#AND it’s just a casual job and i’ve coordinated the hours i’m available so that i still have enough time to survive in between it and schoo

[faggot-friday]

sorry but I'm so confused about you talking about going to work because??? Aren't you still in secondary/ high school/ equivalent??? How do you find enough time??? Don't your teachers tell you to focus on your studies??? Is it just a thing the place I live don't do??

I am in high school yep! And I find the time by sacrificing my homework time, plus time to do things I enjoy doing, and my mental health :) [my parents kept bugging me about it]

[flannelpunkcalum]

The Devil Wears Kevlar - Part 1

Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 

hiiiiiii i feel bad for making all these empty promises so here’s something i know i can update - I’m gonna publish a very long slow burn ceo!batman!cal AU that is so self indulgent and sexy and yes Liam is in it and yes I know Summer already has an Aspen who dates Calum and no I’m not changing it!!!! love you all very much hope you enjoy this first taste!!! I’m gonna be updating about every week so stay tuned!

This is how it starts, all of it; Aspen gets a job at Hood Enterprises on a team that is trying to use molecular mechanisms based on fish skins as a burn treatment, someday making it available in hospitals, and maybe even commercially. It was big in Brazil when supplies were in short supply, and if they can make it available for the military, well- it would be low cost, biodegradable, and more effective.

It’s almost boring, looking back on it, but back then she was thrilled. She was in a new city, with roommates she loved, with her dream job lined up. She makes work friends, like real adults do - Beth from advertising, Michael from sales, Liam the administrative coordinator on the top floor, Ashton on her research and development team. They sit together at lunch. She learns the ropes.

It felt too perfect. And it was.

After her first week, Liam doesn’t come down to lunch for three days. After a few days, he shows up so she finally asks why; apparently he’s been finding a new assistant for the CEO. It’s “the second toughest job in the place, second to mine because I have to keep finding the damn things. You’ve been through our interview process, right? You know how stupid extensive it is? Ugh. Please let’s talk about something else.”

They talk about the CEO of Sionis Investments, instead, until Liam complains about that, too. Nasty business; CEO was kidnapped, blackmailed, and the police are saying they have no leads. Aspen isn’t sure she believes that. She tells that to Ashton later over the centrifuge. She hopes she gets a hunky bodyguard out of it, though. “I’m an asset, Ashton.”

She falls into a routine while they research the new bandage. She’s taken to calling it Nurse Shark, while Ashton is calling it BAMF (Bandage And Medicine Fish). Beth says there’s a reason they’re kept in the lab and not in advertising; her money’s on Pisciform, from the Latin. Aspen says that she minored in English and she knows a good idea when she hears one. Liam says that Calum Hood’s new assistant is finally working out; maybe he’ll be able to go a month without having to fire him and take over. Michael wants to know if that’s the only thing he thinks about, Liam? Liam tells Michael to shut up or he’ll make Mikey a secretary. Michael throws a french fry at him, even though they’re all way too old for it.

Those are the good days.

She’s researching alternative biodegradable fibers to base the bandage on (partly just because they’re waiting for the shareholders meeting to pass and give them a direction) when she meets Calum Hood for the first time. She didn’t expect to see him until the Christmas party but he comes into her - well, Ashton’s - lab in a gust of expensive cologne. Liam is with him. They talk in hushed tones to Ashton while she pretends to read through the Canadian Journal of Botany. Liam sneaks peeks at her the whole time, but she doesn’t let herself guess why until the boys wave her over.

Calum Hood is tall and broad and he doesn’t smile very much. Ashton’s voice is warm when he talks about Aspen, the work she does, her history of project management, her research abilities. She’s up for the position as personal assistant, she realizes, and she doesn’t know how she feels about that. She loves Nurse Shark or BAMF or whatever you want to call it. She didn’t get two degrees in molecular biology to pick up dry cleaning. Liam is nervous, too, like nothing she’s ever seen. Aspen wants to take risks, though, and she agrees to be interviewed for the position later that afternoon.

It is casual Friday. She doesn’t even have a good cardigan. This is a bad idea.

Ha. Like that’s ever stopped her.

Calum Hood - Mr. Hood - had been quiet in the lab, and he was quiet at the interview. Liam asked her most of the questions. It’s weird to have her friend ask her about her experience in administrative duties. He doesn’t even flash her a reassuring smile when she says she doesn’t know how many words she can type a minute.

It’s the first time she wonders if something is wrong.

It’s not the only time, either, not even in the interview. Near the end Mr. Hood cuts in and asks her about her family, where she worked in the past, her plans for the future. He has a look in his eye that makes her feel like a specimen. Like he’d give anything to dissect her.

There’s only so much of it she can take. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel comfortable talking about that right now,” she says when he asks about her medical history. “I don’t think you’re allowed to ask me that,” she says when he asks her if she had a boyfriend or husband. She didn’t, but that’s not any of his fucking business and it shouldn’t affect his decisions in hiring her - she doesn’t want to be hired, anyway, she likes the lab. Doesn’t need some wunderkind in a fancy suit to invade her professional and private life. Doesn’t need overtime pay. Well, she does, but not that badly. She can always find some work on the weekends. It’ll figure itself out.

It’s only two hours before Liam pokes his head back in the lab. Aspen crosses her fingers behind her back, but it doesn’t change anything; Mr. Hood wants to talk to her. Liam’s face is like stone as he leads her to the elevator and takes her to the top floor, and she’s still trying to unbutton her lab coat as he leads her to the CEO’s office. She feels like she’s in trouble, but he can’t fire her for protecting her rights, can he? She moved to Gotham for this job, she can’t lose it now.

Calum Hood asks her to sit down.

Liam leaves and closes the door behind him.

“Before anything else, I’d like to apologize for the way I treated you in the interview.” He starts off, making Aspen struggle to hide her surprise. “It was disrespectful and invasive. I needed to make sure- the nature of this position is that you would be privy to a good amount of confidential information and I need a personal assistant who knows the boundaries. That is, if you want the job.”

He’s actually- she’s got the job? That’s- Aspen could have the job, if she wanted. She could work with a brilliant CEO on top of the heap. She could have that.

But.

Aspen takes a deep breath to steady herself and properly look at her boss. She’d been too scared to before, just barely brave enough to hold his gaze, but now she picks her head up and tries to analyze him. He’s big, even for a young man. He looks solid enough to carry a company, even if he also looks a little young for it. He’s handsome. He’s well-dressed. He’s… frankly, he’s terrifying. He looks tired. She doesn’t trust him, she realizes.

“I don’t know, Mr. Hood. With all due respect, I heard about when Cathy Potolsky got fired. It seems like a very high-stress position, and I don’t know if I’m qualified to meet your exacting standards.” Aspen says. She tries to be sweet about it, but she’s still a little mad about the questions he asked her. She hasn’t been able to focus on plant fibers all afternoon, either, and it was all his fault. Should she care if he can tell? Eh, probably.

That business with Cathy had been nasty, too. Liam had told them in low voices how Mr. Hood had thrown a vase across the room when Cathy left too many voicemails go unheard. Aspen didn’t know if she could put up with that. She was terrible at replying to texts.

Mr. Hood has eyes like a rifle’s scope. “You are if I say you are. You seem very capable, and Dr. Irwin showed me some of your writings.”

He wasn’t going to let this go easily. “I’m flattered.” She says, but it’s an attempt to get him to stop trying to persuade her. “To be perfectly frank, Mr. Hood, I really do like my work in the lab, and if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not put that position in jeopardy to work as your assistant.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and for a second she thinks she’s out of the woods.

“How about this, then; if we find that you working as my assistant isn’t working out, I’ll send you back down to work in the labs. I’ll guarantee you a position with your project, or, hell, any project you want.” His eyes search her. “The position comes with a promotion and a better holiday bonus. We both know Dr. Irwin can’t pay you the overtime you deserve.”

It stings, but he’s right. She sighs. “Can I think it over?”

“Of course.” Mr. Hood stands, shows her to the door. “Why don’t you take fifteen minutes to enjoy the top floor? I assure you it’s a far cry from the basement.”

“Fifteen-”

“I don’t think you understand how urgently I need this position filled.” Mr. Hood’s voice leaves no room for argument. Aspen swallows a scowl as she exits the office, where Liam’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Well?” He asks as soon as the door closes behind her. Aspen doesn’t think she’s ever seen his brows creased like that.

“He offered me the job.”

Liam snorts. “Of course he did. You’re not taking it, though.”

It’s very clearly not a question, and all of Aspen’s anger makes her lightheaded for a second. How can Liam talk to her like that after her scumbag of a boss tries to manipulate her in a job interview she didn’t even want? He’s supposed to be her friend. She takes a deep breath before she answers, just to be safe. “I don’t know. I could really use the money, and - I mean, if I can look after a lab, I should be able to look after one man, right?”

Liam looks uncomfortable. “Aspen, you have to be kidding yourself.”

“Wow, thanks for the support.” Aspen says, but she can’t keep the sarcasm from steeping through.

“I’m serious. You’re not qualified, I’ve seen your people skills, and Calum Hood eats girls like you for breakfast. Take a look at yourself. You don’t belong up here.”

Aspen doesn’t break Liam’s gaze, but she does a mental check. She’s in her stained polyester lab coat and jeans from the Gap, while Liam - he’s in a shirt that probably cost more than her weekly food budget. The people humming quietly through reception are poised, polished, like chrome, and she’s suddenly all the more aware of her split ends and chipped nails. He’s not wrong.

But this isn’t right.

“What’s wrong with you? How can you - Liam.” She says, and it sounds like pleading. At least she’s not yelling yet, though. She’s tired and frustrated and it’s almost 4:30 and if she was back in the lab Ashton would be telling her to sneak out by now but she’s in this shitty situation instead. What the hell?

