided.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

Oh, with all this time wasted and all this time gone, you are still waitin' on me. Oh, but if I could choose, I would choose not to feel 'cause I am hardly ever happy.

[jasontoddiefor]

Idk if you write ocs, but if you do, can you write something about a male teen vigilante that was Jason's best friend? Something angsty but with a happy ending maybe, like Jason feels all alone after he came back and oc yells at him and makes him see he really cares about him?

Well, I wasn’t writing it before but now I sure am. Hope you enjoy this!

There was not a lot to be said about Arlo Temmings, exhausted high school student, but plenty about the upstart vigilante Stardust. Stardust was not affiliated with the batclan, not really, but Arlo supposed that had more to do with the fact that he really wasn’t the heroic, batarangs blazing, taking down mob bosses kind of vigilante. Arlo’s powers allowed him to heal others, given that he was physically well enough and had eaten enough. He’d always thought all those videos about metahumans and their heightened metabolism were jokes, but ever since he’d woken up with the ability to literally kiss away bruises, he’d been eating nonstop. Protein shakes were his new favorite breakfast, lunch and dinner because you could only eat so many pizzas before you started throwing them up on sight.

Arlo hadn’t even wanted to become a vigilante or do anything that had to do with healing. Honestly, he was planning to graduate high school with a just average enough GPA and then get some average job somewhere. He used to have bigger ambitions when he was twelve and had the coolest best friend possible.

Well, Jason Todd had been the tutor he’d gotten through their schools’ exchange programs, but he’d acted more like a friend. A very nerdy friend who was the living proof that some people got extremely lucky in life while others didn’t, but his friend nonetheless. Jason had planned to get a college degree at a fancy school, out of Gotham and told Arlo he should dream bigger as well, like graduating with honors big. Studying architecture.

Jason would be pretty disappointed to see how terrible Arlo’s grades had gotten, but Jason was dead and dead people couldn’t do shit.

So Arlo knew pretty much nothing about how human bodies worked except that the mitochondria were the powerhouse of the cell. Arlo had been flunking his biology exams ever since he had first been forced to learn about the fact that plants didn’t, in fact, just grow when Poison Ivy decided that now would be an awesome time to wreck an entire city block.

She’d also been the reason he got pushed into this whole hero business. Turned out that Arlo’s abilities were immensely useful when it came to disaster relief and so Stardust had been born. Crime Alley’s very own non-violent superhero, running around in a black hoodie, a Venetian mask covered with stars, and dark, paint-splattered jeans. Nobody had tried to hurt him yet when he walked out. Pushing the bats around who were all too willing to put you away for life was one thing, hurting the kid whose voice cracked when he was nervous, but could heal your broken bones while glowing like a supernova was something different. Arlo enjoyed his immunity, really. He only wanted to help others, make the world a slightly better place. He’d grown up staring at the pretty buildings at the other end of the city, wanting to live in one of them and built his dream around that. This situation wasn’t so different.

Tonight had been one of the bad nights though. Arlo had already gone through most of his snacks as people of all ages came to find him. Usually, he just walked through the streets, people spotted him and pulled him in new directions. It was reckless and stupid, but everybody knew Arlo was kind of untouchable because he cared for everyone and so everyone cared for Arlo.

And it wasn’t like anybody would be waiting for him at home. His father had died years ago and his mother was never there. The streets were kinder, more vibrant and alive, than Arlo’s actual home.

“Thank you,” the girl whose knee he’d fixed whispered.

“No problem,” Arlo repeated and yawned. He was tired and he had an early class tomorrow, or today if he wanted to be honest with himself. He should head back and try to catch at least three hours of sleep.

Arlo grabbed his bike and began heading home. As an unaffiliated vigilante, he didn’t have any fancy bat tech. Red Robin had offered to get him something, but Arlo wouldn’t know where to stick that anyway. Besides, the mob might start roughing him up if they knew he was on Batman’s payroll. So instead, Arlo had an actual normal bicycle. It had been a gift from Red Hood, who’d been a little appalled that Arlo just got everywhere by foot.

“That’s dangerous,” he’d said like he wasn’t waving around a gun at the same time.

Red Hood was a strange vigilante. He was no hero, he hurt and killed people, wrecked and ruined them and left behind a terrifying warzone. But he didn’t hurt kids.

That was one thing every child in Crime Alley knew. As long as you were young still, you didn’t have to fear the Red Hood. Adults were fair game, they were supposed to be better, but kids were just kids. Arlo himself had only just turned fifteen. He’d spent his birthday watching cartoons and doing an extra-long nightshift and then accepted a sleek black bicycle as his birthday present. He was reasonably sure the entire batclan knew who his civilian identity was, Red Hood did for sure or he wouldn’t have been able to deliver the bike to his house door. Arlo stopped his bike and parked it in the small garage all the families on the top floor had to share and made his way upstairs. He stretched and tiredly pulled his keys out of his pocket to open his door when he noticed that it wasn’t closed.

So his mom was back, likely drunk as well. Great.

Arlo pushed open the door and closed it behind himself. Without much care, he walked down the hallway, not bothering to turn on the lights. His mom would just complain about a headache or something. He entered the kitchen and opened up the fridge. Happily, he noticed that his takeout was still there. He took it out of the fridge and fished a fork out of the water basin and began munching on his noodles. He was so freaking hungry. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed his meal.

“Aahrlo?”

Arlo would later claim that he didn’t, in fact, scream, but that was exactly what he did when he heard somebody who was very much not his mother whisper his name. The food dropped on the floor and Arlo twisted around. Behind the table, in the very right corner of the kitchen, sat a dark figure. The must be tall and their hair was an inky black color.

“Red Hood?” Arlo asked and immediately rushed over to the other vigilante. “You- uh. Um, what are you doing here?”

He was pale and Arlo didn’t think it was just because of the moonlight illuminating his skin.

“Head wound,” Red Hood replied. “Didn’ know where else t’ go.”

Arlo kneeled down next to Red Hood and could only now spot the dark red that was quelling out between his hair. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, he was not going to bleed out in Arlo’s kitchen.

“Can you ‘elp?”

He was slurring his words, Arlo was pretty sure that was a bad sign. Due to the bad light, he couldn’t actually make out a lot of his features, and his mask still covered his eyes, but even so, Red Hood sounded so familiar and young. Arlo’s age kind of young. He’d never seen the other vigilante without his red helmet, but he’d assumed he was older. He was so brutal, so skilled.

Nothing like Stardust who barely knew how to throw a punch and was relying on other people’s goodwill.

“Hold still,” Arlo ordered and put his hands on Red Hood’s wound. The vigilante hissed, but Arlo didn’t even twitch anymore. He’d gotten so used to the feeling of blood sticking to his hands, it was almost welcome. He associated it with the rush he got when his powers activated.

“You glow,” Red Hood muttered, entirely out of it. He had lost a lot of blood, but head wounds generally bled a lot, didn’t they? “Like a fairy.”

Arlo giggled nervously and pushed his long dreads behind his back. “A girl I helped tonight told me I look like Rapunzel.”

“Nah,” Red Hood replied. “You’re not stuck in a tower all by yourself. You’re not-“ His breath hitched. “-not lonely at all.”

The wound was slowly closing, not as fast as it usually would, but Arlo was also dead tired.

“I don’t know,” Arlo confessed. “I feel pretty lonely all the time.”

Red Hood laughed, it was a dark and bitter sound, tethering on the edge of a sob or so it seemed to Arlo.

“But you’re good, always were. Helping people and all that. You’re not like me, you don’t fuck up. You stop listening and don’t give in to all that anger. You’re good and you don’t push people away and hurt them all over again.”

Arlo took his hands off Red Hood’s head and rested them on his thighs, blood smearing all over his jeans.

“You’re good too,” Arlo said. “You help people-“

“No,” Red Hood interrupted him harshly. “I just- I just get rid of problems. I shot a man point-blank. His brains just- it was everywhere and the kids were screaming and I just made everything worse but I was so fucking angry and didn’t even care-“

Arlo wasn’t good with words. He didn’t like reading, his dyslexia made it a god damn nightmare, and he couldn’t use all those fancy words he used to practice during tutoring because they felt so foreign on his tongue. Gestures, though, he knew. His parents used to be affectionate. His father was always holding him, had been holding him the day he died, protecting Arlo against debris. Slowly, to avoid startling him, Arlo put his arms around Red Hood. The other man tensed beneath Arlo’s touch, then slowly relaxed in his hold and even went as far as resting his head on Arlo’s shoulder, probably smearing blood all over it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Arlo said, at loss for words.

“You shouldn’t be,” Red Hood replied. “You really, really shouldn’t.

“Well, I am,” Arlo insisted. “In fact, I’m so glad I’m going to cook you something because I need to eat and you need to eat and then I can heal any other injuries you have as well.”

Arlo kept on blabbering about whatever came to his mind until Red Hood was seated at his kitchen table and Arlo could hardly keep his eyes open anymore.

