#(i used to work for the athletic department in college and my first job out of college was with the NHL)

[allylikethecat]

wait omg i was reading the hashtags on your ask response and when i tell you i let out a cackle when i read “fuck kelce go 49ers” because same i’m rooting for the 49ers w my fam

My IRL friends will tell you, I have hated that man for a VERY long time (I get overly passionate about football lol) and I have NOT enjoyed having to see his gross face everywhere this season.

Literally, I don't give a shit who Taylor Swift dates BUT I hate Travis Kelce from a sports perspective and have for YEARS. (Also I love how everyone has just FORGOTTEN about that disgusting Catching Kelce show he did, like that shit was so dehumanizing) I think he's obnoxious and not nearly as good as they try and claim he is (the man is a fucking glorified oversized wide receiver maybe actually block someone and he can join the TE discussion)

I grew up during the height of the Patriots Dynasty and say what you want about them but KC will NEVER be able to touch the Brady / Gronk legacy. Like KC fans / Swifties can say what you want, but if you break down his stats compared to other top TEs he's not nearly as impressive as we're being told he is.

I also used to know a guy that now plays for the 49ers, so I have hoped on that bandwagon this season and have really enjoyed watching them play. So, I will be very enthusiastically rooting for them, hopefully they won't let us down!

Thank you for sending in this ask, I'm so happy to hear you and your family are also rooting for the correct team this upcoming Super Bowl!

❤️Ally

[randomprose]

a series of texts/letters/notes that mo guan shan has written for he tian but will never send

note: he tian left after high school

—

xx/xx/xx to: chicken dick [unsent]

are you at wherever the fuck you should be at now? hope your flight was as shitty as your goodbye was

—

xx/xx/xx

Decided to give the old college experience a try after all. The high school teachers did say my grades were good enough to apply to some. Thanks for that I guess by the way. Studying wasn’t so bad when you have help.

Tuition costs are gonna be a bitch though so I’ll have to look for scholarship and shit.

I’m keeping my promise and trying my best to be better.

—

xx-xx 01:09 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

[photo attached: a black puppy]

ma got a new dog. the mutt followed her from the market after she shooed some bigger dogs picking on it. 

xx-xx 01:10 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

now it switched to following me around it’s fucking annoying. i have to look where i walk or i’ll step on it and then it’ll cry non-stop. stupid mutt. 

xx-xx 01:10 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

told ma not to name it or it’ll get attached.

—

xx-xx 10:34 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

[photo attached: a black puppy with an orange collar]

named him tian-tian

—

xx/xx/xx

Got accepted to a university in Shanghai. Food science and tech. It feels so fucking surreal.

Ma cried when we got the acceptance letter. I legit thought it was another rejection but the envelope was different. She opened the letter because my hands were shaking. It came with a fucking scholarship. She’s on the phone now telling all our relatives about it. We’re gonna see Pa tomorrow to tell him.

I wish you were here to open the letter with me too, chicken dick.

—

xx-xx 02:38 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

ma said there’s a chance pa could get out on parole. they’re hopeful but i don’t wanna get my hopes up. 

xx-xx 02:40 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

sorry. idk who else to tell this to.

—

xx/xx/xx

I applied for an athletic scholarship too. Track and field. The one the school gave was just for basic tuition. This one will cover the rest. It helped that I won a couple of track meets in high school. Guess all that running from gang’s in middle school paid off, huh?

Did you ever imagine I’ll be in college with not one but two scholarship? ‘Cause I sure as hell fuckin’ didn’t. Holy fucking shit.

Still gotta work part time though. Living expenses in Shanghai is no joke. Fuck. Do you know how much cong you bing costs here? Don’t even get me started on how much a bowl of noodle is here. Unbefuckinglievable. 

It wasn’t even as good as the one we used to eat at after school. I miss eating xiaomian with you.

—

xx-xx 11:21 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

shanghai is fucking big and confusing. and busy. 

xx-xx 11:30 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

i missed a station and messed up my train switch.

xx-xx 01:19 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

it’s fine. i still made it to the campus. lots of rich boys here like you btw. you would’ve fit right in.

—

xx/xx/xx

First years have to live on campus and the dorming system fucking sucks ass. And my roommate was an even bigger dick than you but at least he wasn’t a slob. No one will top you in that department I guess.

Rented a cheaper apartment off campus this year. It’s a shitty studio type, a bit cramped, but I like the privacy. It’s also closer to my part-time job and there’s this elderly couple who lives below me. I help them around sometimes and they give me food. The old landlady is a bit of a hardass though but…I think you would’ve charmed and won her over too, you smarmy ass shithead.

Rent isn’t cheap but it’s not too expensive either. If you were here, we could’ve shared an apartment. A regular one, not the high-end one you used to live in. Better for costs and splitting chores—not that you were any good at them, but you would’ve gotten better if you stayed. I wasn’t gonna tolerate your rich boy ass in college.

I know you had to leave but I wish you stayed instead. Would’ve been less lonely here.

—

xx/xx/xx

Finals exams are coming up and it’s kicking my fucking ass. Between classes and my part-time job I hardly have time to study. It’s a good thing sports training and extra-curricular activities are on pause now. But holy fucking shit why is it so hard to study?? It’s like I’m back in middle school and nothing is going in my head. How did I make it through high school?!

Yeah, yeah. I know. You were there. You tutored me and shit. Whatever, you dick. I don’t know why but it was just easier to focus with you around…but also not. It’s…you’re a distraction, but also you help me focus. Does that makes sense?

I guess what I’m trying to say is…you being around made me want to do better. 

It’s selfish but I wish it was just Jian Yi. I wish I got to keep you here with me.

—

xx/xx/xx

Exams are finally fucking done ended. I think I passed all of them. I have to pass all of them. I wanna graduate next year already. I can't be delayed. I’m so exhausted I feel like my brain is running on fumes. Bet you’ll be all smug and shit because you know you aced all your exams, you fucking smart ass. If you were here I mean. Fuck. I’m hungry but I’m too tired to get up. I want those sandwiches you used to make. If you were here would you make them for me? Would you pat my head and tell me I did a good job? When are you coming back? I miss your stupid smugass face. I miss y—

—

xx/xx/xx

I smoked a cigarette tonight. Just one. I was at a party and someone somehow had real cigarettes instead of a vape or those fancy e-cigarette shit. Does your rich boy ass use those? Or do you still prefer real nicotine? Bet you still smoke sticks you fucking edgelord.

I smoked in the balcony while my friends talked shit. Yeah, I have friends, dick head. You pick a few of those up when you do the college experience apparently. The owner of the house and the host is also my friend. Never imagined my punk ass self to hang out with college kids and get invited to honest to god normal college parties, but, fuck it. Here I am.

Zhengxi was there too. We go to the same university. Don’t think I ever mentioned that before, have I? I’m not sure what he’s taking. I think it was business? Something with a lot of math. I don’t fucking know. He’s…he’s been better. He was a fucking hot mess after Jian Yi left but now he’s…still a mess. Sometimes. I am too. After you left. But he’s trying. I am too. And some days are harder than others.

I don’t really smoke. Just felt like it tonight. Maybe it’s the alcohol (no, I’m not drunk, I barely drank) or the company. Maybe I just missed you and thought this is what you’ll do if you were here.

It was menthol. The cig I smoked. It fell cool in my lungs, calming almost, and I kind of understand why you're addicted to this shit I guess. If I didn’t hate the taste of smoke and the aftertaste maybe I’ll be too.

I didn’t hate it when you were blowing it in my mouth though.

The air in the balcony was cold. The smoke from the cig reminded me how you’d sometimes forget you still have a lighted stick between your fingers and just watch the smoke float up. I finished the stick and stubbed it twice on the ash tray before twisting it. Just like how you put it out.

—

xx/xx/xx

‘will he be sad if i leave?’ you wrote that down in your notebook. Before. In middle school. It was scratched over by ballpoint but the ink was blue and the words were written in black. It’s like you didn’t want to erase it after all. Did you want me to read it, you fuck?

Will I be sad if you leave? Guess what, dick head? I’m fucking devastated. Not really. 🖕

[deathgamegirl]

A.Iris AU Masterpost

So since I'm actually getting really invested in my protagonist Iris AU, I figured it'd be nice to have all the relevant information in one place. (Also so that I'm not clogging up the tag with sketches and whatnot). Under the cut is pretty much everything related to this AU, and this post will be updated when I come up with new things. I'm also hoping to have this AU fully realized as a fanfic or something similar in the future.

The AU contains major spoilers for the first AITSF game and mild spoilers for the second. There are also spoilers for the AU itself, if that's important to you.

Without further ado, here's the AU:

Main Characters

ABIS Members

Iris Sagan - 24 - She/Her - Rookie ABIS Agent

Iris Sagan is a detective fresh out of college who shows incredible promise. The moment that she learned about ABIS, she begged her mom to let her intern for them, thinking that it was like some kind of secret society. Her memory from before she graduated high school is kind of spotty, but she's chalked it up to her scatterbrained nature and neurodivergency. Though, if she's to be honest, she sometimes wonders what she's forgotten...

OTA - AI-Ball - He/It

OTA's name is short for Optical Technology Assistant. He's the first experimental sentient AI, though with him being the first of his kind, he's got quite a few… quirks in his programming. Even with his intense fixation on technology and otaku culture, however, he's surprisingly level-headed when it counts, and accounts for 95% of Iris's impulse control during missions.

Hitomi Sagan - 43 - She/Her - ABIS Agent & Tech Coordinator

Iris's mother, and the woman who handles the technology side of ABIS. She's the inventor of the AI-balls, maintainer of the psync machine, and robotics enthusiast. Because she lost her right arm in an accident long ago, she uses a prosthetic instead. She loves her daughter dearly, but could she be hiding something from her...?

Mizuki Okiura - 21 - She/Her - ABIS Department Head

Known among the MPD as a "genius among geniuses," Mizuki was thrust into the role of department head without so much as a chance to say no. She graduated from high school and college at a very young age with full honors, and is a "once-in-a-lifetime gifted girl" in both academics and athletics. However, she frequently deals with intense loneliness and imposter syndrome, but refuses to tell anyone about it...

Amame Doi - 24 - She/Her - Maid Cafe Waitress & Rookie ABIS Agent

Amame is a very busy girl. Her family lives below the poverty line, and she has taken it upon herself to provide for them first and foremost. After graduating high school, she immediately went into the workforce, landing a job at Sunfish Pocket and insisting that she be scheduled as many hours as possible (with overtime). Her sense of responsibility is ultimately her greatest strength and fatal flaw, and she's constantly exhausted to the point where it's become the norm for her. After a certain incident unfolds involving Iris, she is hastily recruited into ABIS to assist in the investigation...

KIZUNA - AI-Ball - She/It

Amame's AI-ball partner, who acts as her moral support and physical health monitor. She is a gentle, soft-spoken AI, but is firm and brutally honest when it counts. To Amame and Iris, her humanoid form looks somewhat familiar, but it must be a coincidence, right?

Civilians

Ayuna "Aiba" Imai - 30 - She/They - VTuber

A VTuber contracted with Leminscate, who uses a chubby little hamster character as her online avatar. Her favorite genres to play on stream are strategic simulation, puzzle, and psychological horror. She has a secret love for dating sims, too, but adamantly denies this whenever it's brought up. Her best friend and biggest fan is Date, but there are times where she's overwhelmed by his enthusiasm.

Kaname Date - 40 - He/Him - Salaryman

Date's a pretty average salaryman, all things considered. He works a normal office job that he doesn't particularly love or hate, and is friends with Shizue's parents. However, when it comes to Aiba, he's her most ardent supporter, and stops by Lemniscate whenever he has a day off to hang out with her. They're good friends, having known each other for a number of years, but he can be a bit obnoxious when he gets riled up.

Shizue "Boss" Kuranushi - 15 - She/Her - 9th Grade Delinquent

The de facto leader of Sekiba High's resident girl gang, who insists on being called "Boss". Unsatisfied with both her school and home life, she lashes out against any and all authority figures who try to placate her. But when she's properly respected, she has a surprising amount of emotional maturity, hence why she's the one her delinquent friends look up to. Her parents are the first victims of the Double Death Serial Killings, and she claims to not care that they're dead, but...

Kuruto Ryuki - 29 - He/They - (Former) MPD Detective

Once a (reportedly) exemplary detective in the MPD, after being asked to investigate a suspected cult, he was immediately targeted by the cult's leader and easily indoctrinated on account of his already shaky mental health. He frequently dissociates and experiences intense hallucinations and delusions about the world, insisting that nothing is real and that all of his pain will be wiped away soon. He was only rescued from within the cult a few months ago, and is grappling with the desire to return out of fear that he'll be unsafe outside it. Tama is currently his main support and the one person keeping him from running back.

Tamaki "Tama" Miyu - 33 - She/They - Therapist

A therapist that the MPD specifically sought out to treat Ryuki after he fell into cult propaganda. Tama can be hotheaded, perverted, and indignant at the wrong times, but she takes the health and safety of her patients very seriously. Even off the clock, she frets about her clients, and has taken to doing more and and more research on cult deprogramming late into the night for Ryuki's sake.

Tokiko Shigure - 59 - She/It - Order of % Head

The head of the Order of %, an ideological organization that believes that the world is a simulation, and therefore wishes to control it. Supposedly, by doing so, the members will be able to live however they'd like with no consequences or pain to speak of. The MPD suspects the Order of being an illegal cult, but Tokiko fervently denies any such claims. Considering the current state of Ryuki's mental health, however, it's obvious that she's hiding something...

Culprits

Manaka Iwai - 43 - She/Her - Assassin/Serial Killer

Iris's biological mother, presumed dead as of 24 years ago. Once a kind and compassionate woman, after a near-death experience and being declared missing, she was threatened by the Kumakuras into becoming an assassin for them. Her first target was So Sejima, but only after she killed him did she realize that his three-year-old son was watching, and subsequently adopted him both as a way to prevent herself from being discovered by the police, but also because she didn't want to leave him without any parents. Over the course of many, many years, she's lived in hiding with Saito, and her once-kind heart has slowly become desensitized to the violence she's been forced to commit. Once the Kumakuras began to reform, she fell in with the Order of % and now works for them. She knows that her daughter is out there somewhere, and hopes to find her again so that the three of them can be a family together.

Saito Iwai (formerly Sejima) - 27 - Enforcer/Serial Killer

Manaka's adopted son, who has been reportedly missing since So Sejima's death. He holds no ill will towards Manaka for killing his biological father, and in fact appreciates her dearly, as she genuinely loves him and even lets him kill people with her. The only person that ever got away from him was Iris, who he attempted to kill in a fit of jealousy upon realizing that she was Manaka's "real kid". However, he did manage to gouge out her left eye before she escaped. Like his mother, he works for the Order of %, joining up with them after the Kumakuras reformed.

Somnia

TBA

Plotpoints & Endings

TBA

[something-tofightfor]

15 questions to get to know me!

thanks for the tag, @skyshipper!

1. are you named after anyone?

I am not. My mom even spelled my name differently than it usually is because after a bunch of hours of back labor she didn’t care what my name was or how it was spelled. (I was supposed to be a Jessica, but my grandma said absolutely not.)

2. when was the last time you cried?

A couple days ago thanks to my Timehop. The end of March and first couple weeks of April are always really painful to relive. 

3. do you have kids?

I do not and I never will and I’m sick of people trying to convince me that the only way to feel fulfilled and truly happy with my life is to have kids. I’m perfectly happy and content to be able to wake up in the morning and decide to take a spontaneous trip, or make a purchase just because I want to or do what I want and need to do with my free time. 

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

If something sarcastic doesn’t come out of my mouth regularly, you know something’s wrong.

5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Physically? Their eyes. But the first thing I look for is how they treat the people they come into contact with. 

6. what’s your eye colour?

Blue, but it’s sort of tinged with gray? 

7. scary movies or happy endings?

I’ve never seen a truly scary movie, but I’m always on the hunt for a good one. 

I like happy endings, but they have to be realistic. (Hallmark movies don’t count because those bitches are always the most unrealistic BS and yet I can’t stop watching them.)

8. any special talents?

I have an insane amount of useless and trivial pop culture knowledge in my head. I am INCREDIBLE with word puzzles, and am really good at things like Family Feud and Jeopardy. 

I’m also a more than decent cook. 

9. where were you born?

About 10 minutes from where I currently live in Ohio. I’ve lived in the same state for all 35+ years of my life. 

10: what are your hobbies?

Cooking. Reading. Writing. Traveling. Seeing live concerts. Gardening (It’s almost tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime)

11. have you any pets?