Liam’s sweet face looks mean, now, malice in the curve of his brows. Aspen might be going crazy. “I’m trying to protect you, Aspen, you wouldn’t last a day. You look like you’re going to cry, honestly. Save yourself the humiliation. I’ll tell Calum you refuse.” He reaches for the doorknob before she can say anything.

Aspen’s not even remotely close to tears, and she’s not about to let some jealous secretary fuck this up for her, either. As Liam turns the knob she grabs his wrist, trying to keep him from fucking with her career any more, but he grabs her arm to pull her back - is he trying to fight her, right here, right now? Is he actually- Aspen jerks in his grip, and when Liam pushes back he pushes her into the door and it swings open and -

In an instant they separate. Mr. Hood takes his sweet time looking up from his papers, where Aspen’s nervously pushing hair out of her eyes. “That was quick.” He says, all mild.

Liam acts first. “Aspen wants to say that she can’t-”

“-can’t turn down your offer.”

Was that her who just spoke? Aspen tries to keep herself calm, rock-steady as Calum Hood looks her over slowly. Liam is silent beside her, but the tension feels sharp and painful between them. They’re two ends of a capacitor, building up charge.

Mr. Hood’s voice breaks the silence. “Excellent. Everything Cathy left behind is in the office, that’s everything you’ll need. I arrive at the office at 8:30 every morning; I expect you to meet me Monday with my coffee and daily schedule ready.”

Aspen blinks. “I- great. Excellent. I’ll have that.”

Her new boss stands up and comes around the desk to shake her hand, and Aspen swears she catches the first real smile she’s seen from him. “I’m so glad to have you.” He says. He’s warm, is what he is, for the very first time. When he draws away, Aspen can see why he’s a leader and CEO, just for a second.

The second passes. “Liam will show you to your new office and make sure you’re set up. I’m sure he can help you with any questions you may have.” Calum nods to Liam and gives her another tiny, tiny smile, effectively dismissing them. Aspen says thank you one last time until the door closes behind them, and then it’s just her and Liam again.

He speaks first, after a very long second. “What the fuck did you do?”

“You tried to ruin my chances here, and you grabbed me -”

“You grabbed me first!”

“Yeah, because you were going to tell the CEO that I didn’t want the job. Which - what the hell is wrong with you?” Aspen hisses. She hopes Mr. Hood’s door is thick and soundproof.

“Me? You should have just listened to me. Fuck.” Liam swears again.

“You shouldn’t have treated me like that.” Aspen snaps, and then she makes herself take another deep breath. He looks… genuinely distressed. Aspen, against her better instincts, feels bad for the asshole. “That’s the second time I’ve ever heard you swear. You’re really wound up, huh?” She teases very gently. It’s mostly out of hope.

Liam doesn’t answer right away, just points to an office by a secretary. “That one’s yours. Good luck.” This man, who Aspen thought was her friend, has never sounded colder.

The office is dark when she steps in, and she has to fumble for the lightswitch. It takes longer than it should. Once she finds the lights she sees the planner lying open on the desk, weighed down with post-it notes. There’s a fancy computer monitor and a sad-looking African Violet on the corner of the desk. The space is nice, though; it’s airy. There are proper windows and everything, and there’s just glass dividing it from the main entryway so it feels secluded but still close enough to be useful. It is nicer than the basement labs, she’s not going to lie to herself. She’s seen Devil Wears Prada, she knows what this is supposed to do to her life and soul and all, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some perks.

That reminds her.

“Liam?” She asks, poking her head out of the doorway. His office is just across from hers, and his door is open, she knows he can hear her. He doesn’t answer, though, just keeps clicking at his computer. “Liam?”

“Mr. Payne?” She jokes, but his head turns and her heart sinks. That’s how he wants it, then?

He doesn’t answer her, just looks at her with this blank fucking look in his eyes all expectant. He’s got this look in his eyes like she’s already let him down. “How does Mr. Hood take his coffee?” Aspen asks. It sounds a bit like pleading, even to her, but she’s confused, and it’s Liam - he feels bad eating sushi because of the little baby fish eggs, for chrissakes, she doesn’t know why he’s acting this way.

He looks angry already. “God, it hasn’t been five minutes and you’re floundering.”

“I’m not- we’re on the same team-”

“Thought this was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, hm? Act like it.” He turns away after that.

Aspen feels cold all fucking over. “Fine. Thank you.” She says, feeling too sad to spit back venom. She’s confused. She thought - nevermind.

It takes her exactly eighteen minutes to clear out her desk, stealing a box from Ashton so he’ll have to visit her to get it back. “It’s lonely at the top,” she jokes, although she already knows that it really fuckin’ is. At least Ashton hasn’t turned on her; he gives her a hug and a warm smile, and says he’ll keep her updated on the project “until Mr. Hood gets tired of you and you come back home”. For a moment, she wonders if it’s too late to back out.

Aspen bundles her lab coats into the box and doesn’t let herself turn back.

Once she gets back to her lofty prison, she starts typing up a template for Calum Hood’s day to day. This time, she notices that she’s got her very own printer, and she gets a little too excited about that but she doesn’t think anyone outside the glass walls notices. She takes a call from the Daily Gotham and manages to put the reporter on hold all by herself, and gets the secretary to teach her how to transfer calls. Janice also tells her Mr. Hood takes his coffee decaf with one cream and he’s partial to The Coffee Lab but also Cafe Reznikoff if she doesn’t want to go four blocks out of her way. Aspen could kiss Janice, she’s so thankful.

Aspen feels a little goofy but she prints out her brand new template and starts transcribing Mr. Hood’s plans in her neatest writing. It’s past 5:30 when she finishes, and she starts to pack up her things when she remembers that she’s not a researcher right now and she’s has to ask Mr. Hood if she can go home. Her hand hovers over the phone before she makes the decision to stand up and go talk to him face to face, like a grown up. Liam is still at his desk when she walks by, but she doesn’t pause to look at him as she knocks on the CEO’s door.

Mr. Hood sounds stressed when he says “come in,” but Aspen’s spent her whole afternoon in the belly of the beast so it barely phases her. When she enters he’s got a cell phone in his hand and a look on his face so she doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Is there anything else you need me for today, or…”

God, she feels underdressed standing near him. “There’s - no, there’s nothing. Go home, Aspen, I’ll see you on Monday.” He says, with a wave of his hand he’s perfected through countless assistants before her.

“Eight thirty, decaf, one cream.” She says, smiling. She finds she wants him to smile back.

She gets something stiff-lipped, but his lips curve in the right direction and really, that’s enough. It’s technically her first day. She’s content. She steps out of the office and closes the door, and breezes through her packing up. “Night, Janice. Goodnight, Mr. Payne.” She hums on her way past, so he knows at least she can conduct herself civilly.

The Aspen who steps out of the building doesn’t feel like the one who walked in for work a few hours ago. She knows this.

Anyway. That's how it starts. 

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 44: Three Stories

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Takiyo Aoyama Starts to Shine

When he had accepted the offer from Cellophane—the Number Fifty-Two Hero—Takiyo Aoyama hadn’t been certain of what to expect.  He was not close to most of his classmates, though he was probably closer to Akaya Koda than anyone.  And he maintained a—usually—cordial relationship with Kimiko Ojiro, due to a shared love of gossip.  He had even started speaking more with Isamu Haimawari, after seeing how hard he was working to prove himself, something he could understand.  But he could not claim to be close to Takuma Sero, despite sharing a floor with him in the dorms.

He had certainly spent time around the elder Sero; they’d all been around each other enough for that, but not in years.   So he had little basis to form his expectations on, save for the rather copious amounts of interviews and candid moments available on the internet.  These revealed only that he was personable, humble, and seemed to be rather behind the times in terms of slang.

That was… tolerable. Being able to cultivate a media presence was essential to being a Hero.  Many Heroes never rose very high in the rankings simply because, while they were effective in stopping Villains, they were patently unlikable.   There were exceptions, of course, but it was generally a truism.

He had failed to make much of himself at the Sports Festival, but perhaps he could begin to get the exposure he needed now.

Though he was beginning to wonder if exposure was worth… this.

To say Cellophane’s Agency was casual was putting it mildly.  All of the staff that worked there were in polos and khakis.  And as for Cellophane himself…  

“Yeah, I like to keep things casual when I first come in in the morning,” he said, leaning back in his desk chair.  His shirt was fashionable enough, well-tailored to accommodate his rather unique arms.  But as for the rest of him…  Sandals!  With socks!   Cargo shorts!  “Have a little coffee, catch up on e-mails and paperwork, then get set for a little bit of patrolling.”  He cracked his knuckles noisily.

The unfashionableness of this place was going to give him hives.  How could his papa not have warned him against this?

“You did good, kid,” Cellophane said, “but you’ve really got to learn to unclench.  I can see right now you’re about ready to have some kind of attack.  Don’t stress yourself so much.  Really, you’re reminding me of your dad, back before the whole cheese thing with Izuku. Why, I remember…”

The phone on his desk started ringing and he held up a finger.  He picked up the phone, “Hey, hon, what’s up?”

He went slightly flush as he listened to his wife.  “Yeah, sure, I can pick that up on my way home.  Yeah, that too.  And… sure… I can… do that… when I get…    Can we talk about this later?  When I don’t have a teenager in the room, listening?   Yeah, I know we talk about it in front of our kids, but they’re not a good barometer for that…”

Takiyo was rapidly wishing he’d gone anywhere else for this.

***

“Dump me, will she?” the Villain snarled.  He was large, larger than even Shoji or Koda, larger than All Might, and seemingly built out of black rocks, blazing red lines showing between the cracks.   “I’ll show her!  I’ll show that namby-pamby new boyfriend!  I’ll show everybody!”