So, really, there wasn’t much to be said about Arlo Temmings, exhausted high school student and part time vigilante. His grades were held together by duct tape and safety pins and sometimes Red Hood nearly bled out in his kitchen while Arlo made an utter fool of himself and fell asleep on him.

[yandere-society]

Please do a yandere! Sugar daddy au where the OC does not need them anymore. Thanks 💜💜💜

Admin/Writer- Chinkbihh

Trigger warnings- yandere, manipulating, invasion of privacy

Words- 2.3k

Postponing a Farewell

You had to hurry.  

The alarm and frenzy that rushed through your body in reckless waves was reminiscent of a prey trying to outrun a predator.  

You supposed this situation wasn’t that much different either.  

God only knows what would happen if you slowed down enough for him to catch you.  

Clothes?  Check. Money?  Check. 

You bit your lip and went over the mental checklist once more, pacing wildly in the master bedroom and keeping one paranoid eye on the time.  

If your escape plan went well, then you should be able to leave about an hour before he got back home from work.  That should be plenty of time to cover enough ground between the two of you. Or at least keep him away from you until he would eventually give up given your head start.

If he would ever give up.

You pushed that doomful thought to the back of your mind and tried your best to focus on the task at hand.

You just needed to grab some hygiene products and the little possessions` you would be able to shove into your mini suitcase.  

You ran into the marble granite bathroom, shaky hands grasping for your toothbrush and other necessities.  

However a sound caused you to halt your frantic scavenging.

The familiar ring of the front door to the luxury condo being opened caused your heart to drop.  

He was here.  

There was a time when you would have been thrilled to hear of Namjoon’s arrival.  

But there was no joy to feel this time.

You were frozen in place as you heard his weighted footsteps beckon closer and closer, the terrorising sound echoed within the expensive dwelling that was empty besides the two of you.  

Despite the walls that separated you and muffled the noise...you could still hear him loud and clear.  

You couldn’t bring yourself to move.  

Namjoon’s presence alone was paralyzing.  And it was closing in on you at rapid speed.

So you stayed still, awaiting the domineering man with the pathetic will power of a cornered animal.  

“Y/n?”  his baritone voice called out, the closeness of the sound hinted that he was now in the bedroom the was connected to the bathroom you were in currently in.

Your mouth wouldn’t move to respond.  

A few seconds later he materialized in the doorway, sculpted face showcasing confusion and some relief for having found you.  

That relief was quickly melted off his face when he quite literally caught you red-handed.  

It was obvious what was happening, the panic was in your eyes and the items in your hand only confirmed his suspicions that without a doubt formed when he saw your suitcase on the bed.

You were trying to leave him.  

Namjoon’s face was a beauty within itself.  It’s oval shape was the canvas for his dusky and gold tinted pores, sat upon it were his features; strong and prominent from his plush lips to his downturned yet long and regal nose.  His eyes were always somewhat hooded, confident and smoldering as his raven orbs bored intensely into whatever he set his brilliant mind to focus upon. Above those two eyes, were darkly arched eyebrows that naturally took on a shapely nature.  

He was wearing a suit, as was his custom, and glasses that he often relied on after staring too long at the pixelated screen of the computer in his office.  His black tie was loose and untucked around his neck, revealing his frustration as he must’ve pulled at it in response to aggravation.

But...Namjoon didn’t get aggravated.  

It was one of his traits.

He got clever.

His expression was indifferent as he took one step closer to you, eyes never leaving your hands and the objects they held.  

He was a very intelligent man, very little got past him.  Of course, this too wouldn’t be any different.

He arched a brow.  

“....and just what do you think you’re doing?”  

You opened your mouth to answer the alpha-like man, but the words got jumbled in your throat causing you to release stupid splutters.  

How could you be expected to explain that you were just going to flee him without explanation?  That was a sure deathwish. Yet, lying was also out of the question….

The silence suffocated the room for another moment, neither of you willing to make a sound or move too hastily.  

Then he spoke,  “I sure hope you weren’t trying to leave me baby.  Because that’s what it looks like.”

You shook your head crazily out of instinct, although the dread in your eyes told another story.

Namjoon grinned, although this sentiment didn’t reach the inky seriousness of his eyes.  

“Well….I want to believe you but the suitcase on our bed sure is damning.”  He purred, stepping closer with a mock thoughtfulness as if he was a parent lecturing a child.  

You licked your lips as cold sweat gathered on your forehead, shaky orbs glancing at the doorway that he was blocking with his much larger frame.  You hadn’t planned for this to happen, you had planned leaving a letter or a text for him to read after you had left. But suddenly your throat was coated with sticky tar given you couldn’t form the words you needed to say now that he was staring at you, eyes almost begging you to give him a reason to snap.  

But, you couldn’t let him get to you.

You had to advocate for yourself.  Because if you didn’t, no one else would and you’d be left with Namjoon for as long as he’d like (forever).  

Despite it being the farthest emotion you felt, you slapped on a brave face.

“N-Namjoon, I think this arrangement needs to end.”  

He chuckled at this and casually leaned against the doorway, as if he was preparing to be there for a while.  “And why is that? That’s kind of a big decision for a small babe like you to make all by herself.”

Your brow ticked in annoyance at him calling you too young and stupid for you to make choices on your own.  

“That’s why Namjoon!  You always degrade me and treat me like a child!  I know I call you ‘daddy’ sometimes but it’s not okay for you to literally treat me like a 5 year old.  I’m a grown woman-”

“A grown woman that is dependent on me because you cannot take care of yourself.”  Namjoon interrupted, voice smug.

You scoffed and glared at him.  “That’s low.”

“How so?  I didn’t say there’s anything wrong with that.  I enjoy being your sugar daddy and it’s a mutually beneficial relationship.  It would be idiotic to end it all over nothing.”

“Namjoon I think you have serious issues.  It’s not healthy how you treat me.” You weakly confessed.  He just quirked a brow in signal for you to elaborate. “You have me under constant surveillance and won’t let me talk to anyone you deem ‘untrustworthy’.  You freaked out when I had a study date with someone because you’re so obsessed with me only relying on you for everything! I live in fear that you’ll snap at me just for looking at someone too long.  It’s borderline insane.”

He stood there for a moment, staring at you with a odd gleam in his eyes as your words and heavy breathing penetrated the walls of the bathroom.  

Then he chuckled in that deep voice of his.  

“You take one psychology class in college and think you’re a qualified enough to call people insane.  Trust me, you haven’t seen crazy.”

Your jaw dropped at the sheer disrespect.  He literally just downplayed your entire argument as if your thoughts were too immature for him to even bother considering for a second.  He was past the point of reasoning and it terrified you just as much as it angered you.

You didn’t care that he was blocking your way to the door, you briskly pushed him aside as you ran into the conjucting bedroom while tears blurred your vision.  You had to get out of here….he was not only crazy….he was a narcissist.

“Where are you going to go Y/n?”  He called out from behind you. “Who is going to take care of you while paying for your classes at the same time?”   

You were rushing and shoving the last of your belongings into the suitcase.  “My parents reached out and said I can stay with them.”

You didn’t know why you answered him, it’s not like he deserved a response.  But you didn’t want prove him right by letting him think you were just a child who was storming out and ‘running away’ without a plan.  

You heard footsteps sound behind you as he approached the side of the bed, watching your accelerated packing with a look of confusion.  “Your parents? Y/n….they can barely take care of themselves, much less you.”

Your breath hitched as the subject of your parents was brought up.  Your mother and father were not rich in any means, and when you left for college; it was completely up to you to support yourself.  But a shitty part time job wasn’t helping much, especially since you were a full time student so your availability for work hours was very limited.  That’s how you met Namjoon. You had a friend who said she would hang out with this guy she met through a sugar daddy website and get a weekly allowance in return.  You were envious of this and thought it was worth a shot, so you signed up for the same site and met Namjoon through it. He was by far the most handsome and wealthy man on the platform, so of course you responded to his messages.  But slowly you became more and more dependent on him and he became a weird hybrid between a boyfriend and a sugar daddy to you.

You told Namjoon about your parent’s lack of wealth, and he spoiled you in an effort to make up for what your parents were never able to give to you.  (Also he just loved doing it anyway.) But it didn’t take long until you began to notice his odd compulsion of needing you to only depend on him and no one else.  And whenever you tried to bring it up to him, he would always condescend you and your thoughts before shutting the whole observation down all together.

“I rather stay with them than you right now Namjoon.  I’ll pick up a job if I have to but nothing is worth staying.”  You told him while zipping up your suitcase

You felt Namjoon wrap his arms around you and rest his head upon your shoulder, brushing his nose against your neckline.  “Y/n, I don’t know how I feel about you staying with them. Remember when you visited for Christmas and their power went out because they couldn’t pay the bill?  That’s no place for you baby. At least with me you wouldn’t have to worry about trivial stuff like that.”

You huffed.  “It’s not like that anymore, Joon.  Mom said she got a new job and they’re doing better.”  

“They could be doing better just because it’s only two of them right now.  But if you move in and they have another mouth to feed….are you sure they could support you?”  