Technically, I have three cats, but only one lives with me. Beckett is a cat I got in 2006 while in college that my dad “stole” from me when I took her home for Christmas break one year. She’s lived at his house since late 2008. Reptar is a cat that Chris and I adopted at the end of 2010 (about a month and a half after we got Neptune) that also lives at my dad’s house with Beckett. He went to live there after my childhood dog died, and Beckett needed a friend. Reptar’s really skittish, and they had a larger house with more places for him to hide/be comfortable with. 

And then there’s the Perfect Little Prince, my Tiny Baby Turdle, Sir Neptunington the First, His Royal Highness and my little honeybee .... Neptune. 

I’ve had him since July 2010, we found him on Craigslist, and the person that listed him said he was a Ragdoll/Siamese mix. 

He is not. He’s half Maine Coon, half Siamese and he’s more like a dog than any other cat I’ve ever met and he is huge and he is PERFECT. 

12: what sports do you play/have you played?

I’m the least athletic person you could possibly imagine. I hate the idea of participating in organized team sports, but I love swimming, and I’ve skied since I was 11 or 12, so for about 24 years. 

13: how tall are you?

5′6″

14. favourite subject in school?

English. I also really liked the journalism courses that I took. I hate math, and was not a big fan of my science and biology courses, either. 

15. dream job?

I currently get paid for writing, so that’s great, but it would be really cool to actually get to write things that I want to be writing for $$. I would love to work in the continuity department for some sort of production company, because details are very important and they’re often overlooked. 

Another ideal job, though? Music or food journalist. Someone should pay me to follow tours around and try new kinds of food and drinks. (Reader’s job in Locked Down is directly influenced by something that I’d enjoy doing. The freedom of getting paid to travel and have a good time would be incredible)

no pressure tags: 

@the-blind-assassin-12 @valkblue @haylzcyon @felteppsters @oonajaeadira @heychangbin @wildemaven @writeforfandoms ... and anyone else that really wants to play! tag me so I can see your answers 

[sophiasblog10]

Mark Kulakowski: A Teacher, A Helper, A Dedicated Worker

Around Endicott College you would find a familiar face and a familiar voice that is always being heard or seen. I had previously had the pleasure of working with Mark Kulakowski, otherwise known as "Kula" as being one of his interns for the spring semester. Kula had shown me around the post center and had shown me how to even perform bat testing for Endicott's very own baseball team a year prior to working for him. I had the pleasure of sitting down with "Kula" to be able to ask him more questions about what he does here and what is his role at Endicott College.

Sophia: Okay, so first, what is your name? And what is your title of position here at Endicott College? 

Mark: I am Mark Kulakowski, I am the Associate Athletic Director, I oversee all of our gameday operations facilities, ROTC liaison and day to day operations.

Sophia: How many years have you been in the field of athletics, and what is it exactly that you do for a job? 

Mark: I have been doing this for 22 years so I feel that I'm pretty lucky and blessed that I'm here. This place is great, but I have a lot of roles and a lot of different areas so my job isn't really just one role specific. One of my two main operations that I do is facility, so all of our athletic facilities, gym, all of our turf fields, everything, I oversee all those. The bigger piece that you're dealing with when working with me is the athletic operations and event management. So any event that goes on in this campus, I plan it and pre plan it and work with my staff and get it so that basically when the student athletes and the coaches walk out there, they're just playing the game, and finishing the game and walking away and all the stuff that goes into it from meeting a boss to showing a team a locker room, to hiring the student workers, to staffing it work with the interns, that's all under my umbrella. 

Sophia: What does your daily routine look like?

Mark: HAHAHA, I don’t have one. I oversee so many different areas. There's a couple things that are standard throughout my week. So I'll say Monday morning I come in and make sure the fitness center is clean. I usually use my little leaf blower to clean that and make sure everything's clean for the week. Tuesdays, we have our game day management meaning. Mondays, I also meet with you and Kaya. Tuesdays I'm on a committee for the school,  Thursdays, we have athletic department staff meetings, but outside of that, it really depends on the week and what's going on in working any games and if I am training somebody you know? This morning, for example, we have the Hockey Championship tomorrow. As you know, I set the rink up and everything is ready. So that's it, it is turnkey tomorrow morning, promoted all the parking,  and then came up and trained a couple of kids for lacrosse and for baseball this weekend. 

Sophia: What is the most difficult and easiest part of your job?

Mark: I think the most difficult is probably in some ways like I said I enjoy having my hands in a lot of different pots. I think probably the most difficult is also that same thing right being involved in a lot of different areas. We've talked about this like I'm a go-getter I need to do do do and  sometimes I forget like hey, you gotta delegate a little bit and I think that's probably one of them. I don't see difficulty, but it is something that I need to do a better job at but in terms of just difficulty you're never going to please anybody. So women's lacrosse games and they all parked in the wrong spots. I had to move them or you got X, Y and Z going on at a game, you're never gonna please everybody but you do your best to please most people. So that's difficult. I think the other part of it was what was most rewarding is I love Endicott, and I love the people and I'm a people person and so that I get to interact with students, with interns, with faculty, with staff. I love the fans and community. I just love being involved. I could never be a person in a three piece suit sitting in an office crunching numbers. I need to be out and about. I find that to be the best. 

Sophia: How important is student teacher interaction to like throughout your years of working here? 

Mark: Yeah, it's huge. And I've been here a long time. So I've seen an increase in technology is a great thing. I think one thing your generation struggles with a little bit is that it's easy to hide behind a text and an email. I think the face to face conversations, that's why a lot of the stuff we'll do is face to face. This internship, for example, is very hands-on. That's something that I struggled with a little bit,  when I want to talk to somebody even on the phone, most people don't pick up the phone, they wait, and then they'll text you back. So that communication piece, I think, is something that has got to kind of continue to get worked on.

Sophia: How have you as a person changed over the years from doing this job?

Mark: So not to be long winded, but I started, I was 22 years old, and right out of college, as a grad assistant, started the football program here as an assistant coach. I also coach softball. So getting to coach both sports for a long time, I did both sports together for 10 years, then stayed on another six with just softball. Being an administrator, I kind of worked my way from a coordinator to an Associate Athletic Director and kind of climbed. I'm not big on titles, but I've seen and done a lot of different things. So it's been just a great experience. I'm 43, I'm hoping that I'm here till I retire 20 odd years. So it's pretty impressive, where a lot of people don't get to stay, and really say, they love what they do. So I find myself blessed. 

Sophia: So what and who are your inspirations?

Mark: First and foremost, Jesus Christ. I'm a big follower of the faith and this sounds cliche, but my parents, certainly, and my family, my kids and my wife, I mean, those are really people that I don't say emulate. But that's really what's important to me. I've been lucky for the last 22 years, to have a boss and Brian Wylie that has been a mentor to me, in many ways that he probably doesn't even know. But I think I'm blessed with all those people that I mentioned.

Sophia: How has your job changed over the years?

Mark: As I can imagine, it was coaching and working the game and facilities. And I think one of the coolest, I don't know if it's necessarily changed, but coolest things that I've gotten to do is every athletic facility here on this campus, I've been a part of either building or rebuilding. So for example, our gym was here in 99. But we resurfaced that, we put in new bleachers, I was involved in that we built the softball field, put in three tariffs, now with the reserves, and you know, the ice arena and all that. So getting to build those facilities and be involved in all of our capital projects. That's been a lot of fun. You get to spend somebody else's money. We redid the fitness center, and we put in a new scoreboard. We did the room upstairs, the new dance studio. So a lot went on just in the summer alone. So it's a lot of fun.

Sophia: Perfect.  Last question is what are your goals for the future?

Mark: Yeah. I think from a team perspective, I'm very big on Team. Team goals for my staff individually. There's a lot of games that I cover over 300 games a year and some of my staff are head coaches, or even if their assistant coaches are too, I don't want to say less than that, but I'll get better at continuing to be able to spread it out and maybe get a few more staff so that it evens off a little bit more because they do have a lot of other responsibilities. So that would be more of a team goal. Long term is to get a couple more non coaching staff so it can spread out individually. I kind of mentioned like I love what I do, I continue to want to grow and whatever the college needs. You know, I don't plan on going anywhere from Endicott. I love my role, I would be happy staying in this. But if the college needs me in either a different role or to handle certain things along with my current role, I'd be happy to just be adaptable in that way. When I was going back to when you're in high school, but I got put in charge of COVID Testing Center, and I ran that and I did that for a year. And it was just more because I could manage people and it was cool. As much as COVID wasn't cool, It was a cool experience to be able to run into something completely different and meet new people. Being able to help out and be involved in the college I think is definitely where I'd like to just continue to go.

Sophia: Alright, awesome. Thanks.

[jakelandryshorts]

Mr. Andrews’ Pool

“Having fun boys?”

I nearly jumped out of the pool as I heard the sentence. Looking up, I figured I had to be in at least a little bit of trouble. “Mr. Andrews!? I thought—I thought you weren’t going to be back for another couple of days.”

Mr. Andrews belted out a laugh. His whole body seemed to shake as he did so. “It’s alright Jason. Something came up, so I came back a few days early to test something out.”

“Oh…” I said as I stared him up and down. It was a bit awkward seeing him in his own swim trunks. Partially because he put me, Ken and Trenton all to shame in the muscle department. More because he was actively hard. The bulge between his legs left nothing to the imagination as it was currently hard as a rock. It was also something else that put all three of us to shame as well.

It’s not like I didn’t know Mr. Andrews wasn’t gay. I’d seen the attractive men go in and out of his house through all parts of the day. With how handsome and buff he was, even though he was nearing his 60’s it was hard to imagine him not wanting to have sex. That white hair only seemed to make him look more mature and age didn’t seem to atrophy any of his muscles. It’s just that I didn’t like being the subject of his interest. However, right now, being in his backyard with two of my friends made it a bit hard to be mad at him.

I grabbed a towel and started to dry myself off. “Ok. Sorry,” I said quickly, then motioned to Ken and Trenton to get out of the pool.

“What’s the rush?” Mr. Andrews asked. “I told you to house sit all week. Why should you leave so early?”

“I-I-I,” I stammered for a second trying to think of a reason. Something about the sentence didn’t quite feel right. Mr. Andrews was just my rich neighbor and I knew he’d be gone for the week so I just wanted to get into his pool. But it’s because he said I could when I stayed over. Even going so far as to leave money on the counter for pizza and a fridge full of beer. I could even remember him distinctly saying that, ‘20’s old enough to drink,’ then slapping my shoulder and shaking me as he showed me his house.

“No need to be so uncomfortable bud,” Mr. Andrews laughed again. “It looks like you did an excellent job taking care of the house. So, you have my thanks. Relax. Have some fun with your friends. It’s not like you mind me joining you,” before I knew it, he’d wrapped me into a one-armed hug, pulling me tightly against his body. “Right?”

“Right,” I asserted. It was his house after all. His pool too. No reason to try to force him out of his backyard.

Mr. Andrews laughed again as his hand slapped my shoulder. He led me over to the pool where Trenton and Ken still were. “And who are these guys?”

“This is Trenton,” I pointed to the big burly guy wading in the pool. At 6’5”, he’d always been big in high school and only gotten bigger in college. I should say rounder. Even though he still played football, he focused more and eating big than eating right. And instead of working out as hard as he could or working in some cardio, he did the bare minimum. Coach had been slowly drifting him further and further to the back of the line for putting him onto the field.

“And this is Ken,” I pointed at the much leaner, more athletic looking guy swimming around. Somehow, he gained muscle like it was nothing. Every time he worked out it was like he’d gain another pound of exclusively muscle. And when he ate, it would just turn into muscle as well. He seemed to eat and drink whatever he wanted and it not affect his waistline at all. It was just frustrating that it felt like he knew he was hot. The number of women he slammed had to be closing in on the three digits, or at least the way he bragged about it did.

Mr. Andrews plopped down onto the side of his pool. He sat on the edge, letting his feet into the water. “Hmmm…” he stared at Ken and Trenton. I could have sworn I saw his cock throb as he did so. “You three play sports?”

Trenton was the first to answer. “Yeah… Football.”

“Figured,” Mr. Andrews laughed. “Big guy like you has to be really good at it.”

“More like fat guy,” Ken said, splashing at Trenton. “He’s basically just a wall.” Trenton splashed back. But he didn’t really have a response. He was fat. He knew it. Watching his belly distend further and further out in front of him was hard to miss. Same with having to buy new clothes or getting yelled at by coach by needing a new uniform.

“Fat? I’d say burly. Maybe stocky,” Mr. Andrews said.

Ken was quick to shoot back, “Sounds like another two words for fat.” Trenton lunged at him, making sure to dunk Ken under the water.

Mr. Andrews just smiled as he turned to me. “Does Ken always flirt with Trenton like this?”

“Flirt?” I asked. I wasn’t really paying all that much attention. Something about Trenton had distracted me. It was like that massive gut of his wasn’t quite as massive. I quickly snapped out of it. “No. They’re just playing.”

“Okay…” Mr. Andrews said skeptically. “Looks kind of like flirting to me…”

“Really?” Now I was starting to have doubts. But I knew both Trenton and Ken were straight. But when Mr. Andrews said it, doubt started to enter.

“Yeah. Look at how Ken’s hands grab at Trenton’s strong arms, then slowly drift down them. And then there’s that devious little smirk as though he knows he shouldn’t have said something, but wanted to because he wanted Trenton’s attention,” Mr. Andrews explained as it happened. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was weird, but he wasn’t wrong. The ways Trenton and Ken’s eyes locked seemed to have something else behind it. “Not that I can really blame him. Having such a big and burly powerlifter build takes a lot of work and not easy to maintain. That’s probably why Ken thinks he so hot.”

I nodded absentmindedly at the observation. Something about it kept nagging at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t deny Trenton’s muscular bulk did look really hot. With how much he’d been working in the gym it only made sense. But I was more distracted at Ken. How hadn’t I noticed just how much he liked to wrestle with Trenton. Suddenly, all I could remember were times when Ken would try to jump on Trenton’s back, or climb on top of Trenton when he was lying down on the couch. Every little oddity that Ken did around Trenton made sense.

“Feeling alright?” Mr. Andrews asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just had a weird headache all of a sudden…”

“Oh?” he looked a bit concerned. “Maybe it’s a bit too much sun. Come, sit right here,” he patted the spot next to him. “The oak tree gives some good shade here.”

Looking down at myself, I did have a pretty good tan going on. But the only spot in the shade was right next to Mr. Andrew’s. There was barely any room to actually sit. Still, I didn’t want to pass out so I went and sat down next to him.

“Ahhhh… This feels good,” Mr. Andrews leaned back, putting his weight on his arms and showing off his abs. I couldn’t deny it. The cool water running up to my knees, with the shade and a cool breeze, it was just about perfect. “I’m glad you’ve still been using my gym. You look good.”

“Oh? Is it that obvious?” I asked.

Mr. Andrews let out a laugh. “Course it is!” he pulled me into a one armed hug and shook me around a bit. “When you came knocking on my door on your 18th birthday, you looked no bigger than a string bean. To think that over the course of 2 plus years you’d gain as much weight as you did. Let’s see…” he trailed off and that dull nauseating headache seemed to start again. Something about myself felt off, but I couldn’t quite place it. Didn’t I play sports in high school? Wasn’t I on the college football team? But I was really skinny. Barely able to even be a water boy, let alone an actual player.

The Mr. Andrews continued. “You must have only been about 100 pounds. Barely even 5’4” and absolutely miniscule compared to other guys your age. That’s why I let you in. Figured you needed a bit of a confidence boost. And boy howdy! What a boost it was. By 19 you’d gained close to 60 pounds and shot up at least half a foot. No one could call you tiny anymore. You were just as big as the rest of them. But still growing. With your puberty working so late, it must have decided to go into overdrive cause you just kept growing. Muscle seemed to just pack onto your body with each workout. You’d come over nearly everyday and by the next, you looked to be almost a pound heavier. And each month it almost felt like you’d grown another inch.”

Suddenly that nausea was back. I couldn’t explain it but it felt like I shrank and then grew all over again. It was like my body just compressed itself into that 5’4” 100 pound body and then started to stretch out again. My muscles were sore. Like hundreds of hours of workouts all happening at the same time, but when I flexed, I could only see the gains. My veins were bulging out of my arms as blood flowed faster. I could almost feel the weight packing onto me. I could almost see the muscle building in my body. Biceps bulged. My pecs felt like they doubled in size. I could feel my shoulders bumping into Mr. Andrew’s body.

But he continued speaking. “What are you up to? 6’5”. No, you must be 6’6”.” I almost felt like my body stretched another inch as he said it. “And what? 230 pounds.” My arms were massive. I knew that. With how lean my bodyfat I looked like a bodybuilder. Lean but huge muscle. “No that’s too light. You must be 240.” Again, my body seemed to inflate. It was like more and more weight added onto me. I couldn’t understand it. Every part of me felt so big and swole but it also felt so natural. “Nah I’m still thinking of a while ago. You must be at least 250s. How much do you weigh?”