He drew back his hand, like he was able to throw a ball, and when he launched it forward, he threw a hot blob of lava.  It struck a car, crashing through it, and melting what it did not smash.  People were screaming, people were running everywhere. If the target of his rage was actually in the crowd, Takiyo did not know.   Cellophane’s Sidekicks, whom Takiyo had not bothered to learn the names of (One had some kind of lubrication Quirk and the other did something with friction?  He really wasn’t paying attention.), were coordinating the evacuation of the area.  So far, all the Villain had done was property damage.  But the odds were increasing that someone, intentionally or not, would get hurt.

“…Well, he’s big,” Cellophane said.  “Maybe I should have left you behind.”

He pulled down the faceplate on his costume.  “Actually, think you could come up with a distraction?”

At that, Takiyo smiled and gave his cape a dramatic flourish.  “Getting eyes on me?  A piece of cake.”

“Good,” Cellophane said, firing off a line of tape and pulling himself with it.  “Just give me five minutes!”

Takiyo stepped into the Villain’s field of view.  “Bonjour, Monsieur Villian!” he said, letting loose a dazzling, strobing beam of light across his field of vision.  

The lava-man’s glowing eyes snapped in his direction, one hand up to shield them from further brilliance.  “Some kid?” he growled.  “That’s who they sent to stop me?  What’re you, twelve?!”

“Non!” he shouted, raising both hands.  He focused the stored light within him outward, raising his radiance until it was blinding.   “I am the one who is going to stop you!”  He flashed again, sending out another pulse of light.  “I am the Dazzling Hero: Radiance!”  Another flash.

“Argh!” The lava man took a step back, glowing eyes dimming and brightening in what must have been his version of blinking. “Damn kid!  You’re like some overgrown glowstick!  But I’ll put out your lights!”  He brought up both of his hands, gathering more lava there.

Fear gripped Takiyo’s heart.  He was going to die.  It was as simple as that.  Burned to a crisp, denied leaving even a beautiful corpse for the world to mourn over. He’d never be a Hero.  He’d never get the chance to make amends for what he’d done…

“STICKY STORM!”

Suddenly, the air was filled with long strands of tape, wrapping around the Villain until he was completely cocooned.  The lava he’d been forming fell to the ground it a heap, eating its way through the pavement, but at least it hadn’t come at him.   From above, Cellophane dropped down, then popped up the faceplate on his mask.  “Good job, kid!” he declared, giving a toothy grin and a thumbs up.  “You okay?  That looked pretty scary.  Didn’t think he’d get that angry like that.”

Takiyo had to wait until his heart started beating again before he could speak. “Fine,” he said, trying to project a confidence he did not feel.  “Only scary for a moment.  One more blast of light and he would have been taken care of.”

“Sure,” Cellophane said, though Takiyo was certain his lie was not believed.  Around them, people were starting to gather. Police, reporters, witnesses.  He put one arm around Takiyo and waved to the crowd with the other.  “Hero of the Hour, ladies and gentlemen!  My Intern!”

***

The picture on the front page of the paper the next day was… strange.  There was the wrapped lava Villain on the ground, there was Cellophane.  And where he should have been… was a vaguely person shaped bright blob.

Takiyo stared at it, mouth agape.

“Not bad, huh?” Cellophane asked.  “Not every day an Intern makes the paper on his first day.  

“I did not realize I do not photograph well,” Takiyo said.  “I did as a child.  My Quirk… it must be getting stronger.  Absorbing more light.  Even the camera flash.”

This was going to put a serious cramp in his plans for fame.

“Eh, relax,” Cellophane said, slurping his coffee.  “You’ll have plenty of photo-ops, I’m sure.  And, if you don’t, well, there’s always radio.”

Takiyo’s mouth opened and shut, but no sounds came out.  He really didn’t know what to say to that.

***

Daisuke Shoji Did Not Sign Up For This

“You idiots!”

Daisuke carefully set the weights he was lifting (roughly 1080 kilograms with each set of arms) down, before looking towards the doorway of the Real-Riot Agency’s gym.  Red Riot, Real Steel, and Shiro Monoma (somehow Red Riot’s intern, the way he was Real Steel’s) all paused in their workout to look as well.

“What,” the small woman said, looking like she was ready to kill the first person who said something stupid, “have I told you about agreeing to things without asking me?”

Red Riot looked a bit sheepish at the accusation.  “Kids, meet Shizuka Yamamoto, our Office Manager.”

“And the only reason you two haven’t done a lot more stupid things!” Yamamoto said, putting one hand on her hip and pointing at Red Riot with the other.  “Which one of you did this?  I need to know who to smack.”

“What’re you talking about?” Real Steel asked, squinting with confusion.  “We haven’t agreed to anythi… oh!  That!”

“Yes, that!”  She reached into her pocket and unfolded a flier. “Red Riot and Real Steel Home Exercise Videos: How to Get Hard!”

“Oh, yeah!’ Red Riot said, flashing a toothy grin.  “Isn’t it manly?”

“The video people thought it was a great name!” Real Steel added, giving an oddly similar shark-toothed grin.

Monoma shot Daisuke a glance.  “This might get bad real fast,” he said.  “If that happens, just run.”

He raised an eyebrow. The blond from 1-B had been unusually sullen since they’d both arrived at the Agency, lacking his usual arrogant sneer he had when dealing with members of Daisuke’s class.  Granted, Daisuke had very little to do with him even under the most ideal circumstances, but his limited experience suggested something was off here.  Surprising, really, considering he’d made it to the Tournament Round of the Festival, something Daisuke couldn’t say.  And yet here they both were, interning with the Heroes who shared the Number Ten spot.

“Yamamoto is incredibly frightening when she’s angry,” Monoma elaborated.  “I’ve spent enough time around the Tetsutetsus and Kirishima-Bakugos to know that.”

Yamamoto took a deep breath and Daisuke assumed she was probably counting down from ten.  She pinched the bridge of her nose.   “Do you two idiots remember the charity wrestling match you did?  When you went off script?  “The power of two hard men?”  It’s like you’re trying to make yourself look like idiots!  Do you know how much of a credibility problem it causes?  Every time?”

“But we are two hard men,” Red Riot said.

“The hardest!” Real Steel added.

Daisuke would later swear he hadn’t seen Yamamoto move, but in the blink of his eye, both Red Riot and Real Steel were on the ground, rubbing their cheeks like they’d been slapped. Yamamoto’s hair was slightly messed up, as though she’d been running the mind.  Did she have a speed Quirk?

“Do you know how much work I’m going to have to do to fix this, you idiots?!”

He felt Monoma give his arm a tug.  “We should run.”

Daisuke looked at him, then at the growing argument. While a Hero should always be ready to intervene when needed, he also made it a personal goal to stay out of other people’s drama.  Considering he lived on a floor with Sero, Sato, and Aoyama, that was frequently a challenge.

“Agreed,” he said.

***

“I know I’m going to regret this,” Daisuke said, as he unwrapped the first of the take-out sandwiches he’d ordered (he needed a lot of calories), “but are you all right?”

Monoma barely looked up from the soup he was (barely) eating, as the two of them sat in the Agency’s breakrooms.  “Mhm.”

Earlier, they’d joined Red Riot and Real Steel on a mutual patrol. The patrol itself had been easy enough. No trouble today, but Red Riot and Real Steel had both been experts at navigating rooftops.  With his Extendo-Arms, Daisuke could easily keep up. They didn’t have a lot of advice for him yet, but tomorrow promised some combat training, and both certainly had the muscle to help hone his fighting style.

While Monoma had more than been able to keep up with them (an impressive feat, considering his Quirk offered him no enhanced physicality), he had seem distracted and was quite jumpy every time Red Riot spoke to him.

“Look,” Daisuke said, “we’re not friends.  But we are in this together.  If you’re distracted out there, it doesn’t just put you at risk.”

That, at least, got Monoma to look up.  “I’m fine,” he growled.  “I’ll get my head back in the game.  Don’t worry about it.  Just having a bad day.”

That was fair enough, Daisuke supposed.  Monoma’s personal problems weren’t any of his business.  Maybe that was all there was to it.  He didn’t have the context to form a proper opinion.

Monoma returned to eating his soup, head down and avoiding Daisuke’s gaze. “Like you’d understand anyway,” he said, under his breath.

Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear that.  It was little more than a whisper and Monoma hadn’t been looking at him when he’d said it. While his Quirk did nothing for his hearing, Daisuke had spent a lot of time with his dad learning how to listen. He did it without thinking now, always listening and paying attention to the sounds others might miss.

“Excuse me?” he said, narrowing his eyes.  “Care to repeat that?”  Daisuke considered himself pretty even tempered, but to just say something like that right in front of him was not something he could just let go.

Monoma’s head snapped up and he fixed Daisuke with a glare.   “…You really don’t know, do you?”

He shook his head. “Know what?”

The blond boy’s eyes widen. “You really don’t know.”

Daisuke stood up. “Stop talking in circles.  What don’t I know?”

“That you’ve been voted the hottest guy in 1-A.  Hell, you’ve been voted hottest guy in the entire damn first year Hero Course. Pretty much everyone who likes men is into you.” Monoma pushed his chair back from the table and stood.  “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know about this?”

At this, Daisuke had to sit down, grabbing his water bottle with his upper-right Extendo-Arm and bringing it to his lips.  He took a long drink before he answered, his other arms slumping.  “Really?  They’re all objectifying me?  Just like that?”

He knew, of course, that Mineta found him attractive.  That was hardly a surprise.  Her type was “has a pulse.”  He was even vaguely aware that Sero sometimes stared at him, though that seemed to have tapered off since he had started dating Iida.  And Tokoyami’s familiar Frog-Shadow was always far too happy to see him.

But all of them?  He knew he was in good shape, but he hardly thought he was so good looking at to be more highly regarded than any of the other boys in his year.

“At least according to Fukidashi,” Monoma said.  “Who’s an ardent follower of Ojiro’s webcast.  If anyone would know, it would be the two of them.  Ojiro’s actually got quite the well-developed analytic and observational skills… she just chooses poorly how to apply them.”