You froze because Namjoon did have a good point, he was a lawyer after all and he argued like one.  You knew your mother got a better job but it still didn’t pay that well given they were barely over the poverty line.  

Namjoon tightened his hold on you and nuzzled you before whispering into your ear;

“Listen, I know I can be a bit….possessive but I promise that’s an issue I can work on.  But just because you’re mad at me right now doesn’t mean you should up and leave to abandon all the stability I have given you so far.  If you really need to be on your own for a bit, let me get you a hotel room where I’ll at least know you’re getting the shelter, food and comfort you need.”

You sighed as you began to feel his distinctive lips nibble on your neck with precision towards your weak spots.  You were melting like butter on toast as this man manipulated you like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

“I-I….you promise me you’ll work on your attitude?”  You asked, voice foreign sounding given the distraction of the pleasure you were receiving.  

“Of course.  Now, text your parents and let them know that you will stay at a hotel instead.”  He purred.

Well…..technically it wasn’t that bad of deal.  

You would get the space you needed while you and Namjoon would work through your relationship problems.  Plus he could continue to fund you so you could focus on your studies, a luxury you probably wouldn’t get if you went to live with your parents.  

You nodded your head and reached for your phone to send the text.  

When all was said and done, Namjoon suggested going out for lunch before taking you to whatever 5-star hotel he deemed fit for your stay.  You agreed due to your hunger and went to exit the room to head to the garage. Namjoon reached into his pockets and handed you the keys before telling you to start up the car because he had to use the bathroom.  

Only when he heard your footsteps descend down the hallway did he allow himself to smirk.  

So you really thought that you were a grown woman?  

How laughable.  

Namjoon still found it hilarious how you didn’t question why he left early from work coincidentally at the same time you were preparing to leave.  

Namjoon crossed the bedroom and approached the bookshelf pushed to the corner, he bent down and quietly tapped the hidden camera between the books ‘Lolita’ and ‘The Beautiful and the Damned.’  

It was perhaps the smartest purchase he ever made, given it allowed him to keep tabs on you at all times and you still haven’t suspected anything.  Namjoon quickly repositioned the camera to ensure it’s secrecy before standing up and exiting the room to follow you.

He would always have the head start.  

(So this was kinda….idk lemme know what you thought.  Namjoon is daddy to me and I think he would be very manipulative instead of being a very loud yandere. Comment below and thanks for reading - chinkbihh)

[anpannkko]

Here's my entrance exam for @taiyuu-high-oct

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

Kiru bounced her leg, growing antsy. The pit in her stomach that had formed when she arrived has been filled with the prickly thorns of impatience. She’d been in the waiting room for what felt like actual years. The rest of the students had slipped into a sedentary state, idly checking their watches or cleaning their nails, or even just staring at the wall. Every so often, someone would jerk their head, fighting off the tendrils of sleep seeping into their bodies.

"STUDENTS!" the over-enthusiastic voice crackled over the intercom, jolting the examinees out of their stupor. "Prepare yourselves for the most dangerous exam of your lives! This exam is fraught with peril, fear, and…" The voice, who Kiru supposed was a woman, trailed off. "Buckskin, what's another word for danger?" 

"Er, maybe it'd be best to get to the exam part, Miss Laccadaisie." A soft voice (Buckskin, apparently) replied.

"Ah." There was a pause, then a scraping sound, like the microphone was being pushed across the table. "Your turn, then." 

Buckskin sighed. "Anywho. Students, pay attention to this bit. Your entrance exam will be given in the form of an obstacle race." Low whispers snaked across the room. Some students, like Tokachi and Hiraku, brightened. Their quirks were well suited for a race. The others looked deflated, Kiru among them. How was she supposed to show off her quirk in an obstacle race?

"Some of you may be feeling downcast," Buckskin said as if reading her thoughts, "but don't fret. We've taken care to ensure that all quirks will be usable." The room let out a collective sigh of relief. 

"You will be scored in three categories. The first: heroics, which is measured by how many enemies you defeat and bystanders you save. The second: speed, measured by how fast you defeat each obstacle. The third: co-operation." Kiru raised an eyebrow.

"You will be taking the exam with an assigned partner."

...

Oh boy.

Cries of indignation filled the room.

"What?! This a group project?!"

"I hardly know anyone here!"

"Oh...what if I'm no help?"

Laccadaisie cleared her throat pointedly. Everyone quieted down immediately. Buckskin muttered a quiet thanks, then continued. "Your pairs will be displayed on the screen to the right, and then you may leave through the door on the left. Remember, your points are cumulative, so don't try to sabotage your partner." He coughed. "Er, we wish you all the best of luck.

"And don't forget to have fun!" Laccadaisie chimed in. And with a click, the intercom shut off.

Silence.

Kutou was the first to pipe up. "Whoever gets assigned with me, you better not expect me to carry you." 

"Vhy vould anyone trrrrust you enough to carrrry zem?" A girl with purple hair and grey skin muttered. 

The screen on the right flashed. 

TAKAKUTOU SHAKOU & TOKACHI AMEKO

Kutou stood up and trudged her way over to the door. "Come one, bunny girl. Let's get this done." Tokachi stood up begrudgingly, glaring with all the powers of Hell at Kutou's retreating back. Kiru whistled lowly.

 She never wanted to be on the receiving end of that glare.

The two of them slipped out of the room, and after that people started trickling out into the most important moment of their careers. The screen flashed brightly, sealing each pair's dates. 

SEISHIN TAMASHI & INOUE HIRAKU

YUKINO ZOË & HOTARU FUJI

SUZUKI POPI & ARAKAN KOATSU

 With each person that left, the tension grew heavier and heavier until Kiru could practically taste it. Her potential partner options grew slimmer and slimmer. She had a sneaking suspicion who hers was gonna be, but she kept praying it wouldn't be so. Soon everyone had left except for…

Him. 

She hadn't even bothered to learn his name. Why waste time and energy getting to know someone you'd never plan on talking to by your own free will?

The look on his face told her that her line of thinking was paralleled. 

She sighed. "Well, howdy doody, partner? What's your name? I didn't catch it over the sound of your stupidity whilst you were preening earlier."

He scoffed and pointed to the screen.

KANZOU KANEDA & KOTTOBA KIRU

       

           "Personally, I'd rather avoid speaking to you more than is necessary," he drawled. "Don't want to give the impression that I tolerate you." 

             Kiru rolled her eyes. "Your loss, McSalty, you're missing out on a stellar personality." She strode over to the door and opened it, giving him a comically over-the-top bow. "Ladies first." 

             "What an elementary insult."

             "Honey, if you thought that was an offence, you've never looked in a mirror." She shut the door behind her. Kanzou opened his mouth, probably to give some poorly thought out retort, but was cut off by a rather distracting explosion. 

               Kiru ducked instinctively and turned her attention to the scene before her. Several surprisingly human-sized robots were darting around; breaking windows, throwing around bricks, and harassing passerby. There were screams of citizens (which she hoped were simulated) echoing around. Above them all, a significantly larger robot floated above the chaos, clearly meant to be the final boss.

                She whistled. "They really went all out, didn't they?" Silence. "Alright then. Can you handle a couple of robots while I do some rescues?" 

                "Let's just get this over with." He rushed off and started hurling...sugar? At the robots? How was that supposed to help? 

She shrugged and ran off towards the nearest citizen, who was being attacked by a villain. The citizen was a different type of robot, more round and friendly-looking. The enemies were sharper-looking and had screens on their faces, which was currently displaying “>:)”. Kottoba rushed over and tugged the attacker off, throwing it across the street. It was surprisingly light. She turned back to the citizen and helped it to its feet. 

    “You alright, man?” The friendly robot brushed itself off and gave Kiru a thumbs up before running off. She smiled. That wasn’t that hard. She ran to the next group of citizens and herded them away from the fight. Then there was one pinned under a bit of debris. Then a child-sized one stuck in their house. Then a couple, clinging to each other, being beaten by a whole gang of robots.

    She obliterated them all. 

    Feeling more and more confident with each moment, she turned around to check on Kanzou. 

    “Oh, brilliant.” 

    The narcissistic rat was challenging the boss. There was a random assortment of small fruits and vegetables floating around him. He was hurling sugar everywhere, occasionally spicing it up with a piece of produce, which didn’t seem to have a be super effective. The boss was attacking him so fast, it was a wonder Kanzou wasn’t shredded to bits by now.

    “Oi! Raisin-brain! What are you doing?!” Kiru yelled out. 

    Kanzou glanced over and at that moment the boss was able to land a hit. He dropped to the ground.

    “Frick-” Kiru rushed to him, prepared to help and possibly perform CPR, but Kanzou kicked her as soon as she was in range. 

    “Ow! Why?” 

    “Get down, you stupid friking idiot.”  he hissed. Kiru dropped immediately. 

    “Why the heck were you fighting that thing? You were supposed to get the little ones down first.”

    Kanzou rolled his eyes. “Did you forget the entire point of this thing? It’s a race, dummy. Obviously, the big bad is the obstacle. We've gotta defeat it and then find the exit." 

    “Okay, then, what do we do?” 