“253,” I answered. The nausea felt like it was really getting to me. The world was spinning and nothing made sense. I was easily big as a bodybuilder, but none of it felt right. Looking down I could see my 20 inch arms. My massive chest that I could barely see over. There was just a bit of my massive quads that strained my swim trunks and then my perfectly cut calves. Not to forget about my massive feet that had to have custom made shoes so I could actually wear something.  

I wobbled. “Shh… Shh…” Mr. Andrews cooed. “It’s alright. Daddy’s gotcha.” Instinctively, I pulled away.

“Frank,” I hissed. Then nodded towards the pool.

“What?” Frank acted oblivious. “Your friends are far too distracted with each other to even notice what we’re doing.”

Looking over his shoulder, he wasn’t wrong. Ken and Trenton were nearly on top of each other. Ken sat on the edge of the pool leaning over kissing Trenton. The two seemed to not be able to get comfortable, as Trenton would pull him back in.

“See? Ken’s such a horny little bitch for Trenton, that he can barely even help himself,” Frank continued. I absentmindedly nodded at the assertion. Somehow, Frank had barely seen them for a few minutes and pointed out something so obvious that I never felt like I noticed. Even now, his trunks were fully tented. His hard cock bouncing with each additional touch from Trenton. “And by the looks of it, Trenton’s gotten plenty of experience taking that ass.”

“But—”

“But what?” Frank mocked. “I’ve been fucking you this last year and you’ve loved every minute of it. Your friends are busy, so why can’t we have a little fun? Huh? You sounded so excited when I told you I was coming home yesterday. And it’s not like you haven’t been interested since I showed up. That lime green speedo you have on sure as hell doesn’t hide your erection.” He started touching my smooth muscles more. His rough hands gently running down the sides of my body. “It feels good. Better than the touch of anyone else you know. Why are you resisting so much? What? You got yourself a girlfriend?”

“What?!” I gasped. My dick was throbbing. He wasn’t wrong. Just feeling those hands on my skin made me nearly cum. Even though it’d barely been 4 days since I felt his touch, it felt like a century.

A smile appeared on his face as he leaned in to kiss the nape of my neck. His white prickly beard made my body shiver. My fingers scraped against the concrete as I tried my best not to cum. He gripped my dick. “It’s fine if you want to spread your seed. You could get any girl you want and she’d be absolutely the best thing for you. But when you’re with Daddy, you only think about Daddy.” His grip around my cock tightened. I couldn’t help myself as I finished. He just smiled and leaned back.

It took a moment to catch my breath. “Yes sir,” I panted out.

“Good boi,” he said. “Now, let’s actually get a party going. Go ahead and call a couple of your friends. Trenton. Ken. Call some of your friends too. We’re about to have some fun.”

more posts over on my wordpress

[nectar-cellar]

i made rainer and elise months and months ago, to be pretty models for my photoshoots and cc previews. then when i took pics for the tuxedo outfit i made, i got the idea for them to be an actual couple. recently i gave some more thought to them as characters :3 i will share some facts about them below the cut however i’m still figuring out their story as i go along. be warned it’s a very long and somewhat disorganized read lol don’t feel obligated to read this thesis if you don’t have the patience to!

also i reused 1 pic bc it’s cute 🥺

--

rainer is an athletic and outdoorsy person. he loves sports, being in nature, and taking photos of his adventures with his dslr camera. he is also a foodie and takes his weekly cheat meals very seriously. when at home, he likes to play strategy and puzzle-solving video games, or lay on the couch with a good novel. his job is fast-paced and he sometimes works long days, so he values activities that invigorate him and relax him. he doesn’t use social media very much for privacy reasons and has no interest in being a public figure. he is 30 years old.

in college, he studied computer science and took additional courses in criminology and sociology. he currently works as a cybersecurity analyst at a consulting firm, but most people have no idea what that means, so he usually just says he works in “finance” or “consulting” when asked. that usually kills any follow-up questions. overall he has a calm, reserved and logical type of personality. he can be assertive and charismatic when it comes to business matters, but in his personal relationships he tends to be more observant and sensitive. having been single for a while, in his moments alone, he misses romantic companionship and the fulfillment of making another person happy.

elise is a creative and outgoing person. she works in the marketing department of an upscale fashion boutique, and runs a painstakingly curated simstagram account in her spare time. being a microinfluencer might as well be her second job. a city girl, fashionista and social butterfly, elise’s calendar is always meticulously scheduled with outings, appointments and blocks of time reserved for social media work. hey, it’s not all for fun, she has a personal brand to maintain, and professional relationships to cultivate! and free makeup and shoes to receive!

in her rare days off, she likes to relax at home by baking, decorating her apartment, and sketching clothes. she is 27 years old, fiercely independent, and living the fabulous life she always dreamed of. however, she sometimes wishes she could slow down and just be her real, unmade-up self around other people. she loves her fun and glamorous job, but the industry can be a painfully shallow and judgmental place. the older she gets, the more she values authenticity in people, a rare trait to come across in her social circle. with her growing social media presence, she also struggles to strike a balance between being relatable and keeping her private life offline. she secretly yearns for deeper connections in her life and finds them hard to make.

rainer and elise both volunteer on weekends for different non-profits, and they first meet at a large joint event held by their organizations. he is instantly smitten with her beauty and radiant personality, and after the event, he asks her out on a date. she is immediately impressed by his gallant demeanor, and happily accepts.

afterwards, unable to get her out of his mind, rainer searches through elise’s public internet presence to learn more about her. in his deep dive, he inadvertently discovers an old burner account on a plastic surgery forum where elise anonymously sought advice about various procedures, shared her insecurities about her appearance, and candidly talked about living as a trans woman: a personal fact she has never been public about. although the account does not contain her real name, enough personal details align for him to put the pieces together. he’s an analyst after all, it’s part of his job to read between the lines and connect the dots. he feels guilty for discovering something he shouldn’t have known, but it doesn’t change his attraction to her. reading her honest and intimate posts about her life only endears her to him. his discovery prompts him to learn how to be more considerate and respectful when dating, and motivates him to show up as a better partner for her.

as they spend more time together and their feelings grow stronger, elise can’t help but hesitate. is she ready for a serious relationship after remaining single by choice for years? is she ready to give up her freedom to make someone else her priority? and the million dollar question: what if he can’t accept her for who she is? she remembers the pain and disappointment of rejection from her previous failed relationships. but just because dating is hard and messy and complicated, it doesn’t mean she should never try again... right? in front of her was a mature, sincere and grounded guy who seemed to check all her boxes so far. it is scary to be honest and vulnerable with someone especially when you haven’t done it in a long time. her developing relationship with rainer forces her to confront her insecurities about herself and her fear of opening up to other people.

rainer senses her hesitation, but doesn’t know how to relieve her doubts without jeopardizing their relationship. he thinks she would be horrified if she realized how much he knew about her, and his violation of her privacy would shatter her trust in him. he is certain that he wants to pursue a serious relationship with her: every moment they spend together just feels easy and blissful and right. he can’t risk losing her, so all he can do is prepare for the day when she trusts him enough to open up, and finally show her she has nothing to be afraid of.

he also feels morally torn: was he wrong for thoroughly screening his prospective date’s background, back when they were relative strangers? her information was openly available on the internet. and did elise have to know what he had done? what really matters is their strong, genuine connection, right? the guilt of violating her privacy weighs on his conscience and he tries to make up for this by approaching her with extra care and attention at all times. he just hopes his actions won’t blow up in his face when she eventually has The Talk with him. 

--

so yeah that’s where i’m at. TWO CHARACTERS WHO WANT TO SAY THINGS TO EACH OTHER BUT CAN’T. TWO CHARACTERS WHO HAVE STRONG FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER AND DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT!!!! romance. yearning. tenderness. drama. i wrote a lot more in my google doc. thanks for reading if you did 😩

[not-great-not-terrible]

So I was visiting my parent's the other day and my dad was watching ESPN and there was a short clip of Lia Thomas. He started spouting how her winning the NCAA championship was BS. He turns to me and asks if I agree.

"No, I don't"

He's stunned, "what do you mean? You mean to say you wouldn't be upset if you got beat by a man in a race?"

"First off, she's not a man, she's a woman. Second, my athletic career was mediocre at best so I wouldn't be competing against that level of talent to begin with."

"I don't care about them being trans or whatever but if you trained your whole life to compete at this level and then it's snatched out from under you because they let a man who now goes as a woman compete, you wouldn't be mad?" he asks.

"No, if they win they win. That's how a race works."

He's still struggling to understand how I can rationalize that.

Lia Thomas is a woman, that is her identity, her life. Just like right now being an athlete is a huge part of her life and once a huge part of mine. Being an athlete is, except for a very small percentage, a temporary identity. After competing at the college level, most of us move on to regular, working adult lives. Our identity as an athlete becomes irrelevant in the workplace, our past as one ends up as a "fun fact about me" that you share at your new job orientation. (And I didn't even use it for my current job, instead I shared that I made a pretty decent Jon Snow and it made me a hit in our department).

I have a bunch of trophies, plaques, medals, certificates, and conference championship rings... where are they? Some are in a box in my parent's attic, the rest are in a box in my basement labeled "Box o' Accomplishments". I wear one championship ring but the reason is because I physically can't take it off. My fingers swelled during pregnancy just enough that it doesn't bother me but I can't get it over the knuckle. Not to say I'm not proud of my athletic career, it's just no longer the main pillar of my life.

I used to be "that runner girl", my whole life and choices were wrapped up in my ability to run. Then when I was 22-23, it was like... now what, who am I if I'm not the runner athlete? Turns out I am so much more than just "that runner girl" identity. I'm a mom (cliche yes, but true), after the pandemic I became a "Healthcare Hero", the lady with a more-than-healthy-obsession with Mass Effect and RDR2, the artist, and since switching to working on pediatrics, "Patch Adams" (as my partner calls me since I'm known to draw a Sonic, sing a math song, dance, or tell a joke if it helps my patients).

The point is, if I lost a race to a transwoman, I'm not going to be upset because it's not going to negatively effect the rest of my life. I can move on. If I were to say "she shouldn't be competing with women who were assigned that sex at birth", I know that as a female athlete, my statement would be used as part of an agenda to validate the passing of anti-trans legislation and try to invalidate the trans community. It will start small, by preventing them from competing in sports. All by appealing to people like my dad who are not outright against trans people outside of athletics then grow from there, chipping away at their basic human rights, causing real damage. That will negatively effect the rest of Lia Thomas' and other trans athletes everyday lives outside their 20's, when their athletic days are over.

They should be able to get a regular, working adult job without discrimination and they can share the fun fact that they were once an athlete then go on and add to their identity... Be a parent (of children, pets and/or plants), the cool teacher, PC gamer, whatever they want to be.

I'd rather have a fellow athlete be free to live their life and have the same rights as me, than a trophy in my "Box o' Accomplishments" collecting dust in the basement.

[lexosaurus]

Statistic

My contribution to DP Side Hoes Week 2021 day 1! Character: Mr. Lancer Theme: Reflection

---

William Lancer stood in front of the mirror, fastening his tie with practiced fingers. He pulled the fabric down, completing the knot, and straightened it before him.

There. Now he was ready to start his day.

Well, almost.

He picked up the steaming mug of coffee off his dresser and sipped it, cherishing the warmth. It was early, too early. No matter how much his parents told him he would get used to waking up early for work every day as an adult, he never seemed to get the hang of it.

He stifled a yawn, noting the bags under his eyes and creasing forehead as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Teaching had aged him, there was no doubt. Between preparing the lesson plans, grading assignments, editing papers, meeting with parents, tutoring students—not to mention the dreaded administrative meetings—it was really no surprise that teaching had slowly worn him down over the years. 

But he wasn’t sure he could ever walk away. At least, not for a few more decades.

He headed downstairs, swiping his keys off his kitchen counter and starting the familiar drive to school. 

Teaching wasn’t all bad, it wasn’t all weary, thankless work. The students, though hormonal and immature they could be, kept him going every day. Watching their eyes light up as they understood a concept, seeing them succeed in their athletic or creative ventures, those were the small moments he cherished. The parts of his days that he yearned for.

He parked and strolled into the school, coffee still in hand. The hallways, though empty now, would soon be teaming with life as the students slowly made their way to school. And though they’d be tired at first, slowly throughout the day the voices in the halls would get louder, more lively, as the day picked up steam.

He said a few obligatory greetings to his coworkers, grabbed a few files from his office, and then headed to the printer room. He had a few worksheets he needed to print out for his students today.

“Will!” Tom Falluca greeted him. A copy machine buzzed next to him, spitting out papers.

“Hey, Tom.” Edward set his mug down on a spare table. It always amazed him how lively Tom seemed to be in the morning. “Happy Friday.”

“And to you! Got any plans for the weekend?”

William shrugged. His weekends tended to all be the same, with him switching off between prepping for school, emails, reading, and video games. Not that he told anyone about the latter hobby. It would have been rather unprofessional of him to admit to such a thing. “I’ll probably get started on my book club book. It’s a rather interesting one I believe. Well, according to Jane from the history department it is. But that woman will read anything, so I take her recommendations with a grain of salt. How about you?”

“My wife’s sister will be in town this weekend, so we’ll be hosting them.”

“Oh, that will be fun. Is she the one with the kids?”

“Yup, although they’ll be spending the weekend with their grandparents, so we won’t have them this time. It’ll just be Alice and her husband. I think we’ll probably go biking around the city on Saturday and then go out to dinner and a bar.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” William pressed a button, whirring his copy machine to life. “Kids can be such a handful.”

“Oh, you’re telling me! I still have one at home, although he’s old enough now to be able to take care of himself for a day.”

“That’s the good thing about you working here, isn’t it? He would never be able to get away with a house party.”

Tom chuckled. “Heavens, no. The rumor mill works too well for that.”

William hummed, swapping a paper out of the copy machine with another.

“If any of your students look despondent today, it’s because they got their math test back,” Tom said.

“Not a good one?”

“Well, for the most part it went okay. But there were a few scores that were a bit lower than expected, and the usual suspects didn’t do well either...”

William didn’t miss the implication of that last comment. “You mean Mr. Fenton and Mr. Baxter.”

“Dash didn’t do great, but I spoke with his parents about arranging him with a math tutor last week and they seemed to agree with the idea, especially since I know he’s starting to think about college recruitment. But Danny!” He let out a sharp breath and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Good grief, I don’t know what to do with that kid.”

William recalled the essay he graded from Mr. Fenton earlier this weekend. It was a garbled blend of English words that could only have been written by someone who couldn’t even bother to read the Sparknotes of the novel. For a while, William suspected dyslexia. But he had seen Mr. Fenton’s work after being forced to study in the classroom after school, and while he certainly wasn’t on the same level as his sister, he had shown to be able to produce legible, comprehensible papers when he put the time into it.

It was almost too easy to write him off as just another lazy student. And sometimes, William did do that. But he knew that deep down there was a much, much larger issue at play.

He just didn’t know what that issue was. 

“Fenton is a rather interesting case,” William finally said. “Truthfully, I haven’t been able to figure out how to handle him either.”

“It would be much easier if his parents would get involved. I’ve sent emails, but they just apologize for his performance and promise that they’ll talk to him. He doesn’t need to be talked to, he needs real intervention, and I can’t do that if his parents won’t agree to it.”

“I’ve had similar issues,” William admitted. Jack and Maddie Fenton were an unfortunate roadblock in his progress with Daniel. At the moment, it seemed detentions were the only way he could actually get Mr. Fenton to be forced into doing schoolwork at all. And even then, half the time Mr. Fenton would either not show up to the detention, or he’d pull one of his infamous disappearing acts halfway.

“I don’t know.” Tom shook his head. “Every so often, you get a student like this. I know, I’ve been at this job for almost thirty years. I know we’re not heroes, we can’t save everyone. But it still is such a damn shame to see a student with so much potential slip through the cracks.”

“I agree.”

At this rate, Mr. Fenton would amount to nothing more than just another failed statistic. He would just slip through the cracks.

William hated to think about it.

“We can’t save them all, Tom, but I’ll see about trying to get Madeline and Jack Fenton into my office again with the guidance counselor.”

“Theresa’s good. Maybe she’ll get through to them.”

William shrugged and collected his papers. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Theresa, Mr. Fenton’s parents, and himself had sat down together to discuss Daniel’s performance. But it was always the same response, just a, “We never had these issues from Jazz!” from the father and a, “I’m so sorry, I’ll talk to him,” from the mother. Any suggestions of a 504 plan was shut down before William could finish his sentence.

“He’s never had these issues before. We’ll talk some sense into him!” Jack Fenton had said.