Daisuke just shook his head, closed his eyes, and let out a frustrated sigh. So he was being objectified.  By pretty much everyone.  Great.   “Nice job pivoting the conversation away from you, by the way,” he said.

Monoma let out a squeak. “Not my intention.  I wanted to shut it all down.”

He opened his eyes as a few details finished assembling themselves in his mind.  “Would your distraction have anything to do with Kirishima-Bakugo?  Is that why you’re so jumpy around Red Riot?”

“I… don’t have to answer that,” Monoma said.  His mouth slightly agape in surprise.  

Daisuke shrugged, a movement copied by all his arms.  “It’s not my business,” he said.  “It’s yours. But get your drama figured out.”

When Monoma had left the room, Daisuke pulled out his phone.  The lock screen showed himself, two of his three left arms around a girl with bright blue hair and dark glasses, a white cane held loosely in one hand. “Hottest boy in the Hero Course…? Emiko’s going to kill me.”  

***

Takuma Sero Gets the Money Shot

“Hey there viewers,” Takuma whispered into his phone.  The front facing camera view was a little bad, especially in the low light, but sometimes, sacrifices were made for fame.  “I’m out on Internship with Number Twenty-Seven Hero, Tsukuyomi.”

He adjusted the angle of his phone, to capture Tsukuyomi standing on the edge of the rooftop, peering out over the cityscape, his black cape fluttering in the night’s breeze, before returning it to a close-up of his own face.

“And remember, Kimiko Ojiro and Kenta Sato will be uploading their own video diaries of their Internships later!  Which you’ll get notifications of if you’re subscribed!”

He gave the camera his best grin.  “I gotta say, though, I don’t know about this, viewers.  Best offer I got, but he is a broooooder.  Not at all a fabulous ray of sunshine like me.  But if we’re lucky, you’ll get to see yours truly in action, viewers!  Maybe even a little Swing Cam!”

That was his name for when he affixed his phone to his chest, while swinging from spot to spot with his Acid Tape.  Like first-person roller coaster footage.  Very popular, especially with the adrenaline junkies.

“Oh, and if you’re watching this, Tensei,” he said, giving the camera another grin, a real one, not the stage one he used for his show, “miss you, babe.  Hope your Internship’s going good!  Air kiss!”  He punctuated that with some air kisses.

“Okay,” he went on, “so, tonight…”

Suddenly, something dark snatched his phone right out of his hands!  He turned to watch Dark Shadow flowing forth from Tsukuyomi, his phone in its hands.  “Hey!” Takuma cried out.  “That’s mine!”  He’d had just enough time to hit “post” before it had been torn from his fingers.

Tsukuyomi regarded him with a dark gaze, his beak pressed firmly together.  “There will be no phone use while on patrol,” he said.  

“Yeah!” Dark Shadow added, tossing the phone over the edge of the roof.  “No phones!”

Takuma watched it fall, feeling like his heart was falling with it.  True, everything on it was automatically backed up to wireless data storage.  And true, he’d been meaning to upgrade anyway (the newest model had a really great camera).  But it was the principle of the thing!

The bird-headed Hero recalled Dark Shadow back into himself, his gaze never wavering from Takuma. “Undisciplined, easily distracted, showboating.  All these and more are descriptions I could bestow upon you.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Takuma said, rolling his eyes.  Automatic reflex, he couldn’t help it.  He might be flunking English, but Sarcasm was a language he was much more fluent in.  

“Child, there are so many more words I could use.  Be thankful I chose to limit myself to those.  Your mother may have failed to instill proper discipline in you, but I will more than make up for it this week.”

“What are you talking about?” Takuma demanded, a hand to his chest in indignation.  How could he say he was undisciplined?  Didn’t he know how much effort it took to put together a regular web program?  With three different stars?  All while studying boring regular school subjects and learning to be a Hero?

“You and yours are a den of chaos,” Tsukuyomi said.  “I shall tame it.  And to do so, I have severed your material bonds.”

“But what about my followers?!” Takuma demanded.  If he had a week with no new content, he’d lose countless followers!  His hit count would be in the toilet!  He’d have almost no validation from people he’d never met!

And how was he supposed to talk to his boyfriend?  …If he told this story to anyone, he’d probably better put that concern first.

“They will survive without you, I suspect,” Tsukuyomi said.  “Whether or not you do is another matter entirely.”

“And Mom says you’re not funny.”

Tsukuyomi tilted his head to one side.  “Funny?”

“That was a joke, right? …Tell me that was a joke!”

***

Takuma had officially met his new favorite person.  His only regret was that he still hadn’t been able to replace his phone, because this really, really needed to be recorded for posterity.  This was literally the greatest blackmail material he’d ever been handed.

“Oh, yes,” the woman said. She’s introduced herself as Yuka, though her Pro-Hero name was Shadow-Dancer.   She was one of Tsukuyomi’s Sidekicks, though apparently she was just a few months out from starting her own Agency.  Her Quirk let her meld with darkness and then possess and animate inanimate objects in that darkness.  She was supposed to have been giving them an update on recent Villain activity in the prefecture.  But this was so much better.

“I’ve known Mister Bird since I was a little girl.  He actually helped me out when my Quirk first manifested.”

A mischievous grin crossed her face.  “I was a little afraid of him at first, but I got over it pretty quick.  Of course, he was wearing monkey ears at the time.  I think I even developed a little crush on him after that.”

Takuma felt his jaw drop. He pushed it back up with his hand. “Oh.  Oh.  Oh! Tell me there are pictures of this somewhere.”

She laughed.  “Probably in a box in my mom’s house somewhere.”

Tsukuyomi gave her a scowl. “Must you tell this story to everyone you meet?  I am trying to instill some sense of discipline in the boy and here you are, filling his head with nonsense.”

Yuka put a hand to her mouth, laughing behind it.  “So serious, Mister Bird.”

“And I have asked you to stop calling me that,” Tsukuyomi said.  His feathers ruffled in what Takuma knew from watching Tokoyami was a sure sign of embarrassment.  “For years now.”

“Sure, Mister Bird.”

“You do know I am your boss? Perhaps you should continue your actual presentation?”

“Oh, if you insist,” she told him.  But she gave Takuma a wink.  “Don’t worry. I’ve got lots more stories about Mister Bird.”

***

“Hey there, viewers!” he said, adjusting the angle on the camera, “I’m back!”  He was glad he’d been able to pick up a new model so quickly. Thank goodness for good insurance plans. Too bad it had taken until the third day of his Internship.

Mom was probably going to tear Tsukuyomi a new one when she found out he destroyed his old phone. Maybe if he was very, very lucky, he could actually get that on video.  That would generate a hell of a lot of hits.

It might upset Tokoyami though.  Which would be bad.  She was pretty much the Mom Friend of the entire class.

Maybe he wouldn’t then.

Still, he did have to be quiet about this.  He was supposed to be catching some sleep, bunked down in Tsukuyomi’s Agency.  One other Sidekick was “on duty”, sleeping away on the other side of the room, just in case there were any calls.  Not that he was getting much sleep to begin with.  Tsukuyomi preferred to operate at night, which left him trying to get his sleep during the day.

“And now with improved picture quality,” he added, “you can see my fabulous pinkness in higher definition than ever before.  But sorry, ladies, I just want to remind you I don’t swing that way.  And gentlemen… I’m off the market.  Still all yours, Tensei!”

He flashed the camera another winning grin.  “Seriously though, viewers, this Internship has been intense.  Tsukuyomi knows what he’s doing.  I mean, he is dedicated.  Takes down bad guys hard and fast.  And I am learning.  Got a couple cool new tricks I can’t wait to show off.  Guy really does care about people, behind all the brooding and intensity and brooding intensity and intense brooding”

Not the least of his new tricks was a whole new way to use his Acid Tape.  If he flicked his wrist just right, he could actually start wrapping the tape around his arms.  And if he changed the acidity vs. stickiness factor… he either had an Acid Punch or a Sticky Punch.  Both of which had a lot of usefulness.  Not to mention a whole lot of video potential!

The corners of his mouth dipped down.  “If I can get him to stop criticizing me, that is.  Seriously, dude destroyed my last phone.  Who does that?  And he accused me of being more concerned with my social media presence than being a Hero!  Can you believe that?

Anyway, that’s my update! Don’t forget to hit like and surprise, and leave some encouragement in the comments!”

[rhysie-cakes314]

Day 2 of Challenge- Lost

“If you’re not back by 10pm on the dot, I will officially assemble the Avengers to find you, do not think I’m kidding, I am not kidding. This is no joke. On second thought, maybe we should come with you. You can start going on your own next year, I don’t know why I let your Pops talk me into this, I’m going to go get my things. I could use the exercise anyway,” and he was rambling. Tony knew he was rambling. Somewhere deep down, he knew he was being unreasonable too, but he was just so nervous.

Steve placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder and gave a tight squeeze. It grounded Tony, reminded him that he wasn’t alone in his anxiety. It also had the added side effect of shutting him up. “They will be fine, Tony. Your dad knows you’ll be fine because you’re a mature, well-behaved big boy now, aren’t you?” Steve directed the last comment towards Peter.

To his credit, Peter nodded with the seriousness of a soldier on a mission. “Of course, Pops.” He looked at Tony, who was crossing his arms tensely in an attempt to stop fidgeting, “Plus I’ve got JARVIS, right dad?” He held up his Stark phone proudly with a grin. It was not a commercially available model; Tony had designed it just for Peter. It had JARVIS on it, just like all of his own devices.

Tony tried to glare at the grinning kid, but the lopsided smile slid onto his face without his permission. The kid was just so cute. “Yeah, yeah. Get over her and give your old man another hug,” he spread his arms open wide, bending to one knee.

Peter hugged him fiercely before backing away to stand next to his friend, Wade, again. “We gotta go, we’re gonna miss the good candy!”