            He put a hand on his chin and furrowed his brow. "Obviously, it's a tough one, considering my skills were barely able to make a dent in it. We'll have to rely on trickery." 

            Kiru gave him an incredulous look. "Your skills? You mean throwing potatoes at a robot?"

            He gave her a harsh glare, cold as ice. "Well, you haven't done anything significant this whole time." 

             She sputtered. "I'm the only reason we even have points! You're the unhelpful one! All you've done is chuck fruit and I could do that without a quirk!" Kanzou opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment The Boss hurled a handful of small building chunks at them. One piece smacked Kiru in the head, and it hurt.

             To put it delicately, Kiru lost it.

            "Oh, rust off, you bucket of bolts!" She popped up from their shoddy hiding place, anger boosting her new-found energy. "You are the sorriest excuse for a villain dummy I've ever had the displeasure of meeting! You're not even doing anything, you stupid hunk of garbage! Your mother was a roomba and your father came from a scrapyard! What are you even made of, brainless steel?!" The Boss stopped suddenly, its facial screen glitching. Sparks flew from its joints, and it jerked violently. Kiru backed away. It was going crazy. The robot stopped convulsing, its facial screen briefly displaying an ":0" face.

              And then it exploded.

             "Gah!" Kiru scrambled out of the explosion's range. Flaming pieces of robot rained down, making it 100% more dangerous. A hand tapped her shoulder and she jumped. It was Kanzou, who was pointing to a door that had opened up on the other side of the fire. 

             "That has to be the exit!" He exclaimed. Kiru nodded in agreement. 

             "How do we get there?"

              In response, he flicked his hand and drew out a white powder from one of his pockets. "You need to follow me closely, otherwise you'll get burned." He took off, laying down thick layers of powder in front of him. Kiru bolted after him. The powder seemed to put out the fire almost instantly. After they had gotten through the worst of it, he spread his arms in a grand gesture, and a flurry of powder settled over the remaining flames. He turned back, satisfied. Kiru grinned.

              "Race you to the exit." Kanzou rolled his eyes, then dashed ahead of her. "Hey! I didn't say go yet!" She yelled, but she wasn't really mad. She ran after him, but he totally got there before her. "Rude."

             "Don't be offended,I'm just better than you." Kiru snorted. She pushed open the door, giving him a comical bow.

            "It's still ladies first." 

            "Excuse you, I'm a queen." He strode in and yelped. Kiru quickly followed him. 

            "What? What is-" she gaped.

            In front of them, there was a large screen, displaying their rankings among the other examinees. 

            "Second place?!" Whatever Kiru was expecting, it wasn't that. "Heck yeah, dude!" She raised her hand for a high five. Kanzou just scowled.

             "I could've done better if you hadn't slowed us down." He meant it to sound insulting, but Kiru thought he sounded more mad at himself. 

               Or maybe her brain was filtering it to sound that way as not to ruin her mood. Whatever.

              "Well, we're in the school now. Schools are for improving, right?" She grinned. "I'll just have to work hard to turn my stupid into strategy." Kanzou didn't respond, but he didn't scoff or roll his eyes, so Kiru took that as a sign he'd taken her stellar advice to heart.

                Ah, yes. Kottoba Kiru, dropper of hot wisdom, maker of puns, master of flirtation…

                Hero hopeful.

[akiwisfics]

In the Middle Chapter 2

Notes: Cross-posted from AO3. If people get annoyed by this, please savior “kiwi crossposts” to save your eyes.

Description:  The war's over, but the mess is still left behind. Kasumi finds herself among the wreckage with unexpected companions and questions that seem almost impossible to answer for. Life keeps moving forward, however, and the surprises it leaves behind aren't always pleasant ones.

Pairings: KasumixSha’ira

--

Kasumi let very few truths into her world, but if there was ever one thing that remained so consistently true throughout her life it was that fixing things took hell of a lot longer than taking them. Of course, she was familiar with both concepts to a certain degree, a necessary part of her career. And right now, fixing the damn communications tower seemed to be about the only thing she was good for.

Which, she supposed, wasn’t an entirely new thing either. The Normandy had been kinda like that. Cerberus had been a shady organization for sure, filled to the brim with monsters, fiends, and even more human like people, all with some shades of color in their history, but as soon as Shepard became involved, there wasn’t so much stealing as trying not to die, and that one trip through the boiling vents.

Some mornings she still woke up with the stench of melting flesh stuck to her nostrils, and would fill her taste buds for hours afterward, to the point where she couldn’t eat without thinking about a different kind of cannibal. It was almost a shame that she was used to the mixture of influences even the most heroic of characters left her.

Taking, taking was a lot easier. Taking precious treasure, taking lives. In the end, it was the same principle, and usually one led to the other, didn’t matter the start. It wasn’t a worry any longer as it stood, after years. A moral crisis would’ve come much sooner anyway.

But fixing things had been the start of it. The batarians understood some of the basics after all, just not always the practice of it. In order to break and take efficiently you needed to know how it worked. In order to know how it worked, you had to start fixing and playing with it.

The plate still itched when one of the engineers pulled her away from the mine. At the time she had simply called him green boots. For years afterward, all she would know about him was the muddy grass smell on him and the web of scars that formed his hands. The camp at the time was pretty small, just along the side of a valley.

The varren barks trailed behind them with their crunching feet to the cliff side overlooking sharp rocks she’d hear desperate others talking about jumping on sometimes. Kasumi couldn’t recall if anyone had done it, whether out of genuine ignorance or repression, and she was far too young and stupid to consider it at the time.

Only staring at it numbly, resisting the urge to claw the healing skin at her neck away. Green boots had a throaty laugh to him that in maybe friendlier contexts would be comforting. However, for a child, it was a sentence of death sometimes.

"I’d focus, Pyjak," he had rumbled into her ear, "that’s where you’ll be going if you fuck up."

But she’d always been a very good student. Sometimes, the lights of the machines coming to life would remind her of the whites of Ashok’s smile. It was more comforting than it should’ve been.

Most of the mornings she spent working on it had been a misty spring, cool against her skin and easy to draw a small smile to her face. It was always easier to breathe when there was something more natural about the atmosphere, where she can experience the real sun and blistering heat to this. However the adjustment wasn’t the same for everyone.

That said, she liked the turian widow fine. When he bothered to talk, he seemed to actually know whatever he was talking about. The grief was so plain on his face though that too often his company only served as an uncomfortable reminder of what she still didn’t have. They were too familiar with each other she thought.

It took about three days for him to say anything about their arrangement. The city was large, but so crushed under its own weight that it was difficult to find resources that couldn’t be claimed by alliance during the war. It was easy to get a list together and send him on his way.

The third day though, he stood there for a moment, looking at the list with a twitch of the mandibles. “You’re very efficient.”

"Comes with a lot of experience. You’re not too bad yourself."

"As much as an errand boy can be."

She laughed and was happy to return to her work on the tower instead. She was just starting to pick up a signal from it. “No offense. Easier to work alone.”

When Kasumi glanced to him from the tower, the widow was playing with the data pad in his hands, turning it this way and that. “Have you always been alone?”

"What, with working?"

"In any context."

"Well. Most everyone has had some company in their time. That’s not really a fair question."

He plopped down beside her, feet dangling over the edge of the building they had it stationed. The thing about towers is that they needed space and height. Of the small street their camp was occupying, it was the most fortified building on the block. Some traces of Alliance left behind, with blocks and plywood forming makeshift steps leading to the roof. The widow’s steps were heavy, and seemed to whine with each step of the plywood.

"It’s important enough that you made me an errand boy just to avoid me."

"I’ve been alone longer than you have. Does it bother you?"

He gave it some thought, hands on his knees, and slightly hunched over, awkwardly so with the hump on his back. Turians were strange ones sometimes; one of the few species she’d yet to really work out. Kasumi wasn’t about to over this sort of company. “Not really. A little confusing is all.”

"I’d leave it at that. You don’t seem like the type to have big heart to hearts with near strangers."

He laughed, something big and loud— deep and almost guttural about it. “I’ll give you that!” And for once, the damn man smiled, or as close as a turian could to smiling as he looked out back toward the camp.

Kasumi was just happy for some quiet. The panel damage was more complicated than she thought, some of the wires missing inside, rarer components. It was an older model, to be sure. She just hoped that the dead gods wouldn’t mess with it once she did get it working. So far luck was on their side at least.

After a minute or so he finally stood, shoulders relaxed for once in the trip. It was a shame that suddenly she felt so much more tense. “She did say I needed to get out more.” He glanced to her, mouth outstretched with more words that didn’t quite reach his platey lips before it finally closed, and he covered it with a cough.

No. Other than that, there wasn’t much remarkable about the third day. The nice thing about working so high up was how much she could watch the others from down below without interruption, not unlike the evenings she would spend in the citadel catwalks as the wards thrived below. In a way, there was power in it, to see and hold secrets that no one wanted her to hold, but there was a sense of serenity in it too. A form of silence and understanding she could never quite describe to someone, not unless they felt it for themselves.