There had been students in past years who had parents that spoke like this. Opposed to alternative methods, so sure they alone could “talk some sense” into their teen as if that would solve all their academic issues.

It never ended well.

William shuffled off to homeroom, one hand clutching his photocopied papers and the other holding a nearly empty mug of coffee.

He wasn’t sure how to get through to Daniel. He wasn’t sure how to convince his parents that Daniel needed extra help, and that was okay. It wasn’t a sign of intelligence, or lack thereof. 

But he needed to figure it out. 

He refused to let Mr. Fenton become another statistic.

---

Thanks for reading!

[arctimon]

By the Grace of Granville

(Warning: This post is long.  But what else is new when it comes to character analyses?)

One of the bigger mysteries that gets introduced into Big Hero 6: The Series made their introduction in the very first episode, got a little bit of expansion into their background, and then didn’t really see much daylight for the rest of the series sand her becoming an even-numbered wheel. No, I’m not talking about Obake.

I’m talking about Professor Granville, the newly-installed dean of the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology.

People, including myself, play Granville up as some sort of Nick Fury-esque figure.  She’s always in the know, gives advice to the team, and seems to have a general understanding of everything at once.

This is further helped by the fact that we don’t know a lot about what she has been up to since she resigned after Obake’s accident. It’s hindered by the fact that there may be some misinformation going on at the Big Hero 6 Wiki.

Here’s the introductory blurb for Professor Granville on her page:

Grace Granville has been a professor at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology for at least 20 years, having taught Wendy Wower and Trevor Trengrove among other modern day geniuses.

She used to teach robotics and had her own star student, Bob Aken, but once he began an experiment to build an energy amplifier, it went awry as the amplifier exploded on his face, the result of which sent him to the hospital.

Though Bob survived, Granville felt extreme guilt from the incident and resigned. However, she kept the remains of the amplifier, possibly unaware that it still worked, as a reminder to not repeat the same mistakes.

She would return decades later to teach thermodynamics when Robert Callaghan, the dean of the institute at the time, was thought to have died, then resurfaced as the villain Yokai and was arrested for putting San Fransokyo in danger. Professor Granville became the college's new dean as she settled into her new role quite well. Now, after rewatching “Mini-Max”, I call into question the very first part that she’s been a professor there for at least 20 years.  As far as I am aware of, that has never been said or confirmed in the show.  She said herself (and the yearbook and Callaghan confirm this) that she worked there 20 years ago.  That’s not the same thing.  Working there for 20 years is not the same thing as being there 20 years ago.  So is that a discrepancy or am I the one who doesn’t remember things correctly?

And let’s go to what Callaghan said about the incident when Hiro went to visit him in prison in “Mini-Max”:

Robert: “She was in the lab after hours.  Something went wrong.  There was...an incident.”

Hiro:  “What kind of incident?” Robert: ”Officially, a pipe burst.  But there were rumors.  An unsanctioned project gone wrong.” Hiro:  ”So she was fired?”

Robert: “She resigned.  The matter was not pursued further.  That’s all I know.” OK, first of all...was Callaghan not the dean twenty years ago?  And even if he wasn’t...

Does anyone think that was caused by a simple burst pipe?  What was in said pipe?  Lava?  TNT?  Mentos and Coke?

That leads to the second possibility: Callaghan was Dean at the time, knew about it, and “pushed” Granville to resign to avoid a messy lawsuit.

But we’re getting away from the original point, which is...what exactly has Granville been doing this entire time? I find it hard to believe that Granville was still at the school when Tadashi, Go Go, Honey Lemon, and Wasabi were there.  You’d think that one of them would have said something about it, and all through the conversations in “Mini-Max” gave no indication of that as well.

So she’s been gone for twenty years (presumably).  Which begs the next question... Why did she have to become the dean? Endangering a student’s life is a very serious thing.  Something like that can’t be just forgiven.  So, why did it have to be her? It’s not like there’s not other candidates:

(From left to right: Monica Rambeau [one of the Physics professors], Grace Granville, Robert Callaghan, Linda Carter, and Timothy Dugan.  Note that these are merely names I’ve given them based off of who I think they are and not canon names.  However, for the sake of simplicity, I will refer to them as such from here on out.) Monica might have been a good replacement.  Linda’s just the nurse, so unlikely.  Dugan’s the Dean of Athletics, so probably not.  The dean doesn’t have to be the robotics professor, right?  Granville teaches Thermodynamics. And then you have Professor Kameela from the comics, who appears to be another Physics professor:

So why her?

Granville’s been out of the game, as far as we know, for a long time.  Did the board at SFIT really have no other options other than Granville?  Why give the top job to someone who hasn’t even stepped foot in SFIT for decades?

And the worst part is that I don’t really have a good answer for that.  The show delves into Granville’s history with Obake a lot and not enough into her actual history with SFIT, so that part is pretty much an unsolved mystery.

And if the info on the Wiki is true, then that means...what?  Granville was teaching for 20 years, and then took a 20 year break.  Wouldn’t that put Granville in her 60s, at minimum? (She looks pretty good for possibly being in her 60s.  Maybe she got some Infinity Formula from her possible Marvel counterpart.)

I think it’s much more possible that she’s in her early 50s.  That gives her enough time to be a professor, have an actual working history, and then have to leave with Obake’s accident. So my personal timeline for her career would be something like this.  For the sake of being simple, let’s assume that Granville is an even 50, and also that Big Hero 6 the movie takes place in the year 2031 (as per movie screenshots):

1981 - Grace Gretchen Granville is born 2002 - Graduates college (perhaps at SFIT; haven’t thought that far ahead) Sometime between 2002 and 2004 - Granville begins her work at [Redacted] 2005 - Granville become a TA in the Thermodynamics department (as per Highway to Hell Chapter 2, “In The Details”) 2006 to 2007 - Given government assignment to [SORT OF Redacted] 2007 - Returns to SFIT 2007 to 2011 - Becomes thermodynamics professor at SFIT; continues periodic work at [Redacted] 2011 - Obake’s accident; Granville resigns from SFIT 2011 to 2013 - Takes a position with [SUPER Redacted] in Symkaria 2013 - Returns stateside and [Redacted] 2013 to 2031 - Various jobs and positions, including start-up at Fathom Blue Incorporated and a instructor at the San Fransokyo Police Academy with Sara Pezzini 2031 (Current Time) - Granville becomes Dean at SFIT (Keep in mind that this is a sliding timeline which is subject to change.  Probably.) Man, that’s a lot of redacted information.  It’s almost like she worked for a secret government organization and did a lot of things that aren’t on the public record or something.

I am going to delve into Granville’s history in future stories, and that will include something that I’ve done a fanart on. Mainly this:

The Wakanda story is going to happen at some point, and it’s going to involve one of the redacted items above (from 2002 - 2003).  What exactly she was doing there is going to stay secret for a little bit. Speaking of which, I had done research on a few pieces of Wakandan technology.  Guess which one I found of particular interest.

The Kimoyo Beads.  A bracelet given to every single Wakandan citizen that stores all of their medical information and serves as an everyday tool for them. It also notes that it doesn’t work outside of Wakanda because of its reliance on tapping into Vibranium as a power source.

Now, what would happen if a very realistic version of Vibranium were to find its way out of the country and into Granville’s orbit?

I wonder if her bracelet would start working again. Mysteries abound when it comes to Grace Granville.  If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll solve a few of them before too long.

[katsukikitten]

Warnings College AU sexual and adult themes. Yall know the drill okay

Chapter 2

Bugzapper⚡💔: i have a proposition to make. 

Jiro flashes Mina her phone as she sips iced coffee in the blessed air conditioning of the cafe.

"That's never a good sign." She comments, moon bright eyes glued to the phone as she thinks. 

"What's not a good sign?" Uraraka asks from across the table, the two girls fill her in. 

"Oh." She racks her brain on what that could be, "Okay well I'm dying to know, now." 

🎵Music to my soul 🎶 : What do you want airhead? 

Jiro's text sent a surge of excitement through Kaminari. It was exactly what he needed after three hours of begging and bribing Bakugou to allow the sorority in or at least invite them. His fingers fly across the screen setting up a date and time for a "meeting over lunch" to discuss the proposition in further detail.  

Meanwhile across campus, you huff, eyes narrowed as a rare emotion is pulled from your fingertips in the form of deadly ice. Pulling the moisture from the air to freeze it or pulling any water towards you to keep your flank safe as your opponent rushes you at breakneck speeds. 

You hated this fucking guy, cocky, brash, so God damn arrogant in the way he held himself, in the way he spoke. It made you nauseous just thinking of him.Had you known he was the male star of this university you wouldn't have transferred, yet you still needed to transfer didn't you? Anything to get out from under the shadow of a certain Todoroki. 

No one cared to admit or to notice, that your quirk was different from Shoto's. You could manipulate water towards you to freeze, and manipulate whatever was already frozen. Your ice was denser and more durable than his and dare you say it colder than his too. Yet no one gave a shit, his was ice AND fire. You were just a one trick pony and a trick they already saw. Your opponent's taunting doesn't help matters much.

"I've already seen this before Ice Brat. Did ya forget where I fucking went to high school?" His hand heats the ice as he activates his quirk before three deafening blasts ring out. 

As you allow him to break down the ice you act on pure rage, securing some revenge from the first time he signed your hair. Pointed icicles lie in wait and once the wall is fully down you give him a nasty smirk before sending the straight his way. 

You're supposed to melt your weapons before they hit your opponent, neither of you are supposed to go all out per the professor's and college's strict rules in the athletics department but Bakugou always does. Somehow his big stupid mouth spews something that eggs you on. As if someone were shoving bamboo skewers beneath your skin, under your nails, sending you into an unheard of rage. 

Normally you were as your quirk, icy, unbothered by the world but Bakugou, God you could wring his neck. Freeze his hot blood as you watch him turn into slush beneath your feet. 

He expects you to abide by the rules, to splash him with glacier water but he realizes it too late. That you won't he let's off a quick blast, shattering two of the four deadly points. One grazes his cheek as he just barely dodges while the other lodges itself into his arm. 

You have half a mind to twist it. You pull at his blood bringing it into your arsenal. Blood red needles and bullets surround Bakugou. 

"I don't think you've seen this before.." You say darkly ready to release your hold and shred him into, give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe he would see how bitter and nauseating he was. He smirks, opening his mouth to retort but you send your ice his way aiming for non vital spots although the ice creeps closer to your heart begging it to hit something vital. The inside of your ice palace begins to reek of burning sugar and spice, he plans to let out an explosion to bring this whole place down from the inside out. 

Just as he is about to detonate and just as the blood and ice are about to pierce skin the professor bursts into the gym.  

"I step out for five minutes and this is what happens?!"

The ice and blood return to liquid splashing across Bakugou as his skin pops. The professor takes in the damage from your ice and his explosions, still better controlled than most of his other students quirks. 

"I gotta stop pairing these two together." He murmurs to himself before dismissing class. With a flick of your wrist the ice fortress melts, returning to the reservoir below the gym floor, ignoring the molten glare that is sent your way.

"You're such a bitch." Bakugou growls as you pass, flinging blood from his fingers as he wipes at his face. You offer him a fake pitying smile before heading into the women's locker room. 

"Fucking asshole." You hiss, forcing the sight of his garnet gaze out of your mind. Instead turning your attention to your buzzing phone in your locker. It's a few missed calls and some texts in the girl's group chat. Briefly you wonder if you ever should have joined that stupid sorority, it was small, non toxic, and would look good should you need to transfer again. 

Not only did you somehow get elected the president but you also became friends with the three other ladies despite your best efforts not too. 

Mins: Prez we might have a way to save the sorority...lunch after you're done with training? 

IceQueen ❄: Hope it's good, the Dean already put the house up for sale. Let me get ready and I'll be there shortly. 

Mina presents her phone to the crowd around her, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Jiro and Uraraka do a small celebration. Denki more so than anyone else, he knows the combined car washes will be more than enough to fix up the house, he also recently learned that you had the power of negotiation on your side. Having just listened to Mina retell the story of how you got free food for a month from a bar for yourself and your friends. And not from some sleaze who wanted to sleep with you either, no it was from the owner himself. 

Denki is hopeful and so are the ladies indicating that this may be his best idea yet. 

You arrive at the small bistro early, spying your party on the front patio. The three men had seen you in person before, they knew you were easy on the eyes but up close you were breathtaking. Manicured nails but nothing gaudy, normally nude or soft shades, light makeup, mascara at most as far as they could tell and your outfit was well put together. You were what the world called plus size but everyone else called thiccc. Your confidence oozing in your light blouse tucked into your black skinny jeans, uncaring that you had a pouch. 

You needed that extra fat to keep from freezing by your own quirk. The only thing you needed society to worry about was your intelligence and your power. 

Both were SSR ranked so what did you fucking care that your body was ranked lower. They were stupid in thinking you'd skimp power in the name of vanity. 

You recognize everyone at the table and internalize the dread you're feeling. Scheming is afoot and you're the last to arrive. You can tell by their half finished drinks and picked over appetizer, still you sit and act unaware. Denki goes to hold out his hand first for a formal introduction causing a sly cat smile to settle over your glossy lips. 

"No need, I'm aware of who the three of you are. Sero we share our lingual class, Denki, our chemistry class, and Kirishima we share two classes, world studies and villain hero theory. Truly a pleasure." You tell then your name before ordering something to drink from the lingering waitress. Sitting stick straight with your shoulders backs has the men mirroring you. 

"Well ladies I take it the plan to save the sorority involves these fine gentlemen." You ask coolly and they nod. After a moment of silence Mina and Denki go to speak. Awkwardly encouraging the other to speak until Minai clears her throat. 

"As you know they are a newly formed frat with Sero as their president. They moved into their house about a month ago and they say it is quite large. So they have invited us to move in." 

"How do you propose we ask the college to have a co-ed house? What does this fraternity home even look like?" They knew you would be quick to ask questions Mina answers the first while Denki provides the answer to the second. 

"Union and Diversity. Forming close relationships now to carry over into our hero careers." 

"The house needs some work but looks a lot better than what it did." Denki shows you before and after pictures as you gesture for his phone. He passes you his electric yellow case with nervous hope tingling beneath his skin. You swipe through the photos. 

"You boys did a great job on the outside. Inside needs a lot of work. Hardwoods will be easy to fix, they are original but don't seen to be damaged, a good scrub will spruce them up. Wait, are those?" You zoom in on the photo of the living room, "Are those foldable camping chairs and a VHS tv?" 

They gulp loudly as they nod, your purse your lips in disapproval. 

"I can fix that." You pass Denki back his phone, assuming that all the roommates will be present, "I see the main focus was the kitchen but some of the appliances seem to be on their last legs. I can fix that as well." 

"Soooo….So it's a yes?" Jiro asks, feeling relief for the first time in months since they received the letter of eviction. 

"Gotta get the college to agree first." You think on it a moment, "But I'm sure we can arrange that. Uraraka can you draft an email to the Dean requesting an official meeting regarding our sorority? Be sure to explain in detail our situation, how we are being forced to disband by their account and the solution we have. Make sure it's an afternoon meeting too. The dean hates to miss golf with our rival university's dean." 

With the plan set in motion all of you return to your evening classes. Jiro nudges Denki in the ribs, listening to his heart race from their closeness. 

"When are we going to tell her about Bakugou?" She throws her almost lover a look that he seems to wither beneath. His jaw tics before he retorts. 

"I think we should wait to see if this even works first." 

After a week the important meeting arrives and as you thought the Dean is already exhibiting signs of impatience. He is more than ready to wrap this up and you already know his answer is going to be no. Already trying to get it out before the four of you can even have a seat. 

Still you weren't the Ice Queen on campus for nothing. You saunter into the room, mineola folder filled with your copies of counterpoints pressed firmly to your chest, you can already see he doesn't have the copies you sent him. You place the folder down and open it, leafing through the pages as you speak. 

"This request is going to be approved and here are the reasons why. An example of sexism could be made that a new fraternity was approved housing, new housing, after a decades old sorority was deemed "too small" both parties are similar in count. Second funding and donations are easily influenced with letters to alumni and especially by attendees to this university. My transfer from YAU has brought in revenue of roughly 2.6 million dollars, increasing your diversity for women when this is normally a male dominated school. I am aware that my transfer had even encouraged other students from YAU to transfer here. Which I'm sure is one of your favorite bragging points to tell Dean Fraunk during your weekly golf trips isn't it? So it would truly be a shame if these points would come to light in the investigation of my return to YUA just months before the university sports festival. I do look amazing in Ice Blue you know. Matches my quirk a lot better than Maroon." You put the ball in his court, he is visibly upset, eyes flying to the facts that you've presented. All important, viable facts. You were right MMU was known to be a male dominated school and the media would have a field day if they uncovered a mistake he happened to look over. Not to mention you were his main bragging point, Dean Yuzi always talked about how he had stolen you, the female star of rising heroes, from YUA.  The silence in the room is amplified by the ticking of the clock, seconds accumulating into minutes as it counts down his T time with his old college buddy and rival. He gulps nervously, knowing what he has to do in order to keep both his bragging rights and a law suit under wraps. He looks up to you as you wear your stone cold face, making him think of a loan shark who hasn't been getting their payments on time. He is fearful for your future boss.  