Wade nodded in agreement. The two boys had decided to coordinate their costumes this year, and Steve had already forced them to photograph for an hour today. Wade made for a very skinny Wolverine while Peter’s eyes were hidden behind his Cyclops goggles Tony had helped him make. He had done most of it himself, but Tony had to help a little with the LED wiring. The effect was worth it. Tony made sure to text Professor X a pic, knowing Xavier could appreciate his son’s adoration of the X-Men.

“Back by ten!” Steve yelled after them as they took off into his old neighborhood. He reached over to lace his fingers through Tony’s. “Let’s go to dinner.” He felt warm and fuzzy. His family was everything he could’ve wanted in life, and memories of trick-or-treating with Bucky had him nostalgic.

“That’s not along the path that my dads laid out for us,” Peter said uncertainly when Wade began pulling him towards another neighborhood an hour later. Pops had been very particular about where they were allowed to trick-or-treat, but Wade did have a point. They were nearly finished with all of the houses on that path, and there was still another hour before they had to head back and meet his parents.

“Pete, c’mon. Do you really want to pass up on all that extra candy and go home early? There’s no reason your dads even have to know. I sure won’t tell.” His eyes were alight with mischief. If anyone could convince Peter Stark-Rogers to break bend the rules, Wade Wilson was the man for the job. He wasn’t sure why he could, Peter was usually such a stickler for rules, but when Wade set them on a path of mischief, it always resulted in laughter and a good time. Plus there was something extra fun about having a shared secret they could allude to later.

Peter bit his lip, a slight blush colouring his cheeks, and Wade wished he didn’t have those goggles on. He wanted to look his best friend in the eyes to see what he was thinking. Without explaining himself, Peter suddenly whipped out his phone and turned it off. “Can’t have JARVIS alerting them,” he explained when Wade stared at him in confusion.

Wade felt his face break into a grin. He gripped Pete’s arm again. “Let’s go!” and the two boys took off running, determined to get twice the candy they already had.

Tony pushed the lava cake around his plate, watching it slide in a fudge trail. Steve knew he hadn’t really touched his meal either. Finishing his own slice of pie, he leaned forward to catch Tony’s attention. “Are you really that nervous?”

Tony startled, looking up to meet Steve’s eyes. “That obvious, huh?” He smirked, but the fear was clear in his eyes.

Steve reached out to clasp his lovers’ hands. “Honey, you haven’t eaten at all. And Italian is your favourite.” He searched Tony’s eyes for a hint of why this bothered him so much. All he saw was raw fear. He sighed. “Parents are out on porches watching over all the kids, no one is going to get nabbed without plenty of witnesses, and Peter knows the path, he can’t get lost. Buck and I started trick-or-treating on our own even younger than this!” He let go and threw his hands up, exasperated when Tony didn’t seem convinced. He loved the man with all of his being, but it was a constant battle to keep the genius from helicopter parenting and smothering their son in protection. “When did you?” Maybe this had something to do with a traumatic experience. Steve knew there was still plenty about Tony’s childhood that he never talked about.

Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion. “When did I what? You lost me, Cap.”

Steve shook his head amusedly. “When did you start trick-or-treating without Jarvis?” It was a fairly safe assumption that Howard and Maria had never taken Tony, so Steve figured it was probably Jarvis. The butler was more of a dad to Tony than Howard.

Tony surprised him with a sharp laugh. “Steve, I never trick-or-treated, that was something for normal kids.” It hurt Steve, the way Tony sounded so casual about that. His tone gave no inkling of sarcasm or that he had the notion that there was something wrong with that. “Oh god, Steve, you look like a kicked puppy. It’s not a big deal.”

The server returned with their check, and Tony filled out the receipt with a flourish. “Did you ever get to be a child?” Steve asked quietly. Tony gave him a pained smile. It was answer enough. They stood, and Steve put his arm around Tony’s waist as they exited. He wished, not for the first time, that he could bring Howard back from the grave to kick his ass. “We should throw a costume party next year,” he suggested suddenly. It wasn’t trick-or-treating, but at least Tony would get to dress up. Peter would love it too, and he could just guess at how thrilled Thor would be to participate in another Midgardian holiday.

Tony chuckled, probably thinking along the same lines. “Yeah, okay sweetheart,” he agreed easily. They took their time walking back towards Steve’s old neighborhood. The sun was slowly setting, the sky a gorgeous array of orange and pinks. Tony inhaled the crisp autumn air and allowed his current happiness to chase away the lingering bitterness about his childhood for the time being. He had a great life. The love of his life had married him, they adopted a wonderful son, and his team had become his extended family where he never really had a real one. Life was good.

“We’re lost,” Peter’s voice wobbled, but his tears didn’t spill over. None of the houses in sight looked familiar, and Peter couldn’t remember what street they had started on anymore. He should have never listened to Wade.

“No we’re not,” Wade said quickly, leading the way in the same direction they had been walking for what seemed like forever. “I know where we’re going,” his voice confident.

The problem was that Peter knew him too well. He could always tell when Wade was lying. “No you don’t!” He shouted angrily. He was scared and tired, his feet hurt, and he just wanted to go home. “You’re just making it up and you know it.” He stomped his feet to punctuate his words.

Wade stopped walking to face his friend. It wasn’t such a big deal that they were lost. Why did Peter care so much? They’d make it back eventually. Wade always found his way eventually. “Fine, you’re right,” he admitted. “But if we walk around, we’ll figure it out eventually. Chill out.”

Peter shook his head and his face was red now. The tears finally began streaking down his cheeks. He knew Wade was never scared, and he wanted to be brave like him but he just wasn’t, okay? New York was huge and full of scary people who did horrible things. He would know, his parents had to fight the scary people all the time. “It’s not chill,” he cried miserably. “I’m scared,” he admitted in a whisper.

Wade pulled him into a hug. Peter was trembling and hiccupping. “I’m sorry,” he comforted. Peter was such a scaredy-cat. He should have expected a reaction like this. It was a real testament to how scared the younger kid was that he hadn’t thought of the obvious on his own. He grabbed Peter’s shoulders and pushed him out of the hug, forcing them to be face to face. “But I promise we’re fine. Just turn your phone back on, and JARVIS will navigate.”

Slow realization dawned on Peter, and he gaped at the other boy. “I didn’t think of that, I’m so stupid,” his voice was even more miserable now. “Plus now my dads will know we broke the rules.”

Wade reached out and snatched away the costume goggles so he could really look at his friend. “Peter, listen to me.” He waited until Peter was meeting his gaze. “You are not stupid.” His voice was firm. “You were scared and that makes thinking hard. You’re one of the smartest people I know. You even understand what I’m saying when my brain won’t make words right,” and that got a giggle from Peter. Peter’s giggle always made Wade’s stomach feel weird. He didn’t really know why but it wasn’t completely unpleasant. “And your dads will just be happy we’re okay.”

Peter stared at Wade for a moment in silence. He wished he could control his blush whenever Wade complimented him, it was so embarrassing. “Yeah, okay.”

“Young sir, you are off your trick-or-treat path,” JARVIS sounded peeved. “Would you care to explain?”

Peter groaned. “JARVIS just help us find our way back, please?” He knew he was whining, but he really was tired.

There was a beat before JARVIS responded, “head north and turn left at the next street sign.” Peter and Wade let out a collective sigh of relief. They were going to get chewed out enough as it is, they didn’t need a lecture from J too.

It turned out Wade was still allowed to spend the night, probably because Tony and Steve never really liked to send him home to his abusive parents, though they hadn’t found proof to give to children’s services yet. Peter was going to be grounded for two weeks.

“I really think it should be two months,” Tony muttered bitterly as they entered the penthouse from the elevator.

Steve chuckled. He could understand the sentiment. “I think Peter scared himself enough that it was a punishment on its own, Tony.”

Peter blushed but didn’t look away. “I wasn’t that scared.”

Wade burst out laughing, and that was really more of a cackle. Wade was cackling at him and Peter glared at the other kid. Wade showed no remorse and just stuck his tongue out before Peter took off chasing him towards his room.

Later that night, when they had finally come down from the sugar rush and were almost asleep, JARVIS spoke up. “I just want you to know, young sir, you’re never truly lost if you have me.”

Peter smiled sleepily at the ceiling. “Thanks, J” he whispered before drifting off to his dreams.

[seokpapi-blog]

CHARCOAL (M) | kth

“The thing with Taehyung is that he use his hands a lot while drawing and get his fingers stained with charcoal, a lot. But when I come back home later, I love to see the same black prints all over my body.”

+Pairing: Taehyung x femlale MC ft Seokjin +Genre: College!AU, Artist!kth +Warnings: sexual assault victim +Note: GUYS! This is an adaptation of the book “Easy” by Tammara Webber. I decided to start like this because im not sure of my writing skill yet, so enjoy!

01 02 03 04 05

03

I dutifully emailed the econ tutor when I got back to the dorm after class, and started on my art history homework. While tapping out a response essay on a neoclassical sculptor and his influence on the style, I mumbled a thank you to my inner neurotic that I’d at least kept up in my non-econ classes.

With Elee at work, I could buckle down to an evening of quiet studying. Here in our microscopic room, she couldn’t help being a near-constant distraction. While I attempted to cram for an algebra test last week, the following conversation took place: “I had to have those pumps for my job, Daddy!” she argued into her cell. “You said you wanted me to learn the value of work while I’m in school, and you always say a person should dress for success, so I’m only trying to follow your words of wisdom.”

When she glanced at me, I rolled my eyes. My roommate was a hostess at a swanky restaurant downtown, a position she frequently used as an excuse for overspending her clothing budget. Three hundred dollar shoes, essential for a job that paid nine bucks an hour? I stifled my laugh when she winked back at me. Her father always caved, especially when she employed the D-word—Daddy.