It was only a shame that so few seemed to. For now she merely contented herself in understanding the routines of the others, to know their lives with some intimacy without having to talk to them. It was much easier that way, to give herself less chances to give away the vital information.

The red salarian was usually up first, cigarette placed between his lips as he perched himself on the sidewalk somewhere. It would almost be the perfect image of stoicism if not for the excitement that would show on his face whenever someone came by, usually the hulking krogan that took it upon himself to do a quick search around the perimeter just in case. From there, they would walk off, usually together. They made sure to be back by the evening.

Next was the drell, who sometimes joined her at her roof sanctuary. Rarely she said anything during her visits, other than maybe odd observations at times, some even Kasumi wouldn’t notice. There was something to appreciate about it, though the woman was rather strange.

One morning before, while the drell tried to share some sort of bird that she caught, she pointed out in the street to a familiar sight of the widow with a grin. “He’s helping you right?”

"None of the others seemed too willing."

"You know he comes back during the day to check in, right. Weird though, he only does it with the turian girl. No one else." The chuckle that was vibrating from her throat was much less attractive with the pieces of flesh stuck between her teeth.

"Think they knew each other before this?"

"That or asari might have some competition."

Kasumi hummed. “He seems a little older.”

"How can you tell?"

"Older ones just have a… Thing to them. Like they don’t have enough patience for diplomacy and the mushy stuff."

"Oh. He does seem kinda crabby." She hadn’t stayed long after that, but Kasumi couldn’t help noticing the same thing afterward, how he seemed to be relying on the other turian’s company than she would’ve initially guessed. The drell was good for that sort of thing, but her food choices could make her bad company at times.

The volus would be out next, usually around the same time as the couple, and the three would often catch each other on the way. They chatted, usually rather animatedly, though with the asari much less enthused over it. If anything, it confirmed something she already knew about the woman: she was simply straight combat. Biotics were… Difficult. She never really knew what to do with biotics other than killing them quickly.

Her first blip would come in on the third day. Salarian voice. Somewhere in the old university. It was comforting.

The elcor wasn’t far behind the volus, and she didn’t see but so much hear it’s heavy steps from where she worked. He usually circled the fire a few times in looking for the volus, and greeted most anyone that was still in the camp with the best enthusiasm an elcor could make. The batarian priest was usually close by around that time.

She didn’t know if the priest slept. On the fourth day, when a bit of an asari’s voice would come in, the priest had stopped by to visit her. The harsh shadows of the evening then, chilly and windy from high atop, only seemed to add to his age, which had to have been advanced already. The top two symbols indicated rank. He owned something likely, something big. It was ashes now.

He refused to look at her. “Have you been adjusting well?”

"Easier when there’s something to do."

He sat beside her without invitation, watching for a few moments. The study was benign she knew, but the beady eyes and heavy set frown always set Kasumi’s teeth on edge with the expectation of a strike following. “Did you learn how to do this from the city you grew up in?”

Her hand slipped from the wire she was working on. “No.”

"You’re quite delicate with it."

"You know," and she ducked below the base, if anything just to avoid more looks from the priest, "anyone ever tell you that was a little unnerving? I’m sure you’re real popular with the whole studying habit."

He didn’t seem concerned over that in the slightest, instead turning back to the campsite. “Forgive me then.”

"There’s nothing to say."

"Plenty. The surgery alone must have been painful."

Kasumi paused. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it being put on. “If you’re looking for pity, I’d go elsewhere, priest. I’m not dead.” It was more than her masters could say. His presence lingered however for some time, hours it seemed that stretched into a near eternity of awkwardness. It wasn’t until the widow returned that early afternoon with her materials that he chose to leave.

There was something private about it, nothing that could be explained even under the widow’s quietly questioning eyes. She had merely shrugged it off before getting distracted by the third blip, another salarian, tone more questioning than the last one.

The pilot and Sha’ira were almost always the last ones to leave their tent. She could believe the pilot taking so long, as he seemed to be up longer stretches during the evening than the red salarian, and usually wasn’t going to bed until they were all getting up. However, Sha’ira, she knew from her time watching, wasn’t a late sleeper.

Through the week, it seemed easy to ask, but her visits to the roof hadn’t ever seemed to be about conversation. Kasumi always knew when she was coming, for the quick patter of steps, while delicate, seemed to be a little fragile on the plywood. Maybe out of concern that it would break underneath. Her steps weren’t quiet.

The consort studied with something akin to professional admiration, Kasumi thought. It was inherently interested, and felt sorta familiar with the way she had watched her. A small sort of smile would fall on Sha’ira’s lips, and even though her visits would be short and quiet, she seemed to always walk away as if she learned something new from the visit.

Sha’ira’s visit on the fifth day coincided with the tower coming to life again. It seemed almost impossible, with the way it suddenly spun, and how all at once her ear piece had been filled with static. It seemed to dance for her even, and it was with a sigh of relief that she began searching through the channels.

Something cold pressed against the side of her neck, smooth and so concentrated that it made her jump from the sudden sensation. “Geez!” The laughter escaped Sha’ira then was light, fluttering, and surprisingly honest with it.

"I apologize, but you seemed so focused." There was still a cheeky smile on her when she looked, something a little lighter, a little freer than before as she pulled the bottle away. Almost right away, it was something distinct with its dark color and the chill.

"Beer doesn’t seem your style, Consort."

"Is this really the place for champagne?"

She grinned and took the bottle offered to her, welcoming the slight reprieve it gave. Sha’ira slid into the seat next to her daintily, legs crossed and making the reds and oranges of her dress flow against her calves. Freckles there too, but lighter, barely noticeable. Kasumi wasn’t going to look too hard. “It’s more about a mood anyway,” she provided instead, “And we are celebrating.”

"I suppose if there are anyone to talk to in this city." She opened her bottle, twisting the lid with a quick flick. "…and it would be nice to hear how my mother is doing."

"Is she at Thessia?"

"Thought it would be best to help home first."

"But?"

Sha’ira smiled. “We all have a debt, don’t we? Earth could be a very beautiful place.”

"I almost feel offended."

"It’s not your home either."

That was true. Kasumi made a small noise in response and stared at the swishing liquid. There was some rowdiness below them. The red salarian liked to entertain the others some afternoons, usually with various card games. She couldn’t say she had much experience with salarian ones other than that they were exceedingly complicated and grew more so as the game continued. She spent many hours wondering if she would see blood splatter from the krogan head-butting the poor guy out of frustration.

"He says he knows you. Sal."

"That’s interesting." The name sounded it, but there were plenty that she came across during her time and not nearly enough was in her to care to remember those that didn’t matter. If he was a threat, that was a problem, but a man that spent time every day to confuse the hell out of their group wasn’t really worth it.

“So is it true then? We have a mutual associate?"

That. That gave her pause. "I'm sure we'd have a few with my line of work."

"And what would that be exactly?"

"Consulting."

Sha'ira gave a dubious look. "I hadn't realized a 'consultant' could grab Shepard's attention enough to warrant recommendation to the Crucible-- or the skills to break into my office."

She grimaced. "Why not? We'll always know more than the buyer." It was too much to hope she wouldn't bring that up again. Meeting victims, even non-victims and people that just happened to be there, was always a very awkward experience. But with Sha'ira, it was a very different experience. Just explaining why she walked away then was enough to dig herself a grave first.

"Is it really so important to be obtrusive about it?"

"About as much as your last name, I guess."

The face she made was almost funny, twisted and a little harsh around the edges of her eyes-- nose scrunched up. "I suppose someone was going to ask."

"It's not like it stops your name from being searched."

"And how much of it is on my life before being a consort?"

Kasumi paused. Thought about it while messing with the channels. "You cover your tracks pretty well. I'll give you that."

"Because we both know what it means to keep a secret." She tentatively touched Kasumi's knee, a gentleness that was unfamiliar to her. Already, Kasumi saw how she was testing boundaries with every bit of the action. "There's nothing on 'Izumi Maeda,' other than Commander Shepard. Anyone could guess that was not a real name."

She only smiled. "What do you think then?"

"About you?" Sha'ira seemed to consider it, idly tapping a finger against her thigh. It wasn't unwelcomed, though strange if she didn't remind herself of the consort's touchiness. "You might have more at stake than I do, and that is why you're so careful about it. Scars suggest experience in fighting... the one on the back of your head is interesting."

Naturally, she scratched at the rough patch of skin, trying to hide the scowl forming on her face.

"But I have a feeling you are not... much for authority, are you? Quite independent."

"You're getting warmer. So is the last name embarrassing in asari culture or something?"

"Far from it."

"But unique enough to make you worried."

Sha'ira returned the smile, a glint in her eyes-- something knowing. She slipped somewhere, though she couldn't see the slip. "Far from it. You may not answer to authority, but you are not stupid either. If you wanted to dig more than what I have given you, you would."

She laughed, and turned away just long enough to look at the omni-tool once more, ignoring the way Sha'ira's hand seemed to stretch and splay against her thigh. Innocent, but strangely intimate-- more than what she was used to. The static became a little less then, into something more like a white noise-- pleasant, comfortable. "There's no fun in that. How many people figure you out without digging?"