"I believe I have no choice but to approve." 

"Correct." You respond, "Now we have a bit more to discuss. I noticed that classrooms 456 and 215 are being remodeled. Those gently used flat screens will be given to our house since it is technically college property. Common space 3 and 1 are being renovated in dorms A and B. We will accept the leather arm chairs as they are in good shape but we demand a new couch. I know it is in the budget as I help plan the budget. I also believe it is time for an allowance for our hybrid house." The Dean shrinks away from your tenacity, nodding as that is all he can do.  

"Well this is a generous offer and should cover most of the basic necessities such as a new fridge and mattress. The aesthetic we will be raising funds for. Kindly spread the word, we don't want to take up more of your time and be late with your 'meeting' with Dean Fraunk." You place a flyer on his desk as you turn on your heel. The rest of the sorority, mouth agape following suit. Yuzi looks down at the flyer, head hung in a mixture of disbelief and shame as he reads over the neon paper advertising a co-ed car wash. 

He just hopes you and Bakugou are worth the trouble. 

[tigerkirby215]

5e Dr. Mundo, the Madman of Zaun build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Alex “alexplank” Flores made for Riot Games.)

Honestly with my new summer job I’ve been having less and less time to both write builds and play League. I could really use a character who requires very little effort to play in LoL, who’s also very easy to translate into D&D...

Oh wait!

GOALS

Mundo's pain always at zero - Above all else Mundo is a big bulky boy with many an option to become bigger and bulkier.

Take two of these! - We need to throw a lot of bonesaws. Like, a lot of bonesaws.

Electricity make the brain work good - The only truly “magical” effect in Mundo’s arsenal is the ability to charge the area around him with lightning.

RACE

Mundo’s hardly a human anymore, and I can’t just make every character a variant human or custom lineage. I’m not going to get a chance to make a Goliath anytime soon so Mundo may as well be one! As a Golliath you get a +2 to Strength and a +1 to Constitution. You are a Natural Athlete with proficiency in the Athletics skill, and have a Powerful Build to carry more Bonesaws.

You can get some innate magic resistance, as being Mountain Born gives you resistance to Cold damage. But most importantly you can choose to just not take damage thanks to Stone’s Endurance. When you take damage, you can use your reaction to roll a d12. Add your Constitution modifier to the number rolled and reduce the damage by that total. After you use this trait, you can’t use it again until you finish a short or long rest.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CONSTITUTION - Mundo is a tank above all else, and additionally you have a +1 in CON thanks to your race so you’ll have nice even stats to start out!

14; STRENGTH - Healthy boy building a healthy body~

13; DEXTERITY - Don’t get me wrong Mundo is a slow lad, but DEX saves are useful as is having good AC.

12; CHARISMA - Charisma is tied to intimidation as well as good bedside manner.

10; WISDOM - Isn’t Medicine a Wisdom skill? Why, I don’t believe this man has ever been to medical school!

8; INTELLIGENCE - "Mundo not remember Mundo before Mundo was Mundo."

BACKGROUND

There isn’t a doctor background... but Plaintiff from Acquisitions Incorporated is surprisingly close! You get proficiency with Medicine and Persuasion (feel free to swap this out if you desire) as well as an Artisan’s Tool of your choice (you say Carpenter’s Tools, I say medical tools!) and a language of your choice (pick your poison.)

Your feature of Legalese can be replaced with knowledge of medical terminology like “pharmacistcistist”, “prognosis“, and “anesthesezee.” Who knows? Doctor knowledge may help if you talk to other doctors!

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - BARBARIAN 1

I hope you weren’t expecting anything fancy from a guy whose kit consists of “hit stuff”, “hit stuff”, “regen health”, and “hit stuff.” You get two skills from the Barbarian list like Intimidation and Survival (which is more just you being lucky and built like a walking tank.) You can also walk around in “medical scrubs” thanks to Unarmored Defense equal to 10 plus your Constitution modifier and your Dexterity modifier (so currently 14.)

But of course the main trait of a Barbarian is Rage to go where you please. A Maximum Dosage of Rage gives you advantage on Strength checks and saves, extra damage with Strength weapons, and resistance to Bludgeoning, Piercing, and Slashing damage. Basically it makes you hit hard while taking no damage. You have a limited number of uses of this ability as shown on the Barbarian table.

LEVEL 2 - BARBARIAN 2

Second level Barbarians can inflict some Blunt Force Trauma with a Reckless Attack, giving themselves advantage while also giving enemies advantage to hit them. You can also further go where you please thanks to Danger Sense, giving you advantage on Dexterity saves against effects you can see coming at you. It’s almost like negating the effect entirely.

LEVEL 3 - BARBARIAN 3

Third level Barbarians get to choose their Medical College-I mean Primal Path, and for those of you who know a thing or two about Barbarians you know of the only way I have to give you Heart Zapper: Path of the Storm Herald. When you pick this subclass you can choose between one of three Storm Auras, and while Desert would work if you want to play pre-rework Mundo Sea is far better for post-rework Mundo and in general. As a Bonus Action while raging you can choose one other creature you can see within 10 feet of you. The target must make a Dexterity saving throw or take a of d6 lightning damage, or half as much damage on a successful save.

Now might be a good time to talk about your choice of weapons as Mundo: your main weapon is definitely a Hand Axe that you can throw around, but the thing about Hand Axes is that they have a low range and cost a ton. So I’d actually suggest using Javelins for your Infected Bonesaw.

As for your secondary weapon I’d suggest a Light Hammer as your Doctor Bag (for Blunt Force Trauma) but as a Storm Herald you won’t have a Bonus Action to use for Two-Weapon Fighting. So you can focus on dealing as much damage with your main attacks using a d8 martial weapon. Basically I’m suggesting you carry a Battleaxe in your main hand and have your off-hand open to throw Javelins at the enemy. Or run in with a Greataxe if you want. Heck you can even pick up a shield if you want: make your own Mundo!

Also Tasha is a very good doctor, as she fixed the Barbarian to give it Primal Knowledge! You can get one more skill from the Barbarian list like Perception, because why not be more useful outside of the medical ward?

LEVEL 4 - BARBARIAN 4

Want to actually be a doctor? Grab the Healer feat to do some doctoring. Want to be a canonically bad doctor? Just take more Constitution and live forever lol.

(Artwork by Marie Magny and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 5 - BARBARIAN 5

5th level Mundos can auto attack cancel and attack twice with Extra Attack! You also get Fast Movement to further chase down your foes with cleavers and lighting!

LEVEL 6 - BARBARIAN 6

6th level Storm Herald Barbarians can go where they please thanks to Storm Soul. It grants you resistance to a specific type of damage and for you that damage type would be Lightning. You can also go into a specific environment if you desire, and as a Sea Barbarian you get a 30 foot swimming speed! River Mundo.

LEVEL 7 - BARBARIAN 7

7th level Barbarians have a Feral Instinct for doctoring! You get advantage on initiative rolls, and in addition you can’t be surprised as long as you Rage at the start of your turn!

Tasha’s also gave you an option to reach out and zap someone thanks to  Instinctive Pounce, letting you move up to half your movement speed when you Rage!

LEVEL 8 - BARBARIAN 8

You might be thinking I’d grab more Strength at this point... Ha ha no; Mundo goes where he pleases, and more Constitution will give you the health and AC to do so.

(Artwork by Terence Cantal and West Studios. Made for Riot Games)

LEVEL 9 - BARBARIAN 9

9th level Barbarians get Brutal Criticals without building for crit chance! If you crit you roll 3 damage die instead of 2, which is good because your Strength isn’t doing you many favors in the damage department.

LEVEL 10 - BARBARIAN 10

10th level Barbarians can help the comoonity thanks to Shielding Storm. Now all friends and fellow doctors within 10 feet of you get resistance to Lightning damage! Oh and speaking of Lightning damage: your Storm Aura now (finally) increases to 2d6, meaning that you can get some value out of your big CON to do damage!

Additionally Tasha’s lets you have even more Primal Knowledge at this level: Animal Handling will help you talk with your nurse? I dunno; Mundo doesn’t exactly strike me as a knowledgable guy really.

LEVEL 11 - BARBARIAN 11

11th level Barbarians simply have too much health to die! If you drop to 0 hit points while you’re raging and don’t die outright, you can make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw. If you succeed, you drop to 1 hit point instead thanks to Relentless Rage! Each time you use this feature after the first, the DC increases by 5. When you finish a short or long rest, the DC resets to 10.

LEVEL 12 - BARBARIAN 12

“12th level Barbarians can finally increase their Strength!” I hear you say. Lol no. The Slasher feat will give you some much-needed slows to keep enemies close, and will let you increase your Dexterity by 1 for more AC. Having the Slasher feat also finally gives a convincing argument for you to throw Hand Axes as opposed to javelins, which is nice.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - BARBARIAN 13

13th level Barbarians get even bigger Brutal Criticals that do 4 total damage die of damage! Mundo does as much damage as he pleases!

LEVEL 14 - BARBARIAN 14

At level 14 the Raging Storm of the Sea forces enemies you hit within 10 feet to make a Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. Honestly while the rest of this class was kinda a bust inflicting Blunt Force Trauma on your foes is huge, as being knocked prone gives all melee allies advantage to hit an enemy while also forcing an enemy to spend time standing back up.

LEVEL 15 - BARBARIAN 15

15th level Barbarians are always regenerating health, as Persistent Rage is permanent until the duration expires or you fall unconscious. (Or you choose to end your Rage.) That’s really nice because your Storm Aura now does 3d6 damage, meaning you can keep zapping with your Heart Zapper!

LEVEL 16 - BARBARIAN 16

Strength for damage man; Mundo not damage man! Mundo doctor, and Mundo goes where he pleases! Take the Tough feat for 32 more health now and up to 40 more health when you reach max level!

(Artwork by Xu “Crow God” Cheng and Alvin Lee. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - BARBARIAN 17

17th level Barbarians increase their Brutal Critical to roll 5 die total on a Nat 20. Because whether you want to do the most damage, take the most damage, or you know... fucking both then Barbarian is the right class for you.

LEVEL 18 - BARBARIAN 18

18th level Barbarians get Indomitable Might, letting them replace a roll on a Strength check with their Strength score if their check is lower than their total score. Man this sure would be more useful if we didn’t basically dump Strength.

LEVEL 19 - BARBARIAN 19

So how about we finally stop dumping Strength and bump it up to an 18 with our last Ability Score Improvement... Eh it’s still not great...

LEVEL 20 - BARBARIAN 20

Well thankfully Primal Champion is here to increase your Strength and Constitution by 4. And want to know what’s great about this ability? It also increases your maximums for those abilities to 24, meaning that you will have a grand total of 22 in Strength and 24 in Constitution!

And to top it off your Storm Aura now does a whopping 4d6 Lightning damage, which means you can officially say that Storm Herald was a better pick than Berserker or the Polearm Master feat.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

One-bajillion drops of healing juice, stat! - While I wasn’t able to give Mundo his health regen I still got him some crazy high health values. When I was done with this build I genuinely looked at the character sheet and said “I have never seen a character with 325 health before." 325 health along with 19 AC means that you can damn well go wherever you please.

How we doing patient; you numb yet? Mundo is! - While you don’t have the same near-endless supply of resistances as a Bear Totem Barbarian resisting two types of magic damage is useful. Feel free to play pre-rework Mundo with the Desert Aura if you think Fire damage will be more common in your campaign. And I dunno: maybe try to get some magic items to resist more elemental damage types?

Huh? Supposed to be painless - Even without big investment in Strength the Storm Herald Barbarian is quite good at quite good at dishing out DPS, with a big burst of magic damage every round and the ability to knock enemies prone which will really help your melee allies. Not to mention that Brutal Critical means that your Nat 20s will really help you cut off some limbs!

CONS

Beep... beep... beeeep... - Dumping your mental stats has its penalties, and you’ll be failing most of your saving throws. You could’ve perhaps grabbed the Lucky feat for some health insurance (honestly if you can max out your CON and STR before level 20 I’d suggest grabbing Lucky just to reroll some saves), but let’s just say you aren’t completely CC immune.

Me forgot how to doctor... Back to medicine school! - Low mental stats also hurt in roleplay, and while you have a surprising amount of proficiencies (thanks Tasha’s) most of them are for rather niche skills with the exception of perhaps Perception and Persuasion.

Patient; why you out of bed?! - You can throw axes but you’re not exactly a ranged combatant. Most if not all your abilities have very short range, maxing out at around 10 feet. You’re extremely hard to shake off if you can get close but enemies that can kite you will give you a lot of trouble.

But if you want to run in and hit stuff while never dying then Mundo is the man for you! Replace all your brains with brawn to truly go where you please. Just remember that unlike League you’re not completely immune to CC, meaning that it’s more than possible to get put in time out for awhile. But it’s okay if you do; everyone has to take a sick day sometimes!

(Artwork by Terence Cantal and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 6

AN: I feel like I’ve got my mojo back with this fic a little bit, this was so fun to write and I hope it’s fun to read too!

masterlist

------

First days were always nerve-racking, and this one was no different.

Aelin knew she had no real reason to be nervous other than the fact it was new, she had prepared what she needed, even taking extra time this morning to make sure she had put on a swipe of make-up and a smart outfit to feel primed for the day.

She’d taken it upon herself to wake Fenrys up half an hour earlier than normal to make sure he would be ready to leave on time, she knew he normally rocked up to the school right on the bell, but she needed to be at least five minutes early to meet the principal, lest she look unprepared.

Fenrys had left her outside the principal’s office, waiting for the woman to arrive, taking in the blue carpet of the floor and the wooden panels of the walls. The school was in an old building, with mostly traditional décor that gave it character unlike her old school. She liked it. Even though the chair she sat in was hard and uncomfortable as she shifted her weight while she waited for the principal to appear.

She had been thankful for Fenrys’ comforting presence in the car on their way, he had chattered away filling her in on the harmless school gossip, distracting her from her worries about the new school, but now he was gone, off to teach his own classes for the day, the nerves had settled back in.

He had been almost more excited than Aelin about her new role, glad to have her at the school, and he had championed most of the drinking the night she had found out. She had had a great night, each of her friends seemed genuinely happy for her and had toasted to her all night, even once she had gone to bed they had continued to celebrate.

She hadn’t managed to quiz Lysandra after her kiss with Aelin’s cousin, whenever Aedion came up between the two Lysandra had been quick to change the subject, embarrassed at her drunk actions and the fact that they had even played truth or dare at all.

Aedion had recovered well, from Lysandra’s determined ignorance of his existence every time she saw him since, and Aelin was relatively sure he had brought a guest home from the night she hadn’t made it out to and had instead gone to bed.

Gone to bed might have been putting it generously, she remembered the way Rowan had guided her to her room. A gentle hand making sure she didn’t stumble, tucking her sheets over her and leaving a glass of water for her to down in the morning.

Her heart gave a squeeze at how gentle he had been.

Heels clacked against the cheap flooring and she glanced up. The woman striding towards her was dressed smartly in a black pencil skirt and a navy blue blouse. She had a couple of decades on Aelin, but her dark locks didn’t have even a hint of grey, nor did her harsh face have the beginning of a wrinkle.

The woman strode up to Aelin and presented her with a hand.

“Miss Galathynius I presume? Welcome to our school.” Her voice was stern but polite and Aelin stood and shook the hand she was offered. “I’m Maeve Valg, Principal, we’re glad to have you on board. Please follow me.”

The woman, Maeve, led the way into the office Aelin had been sat outside. Aelin nodded, greeting the woman and following her in.

Inside the office it was tidy, shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books and files, but organised in a way that Aelin was jealous of. Her own organisation wasn’t lacking, it couldn’t be, as a teacher she needed to know where things were, but she could never reach this level of military-style precision.

The Principal took a seat behind the large wooden desk in the centre of the room and Aelin dropped to the seat on the other side, facing her.

“Welcome,” She said again, a polite smile on her lips.

“Thank you, it’s great to be here.” Aelin said, folding her hands in her lap.

First impressions were important, and she knew she’d be able to get away with much more at a later date if she gave Maeve the initial impression that she was to be trusted.

Maeve nodded.

“It’s great to have you here, I was impressed with your interview, and I’m confident that you will fit into our school ethos well.”