I wasn’t expecting a quick reply from the tutor. As an upperclassman and a tutor for a huge class like Dr. Park’s, he had to be busy. I was also certain he’d be none too thrilled to assist a failing sophomore who’d skipped the midterm and two weeks of class, and who had never attended one of his tutoring sessions. I was prepared to show him I would work hard to catch up and get out of his hair as quickly as possible.

Fifteen minutes after I emailed him, my inbox dinged. He’d replied, in the same formal tone I’d chosen after.

“Ms. Son, Dr. Park has informed me of your need to catch up in macro and the project you’ll need to complete in order to replace the midterm grade. Since he’s approved you to do this work, there’s no need to share the reason why you’ve fallen so far behind with me. I’m employed as a tutor, so this falls under my job description. 

We can meet on campus, preferably in the library, to discuss the project. It’s detailed, and will require a great deal of outside research on your part. I’ve been instructed by Dr. Heller as to the level of assistance I should provide. Basically, he wants to see what you can do, alone. I’ll be available for general questions, of course.My group tutoring sessions are MWTh from 1-2:00, but those cover current material. I assume you’ll need more assistance comprehending the material you missed over the past two weeks. Let me know the times you’re available to meet for individual tutoring sessions and we’ll coordinate from there.

Kim T.”

I clenched my jaw. Though perfectly polite, the tone of his email reeked of condescension… until his signature at the very end: KT. Was he being friendly, or casual, or ridiculing my attempt to sound like a serious, mature student? I read his email again and got even madder. So he thought I was too dumb to comprehend the course material on my own? 

“Mr. Kim, I can’t attend your sessions because I have art history MW 1-2:30, and I tutor at the middle school on Thursday afternoons. I live on campus and am available to meet late afternoons Monday/Wednesday, and most evenings. I’m also free on weekends when I’m not tutoring. I’ve begun reading the course material on GDP, CPI, and inflation, and I’m working on the review questions at the end of chapter 9. If you want to meet to pass on the project requirements, I’m sure I can catch up on the regular coursework on my own.

Y/N.”

I pressed send and felt superior for all of about twenty seconds. In actuality, I’d barely glanced at chapter 9. So far, it looked less like comprehensible supply and demand charts, and more like gibberish with dollar signs and confusing shifts tossed in for fun. As for GDP and CPI, I knew what those acronyms signified… Sort of.

Oh, God. I’d just haughtily dismissed the tutor provided by my professor—the professor who wasn’t obligated to give me a second chance, but had.

When my email dinged again, I swallowed before clicking over to it. A new message from Kim T was at the top of my inbox.

“Y/N, If you prefer to catch up on your own, that’s your prerogative, of course. I’ll gather the information on the project and we can meet, say, Wednesday just after 2:00?

Kim T. PS What do you tutor?”

His reply didn’t seem angry. He was civil. Nice, even. I was so emotional lately that I couldn’t judge anything clearly.

“Kim T, I teach private lessons to orchestra students—middle and high school—on the upright bass. I just remembered I agreed to assist in transporting two of my students’ instruments to a program this Wednesday afternoon. (I drive a truck, to accommodate transport of my own instrument, and now I’m constantly inundated with requests to move large musical instruments, sofas, mattresses...)

Are you free any evening? Or Saturday?

Y/N”

I’d been playing the upright bass since I was ten. In fourth grade, one of the orchestra’s two bass players had a pee wee football collision the second weekend of school, resulting in a snapped collarbone. Our orchestra teacher, Mrs. Peabody, had looked out over the vast sea of violin players and pleaded for someone to switch. “Anyone?” she’d squeaked. When no one else volunteered, I raised my hand.

“Honey, isn’t that an odd choice of instrument for a girl to play?” my mother asked. Still petulant over my rejection of learning piano—her instrument of choice—in favor of the violin, she was immediately unsupportive of my new preference.

“Yes.” I glared at my mother and she rolled her eyes.

By the time I was fifteen, I’d reached my full five-and-a-half-foot stature and could perform with a three-quarter sized instrument, no height adjustment needed, though it was a close thing.

For the past year, I’d been giving lessons to local students—all of them boys—each of them some version of smug and impertinent until they heard me play.

"Y/N, Upright bass? Interesting.

I’m busy in the evenings this week, and most weekends as well. I don’t want you to lose time on this, so I’ll send you the project information later tonight, and we can discuss it over email until we can sync our schedules. Will that work for you?

KT. PS – I’ll keep you in mind if I buy a large appliance or need to move.”

“Kim, Thank you, yes—that would be great. (Re: sending the project information, I mean, not your brazen resolution to use me for my truck’s hauling capacity. You’re no better than my friends! They dodge U-Haul rentals and delivery fees, and I get paid in beer.)

Y/N.”

“Y/N, I’ll send the project specifics when I get home, and we can discuss.The barter system is just primitive economics at work, you know. (And are you old enough for beer?)

KT.”

“Kim, Far be it from me to knock an effective use of prehistoric economics. And I suppose friends who pay in beer are better than friends who don’t pay at all. (Re: my age—I don’t believe the job description of Economics Tutor makes you privy to that sort of personal information.)

Y/N”

“Y/N,  Touché. I’ll just have to trust you not to get me arrested for supplying alcohol to minors.You’re right—impoverished, auto-lacking college students like myself should respect tried-and-true methods of transport negotiations.

KT.”

I smiled at his candid admission of being carless, my face falling when I contrasted it with the sense of self-importance Seokjin got from his car. Right before we graduated, his parents gave his two-year-old Mustang to his sixteen-year-old brother, who’d wrecked his Jeep the weekend before. As an early graduation gift, they replaced Seokjin’s Mustang with the brand new BMW—sleek and black, with every available upgrade, including plush leather seats and a stereo system I could hear from a block away.

Fuuuuck. I had to stop linking every single thing that happened to me with Seokjin. 

********

Arriving a minute before econ began Wednesday morning, the last thing I expected to see was Seokjin, leaning on the wall outside the classroom, exchanging phone numbers with a girl. Giggling after snapping a picture of herself, she handed his phone back. He did the same, grinning down at her.

He would never smile at me like that again.

I didn’t realize I was frozen in place until a classmate shouldered into me, knocking my heavy backpack from my shoulder. “’Excuse me,” he grumbled, his tone more ‘Get the fuck out of the way’ than ‘Sorry I ran into you’.

As I bent to retrieve my backpack, praying Seokjin and his fangirl hadn’t seen me, a hand grasped the strap and swung the pack up from the floor. I straightened and looked into clear brown eyes.  “Chivalry isn’t really dead, you know.” His deep, calm voice was just as I remembered from Saturday night, and from Monday afternoon, across the Starbucks counter. “Oh? ”He slipped the strap back onto my shoulder. “Nah. That guy’s just an asshole.” He gestured toward the guy who’d bumped me, but I could have sworn his eyes raked over my ex, too, who was crossing to the door, laughing with the girl. “You okay?” For the third time, this question, from him, held deeper significance than the usual, everyday implication. “Yes, fine.” What could I do but lie? “Thank you.” I turned and entered the room, took my new seat, and spent the first forty-five minutes of class fixing my attention on Dr. Park, the whiteboard he filled, and the notes I took. Dutifully copying charts of short-run equilibrium and aggregate demand, all of it seeming like so much nonsense, I realized I would have to beg my tutor Kim for help after all. My pride would only cause me to slide further behind. Minutes before the end of class, I turned and reached into my backpack as an excuse to sneak a look at the guy on the back row. He was staring at me, a black pencil loose between his fingers, tapping the notebook in front of him. He slouched into his seat, one elbow over the back of it, one booted foot casually propped on the support under his desk. As our eyes held, his expression changed subtly from unreadable to the barest of smiles, though guarded. He didn’t look away, even when I glanced into my bag and then back at him. I snapped forward, my face warming.

Guys had shown interest in me over the past three years, but other than a couple of short-lived, certainly never revealed or acted-upon crushes—one on my own college-aged bass tutor, and another on my chemistry lab partner—I’d not been attracted to anyone but Seokjin. The economics lecture reduced to background babble, I couldn’t decide if my response to this stranger was lingering embarrassment, gratitude that he’d saved me from Junmin, or a simple crush. Perhaps all three.

When class ended, I packed my textbook into my backpack and resisted the urge to look in his direction again. I fiddled long enough for Seokjin and his fangirl to leave. As I stood to go, the persistently sleepy guy who sat next to me spoke.

“Hey, which questions did he say to do for the extra credit? I must have knocked off for a few seconds right around when he discussed those—my notes are indecipherable.” I glanced at the spot he indicated in his notes, and sure enough, the scribbles became less and less readable. “I’m Jungkook, by the way.”

“Oh, um, let’s see…” I flipped through my spiral and pointed to the assignment details printed across the top of the page. “Here it is.” As he copied it, I added, “I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook was one of those quite and nice guys, I’ve had seen him talking to his friends these days. He seems relaxed all they time.

“Thanks, Y/N. This saves my ass—I need those extra credit points. See you Friday.” He snapped his notebook closed. “Unless I accidentally sleep in,” he added, giving me a genuine smile.

I returned the smile as I moved into the aisle. “No problem.”

Maybe I was capable of making friends outside of my Seokjin circle. This interaction, along with the defection of most of our friends to Seokjin after the breakup, made me realize how dependent on him I’d become. I was a little shocked. Why had this never occurred to me before? Because I’d never thought Seokjin and I could end?

Foolish, naïve assumption. Obviously.

The room had almost cleared, the guy from the back row included. I felt a stab of irrational disappointment. So he’d stared at me in class—big deal. Maybe he was just bored. Or easily distracted.

But as I exited the room, I spotted him across the crowded hallway, talking with a girl from class. His demeanor was relaxed, from the navy shirt, open over a plain gray t-shirt, to the hand tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. Muscle didn’t show under the unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt, but his abdomen looked flat, and he’d put Junmin on the ground and bloody easily enough Saturday night. His black pencil sat atop one ear, only the pink eraser at the tip showing, the rest disappearing into his dark, messy hair.