"No clients, certainly."

"And I'm not?"

The consort tipped the beer to her lips, smiling. "There hasn't been one in a while."

"You were happy with it."

"... Perhaps." The beer didn't seem to settle on her well. It was a brief change in expression, the way Sha'ira's eyes darkened and she seemed to stare hard into the bottle as if it would change if she just wished it long enough. It was obvious that the choice was made for Kasumi's benefit and not hers. "But even the best of our lives can hurt us if we let it."

"Almost poetic, isn't it?"

Sha'ira shook her head, amusement in her eyes. "I can't say I'm surprised you would be familiar with that."

"You sound pretty certain of it."

"We're far from kidding ourselves at this point, wouldn't you agree?

She laughed and was ready to speak again until she picked up a voice from the ear piece. With a crooked smile, Kasumi shushed Sha'ira and showed the channel on her omni-tool. There was the salarian voice again-- smooth and steady now, with a deep, authoritative inflection to it.

"Any sign?"

Another voice answered, lighter than the last-- almost childish. "Nothing but trash. This'd be a lot easier if we had those plans. All we can tell is basically scrap metal."

"There's some signs of others a couple of miles from your point. They don't seem to be making any headway either."

"That's probably us," Kasumi finally spoke into the earpiece, "If you're finding materials, let me know? It took us forever just to repair this damn tower. I'd hate to have to work this long for something else that might break."

Her first sign that something was wrong was the deafening silence that followed, as if there was some great offense committed. She usually didn't feel that sort of awkwardness except for that one time she broke into a person's house during their dinner party. That hadn't ended well for anyone involved. Somehow, she could guess this wouldn't either.

Finally, Mr. Authority broke the curtain of silence, "Who is this?!"

But Kasumi couldn't speak.

[personaehq]

INCOMING MESSAGE …

FULL NAME: jitae bang ALIAS: haze DATE OF BIRTH: 2119/02/14 ALIGNMENT: pro-android OCCUPATION: student at shujin, psychology major; clerk at yamazaki antique shop AFFILIATION: n/a ACCOMMODATION: orchard housing, jinbocho FACECLAIM: kim seokjin

ACCESSING: BACKGROUND …

haze | noun | /hāz/ : vagueness or obscurity, as of the mind or perception; confused or vague thoughts, feelings, etc.

Jitae Bang is the son of a well-off family. One look and you could think that he was just another rich, spoiled brat with a silver spoon in his mouth the second he left his mother’s womb. But of course, it’s never right to judge a book by its cover. Unlike most of the high class children Jitae went to school with, he was not lavished in presents. He was not taken out to grand family trips. And he was most certainly not given his own personal android to play games with after school.

While he did live in a rather excessively large house. And have house keepers, cooks, drivers, and nannies – human and android. None of it was his. It was all his parent’s wealth. And as a child they made sure to make this information known to their son. Their luxuries and wealth are all because they worked hard to achieve this success. And as their son, he too, will learn the notion of hard work.

His place in academia was to be the number one student. Regardless of the subject. Because report cards are the single most determining factor to consider when judging the worth of an individual’s life. His place at the house was to maintain a clean and proper home, his parents having requested that the hired staff educate and show Jitae how to clean and care for the house as they worked. Regardless of the task. Because a clean home is a proper home. Jitae lived his childhood under a strict set of rules, and watchful eyes. While his parents were never physically around much, they were always calling (phone or video) their son to make sure he met their expectations. While technology was flourishing and adjusting into the lives of many homes and families, the Bang family preferred the more traditional methods to raising their child and maintaining order within their four walls. Things continued simply this way for many years, until Jitae’s tenth birthday that is.

Boarding schools were such a unique concept. The promise of a well-to-do education for well-to-do children from well-to-do homes. Promises of accepting your sons and daughters as children and returning them as respectable men and women of society. He never really understood why he was being sent to a boarding school in the first place. Jitae was a very well behaved boy, and his teachers praised his intelligence and participation in the classroom. He couldn’t possibly think of a reason for why his family would want to send him away to a strange campus in another country. His brain, still too young, cannot begin to wrap around the idea that it’s a rather cruel tradition for wealthy upper class families to get rid of encourage new ideas for growth in their children. By introducing them to new environments, languages, and cultures. To open new doors. And shut old ones.

Of course, that didn’t matter. They sent him off regardless of his confusion. He could not oppose the words of his parents. For what they said was final. Their words, sacred. They were law, and they were order.

And on his twelfth birthday, Jitae stood there at the airport. With a one way ticket to Switzerland in his clammy hand. Just outside of the entrance to the terminal gates. His suitcases by his side, backpack adjusted tightly on his shoulders. His new school uniform crisp and freshly pressed, shoes buffed and sealed under a fresh coat of wax. The airport’s busy commotion did nothing to stop, seemingly unfazed as a lone child simply stood there. Wearing a blank expression… one that could be confused as sadness if they simply glanced at him. Jitae stood there, motionless, a few moments longer. Waiting. Hoping. The air around him slightly suffocating. He willed himself to stand strong and refuse to let his tears well up and fall. He was valiant. However, the airport security was growing worrisome. It wasn’t long until someone came to the boy and gently ushered him into the gates. Turning his back away from the central hub of the building. He was never given a proper send off to his new school. One that was far away from the country he called home.

His parents had never given Jitae the opportunity to even so much as glance at the campus prior to his send off. He had little to no idea about the place he would call home for the next several years, unbeknown to him. However, the moment he arrived on campus and stepped foot on the gravel, he knew it was going to be troublesome.

It was a citadel for canned though. Finding vapidity in uniqueness. Sharing disinterest in dexterous thinking.

Oh, how he struggled to integrate into the new society he was placed in. None of the other children really showed much interest in Jitae’s fascinations about psychology, nature, or about daydreams. He quickly became an outsider. Excluded. Segregated away from everyone else. Yet, what the other children failed to realize was that Jitae was used to this. In fact, their efforts to make him feel unwelcome only made him feel at home. Solidarity was his only companion.

He continued on like this for years. Excelling in academics, and yet, showing little to no interest in social activities. Instead he stuck to his books, his ideas, and all the wild fantasies he could conjure up in that head of his. Seeping away further and further from reality. Deeper and deeper into the world of dreams. It became so easy for him to do. He could just gaze out, slowly disassociating from reality, and suddenly be on another planet entirely. It was safe. It was comfort. It was the only place where he could really be himself. Since the real world didn’t want him to be that.

His dorm was piled up with novels, research studies, and thick textbooks ranging from the bottom of the sea floor to the careful and detailed analyzations of Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy. On his desk was a composition book full of his daydreams. His personal philosophies. And his innermost thoughts. Every inch of the book was filled, carefully with dates and times. Brackets off in the margins providing supporting source material for his ideas.

While his imagination grew to tremendous heights, it eventually backfired on him. Developing strange quirks that seemed to bother him to no end if he didn’t complete them. He spent more time focusing on words, numbers, and colors than on actual interactions with people. Sometimes stopping mid-sentence just to finish counting the number of letters a word had. He would lose his train-of-thought easily, and would cover many topics at once without taking a breath. It became overwhelming at times… even becoming a walking hazard to himself when he would walk into things or end up leaving scuffs and bruises all over himself. All habits he never learns to outgrow.

He spent more time in his false reality than he did in the real world.

And as such, didn’t pay it much notice when graduation was just around the corner. Rather than choosing to go back to South Korea immediately after completing his secondary education, he chose to wander around Europe and explore the sights for a while before returning back to his home country. Truly letting his mind wander. Finding peace in the open world, as compared to the confines of his school.

The moment he returned to his parent’s home in South Korea he was to begin applications for university. His time spent abroad in Switzerland would prove to be beneficial, as he was able to enroll in his first choice school with ease. Shujin University. Jitae’s parents were proud of their son’s academic success, and they expected him to continue to bring honor to the Bang name. As soon as all documentations were finalized, Jitae was shipped off once again.

Japan and Switzerland felt similar for some time. Both incredibly foreign upon arrival, but both starting to feel more like home than his actual childhood abode. His time at Shujin University seemed to go by much easier than in secondary school. The other students paid him no mind, not because of his strange antics, but because there were simply so many students. So many things to do. So many things to study for. Everyone was just trying to stay afloat…

Jitae preferred to stay as far away from the commotion of Tokyo as possible. Finding solace in The Orchard Housing in Jinbocho. In the outskirts of the lower level. While the travel times were a little bit of a hassle, Jitae much preferred the comforting silence of a good night’s rest. Of a long commute where he could daydream, count the numbers in the letters of signs, or catch up on class material before the next lecture.

It’s no trouble being away from South Korea. Away from his family. Because while all the other upper class children his age got to play with their sparkly new androids and go on expensive trips abroad, he learned to maintain a house. To cook, clean, and care for himself properly. He’s learned to take care of himself as early as he could remember. Never having to rely on anyone else for much. He could fulfill all his childhood wishes now that he’s older and away from his parents. He could daydream selfishly. After all, university is supposed to be a memorable experience, right? What could possibly go wrong?