Aelin smiled. She knew from Fenrys that the school valued the community spirit and communication between teachers a departments, she was excited to get stuck in. She told Maeve as much and she received another slight smile.

A knock sounded at the door behind her and Maeve called for whoever was on the other side to come in.

“Ah yes,” Maeve said standing from behind her desk. “I’ve invited Mr Havilliard to show you around. He can give you a bit more information than I can as I have to attend a meeting now.”

Aelin turned to the man in the doorway and saw he was grinning at her.

He was as handsome as a Disney prince, his thick dark hair curled around his ears, and his deep blue eyes were striking and sparkling. She took in his clean white shirt and pressed trousers where he stood. He wasn’t as tall as her roommates, but he still tilted his chin to smile down at her.

“Dorian Havilliard.” He offered his hand. “At your service.”

She shook his hand. “Aelin Galathynius.”

He grinned at her even wider than before. “Follow me Aelin,” He turned to the door with a nod behind her at the principal.

“Thanks,” She smiled at the dark haired woman before following Dorian out the door.

Once in the hall, his posture relaxed, and Aelin adjusted hers in response. He led the way down the nearest hallway, the corridors empty of any students given that the first period had already begun.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s a hard ass, but you get used to it.” He told her, his voice was low and smooth.

“Right, good to know,” She joked. “I was worried.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. She’s like that with me still and I’ve been here for years.”

She blinked; he couldn’t have been much older than her. He must have sensed her confusion, or seen the look that crossed her face, and said, “I’ve been here seven years, got the job straight out of college, worked my way up to be one of the assistant principals last year.”

Impressive, Aelin noted. He must have been at least couple of years older than her then, making him maybe thirty, if her quick mental maths added up.

“What do you teach?” She asked him, curious about that path he had taken to get where he was.

“English,” He told her. “I love it, have loved it since I was a kid.”

Aelin shared his interest, she had loved reading ever since her childhood and her mother had bought her book after book when she devoured the stories one by one. She supposed that was where her interest in history had stemmed from, reading historical fiction had led her to historical non-fiction and she found the tales of knights and kings and queens to be fascinating. Sweeping her away into tales of honour and warfare and romance, distant enough from her reality to transport her away.

They were making their way down the halls, Dorian pointing out the points of interest on their tour, telling her where the cafeteria was, where the main hall and staff rooms were. He showed her where her office would be, and they walked past the classroom that would become hers once she had time to make it her own.

“So,” He turned to her after walking her through the grounds of the school, showing her the sports pitches and athletics track. “What’s your story?”

She pondered his question for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip slightly as she took in his smile and the way he was walking close to her, his shoulders leaning into her own.

“My story?” She shrugged, flicking her eyes out across the field in front of her. “I lost my old job to budget cuts, but I’d been there for a couple of years. I actually moved here after college when I qualified and then got the job pretty much straight away.”

He nodded along as she spoke, a dark curl of his hair bobbing along his forehead as he did, but then he tilted his head at her, a piercing look in his sapphire-blue eyes.

“I knew you weren’t from around here, but I couldn’t place the accent.”

“I’m from Terrasen.” She told him, thinking fondly of her home country and her parents who lived there still. It’s rolling mountains and grassy plains that she had explored as a child, sometimes alone, sometimes with Aedion when him and his parents came to visit.

“My accent isn’t as strong now that I’ve been in Adarlan for so long.”

Dorian only smiled at her. “I like it.”

She smiled, unsure how else to respond. Was it wise to flirt with a colleague? She wasn’t truly sure she wanted to flirt with him, and she fought the part of her brain that flashed an image of Rowan up at her. She was trying her best to keep her distance, at least in that respect.

“I teach history, I love it, but I love reading too. I also live with Fenrys, I don’t know if you know him?”

“Fenrys?” He questioned. “Coach Moonbeam?”

She nodded and watched something flash across his face at the confirmation, something she’d have to ask Fenrys about. If his reputation had ruined her first friendship at the school before it had barely had chance to start she’d kill him.

“Yeah,” She confirmed warily. “We live together. He told me about the opening here.”

“I see.” She couldn’t place Dorian’s reaction to her roommate, so quickly changed the subject.

“Any advice for this school?” She asked as he held the door open for her to re-enter the building.

“Not really,” He huffed a slight laugh, scratching his jaw. “Stick with me, and a couple of other teachers here that are pretty sound, and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah? You’ll have to introduce me.”

Maybe if she could make her own friends here she wouldn’t have to follow Fenrys around like a lost puppy.

He checked his watch, something silver and clearly expensive before saying, “Actually, I think some of them might be free now.”

He led her back through the hallways to the staff room he had pointed out earlier and pushed into the small room.

There were kitchen counters around the sides, a number of cupboards no doubt stuffed full of mugs and plates, standard for a school staff room. There were tables and chairs dotted about the space and at one of the tables sat a man and two women, each nursing a mug that based on the smell she knew contained coffee.

“Aelin,” Dorian began. “Meet Chaol, Yrene and Nehemia.”

He pointed around the table as he made the introductions.

The man, Chaol, was stern looking but his expression lightened when he offered her a small smile, his copper-brown eyes crinkling at the motion. The woman next to him smiled widely at Aelin, Yrene, was beautiful, and her brown hair fell in spirals down her back, golden highlights standing out. A shining ring on her left hand glinted as she waved at Aelin around her mug.

The final woman, Nehemia, was striking. Her dark skin was smooth and her raven hair, braided down her back, had small elements of gold scattered throughout. Nehemia shot her a sly grin upon introduction, Aelin liked her immediately.

“Guys meet Aelin Galathynius. The new head of humanities, Terrasen native and Fenrys Moonbeam’s roommate.”

At Dorian’s introduction Chaol nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee and Nehemia outright cackled. Aelin needed to ask Fenrys about it.

“Hi Aelin,” Yrene smiled at her, her face kind as she waved a hand at the teachers on either side of herself. “Ignore them, welcome. How is your first day going?”

“It’s fine so far,” Aelin said as she followed Dorian over to where he was fetching a cup of coffee and grabbing her own. “I’ve had a great tour.”

Nehemia laughed again, “Right.” She said sarcastically and Dorian flashed her the finger.

“Where did he show you? I’m sure he probably managed to leave somewhere out,” Chaol cut in, his tone ribbing Dorian again.

“Everywhere, I think. Or at least I’d hope so.” She said, taking her seat next to him, Dorian slotting in on her other side.

“Hmm,” Chaol hummed, shooting an unimpressed look at Dorian who held his hands up, grinning at Chaol.

“I did!” Dorian protested to Chaol who rolled his eyes and sighed a laugh. Aelin laughed along, she could tell Chaol was exasperated, but fond of Dorian.

The dynamic between the group was easy, friendly and teasing, but clearly a very tight knit group. Chaol and Yrene were an adorable couple, very much in love, Dorian had sung at her when she had asked. Nehemia had a killer sense of humour, mostly at Dorian’s expense, but he always laughed along, taking the jokes in his stride.

He had been extremely friendly towards her. Filling all of the gaps in her knowledge without her needing to ask, touching her gently on the arm when he directed the conversation to her.

He was an extremely attractive man, with a charming kind of confidence that she normally would have been all over. Had she met him in a bar, she could see herself sliding into the seat next to him and flashing him a small smile while she accepted the drink he would have offered to buy her.

But they weren’t in a bar, they were at work, and he was technically her boss.

She could hear Lysandra’s warnings, you know it’s a bad idea, she would tut before reassuring Aelin she could find a man anywhere else, that she didn’t need Dorian and his disarming smiles.

Lysandra, as per usual, was probably right.

------

The rest of her day flew by quickly. She had a brief introduction to her classes from Maeve, fresh out of her meeting with the school board, and she had had some time to move her belongings and teaching aids into her classroom. Tomorrow would be her first full day of teaching and she was prepared.

It was only later that evening that she remembered to ask Fenrys about Dorian and his friends’ reactions to his name, even though they had driven home together he had filled the journey with tales of his students and their inabilities to play simple games.

She cornered him in the kitchen as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, resting her hand against the island, blocking his exit as she asked.

“Dorian Havilliard?” He questioned; his face carefully blank.

“Yes, do you know him? He had an interesting reaction to your name.”

More than just that, his friends had outright laughed at Dorian when Fenrys’ name had been mentioned. Surely all of the outlandish situations her imagination was telling her were way off, it had to be something small.

Fenrys sighed, taking a swig of his beer and lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Dorian Havilliard and I have a history.” He winced as he said the words.

Aelin groaned. She could try to repair any fights they had had; she knew she could definitely blackmail Fenrys into an apology, she liked Dorian and his friends.

“What kind of a history?” She narrowed her eyes.

A blush started on Fenrys’ neck, spreading up to his cheeks.

“A… sexual history.”

“No!” She gasped.

She ran through the interactions she and Dorian had had today. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, she had thought he had been flirting with her, complimenting her accent and the way he had been leaning into her. How had she read it so wrong? And Fenrys had a… history with him?

Fenrys bit his lip as he nodded.

“Oh gods,” She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I thought he was flirting with me.”

Fenrys shrugged, unbothered by both her reaction and his own revelation. “He probably was, to be fair. He flirts with everyone.”

It was that moment that Rowan chose to come into the kitchen.

She fought the small wave of embarrassment at the sight of him, at the thought of the conversation they had had when she thanked him for putting her to bed. She hadn’t been sure whether to mention it or not but decided it would have been worse to not acknowledge it.

He had been graceful, reassuring her with a small smile that it was no bother. Which she appreciated, had the roles been switched she would have made sure he got to bed. Well, she would have tried.

And she was grateful, any of her other roommates probably would have left her on the couch. Lorcan probably would have even taken photos of her passed out, probably would have enjoyed seeing how many things he could have balanced on her sleeping form.  

“Who flirts with everyone?” He asked, stepping around her to get to the fridge.

He was dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and a flannel shirt; this one was green, and it complemented his silver hair.

“Fenrys’ ex, one of the teachers at the school.” She told him, but Fenrys shook his head around a mouthful of his beer.

“Not my ex,” He said once he had swallowed. “It was a one-time thing. Years ago.”

It reassured her slightly that she hadn’t been crazy, and that she had probably picked up on the cues from Dorian correctly.

“He was flirting with you?” Rowan turned to her, pulling his own beer out of the fridge, his tan face unreadable.

“I think so,” She pursed her lips.

“Oh,” Rowan’s voice was quiet, and he looked down to the beer in his hand.

“It was probably nothing,” She found herself saying. “I wasn’t flirting back.”

“You could.” Fenrys said from beside her. “It would be fine with me, he’s a decent enough guy. Good in bed too.”

She pushed him on the arm, and he laughed.

“Didn’t need to know that,” She laughed as she pushed his arm again when he made a suggestive gesture at her. “Get out that’s gross.”

“Didn’t think you were a prude, Galathynius.” He teased, but turned from the room, blowing a kiss at her as he left.

She turned to Rowan, who remained leaning against the counter opposite her, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“Office romance on day one, huh?” He teased her, his lips twitching with the smirk that was threatening to break through.

“Stop that,” She told him. “It was very light flirting.”

He shrugged at her, taking a sip of his beer.  

“If that even, he probably wasn’t. Or maybe I’m making it up.”

“Now you stop.” Rowan told her; his eyebrows drawn as he pushed off from the counter. “Why wouldn’t he have been flirting with you?”

She raised her eyebrow at him, unimpressed, daring him to continue.

“I’m serious,” He continued, stepping over until he was directly in front of her.

Every time they were close she was struck by how much bigger he was than her. And how good he smelled, his pine and snow combination was clean and fresh, she took a deep breath in.

“Why wouldn’t he want to flirt with you?”

She tilted her head up to look at him, suddenly vulnerable in what had previously been a light-hearted conversation, taking in his serious expression. His eyes were earnest as he looked into her own.

“I don’t know,” She started, not drawing her eyes away from his. She wasn’t sure she was able to. “After Arobynn I haven’t been flirted with for a while.”

She loosed a self-deprecating laugh.

He put his beer down on the counter, resting his hand on the counter by her side, his front was almost pressed up against hers now and her breaths came quickly.

“Of course you have,” He told her, his voice soft. “Maybe you just haven’t noticed.”

She swallowed hard.

He picked up a piece of her hair between two of his fingers, smiling gently as he twisted the strand around a knuckle. Aelin liked his smile, it showed a lighter side of him, and he looked especially handsome when he did.

“I think I would notice if guys had been flirting with me.” Her voice was rough as his other hand came down on the bench by her waist. He boxed her in to the island now, close enough to her to share breath, as he hummed in response.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt as if an electric current was thrumming below her skin at his close proximity.

“I’m not convinced.” His voice rumbled over her skin, his breath brushing her ear sending shivers down her spine as she tucked her chin down at the sensation. Her action pinned Rowan’s face in the crook of her neck, but he didn’t pull away, instead he pressed his face into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, breathing her in deeply.

His lips brushed against her neck, their touch feather light.

Aelin couldn’t move. She was sure she was panting now; Rowan’s own breaths had increased their pace where she felt his chest pressing against her own. Each brush lighting sparks along her skin.

She needed to be careful, this would look incriminating to any of their roommates if they walked in now, but she couldn’t connect her brain to her body.

While her rational brain was screaming at her to step away and put some distance between herself and Rowan, her traitorous body urged her to press closer into Rowan. Urged her to press her hips against his own and generate the friction she craved.

Rowan’s brain seemed to work faster than her own as he drew his head back with a hiss, leaning on his heels to put some distance between them. She felt the cold where her body now touched only air.

His green eyes were dark, almost taken over by his pupils as he scanned her face.

He cleared his throat and picked his beer back up of the island.

“I think you’d notice.” He told her with a hint of a smile.

He stepped back from her fully and left the kitchen without another word. She heard his bedroom door close before she managed to breathe again.

She screwed her eyes shut as she squeezed her thighs together, trying to convince herself she felt nothing.

He was a rutting good flirt, damn him. She definitely noticed.

------

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@maybekindasortaace​

@slytheringalathynius​

@http-itsrebecca​

@morganofthewildfire​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@fictional-horan​

@tottenhamboys20​

@dressedindustandshadows​

@sleeping-and-books​

@perseusannabeth​

@ireallyshouldsleeprn​

@superspiritfestival​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

@spyofthenightcourt​

@jlinez​

@queen-of-glass​

@booknerdproblems​

I’ve combined the tag list for this fic and general tog for ease, but I’m not convinced I’ve done it right so let me know if I need to make any changes.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 17: A Name

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold revisits her past

Read on AO3

Mrs. Gold looked on in mute horror as Hunter Duke dumped more hot sauce on his triple bacon hamburger. He’d asked Ruby to give him three meat patties with no bun and steamed broccoli instead of fries. When Mrs. Gold had questioned that lunch choice, he had explained his new diet to her.

At length.

Hunter had always been the kind of boy who thought meat and spicy food were substitutes for a personality. He’d been the star athlete at Storybrooke High, taking home championships in football and wrestling. He’d been popular with everyone--except for the one girl he’d arbitrarily decided was the hottest girl in school. That girl, the valedictorian, hadn’t given the quarterback the time of day. Not until she lost her scholarship and suddenly dating the son of a lawyer sounded like the way to the best future she would ever get.

“They do the burgers way too overdone here,” Hunter said with his mouth full. “You don’t get enough protein if it isn’t bloody.”

Mrs. Gold shrugged and took a bite of her own burger. It needed more pickles, but it was still amazing. Toasted bun, crisp lettuce, a patty that was juicy but not messy. She hadn’t had a Granny’s burger in forever. When she was a kid, her parents had taken her out for burgers every Friday night after their shop closed. Mom would bring her own supply of extra-zesty mustard and Dad…

She set her bun on her plate. On those idyllic, bygone Friday nights, her father would spend the whole meal grumbling about money and expenses and couldn’t they have eaten at home? Mom had always told him to stop worrying and enjoy the moment. It was the end of another week and they were together, happy and healthy. She’d calmed him down and kept him focused, every time there was a crisis.

Until they faced the biggest crisis of their lives.

Mrs. Gold blinked out of her thoughts. For some reason, Hunter was still talking. Maybe it looked like she was listening. She’d gotten good at that when they had dated. Now that she was listening for real, she tried to catch up.

“I keep telling my dad he needs to just change the sign. ‘Duke & Duke & Duke’ has a great ring to it, right? Or he could for ‘Duke & Sons.’ I don’t mind sharing the spotlight with Steven. Or he could leave the sign as it is and retire! ‘Duke & Duke’ is classic, everyone knows we’re the best bankruptcy lawyers in town. Just let my brother be the first Duke and I’ll be second Duke and we’ll take this firm into the future! But Dad keeps brushing me off for some reason.”