“So it’s a group tutoring thing?” the girl asked, twirling a long loop of blonde hair around and around her finger. “And it lasts an hour?”

He hitched his backpack, twitching wayward bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah. From one to two.”

As he gazed down at her, she tilted her head and rocked her weight slightly from side to side, as though she was about to dance with him. Or for him. “Maybe I’ll check it out. What are you doing after?”

“Work.”

She huffed an annoyed breath. “You’re always working, Taehyung.” Her pouty tone hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard, as it always has when used by any girl above age six. But bonus—I’d just learned his name.

He glanced up then, as though he sensed me standing there, eavesdropping, and I pivoted in the opposite direction and started walking swiftly, too late to pretend I hadn’t been purposely listening to their conversation. I wove through the rush of people in the packed hallway, ducking out the side exit.

No way was I going to those tutoring sessions if Taehyung attended them. I wasn’t sure what he meant—if he meant anything at all—staring at me like that during class, but the overt intensity of his gaze made me uneasy. 

[oldtestleper]

so, @thebisexualmandalorian expressed an interest in reading this particular scene from O66. well, here you go, Jesse. Maximum angst.

Kashyyyk, three days after the flight of Grievous from Coruscant, 1,088 days ABG

“About time,” Fixer said, cramming ammo clips into his belt. “I was getting fed up fighting this war on my own.”

Scorch nudged him in the back, indicating Boss and Sev. “What were we doing, then, filing our nails?”

“I meant Vos.”

General Vos had arrived from Boz Pity with the first wave of troopers the night before; General Yoda was inbound with the 41st Elite and the Wookiee chieftain Delta had extracted from the Seps’ prison camp, Chief Tarfful. The Republic was pouring resources into the Kashyyyk theater. Scorch agreed that it was a little overdue, and also that it was remarkably handy that all those extra troops and ships had become available, freeing up the likes of Yoda.

It’s a big ambush; Coruscant first. Grievous gets his tin shebs kicked, and runs. Chancellor, you better be right, or we’re finished.

“Ready?” Boss said.

“How long have we got?”

“Time on target for Yoda’s flagship—thirty standard minutes.”

They walked out onto the vine bridge and scanned for visible vessels in the dawn sky. The Seps knew reinforcements were coming, too; their fleet was piling in, and a cruiser had taken up position at coordinates that looked as if it was going to engage Yoda’s flagship.

Wookiees were massing, too. Scorch heard them long before he saw them, a random chorus of rumbling, growling, yawling voices, growing louder, and you didn’t need to know a word of Shyriiwook to get the gist of the sentiment. They were psyching themselves up—not that they needed it much—to take back their world. They were going to do it with their bare hands, and Scorch believed them, oh yes, he did. He’d seen it. He wasn’t keen to see it again. The screams would be enough. The Wookiee chieftains were massive, brandishing heavy bowcasters and long-guns as if they were tiny hold-out blasters. They were working their troops up to a fever pitch. They thrashed their fists against their chests, then raised their arms to the sky again, bellowing defiance. The whole Wookiee army joined in. It was a wall of sound that Scorch didn’t just hear but felt in his sinuses.

Enacca came up behind them, and even Fixer jumped. She growled and pointed back into the forest.

Boss checked his chrono. “Yeah, I know you’re looking forward to pulling off some arms, but I think our best bet is to take control of the turbolaser battery. That cruiser’s positioned to stop Yoda from disembarking ground troops, and we need it gone.”

Enacca let out a roar of approval. She wanted it gone, too.

Etain came jogging along the platform and stood beside her. It was an image of extremes that Scorch wouldn’t forget in a hurry—the two-meter-tall Wookiee with a bowcaster slung across her back like a small accessory, and Etain, so tiny that he was still sure her conc rifle weighed more than she did.

It was nice to see a Jedi general who used more than a lightsaber. Etain knew exactly what it felt like to haul heavy kit for hours on end, so she understood when her troops needed a break. But there was something poking out of her belt, in the shadow of her robe, and Scorch realized after a few baffled seconds that it was a small furry toy, an animal.

“Reckon you can take that battery in eighteen minutes, Delta?” she said, winking. “Omega would try for fifteen.”

“We’re easily provoked into rash displays of competitive machismo, ma’am,” Sev said. “We accept the challenge.”

Scorch indicated Etain’s mascot. That’s what he thought it was, anyway. “Your Wookiee’s not very big, ma’am.”

“It’s my little boy’s toy nerf,” she said. “He put it in my hand before I left, and right now it’s really comforting. It smells of him.”

Sev said nothing. Scorch was grateful for that. Boss clapped his gloves hard to get their attention. “Come on, Delta, move it. You can play with the toy later.”

Etain gave them a casual fingers-to-brow salute and disappeared with Enacca. They were booby-trapping the walkways so that the 41st Elite could drive the Trandoshans into a trap and pick them off.

“I call dibs on the main cannon,” Sev said. “A Sep cruiser is like one big bug. I haven’t had my bug-splattering fix today.”

But he’d get plenty of chances once they blew their way into the big silo-like emplacement. The Seps had built into the trees, almost sleeving them in metal at some points and driving durasteel shafts clean through the road-wide trunks. The first set of doors Scorch blew unleashed a wave of spider droids, and Fixer picked them off with anti-armor rounds.

Boss checked his HUD chrono, flashing the countdown to all of them across their readouts. “Fifteen to go, so let’s not let the generals down. Grab the first anti-air turret you see and hang on to it. One each. Between the four of us, we should be able to put a dent in that shabuir.”

Scorch could hear the voice traffic now in his helmet between the 41st and Vos’s forward air control. The Sep cruiser was maneuvering to block the flagship, and Commander Gree was searching for alternative sites to land men. If he was forced too far from the landing zone, they’d have a hard haul back“through the forest before they could engage the Sep targets. The cruiser had to move. Two MagnaGuard droids blocked their path to the battery positions. Scorch almost didn’t count the Trandoshans who opened up with blasters. He lobbed a grenade their way while Fixer and Sev charged the droids, slicing one of them in two with a burst of plasma bolts and smashing the other to the floor with the butt of a Deece before emptying a clip into it.

Fixer ran on and swung himself into the gunner’s seat on the first turbolaser position. He waved Scorch and the other two past him, and started punching the controls. Scorch dropped into the next bay. He found a Trando trying to get a firing solution on the GAR flagship, which was now looking awfully close and in need of a parking space. Scorch brought his vibroblade up under the Trando’s chin just as the barve reached for his rifle, waited for him to stop struggling, and dragged the body clear of the seat.

By the time Scorch had taken control of the cannon’s targeting system and found the optimum points on the cruiser’s hull to do the most damage, Boss and Sev were gone, sprinting on to take control of the last two cannons. Fixer was already opening big vents in the cruiser’s hull. But the thing wasn’t going to go down easy; now Scorch could see four streams of laserfire playing along the keel of the Sep ship.

“Yeah, feel free, join the party.” Scorch thought Fixer was talking to him on the comlink, but when he saw triple-A coming up from the ground in brilliant white staccato lines, he realized Vos’s larty units had moved in. “That’s our sky, buddy. Move over.”

The cruiser was losing height. Its buckled hull plates shuddered every time it took a hit, and then it started to break up. Flame vented from rips big enough to swallow a gunship.

“We’re going to be wearing that thing for a hat if we don’t move soon, Boss,” Scorch said. “It’s as good as dead.” “Job done, Deltas. Bang out.”

“Scorch swung out of the gunnery seat and ran for the turbolift, Deece ready, but he was running over dead Trandos and shredded metal. Any remaining Seps in the battery had made a run for it, too, possibly because of the imminent fireball from a dying cruiser. Boss, breathless, was calling in a LAAT/i for extraction as he ran.

Then Sev cut in. Scorch looked around. It was the first time he’d noticed that he wasn’t with them. When he checked the point-of-view icon in his HUD, Sev still seemed to be looking out from the turbolaser viewport, and then the image broke up into streaks before going black.

Sev’s voice carried on. “Boss, I’ve got a problem here …”

“Sev, where are you?”

“Sector … multiple hostiles …”

Fixer jabbed the comlink reset on his helmet. There was just the wash and crackle of static. “Lost his signal, Boss.”

“Well, find it again. Delta, regroup—we’re going after Sev.”

The forward air controller from Vos’s unit cut in. “Negative negative, Three-Eight, new orders came through from the generals—clear the area and evac now.”

“I don’t care if they came from General Yoda himself.” Boss gestured to Fixer and Scorch to make a move after Sev. They could always claim they hadn’t heard the message. “Sev—”

“As a matter of fact, they did, soldier. Now get your squad out of there.”

Explosions shook the ship. The comm circuit was a disjointed mix of half-snatched conversations; it was all going to haran. Sep forces were streaming in from the north and east of their position, converging on them. Delta had killed the cruiser and enabled the 41st to land, but the battle had only just begun.

“He’s right, Boss,” Fixer said. “We’ve got to get out now.”

Scorch grabbed Fixer’s arm. “We can’t leave Sev. Nobody gets left behind. Remember? Remember how Sev blew up when we left Vau on Mygeeto? You want to do that to our brother? You want to abandon him? Leave him to die here?”

“He’s Sev,” Fixer said. “If he’s alive, he’ll hole up somewhere and we can retrieve him later.”

“What if he can’t?”

“Then he’s dead anyway.”

“We don’t leave without a body, moving or otherwise.”

“If we don’t evac now, we’ll all be dead.”

“Fine, then we go together, not running off to save our own shebse while Sev’s left here.”

Boss said nothing and just watched as if he had nothing better to do, even though they had seconds to make their move. Then he took hold of Scorch’s shoulder.