ACCESSING: PERSONALITY …

POSITIVE TRAITS: humble, outside the box thinker, stops to smell the roses NEGATIVE TRAITS: clumsy, always thinking but rarely pays attention, easily distracted

a seemingly old soul. jitae is a simple boy with simple interests. he likes to read and think. the world is so large, so much larger than we could ever know… and he just wants to understand it, and understand those who live on it. he is soft spoken, but the meaning behind his words are deafening. he’s definitely not the type of person to put himself out there, much preferring to stay in the library or in the comfort of his apartment. spaces out more than anyone would like, and talks some nonsense from time to time, but means no harm. when listening to music he prefers to lay on the floor and shut his eyes, letting it envelope him completely – of course, this looks ridiculous to onlookers, but he pays it no mind. while he is proud of the technological advancements that humanity has achieved in the past hundred years or so, he feels bombarded by it constantly. always feeling overwhelmed by just how much stimulus there is all around him. he finds relief in printed media and things without screens. there is tranquility within it. maybe it’s the fact that it reminds him of his childhood house. the old stillness.

… END OF MESSAGE.

[our-legacy-rp-blog]

OLIVIA has been accepted for LAUREL CLARK

Your take on Laurel was brilliant, Olivia! We loved your writing, as well as the amount of detail you provided for all the questions - Laurel is in safe hands. Welcome to OL, and be sure you fill out the checklist HERE.

OOC name & pronouns: Olivia (she/her)

Age:21

Timezone: EST

IC INFORMATION:

Character’s name: Laurel Clark

FC choices: Lily Collins and Imogen Poots

Position request: Quidditch player (chaser)

Birthday: December 10th

Wand: 11 ¾, Hornbeam, phoenix feather

Patronus: A jaguar. The patronus is described as a more independent creature that does not rely on a group of animals. Quiet and indulgent. This describes Laurel quite well because she has always had to rely on herself throughout her adolescence. She was cared for but for a majority of her childhood she had to become independent faster than most children. While she does trust her friends, when it comes to her home life she always had to be her own ally. Her parents fear magic and fear what Laurel is capable of, but she simply wants to be able to harness her abilities to finally take control of something in her life.

Boggart: Her parents, more specifically her parents screaming witch related insults at her. Even though they have always been truly silent of the fact that she was a witch attending Hogwarts, she feared it becoming Salem-esque in which they would scream insults and fear everything that she was. Though they did fear what she was it was never solidified in word form, so the confirmation via their words that they did in fact hate and feared her would crush Laurel. There’s a small part of her that believes that maybe given some time her parents would finally come around, so having solidified insults hurled at her would truly be her greatest fear. The ultimate rejection of the people who made her.

Headcanons:

1.)  Laurel shoved her small shaking hands into the pockets of her jacket as she jogged back towards her house. The Tate’s brand new swing set had not split in two because of the quality of it’s metal and the ten year old knew that. Steel beams don’t simply snap in two when they’re fresh off the assembly line. Kiera was in tears and ran inside to tell her parents what had happened, but Laurel knew that she had to leave immediately. There was no explanation that was reasonable, and she had the same tingling feeling she had when grandmother’s china cabinet in the dining room suddenly fell (after being stagnant for longer than she had been alive), demolishing everything inside it. She flung the back door open and quickly slammed it shut behind her, taking a shaking breath in before falling to her knees. She wiped her hands down her pant legs as if she could wipe the tingling feeling away, but she knew that it was something she could never get rid of.

2.)  Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Laurel sat down at her desk armed with a fresh bit of parchment and her quill. She was going to write to them again, no matter what doubts clouded her mind at that moment. Dipping the quill into the black ink, she lowered her hand to the paper, writing the first line. Dear Mum and Dad it began, but something stopped her from writing what she wanted to say, the kind words she always wrote in an attempt to win them back suddenly left her mind. I’ve never fought harder for anyone’s approval, and I know that I’ll never get yours. Somehow that does not stop me from trying to win you both back. And that’s the sad bit isn’t it? A child should never have to win over the approval or love of her parents. She stopped, the harsher words of truth that wore on her heart constantly were now written in ink, which made them feel all the more real. Laurel picked up the letter and tore it in half, crumpling it until it was small in the palm of her hand before tossing it in the bin.

3.)  It was a cool morning, the kind of morning that only a Scottish fall can promise. The mist hung thick in the air as Laurel made her way down to the Quidditch pitch, after last night’s game she noticed a few things that she could make improvements on. Her posture had been lacking, she hadn’t been cutting her turns as quickly, and there was a lot of work to do. She pulled her hat down over her ears before scooping up her broom, running her thumb along the chip at the top of the handle. It came from a collision in fourth year with a Slytherin chaser; she remembered that they had won that match as well. She considered it a victory mark and ran her thumb over it whenever she felt like they needed a bit of luck. The edges of the mark that were once sharp grew smooth from the oils on her hands rubbing into the wood. It made her broom hers, and she smiled at the fact that something she owned had such a warm memory.

History: Laurel Clark’s journey truly begins with the journey of her parents.Lily and Peter Clark had met in their late teens through a mutual friend. They were young and fresh-faced university students at the time, both hurtling toward very different futures through their individual disciplines: Lily wanted to be a doctor, Peter was studying architecture. Nothing should have bonded them, not when Lily was strongly career focused and would let nothing get between her and her dream career of a residency, while Peter tended to take the days as they came, drifting through both life and his course. But there was something between them - not magic, they were too muggle for that - that kept Peter motivated to continue pursuing Lily, and something about Peter that made Lily feel like it wasn’t such a bad idea to break down those walls. What they settled for was supposed to be casual - Peter couldn’t interfere with her studying, and the moment he did, he was gone. Peter, enamoured by her wry sense of humour and determination, agreed. Lily ended up graduating and becoming a doctor, only breaking up with Peter half a dozen times before that happened - and Peter managed to find employment with the local council, working on building plans and designs.

A family wasn’t on Lily’s mind, not for several more years, but when she fell pregnant, the Clarks decided to give it a go, believing that they were ready. Laurel was born a healthy child, delivered right in the hospital that Lily worked at, and taken home a few days later. Their household was always a little chaotic as Laurel grew up. Lily was gone for long stretches of time, while her father preferred to hole up in his study, pouring over sketches and designs and shutting out the real world. Laurel’s upbringing was largely a self-governed one, as soon as she was able to provide it - she walked herself to school, made her own lunches, and tucked herself in at night. Her parents cared - and made sure to show it as often as they could - but they were extremely busy people that couldn’t revolve their lives around her. Which was how Laurel hid traces of her burgeoning magic as long as she did.

It was only small things, things she could explain away as accidents or on the neighbourhood kids, but Laurel knew it wasn’t normal. And when she turned eleven, she was delivered a letter that proved it: she was a witch, and she had been invited to attend Hogwarts. She wanted to go, desperately, but she was scared of asking her parents - and more than that, she was scared of their reactions. Laurel’s instincts were correct when, one day not long before term was supposed to begin, her mother found the Hogwarts letter. Hell seemed to rain down on the Clark household: her parents were shocked, angry, but above all, they were scared. Laurel terrified them, and in the end she packed her things and ran away to London to catch the train, only sending an owl once she got to Hogwarts to let her parents know where she was. They didn’t reply to that letter, or any others she sent. It was truly hard for her to understand why her parents wouldn’t love her for who she was. It was clear that magic was apart of who she was, and it was the one reason her parents feelings about her changed.

Laurel was sorted into Gryffindor, unaware of its traits or legacy. She wanted to learn to control her magic - she wanted to harness whatever was inside of her, instead of feeling ashamed. But that feeling was always there whenever she was forced to go home for the summer, where her parents would be waiting. The Clark’s didn’t talk about Hogwarts - in fact, they pretended that Laurel didn’t exist until she left at the end of summer. They tip toed around one another, and as Laurel got older, the more she refused to go back to her house. She was tired of walking on eggshells and feeling absolutely illegitimate. Instead, she’d stay with friends until term began, and her parents never bothered to care - whatever might’ve bonded them together once upon a time was gone.

A strong girl with a lot of common sense, Laurel has endured hardships that her peers couldn’t ever begin to understand. The alienation and abandonment from her parents weighs on her, even if she pretends it doesn’t - in fact, Laurel has gotten good at pretending she’s stronger than she is. Throwing herself into quidditch, friendships, dueling, and school, Laurel keeps active and persists at self-improvement: there’s always some new avenue that she can push herself harder at, if only to keep her mind distracted. Laurel’s good at making friends, but bad at keeping them - she’s often too stubborn, too distracted, or too callous for most to withstand in the long term. But Laurel doesn’t change herself for anyone, a lesson she learned the hard way, and unflinchingly walks the halls of Hogwarts, feeling as though she’s more than earned the right to be there. She’s accepted herself for who she is, magic and all.