Mrs. Gold took a sip of iced tea and desperately wished it was something stronger. “Did you… go to law school?”

She had the oddest feeling that she couldn’t remember how long they had been out of high school. All she knew for sure was that Hunter had enrolled at Storybrooke Community College--and she hadn’t. It was possible that he had gotten his bachelor’s. As Hunter was fond of saying, “Cs get degrees.” But SCC didn’t have a graduate program. Had he taken more classes on the internet? Or correspondence courses? It boggled her mind to think of Hunter of all people had gotten a law degree during the years she’d been Mr. Gold’s stupid slut.

“Well actually,” he explained, “you don’t need to go to law school to take the bar exam. I’ve got a bachelor’s in poli-sci and I’ve been around lawyers all my life. My dad knows everyone at the state bar. He’ll pull some strings and I’ll be all set.”

Mrs. Gold stabbed her straw at the ice cubes in her glass. It was so fucking unfair. Hunter was an idiot child who had never worked for anything in his life. His father--Richard “Big Dick” Duke--had bought him a Humvee when he turned sixteen, a speedboat when he graduated high school, and a college education just because no son of his wasn’t going to go to college. Now he would give his son the bar exam and a ready job and everything he would need for a future, without Hunter ever having to grow up past the maturity level of a toddler.

She’d lost her virginity to this boy. One summer night after senior year, in the back seat of that gas-guzzling monstrosity. They’d been dating for a while and Hunter had been perfectly content with her amateurish attempts at blowing him. But for her, the novelty had begun to wear off. So she’d suggested that he “put it in” instead. It was mostly a way for him to get his rocks off while she could just lie back and think of something more interesting.

Her memories of that night were dark and cramped and disappointing. She kept her shoes and her bra on the whole time. When Hunter was done, she had been more confused than anything else. This is what people made such a big deal about? Wasn’t sex supposed to be better than that?

It wasn’t until later, with Mr. Gold, that she had understood what people were talking about in romance novels.

But now that things were so strained with her husband, she found herself thinking back to the only other sexual partner she’d ever had. Looking at Hunter now, she had to remind herself of how bad things had been that summer, when he had been a welcome distraction. Hunter hadn’t wanted to talk about doctors’ appointments or shop inventory or arguing with financial aid departments--every fight a losing battle. All he wanted to do was drink, screw around, and have fun, and he welcomed her along for the ride.

I thought he would help us. I was wrong. He wasn’t what I needed.

Mrs. Gold shook the thought out of her head. The thought was true, but she recognized it as not being her own, so she talked over it.

“Have you been hanging out with any of the old gang? Sean or Jesse or anyone?”

It had been exciting to be included with the rich kids, to feel like she belonged in the world of the young and the reckless--people who didn’t have to worry about things because their parents would always be around to bail them out. They could do whatever they wanted because the world belonged to them.

Hunter shrugged. “Jesse’s an idiot, so no change there. But Sean’s been such a pussy ever since Ashley had her baby.”

Ashely Boyd had been in that group with her. Rich boys liked running around with poor girls because they were easier to impress than the rich girls. New Town young ladies also had parents who bought them cars for their sixteenth birthdays. They didn’t need to rely on spoiled boys to pay their way every time they went out, so they didn’t have to go along with whatever stupidity the boys came up with. Mrs. Gold had taken a lot of risks just so Hunter would keep thinking she was interesting.

But Ashley had loved Sean for more than his money and toys. All she ever wanted was for him to love her back and stay with her. Once, Mrs. Gold had thought Ashley was stupid for pining so hard after a boy who would never commit. But now she had a little more sympathy.

“What happened with Sean?”

“Mr. Herman kicked him out, cut him off. Now he’s living at Ashley’s place, working his ass off at the fish factory.”

“The cannery,” Mrs. Gold corrected quietly. Fish King Canned Foods was always hiring. It was always looking for people who could stand waist-deep in ice and fish guts for twelve hour shifts, operating machinery that could cut through a human hand as easily as it did a whole herring. Her cousin Andrew had gotten a job right out of high school. Her Uncle Peter had worked there for twenty years before he died.

“Like I said, he’s a total pussy now. All he does is work and hang out with Ashley, work and take care of the baby, work and sleep. You know he asked her to marry him a couple days ago? Utterly whipped.”

“Wow,” she said.

She had never respected Sean Herman, so it was weird to think of him actually growing up. People didn’t usually change around Storybrooke. But now the spoiled party boy was taking responsibility for his child and the woman who loved him. He had given up his own wealth and family status because he loved a penniless girl from Old Town.

It was impressive.

She finished her burger while Hunter started another monologue, this time about all the fat, lazy, poor people who came to his father’s office to declare bankruptcy. Forget being a lawyer, he should go into talk radio.

“I did ask you to lunch for a reason.” She grabbed her chance to talk while he was taking a breath.

“Oh yeah?” Hunter wiped hot sauce off his face with the back of his hand. “What’s up?”

“You know a lot of people,” Mrs. Gold said. “I was wondering if you might know somebody that I don’t.”

He slurped up the dregs of his diet soda. “Yeah? Who?”

Mrs. Gold gripped the edge of the table and desperately hoped he wouldn’t notice how hard it was for her to say this. The gold of her wedding ring was dull on this cloudy afternoon. “I… just have a name right now. I think it’s a woman named Belle.”

She could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought. “Belle? Hmm. I don’t know.”

“She’s probably young. Maybe our age. Maybe younger. Or older? Maybe she’s one of your mom’s friends or something?”

A woman as old as Karen Duke would still be younger than Mr. Gold. Maybe he was looking for more maturity now. In the days since she found out about Belle, Mrs. Gold had been racking her brain to try to imagine what kind of person she was. She was only moderately sure that Belle even was a woman. If Mr. Gold wanted this Belle person more than he wanted his own wife, she was probably the opposite of her in some crucial way.

Hunter made a face and scratched the back of his head. “Nah, I got nothing. Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Mrs. Gold looked down at her empty plate. “I’m not surprised.”

Seeing that they were both done with their food, Ruby came up to the table. “Now is this gonna be one check or two?”

It was almost funny how quickly Hunter looked to Mrs. Gold. He panicked at the thought of paying for his own lunch. Daddy must not be giving him an allowance anymore.

“You invited me,” he said, almost chiding her with the reminder of how things worked.

“Yeah, that was my first mistake.” Mrs. Gold took the check from Ruby and pulled out her purse.

A fifty would be enough to pay for two hamburgers and Ruby’s discretion. Not that Mrs. Gold was being particularly sneaky, arranging lunch with her ex-boyfriend at the most popular restaurant in town. But that didn’t matter either. She could take Hunter to the pawn shop and bang him in front of the cash register and Mr. Gold wouldn’t give a fuck.

And neither would she.

****

Wandering listlessly up and down Main Street, Mrs. Gold tried to keep warm. The clouds were dark and heavy with more snow. The sidewalks were shoveled, but there was always a residue of dirty slush. It was the time of year when trash kept showing up in the streets, no matter how many anti-littering signs Mayor Mills put up.

Mrs. Gold’s suede boots were more fashionable than sturdy. The same could be said for her coat, scarf, and hat. The cold seeped through her flimsy layers, until she was nothing but numb and damp, until it was hard to breathe, until she was so desperate to be warm again she resolved to go into the next open store, no matter which one it was.

Sugar’n’Spice was always warm and it always smelled good. Mara Trudine burned a different scented candle every day the shop was open. Today the candle was cinnamon and cloves. The whole place smelled like cider.

Mrs. Gold entered as quietly as she could. She hadn’t been in the store since before Christmas. And she had never walked through that door without strutting proudly, loudly announcing her intentions to buy whatever lingerie it would take to drive Mr. Gold wild.

Was Mr. Gold even capable of going wild for her anymore? Or did the sight of her just turn his stomach? He thought she was trash, she disgusted him, he didn’t want her and he never would again.

Ducking behind a rack of silky robes, Mrs. Gold took a breath to calm herself down. It was a bad habit she’d developed lately, thinking of the worst-case scenario just to make herself feel something. Her mind kept poking and prodding at her pain, pulling out her darkest fears and putting them front and center. She could push it away if she concentrated. If she tried to act normal, she could almost feel normal. Sometimes.

“Oh hey.” Mara had spotted her from the sales counter in the back of the shop. “Mrs. Gold, I didn’t see you come in.”

Steeling herself, Mrs. Gold walked out from behind the robes. “That’s me.” She tried to smile.

Mara stayed where she was. Bits of fabric were spread out over the counter. It looked like she was sewing something.

Mrs. Gold’s heart skipped a beat. The fabric was a shiny yellow-gold. Sometimes, when Mr. Gold was really pleased with her, he liked her to wear that color. Without thinking about what she was doing, she began to walk towards the counter.

“What are you working on?”

Mara looked up from her needle. Even after all these years, she had the same face she’d had as a kid--sharp brown eyes, adorably crooked smile, freckles all over her round cheeks. She looked so innocent. You’d never think she made a living off of unmentionables.

“Custom order,” she said proudly. “I’ve been trying to get tailor-made lingerie off the ground for as long as I can remember. Got my first order in October and more have been coming in.” She held up the fabric and Mrs. Gold saw a pair of panties that would go up to a person’s rib cage.

“Somebody wants that?”

Mara’s excitement dimmed in the face of Mrs. Gold’s skepticism, but she did her best to explain. “It’s shapewear,” she said. “See the reinforced panels? The idea is to smooth out tummy rolls and make a more flattering silhouette.”

Mrs. Gold looked over at the rack of Spanx. “Don’t you already sell that?”

“Yeah, but the stuff I make is sturdier than the mass-produced product. Better for people with non-standard bodies. And prettier too. Nothing over there comes in straw yellow.”

It was true. Most of the stuff in that section was nude or black. Mrs. Gold knew a thing or two about wearing corsets, but she had never actually needed one. She had thought Mr. Gold liked her to be skinny.

“That is a pretty color,” she said. “Who’s it for?”

Mara looked at her dubiously. “I can’t talk about a client, it’s confidential.”

“How are you planning on getting more orders without word of mouth?”

“Well, normally word of mouth comes from customers talking about the product, not a creator talking about their customers.”

Falling into old habits, Mrs. Gold tilted her head back as her voice went up an octave. “I know, but it’s just such a pretty shade of gold, I was wondering if someone special might have ordered it...?”

She let the question hang. Mara just frowned and shook her head.

“Come on, you’re smarter than that.” She held up the garment again. “This is for a plus-sized woman. Two of you could fit in here without straining the elastic. Mr. Gold didn’t order this for you.”

Without thinking, she leaned over the counter and got in her friend’s face. “Did he order it for someone else?”

Mara’s eyes went wide. Her mouth transformed into a tiny little O of surprise. Mrs. Gold pulled away and kept her eyes on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Gold said. “That was out of line.”

“Wow,” Mara said softly. “I, uh, I’d heard that something had happened. But I didn’t know it was that bad. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” She turned around, pretended to look at something lacy until the urge to scream had passed. When she glanced at Mara, her brown eyes were trained on her.

“It’s not from him,” she said simply. “I’ll even tell you that my client paid with a credit card, so it was definitely her own money.”

Or maybe Mr. Gold was just covering his tracks. But at least he hadn’t called in the order himself. At least he wasn’t flaunting his disregard for her.

“Does he… Have you ever heard from him? Is he buying anybody lingerie?”

Mara shook her head. “I only see him on Rent Day.”

With nothing left to lose, she asked her old friend the same question she’d asked her ex-boyfriend. “Do you know anybody named Belle?”

Mara blinked. “I don’t… think so. The name sounds familiar, but I’m probably thinking of a character from a book or a movie. It’s not the sort of name you hear around Storybrooke.”

“No,” Mrs. Gold agreed.

“But I’ll keep my ears open, if you want.”

Mrs. Gold raised her eyebrows. “What about client confidentiality?”

“Well, whoever Belle is, she’s definitely not a client. And until Mr. Gold pays me himself, neither is he.”

You’re a good friend.

This time, Mrs. Gold didn’t swat at the thought that intruded into her head. She let it rest over her brain like a blanket. She let the thought warm her up.

She leaned against the counter and watched Mara work. The shapewear was fully constructed, and she was embroidering stalks of straw in a pattern along the sides. It was really pretty. The sort of thing that would give a girl a boost in confidence and excitement about her own body, her own clothes. Mrs. Gold remembered how fancy she’d felt the first time she wore something as simple as a bra and panties that were the same color. That sort of energy could get people through interviews or contract negotiations, any time you needed to feel powerful. Mara was helping people here, she was good at it, and it seemed to make her happy.

“So, business is good?”

“Yeah, it’s picking up. Valentine’s Day was a madhouse, but you know how that goes.”

Mrs. Gold nodded. Lingerie could be as popular as flowers when it came to last-minute gifts that men always thought would be cheaper than they were.

“Did you spend the day with anyone?”

Mara scrunched her nose. “I’m working too hard for that. Besides, I don’t meet a lot of single men in this business.”

She was able to snicker at the joke, and she was able to mean it. “Yeah, I guess not.”

They were quiet together for a minute, then Mrs. Gold asked a more personal question: “How’s your mom?”

Mara looked up from her embroidery for a second, but then went back to work. “She’s fine. I think she’s bored, now that the preschool is only open for half-days. She keeps asking me to move in with her.”

“I take it you don’t want to?”

A halfhearted shrug. “I don’t have a good reason not to. It would make sense, we could split the bills and keep each other company. But there is also something really nice about living by yourself. Even if it’s just a one bedroom apartment on top of your store.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Mrs. Gold drummed her fingers against the counter. She had gone from living with her father to living with Mr. Gold. The night after their anniversary had been the first time she had slept in any building by herself.

But she understood what Mara meant. When you lived with your parents, it was hard to feel like an adult. To make matters worse, Irma Trudine--Mara’s mother--had been a preschool teacher for as long as anyone could remember. She tended to treat everyone she talked to like they were a four-year-old whining for more juice and crackers.

Mama’s closest friend.

Now the voice was annoying her again. It was true that Irma and Mom had been good friends. That was why she had grown up with Mara as much as she had grown up with her cousin Janine. The three girls were inseparable, just like their mothers had been.

Until…

Mrs. Gold sighed. She was warmer now. She should probably buy something before she moved along.

“Do you have anything comfy around here?”

“What, like no underwire?”

“No, like pajamas, I guess. Or loungewear? I think I need to get a pair of sweatpants.”

Mara grinned. “The last time I saw you wear sweatpants, they had dinosaurs on them.”

“And they were fucking awesome.”

She had gotten those pants for her eighth birthday and worn them until the knees gave out. Even after that, Mom had cut them up for shorts and she’d worn them for another six months. If she could find sweatpants that had dinosaurs on them now, she wouldn’t think the mere act of wearing sweatpants was a sign of the end of her life.

But Sugar’n’Spice only had pajama sets with flowers on them--or hearts, but Mrs. Gold couldn’t bring herself to buy anything that looked like love. It was enough to buy comfort, something that would make it a little easier to be in her own skin.

Mara rang her up and gracefully accepted the extra fifty Mrs. Gold handed her.

“How about I call this a down payment on a custom order for you?”

Taking her bag, Mrs. Gold shrugged. “I don’t think Mr. Gold will want me in lingerie for a long time.”

“I didn’t say it was for Mr. Gold, I said it was for you.” Mara looked her steadily in the eye. “Come back some time and we can talk about what you need. Okay?”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Yeah,” she said at last. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.”

****

The day wasn’t over. Mr. Gold was still in his shop. She could go there for a few hours of awkward silence. Or she could go back to the house, for a few hours of lonely silence. Then he would come home and make dinner. They would eat together and make stilted small talk. And then she would go to her bedroom, and he would go to his.

That was their life now.

He said he wanted her to stay. He said he wanted to take care of her. He said he loved somebody else.

It didn’t make sense. It was wrong. They were supposed to be together. Being near him, but not being with him, trying to act like everything was fine, trying to act like he didn’t matter to her as much as she obviously didn’t matter to him…

It was tearing her apart.

So she walked. Like a circling shark, she kept moving so she wouldn’t drown. She was trapped. Storybrooke was a small town, there were only so many places you could go in one day. And she had lots of days ahead of her. Mrs. Gold had the image of the rest of her life, stretching out to the horizon. She would have to keep walking, she would never be able to rest. She would never have a home again.

She was in Old Town now. The flower shop was behind her. Aunt Teri’s yellow and purple house was on this street. How many times had she walked the route between those two places? Her whole childhood, her whole life until she married Mr. Gold and moved into his house. She used to belong in this neighborhood.

Was there a way she could belong here again?

Turning at the plastic sign that said Hair Today! she went to the side door of the yellow house and knocked. Then she stepped away from the door and waited for an answer. She held herself against the cold.