Now: For six years Laurel has been whole heartedly dedicated to becoming the best witch she could be. She had a knack for learning magic and as she got further in her education she wondered if she could teach at Hogwarts someday. Teaching kids raised with magic and those like her who were raised without it. Truthfully, teaching is Laurel’s “safe” career option, she was quite taken with Curse Breakers when she learned about them in third year. A career of adventure, danger, finding historical objects, discovering ancient ruins. It was a life she only could dream about. Her inner adventurer telling her that she only had one life, to live it the way she wanted to. But something always held her back from pursuing it head on.

As dangers rumbled throughout the school, Laurel knew her dedication and precision in dueling would be important if anything worse were to occur. She practiced more than other people did, practiced harder at quidditch so she would become stronger. Though she lets her logic make a lot of her decisions, Laurel’s heart lies at the base of those decisions as well, though she hides it as much as she can. She is constantly learning how to recognize her feelings, acknowledge them, and let herself feel them. A weakness is spotted and immediately she shoves it deep inside herself, in her mind weaknesses don’t help anyone move forward. Knowing these things about herself she almost always assumes other people see them too, which is perhaps why she isn’t good at keeping her friends. Long-term things don’t come easily to Laurel because the only constant that she’s had in her life has been herself. She fears relying on others because they may let her down, or leave. She has always liked making friends and having them around, but the underlying fear of them leaving or leaving because of her is too much to bear. Though she does hide it from others well with her wit and sarcastic sense of humor.

[ocbungou]

Thank you, Hale, for submitting your application! Two mods have gone over it and accepted it for approval into the ring. Please have your blog ready by November 10th.

COUNTRY: Liechtenstein

NAME: Lilian (Lili) Zwingli

PRONOUNS: She/her

AGE: 20

ALIGNMENT: Armed Detective Agency

APPEARANCE:

Lilian is a blonde, short young lady with somewhat androgynous features, similar to her brother. In the past few years, she’s grown her hair a bit longer, but not many of her other features have changed since she was a child, aside from her height. Where her brother has lean muscles from his carpentry work, Lili is somewhat more delicate, but that’s really only discernible when they stand next to one another. She is a rather petite girl, overall, but she has been mistaken for a male and a child more than once.

FC: Diana Agron (The Family), Laura Brent (Narnia)

PERSONALITY:

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER INTERACT WITH OTHERS?

She is very diminutive and shy. Having moved so often as a young child, from home to home, and only relying on her brother, she didn’t learn how to make lasting relationships very well. She’s starting to come out of her shell, but she still tends to be wary of strangers.

When it comes to people she’s familiar with, however, she places an exorbitant amount of trust in them. From having to depend so much on her brother, her default learned behavior is that those within her inner circle are to be trusted with her life, and those outside are to be trusted with nothing. She is never modest with her emotions amongst those she cares deeply about and showers them with affection.

WHAT DO THEY THINK ABOUT THEMSELVES?

Lili tends to be self-conscious, particularly around strangers. It’s not so much that she isn’t confident in herself or her abilities. The fact is more that she doesn’t trust others with her true self. She is fearful that if she shows strangers what she really is that they will take advantage of her, so she is overly cautious about every detail of her appearance when in public. It’s fairly easy to tell when she is uncomfortable because she has some obvious tells. In her self-consciousness, she nitpicks her clothing and makes sure every hair is in place when she doesn’t trust a situation or a person.

In general, though, she doesn’t have any bad thoughts about herself. She’s still discovering who she is as an adult, independent of the people in her lives that have always dictated her choices - whether they had good intentions or not. She knows she’s not very confident, but that’s not something that she hates, rather, she appreciates peace and quiet all the more. She can easily get lost in thought without interruption that way.

WHAT ARE THEY INSECURE ABOUT? Since Lili got her powers, she’s been afraid of someone discovering them and mocking her for them. She got her abilities as a middle schooler, which is a scary enough time in a person’s life, and she already had trouble enough making friends. More than her fear of being stuck in a research lab, she is insecure about what those she is close to will think of her abilities if they found out.

WHAT ARE THEIR WEAKNESSES (3)? -Shy personality -Tendency to depend on others instead of thinking for herself / fall for peer pressure -inattentive and spacey / zones out a lot

WHAT ARE THEIR STRENGTHS (3)?

-Supportive; always there to listen -Believes the best in people -Trustworthiness

ABILITY:

Empathy / Empath / Emotion Negation

AUTHOR:

Emily Dickinson

THE LITERARY WORK THAT YOU ARE BASING YOUR ABILITY OFF OF:

The Blue Jay (https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-blue-jay-3/) / The “intensity of emotion” themes in all of her works

THE NAME OF YOUR ABILITY (THE NAME OF YOUR ABILITY CAN MERELY BE THE TITLE OF LITERARY WORK):

“Shrill Felicity”

PLEASE INCLUDE AT LEAST A TWO PARAGRAPH SUMMARY OF THE USAGE OF THE ABILITY AND THE DRAWBACKS:

This ability allows Lilian to feel the emotions, moods, or temperaments that others around her are feeling if she concentrates on them. This ability is stronger if she places a hand on their shoulders or face - typical signs for sharing emotion or caring even amongst non-empaths. While she doesn’t feel others’ emotions at all times, she can feel particularly strong emotions wafting off of someone without concentrating. It’s important to note also that she cannot read minds and cannot tell why a person is feeling a certain emotion, she can only empathize with what they are feeling.

Lilian’s empathic ability gives her the power to not only feel the emotions of others, but also pacify them to some degree. For a person who has mixed feelings, or is feeling many things at once, Lili’s ability may simply put them to sleep. Her ability seems to interact directly with one emotion at a time, pacifying the strongest emotion, so if there are too many emotions to contend with, her ability solves this by pacifying the person rather than the emotion. The sleep never lasts more than 30 minutes.

It’s also important to note that she cannot induce other emotions, unless one considers peacefulness an emotion. She cannot make a sad person happy or vice versa. She can only, briefly, give a sad person a sense of peace. This sense of peace also does not bring loyalty or any kind of empathic indoctrination. In other words, she does not turn those she uses her powers on into mindless zombies. They still have free will.

BACKGROUND:

When she was a child, she was often confused with her brother, despite their height and age differences. She loves her brother dearly, and actually encouraged the confusion on occasion, but when he moved away, the confusion only served to make her miss him more.

She was around 5 years old when she and her brother finally reached a steady home, already having learned to only depend on him from a young age. She never really grew close with her uncle, though he took them in out of his own kindness. She tried to show her thanks by giving him gifts or doing favors for him, but “actions speak louder than words” apparently didn’t apply here.

After her brother went away to carpentry school, Lili stayed behind with their uncle to continue her education at the local middle school. She remained shy, and found the ire of quite a few bullies without her brother to protect her, but began to express some elements of her personality when no longer living under her brother’s shadow. She made a few friends due to her supportive and friendly nature, but none were very close. She would never intentionally push anyone away, but her quiet nature meant that few people stuck around to really have lasting platonic relationships because they thought she was disinterested. She would be there to support them if they ever called her, but her insecurities make her wonder if they’d even remember her now.

Her abilities actually appeared soon after Basch left, when Lili was in middle school, though they went undiscovered by the public until she was enrolled in college and accidentally set them off in a large lecture hall in the middle of a presentation she was supposed to be giving, causing many of the students in the class to all fall asleep at once. Her nerves got the best of her. Her lack of friends and generally shy nature simply allowed her to keep her abilities under wraps until then. She practiced them in secret, though she never fully understood why they were a secret in the first place.

Both Lili and Basch recently moved to Port City, though she insists that she’s not following her brother. He hasn’t quite learned to recognize her as an adult yet, which bothers her immensely. She moved out from her uncle’s home a couple of years ago, pursuing veterinary science, but ultimately found it difficult to make connections and find friends because of her shyness. She dropped out of college when she got too lonesome to handle it on her own and began looking for a job to support herself. That’s when she received a letter inviting her to the armed detective agency.

SAMPLE WRITING (I hope multiple examples are okay)

“She bent down to start gathering snow for a second snowball, her first one having hit dead on. She had a wicked glint in her eye and a tiny smirk. ‘You’d better get ready! I don’t go easy on kids! I just give them a chance to run. Big kids never run.’ She shook her head, 'so I stopped asking. But kids deserve the chance. You have a 5 second head start, starting now.’ She bounced a snowball in her hand.” (From my HT blog)

“Lilli skittered backwards before tripping over her long skirts and falling. ‘Oh, I-‘ She stood quickly, lest she be trampled by dancing people. Dusting herself off as best she could, she quickly apologized ‘I didn’t mean to be in the way. Perhaps… have you seen a blonde boy? a little taller than me? I’m looking for my brother…’” (From an au event for HT)

“Lilli was running full speed down the street, 'oh no, oh no!’ she quietly whispered under her breath, 'Gonna be late, oh no!’

She turned the corner and suddenly found herself running straight into the person with the soccer ball. As they were larger than she was, she mostly just bounced off and tripped backwards, perhaps pushing them back slightly and catching them off guard, but not nearly with enough force to bowl them over.

Unfortunately the soccer ball ended up behind her and she tripped again over that, landing next to it with a thud.” (From my Gangtalia blog)