Janine came up from the basement salon. Her mouth opened when she saw Mrs. Gold.

“Oh hi,” she said. “Mrs. Gold, you don’t… usually knock.”

“Yeah, I’m usually a bitch to you and I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to start that way, but she couldn’t avoid the truth anymore.

Janine’s eyebrows raised and her sky-blue eyes--a family trait--went wide. “O...kay,” she said slowly. Stepping outside, she shut the door behind her. The cold made her keep her arms crossed over her chest. “What’s going on?”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. She had started, but what was the next step? “Things suck, right now, for me. And I kind of suck too. And I realized…”

What had she realized? That no one in her family would help her in an emergency? That she had built her whole identity around one relationship and without that she had nothing? That she had spent years intentionally, maliciously, pushing away all the people that had loved her in exchange for a man who only paid her? That all of those things were really fucking shitty? None of that was a realization. Mrs. Gold had always known what her life was. But she was just now starting to care.

“I realized I’m sorry,” she said. “For as long as I’ve been with Mr. Gold, I’ve been so caught up in him and it made me a worse person. And I want to be better.” She looked at Janine. “You deserve a better cousin.”

Janine sighed, her breath visible in the twilight. “So the honeymoon is finally over, huh? Are you tired of him or is he tired of you?”

Mrs. Gold pressed her lips together. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. At the same time, she didn’t begrudge her cousin the snark.

“He’s tired of me,” she admitted softly. “And I’m kind of tired of me too.”

Now Janine looked more sympathetic. “What happened?”

“You didn’t hear? I thought everyone in Storybrooke knew by now.”

“Yeah, no, I’ve heard a lot of rumors. But I’m asking you what happened. What’s the truth?”

“He loves someone else.” The words slipped from her mouth like a burden off her shoulders. “Some Belle person. And like, like he loves her, Janine. More than he ever loved me.”

“Oof,” Janine let out a long breath. “Oh honey, that’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

Until now, Janine had been standing in the doorway, and Mrs. Gold had been in the driveway, with about five feet between them. Janine stepped out first, one arm open in invitation. The two cousins met in the middle. They didn’t hug, exactly, but they huddled together for warmth and comfort.

“Do you need to stay with us?” Janine asked. “We never did anything with Andrew’s room after--”

“No,” she shook her head. Mr. Gold asked her to stay with him, and even that had to be better than sleeping in her dead cousin’s bedroom. “I’m fine, I… He’s taking care of me.”

“What, like alimony?”

“No, we’re not… I’m not leaving him.”

Janine pulled away. “But you said he loved someone else.”

She nodded. “He does, but he doesn’t want the marriage to be over.”

There was a moment of silence while Janine’s face twisted in anger and disbelief. Then she burst out: “Oh screw him! Does he really get to decide that? That man is cheating on you and you don’t even get the satisfaction of walking away? Come on!”

Mrs. Gold couldn’t look her in the face. “It’s not as simple as that,” she said. “I--I married him, I need him, I…” The next words were small and soft: “I don’t want the marriage to be over either.”

Closing her eyes, Janine pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I mean, the sanctity of marriage is great and all, but Mr. Gold has been nothing but bad to you for so long. And now you have a reason to get out, but you’re not taking it? Why?”

“Because this is different,” she said the words before she knew what they meant. “He’s different than he was when we got married. There’s something… good about him now. Something kind and gentle. Something that wasn’t there before.”

Janine rolled her eyes. “So now you have feelings for the monster?”

“He’s not a monster now. Maybe he was before--I can see that more clearly now. But now the only thing he’s doing wrong is… not wanting me. And it hurts, but it’s not an evil thing.”

He’s my husband and I love him. Can you understand that?

Shifting her weight back and forth, Janine kept her arms over her chest. “And he’s not… hurting you anymore?”

She shook her head. “Not even in a way I like.”

“Gross,” Janine said, matter-of-factly. “I mean, good for you that it used to be something you liked, but it is very gross for me to think about. Too much information is a very real thing.”

Both of them snickered at that. The years of lingering tension eased a little more.

“Can you at least stay for dinner? We’re having Spaghetti-Os a la Chloe.”

“Chloe’s cooking?” How old was she now?

“It was her idea. Under careful supervision, she is going to dump a can of Spaghetti-Os into a pot and warm it up. Mom might even let her into the spice cabinet for some basil.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” She shuffled her feet. “But I should get going. I still eat with Mr. Gold. It’s… weird.”

“I bet.” Janine put her hands in the pockets of her work smock. “Listen, I… I’m sorry. All this time… I could have been a better cousin too. We--I think the general idea was that… we were waiting for you to meet us halfway.”

“I get that,” she said. “And I never came close to halfway. Not with anybody.”

“Well, you did today. And I’m glad. We missed you.”

Nodding, she tried to keep the tears out of her eyes. All this time, she could have had her family. If she had just eased up on being Mrs. Gold, she could have been the same girl everyone had loved.

“I’m trying to make things better now, you know?”

Janine nodded. “I know.” They were quiet for a minute, then she asked. “Have you talked to your dad lately?”

“Not yet,” she shook her head. “Not him or Uncle Manny. I… I kinda thought I’d start easy.”

Janine half-smiled, half-winced. “Manny will be happy to see you. You’re the only niece he’s got.”

She snorted. “I’m the only daughter my dad has and that didn’t make anything any easier.”

“He loves you, Lacey,” Janine said. It was the first time Mrs. Gold had heard her first name in as long as she could remember. “We all do.”

[everydayanth]

Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years. 

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time. 

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall. 

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite. 

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week. 

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement). 

We were expendable. 

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short. 

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives. 

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.” 

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and  week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.  

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick. 

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry. 

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not. 

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge. 

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

[imaginingsoftly]

Baseball Trivia - Josh Anderson

Type: Y/N insert shorts, strangers to enemies-ish to lovers, series

Requested: No

Warnings: standard swearing

AN: This will be a shortish four part series. It’s complete, so I’ll put the next one out Wednesday.

She was never going to an athletics conference again. There was too much testosterone and not enough actual conversation about their field, and was now the biggest waste of $300 Y/N had ever spent. In a room of 250-plus communications directors, she was one of maybe 20 women, and all of them had somehow managed to get themselves seats in a clump on one side of the room. Y/N, on the other hand, ended up in the row with all the washed-up college athletes that were convinced they could still play. The guy on her right was rambling on about how hard it was not to check out the female athletes to the guy on her left, who was agreeing emphatically. Fucking assholes. 

BU’s communications director was on the stage rambling on about keeping social media current, like he had any fucking clue how to do that. Y/N knew for a fact he didn’t even know how to post to Twitter, let alone how to run an effective page. Honestly, most of the keynote speakers were useless. Having 20-plus years in a field like athletics communications didn’t mean much besides knowing most of the other people who had also been there for 20-plus years. The actual job had evolved tremendously in the last 5 years, let alone since they first came into the field. It wasn’t just about writing press releases and keeping track of records any more. They were the people who wrote articles about the teams for the athletics website, the ones who live-tweeted games and kept the social media pages current and innovative. Y/N could almost guarantee most of the speakers didn’t even know how to send a tweet. 

The two assholes on either side of her grew tired of being sleazy, and decided to torture her instead. Y/N took a deep breath when she noticed their attention turn her way. “So, sweetheart, what exactly do you do?” Y/N rolled her eyes. Those fucking assholes were really going to call her sweetheart? 

She cut a glare at asshole #1 on her right, and he actually flinched a little. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart.” Asshole #2, the one on her right, actually snorted, and Y/N raised an eyebrow at him as well. “Secondly, I’m the Senior Manager of Communications and Media Relations at UBC in Vancouver. I coordinate the press for all of our athletic teams, as well as organize all of the social media pages and our website.” The two were silent, and Y/N smiled slightly. “So what do you boys do exactly?” BU’s director finished talking before either one had a chance to answer, and it was almost too bad. She was looking forward to watching them flounder. Really, her job was a big deal. To be the person in charge and also be a female was a big deal, but to also be her age was pretty big too. At 26, she should probably still be working a low-level job, probably just now getting out of the internship stage. Senior management was usually relegated to guys like Mr. BU, who was old enough to be her dad, but hey: she was good at her job. 

Cam, one of Y/N’s classmates at BC, was thankfully waving at her from his spot in the back of the room, and Y/N slid away from her seatmates without a goodbye. Hopefully she’d never have to see them again. “So,” Cam called out as Y/N got closer, “was it enlightening?” Cam laughed in response to her eye-roll, and Y/N pulled the taller guy in with a laugh. It was nice to see him again. After BC the pair had gone their separate ways, and now they were on opposite coasts. Cam was fortunate enough to find a job close to home in New York, while Y/N had found herself on the far side of the continent in Vancouver. It was weird, after being together almost constantly for four years, to see each other maybe once a year, but it had worked out for the best. 

“Listen, Cam, the guys on either side of me spent the entire time talking about checking out the college girls. They were older than us.” Cam reacted appropriately, making a gagging noise, and Y/N was again thankful to have a person there with her. “Any chance I can get you to go out tonight?” Cam made an apologetic face, and Y/N groaned. “No, you have to come with me so people leave me alone.” 

Most of the time, people assumed they were together and guys left her alone. If he wasn’t there, guys would be bothering her off and on all night, and she never attracted the good guys. She was a magnet for married 40-somethings who liked younger women. “Sorry, babe,” Cam said apologetically, “but my flight leaves in like 2 hours. I’m headed to the airport like now.” He reached out his arms for a hug, and Y/N grudgingly obliged. “I am excited to see you in the city in a few months, though!” The two smiled at each other, and Y/N walked with Cam until he reached the bus taking a ton of the conference attendees to the airport. “Have fun, Y/N. Go be wild for the night.” He kissed her on the cheek with a smirk, and Y/N shook her head at him as he climbed onto the bus. She would go out that night, Y/N decided, and she would deal with those men if it meant doing something spontaneous for once. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bar looked welcoming, in a part of the city that looked a little less young and crazy than the part near the conference and her hotel. Distance from universities, Y/N had learned, meant everything when it came to bars. The ones close to Ohio State had been wild, and full of college kids. Definitely not her scene. This bar, on the other hand, was perfect. It was homey, sports memorabilia on the walls and country playing from the speakers. Y/N got a beer from the bartender and settled in on a barstool, staring up at the television screen above her. It was playing a replay of the Blue Jackets game from earlier that day, a Sunday matinee performance that had turned into a minor brawl with the Penguins. 

She sat in silence for almost an hour, waving for another beer about 45 minutes in. At one point three men threw themselves onto the barstools next to her, arguing emphatically about some video game, but they thankfully left her alone. 

At some point the argument between the boys had become goofing around, and then they began arguing again. “I’m telling you, man, the Yankees were the first ones.” One of the guys mentioned baseball, and Y/N’s ears perked up. Baseball was her favorite sport to work at UBC, even if the guys could be even more cocky than the hockey boys, something she’d previously thought impossible. 

Out of the corner of her eye Y/N saw the guy next to her shake his head in disagreement. “No way, man. I think Toronto was the first team to retire a number.” Oh, sports trivia. Y/N smiled. This was her specialty. 

“Technically,” Y/N interrupted, “The Habs were the first professional sports team to retire a number.” The trio turned to look at Y/N looking confused, and Y/N caught the eyes of the guy who’d mentioned the Yankees. He was pretty, with blue eyes that somehow managed to be kind and intimidating at the same time. She held his stare as she continued speaking. “If you were talking about just baseball, then it was the Yankees. They’ve also retired more numbers than any other professional sports team.” Y/N trailed off as the three continued to stare at her wordlessly, and she smiled nervously. 

It was starting to get awkward when one of the guys finally spoke, and Y/N almost slumped over in relief. “How the hell do you know that?” The guy that spoke, whom she now recognized as Seth Jones, was starting at her disbelievingly. Actually, now that Y/N thought about it she recognized all of the guys. Boone Jenner and Josh Anderson stared at Y/N on either side of Seth, and Y/N sat up a little straighter. Athletes. She knew how to handle them. 

She shrugged in response to Seth’s question. “I’m a sports fan. I like random facts like that.” Y/N held out a hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet ya.” Boone grabbed her hand first, and Y/N relaxed at the sight of his smile. There was something welcoming about him. Seth followed suit, gesturing at the other two guys. “I’m Seth. That’s Boone, and this,” he shouldered Josh, “is Josh. We’re also sports fans.” Y/N smiled at the three of them, and Josh reached out his hand to her as well. His hand was warm, and she found herself caught up in his eyes again. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Josh said, and Y/N had to fight to break his gaze. “Are you from the area?” She shook her head and looked away to clear the fog that had taken over her brain. “I’m from out of state,” she said. “I work for a university’s athletics department, and I’m in town for a conference.” She answered what would probably be their next question quickly. “And before you ask, yes I knew who you guys were. Baseball has my heart, but I do love hockey as well.” The boys all looked at each other and grinned.

Boone clapped Y/N on the shoulder, and she smiled up at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. So outside of knowing more about sports than everyone else, what do you do?” 

Y/N laughed. “I work in athletics communications. We’re in charge of social media for the university athletics, coordinating press, stats, all that fun stuff.” The guys were all nodding like they knew what she was talking about, and she laughed a little. “You know the promotional videos and other random crap that gets posted on social media?” They all nodded at that. “I’m part of the crew that designs those. I’m the person who live-tweets games. I’m also the person who decides which reporters get to talk to our athletes and which athletes are going to be available for pressers after games.” 

Seth whistled. “That’s a lot of shit Y/N, how the hell do you manage all of it?” She waved her arms. “No,” she laughed, “I don’t do it all alone. We have interns that help, I just need to make sure that everything gets done right. I actually have an intern that developed a concept for an absolutely incredible intro video for our women’s hockey team this fall that I can’t wait to help her put together.” The guys all nodded along like they were following. It was refreshing to talk about her job with people who kind of understood what she was talking about, outside of the people she worked around all day. 

The conversation moved on from there, and eventually Boone and Seth left the bar, the latter leaving with some girl while the former headed home alone. Josh remained, hooked on the increasingly drunken words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. At some point they had moved on to embarrassing stories about themselves, and after Josh shared a story about biting it in front of his new team Y/N only felt it was fair to share her first-day horror story. “So I’m sitting there thinking I’m doing a great job, like maybe this internship was gonna work, when I get a text from my boss.” It was her biggest mistake as an intern, and really her biggest mistake in the field period. “It turns out I was live-tweeting the hockey game on the women’s basketball page.” Josh had the appropriate reaction, widening his eyes and gripping the hand Y/N had settled onto the bar top between them. 

“No!” He exclaimed, throwing his head back when Y/N nodded in response. “What did you do?” He was genuinely invested, and Y/N’s mildly drunk brain was having trouble computing that. Why in the hell did a professional athlete seem so interested in the behind-the-scenes world of college athletics? 

It didn’t matter. She had a story to tell. “I totally panicked. Like I’m on the phone apologizing to my boss, who’s not yelling but sounds waayyy disappointed, and at the same time I’m trying to delete all the tweets. It was hands-down my worst day on the job ever.” Y/N met Josh’s eyes again, and the expression changed. They grew warmer, a little more fiery, and Y/N found herself leaning forward to meet his kiss halfway. 

She was never going to be able to kiss someone like this again. The couple of other guys Y/N had kissed in the past were good, but Josh was wow. Granted, players generally had a good amount of experience in that department, but maybe that just meant she needed to kiss more players. It was pure passion, and Y/N groaned when Josh’s hand found its way into the hair at the base of her skull. He tilted her head back to kiss her deeper, and then broke away suddenly. “Please come home with me.” Josh’s words were whispered into her ear, his proximity sending fireworks through Y/N’s brain. There was no question. She was totally going. 

Josh smiled when Y/N nodded in response. He slid a fifty onto the bar to cover their drinks and then some before grabbing Y/N’s hand and tugging her out the door of the bar and into the street. They were close to his apartment, a little less than two blocks away, and his hands were all over her as they stumbled up the stairs and into his place. It was modern, with lots of windows and some random abstract art she was sure he hadn’t picked out for himself, but that was the extent of the tour she got. He practically carried her into his room in his haste to get her clothes off, and Y/N settled in to enjoy the night. She had a feeling it was going to be a good one.

Getting out of Josh’s bed was the hardest part of Y/N’s night. Not only was it comfortable as hell, but the man sprawled across the sheets was tempting to cuddle with. If it wasn’t for her early morning flight Y/N might have stayed, maybe gone another round, but the flight was coming up fast and she still had to get back to her hotel across the city and then to the airport. Y/N paused as she exited the bedroom, considering for a moment leaving a note or her number, but then she decided against it. It’s not like they’d ever see each other again, right?