Scorch hadn’t wept since he was a kid, but he couldn’t see for tears now. “I’m not leaving him, Boss. You go if you want to. Not me.”

“This is an order.”

“Screw orders. Omega wouldn’t leave a man.”

“Scorch …”

“You’ll have to shoot me.”

Boss put his hand on his sidearm. “Losing one guy is bad enough. I’m not losing two. Don’t let me down now.” He shoved Scorch hard in the back and nearly knocked him over. The larty was hovering level with the exit hatch of the turbo-lift. “Shift it, Six-Two.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Boss. Or you, Fixer. We’re brothers, for fierfek’s sake. I’d never leave you.”

But he did. He left. They all left.

“Sorry, Sev.” Boss’s voice was suddenly husky. He wasn’t the weepy type, either, but he sounded like he was struggling. And maybe Sev could hear them, and maybe he couldn’t, but if his end of the comlink was still live, Scorch could imagine what he was going through now as he listened to his brothers leaving him to die, or worse.

“Delta … move out.”

Sev was as hard as they came. Vau had made survivors of them all. Fixer was probably right: if Sev was still alive, he’d probably stay alive for a long time, and they could always go back.

But they didn’t know.

No, you didn’t pull out all the stops for Sev.

Skirata would have told Yoda to shove his orders, cut the comm, and gone looking for him.

As they jumped into the larty’s crew bay for the evac, Boss put his hand on Scorch’s shoulder, but Scorch shrugged it off. He longed for a cannon round and instant oblivion, some way of stopping the guilt of not being dead, not staying to search, not making a final stand and defying Boss and CIC and even shabla General Yoda. He wanted to die of shame. He could only imagine how much worse it would feel in years to come when he had to face himself every morning.

It was just as well that a clone’s life span was limited.

-Order 66Karen Traviss

[lookingforsomeanswers]

On admitting your weaknesses

At work today I finally admitted something to myself. I’d been there less than two hours and managed to burn myself on the milk jug and cut my finger twice (on what, I have no idea) meaning I was running around searching for plasters, sending coffee and milk flying in the process. Then the previous night, I’d tried to be as happy and confident as I could be, but I kept having colleagues asking me if I was ok or that I looked stressed. And I realised - I’m a clumsy introvert trying to do extroverted jobs that involve coordination. Why am I making myself do things I inherently struggle with?

The counterargument I often try to employ is that anyone can do anything if they put their mind to it; it’s all about practice. And yes, maybe if I practiced making coffee enough I would get better at it, and once I’ve greeted a few customers I do start to feel more confident later on. But I can’t practice not tripping over and spilling things. Nor can I really practice the ability to possess a natural, easy character where I’m able to have sarcastic banter with anyone at any time.

Like it or not, there are certain things each of us find easier than others. This is no doubt shaped by our past experiences, but I believe some of it is innate too. For me, I’ve never found writing or music too difficult, and that’s probably at least partly down to having kept a diary for as long as I remember and singing and playing from a young age. Yet despite playing outside and doing artsy things as much as the next kid, I was always clumsy and found practical subjects at school difficult.

Unfortunately, as an adult looking for casual work there is far more available with a steady rate of pay for those who lean towards the more extroverted side or have a practical bent, so I’ve been trying to adapt myself for the time being. But in the long term, I think it’s important to choose those activities you feel more at ease with - both in working life and with your hobbies. For example, you’re not really going to enjoy water-skiing if you’re doing it just because your partner likes it, when you’ve privately always disliked being in water. It’s the same for a job - if you always hated writing reports and essays, doing something practical will mean you will find more enjoyment and satisfaction in your work. 

The great thing is, playing to your strengths means you can still challenge yourself, but you’ll deal with these challenges in a more positive way than if you’re trying to force yourself in an area you’re not so good at. If you feel like what you’re doing isn’t working for you, try to reflect on what you’ve always been better at or enjoyed the most. If a challenge presents itself to you that peaks your interest, you’re likely to feel motivated and exhilerated. But if it was in an area you were uncomfortable with, you’d likely feel stressed and negative about yourself when you don’t make the progress you hope or keep making mistakes. By putting undue pressure on yourself by making yourself stick at something that is a complete mismatch, it is understandable if you feel hopeless and out of control, if each day you feel you are battling against your weaknesses. But it is better to admit your weaknesses than hate them. As much as I get frustrated with myself, wishing I was more of an extrovert, I can only try my best. And if that isn’t good enough, I’m not the problem - my situation is!

[fortune-failing]

Can't Sink What Hasn't Sailed

(After Session 40)

Part I: Casual Chat in a Goddamn Minefield

Zarek-Last Friday at 3:53 PM

It was late at night and Zarek was lying down on his bed at the inn, it was kind of hard to sleep after what happened with the orphans and Aneris leaving without a word. He knew that not only she was gonna come back eventually but also that she probably wouldn't want to talk about today's events. That didn't stop him from staying awake though.

Aneris-Last Friday at 3:57 PM

Aneris doesn't get back to the inn until, well late I guess? She's a little less irritated than before but a lot more inebrated. It's a graceful stumble into bed for her.

Aneris changed the channel name: Don't mess up, Zarek-kun

Zarek-Last Friday at 4:16 PM

Zarek feels the strong alcohol scent as soon as Aneris enters the room, he waits a bit to see if she will say anything before actually speaking. "Welcome back."

Aneris-Last Friday at 4:22 PM

Aneris rolls her head over to look at him and stares a bit too long before replying. "Yeah, sure" She removes the pillow from under her head and places it over her head. Pillows are great. They're cold and also dark.

Zarek-Last Friday at 4:42 PM

Zarek also participates in the staring until Aneris covers her head. "Guess you're not feeling like chatting, huh?"

Aneris-Last Friday at 4:48 PM

Aneris leaves the pillow on top of her face and lets it muffle her words. "I don't chat"

Zarek-Last Friday at 5:02 PM

"Yeah I've noticed that" Zarek says a bit more sarcastically. "I thought you might want to go hunt some assholes though, I've been looking for missions of the sort lately."

Aneris-Last Friday at 5:15 PM

"Assholes" Aneris mumbles into the pillow before realizing he wasn't being literal. She sits up and let's the pillow fall. "Oh yeah? I guess that's good." She pulls her cloak off and sticks her finger through the new hole. She sticks another finger through the second ner hole and glares at it. "Holy shit" she whispers.

Zarek-Last Friday at 5:30 PM

"Cool, let's go at it as soon as we can tomorrow then. I already told the rest of the group we'll take a break in this town." Zarek stares at the hole in the cloak, feeling a little guilty about it.

Aneris-Last Friday at 5:37 PM

Aneris quietly nods, making a mental note to try to not be too hungover the next day. She turns to Zarek again after finishing her inspection. "Did I get stabbed twice?" Aneris breifly considers the possibilty of Pawo running up and stabbing her while she was out. It seemed like something he would do. The man clearly had it out for her.

Zarek-Last Friday at 5:44 PM

"Yeah, two times. I guess the kid wanted to make it a clear point that she wasn't bluffing before freaking out." Zarek replied, it was a mess really.

Aneris-Last Friday at 5:54 PM

Aneris sighs and lowers the cloak so she can rub her eyes. "Are they still alive?" She pauses for a second and then laughs to herself. "No of course you wouldn't kill them. Someone could probably poison a whole town and we'd spend a week argueing over if calling them a murderer might hurt their feelings." She plop back into the bed. This was suposed to be a fun trip.

Zarek-Last Friday at 6:00 PM

"Yeah, sorry but I'm not gonna compare two children who obviously didn't have a clear plan to actual murderers. We already burned a murderer once, you know." Zarek looked away for a bit, geez, what a harsh topic to go into off the bat. Better than nothing he guessed.

Aneris-Last Friday at 6:08 PM

"One time can be a fluke" She sighed. "Gods those kids were ambitious though. Wonder if they'll get smarter or killed first." Aneris thinks for a second then glares at the ceiling. "I wonder if the rest of them will get smarter before someone gets killed." Aneris has mistakenly thought the rest of the party being stupid would only lead them getting themselves killed.

Zarek-Last Friday at 6:15 PM

"I think I like the idea of getting smarter more, and by that I mean it would be good to have an idea or a plan of what to do if we get into a situation like this one." Zarek decides its better not to directly say 'in case you get yourself almost killed again'.

Aneris-Last Friday at 6:18 PM

"Every man for himself seems like the best option really." Aneris thinks about Pawo getting her stabbed. Yeah, better plan.

Zarek-Last Friday at 6:23 PM

Zarek sighs. good job idiot, asking aneris for team tactics was obviously the best plan he's had this entire journey, god. "So, after everyone is taking care of himself and one gets knocked out. What next?" Zarek asks staring at aneris

Aneris-Last Friday at 6:34 PM

Was that a fucking shot at her?? Aneris glares at Zarek. "Then they learn a valuable lesson about what they should expect from others, and how stupid it is to make exceptions."

Zarek-Last Friday at 6:36 PM

"I meant in battle, not when they fortunately wake up healed after an hour." Zarek knew this was a bad idea, but he kept going, like an idiot.

Aneris-Last Friday at 6:54 PM

Aneris looks away again and tries not to think about knives and blades and stabbing. She looks back and smiles "Then we leave them there to bleed out and die. If they're not smart enough to kill anyone who grabs them as a first reaction then they deserve what comes next right? Not using every tool at your disposal is just asking for it."

Zarek-Last Friday at 7:05 PM

Zarek looks at Aneris' smile unamused. "Considering every tool you have available is important, but actually thinking about it before having an overboard first reaction sounds smarter." Zarek sighs. "I mean, 'if they're not smart enough?', come on..."

Aneris-Last Friday at 7:21 PM

"Are you done now?" Aneris quickly goes back to her scowl. She's started to re-evaulate the energy required to argue with Zarek and found that's she's drank way too fucking much to add that high right now. Aneris pops her head back into her cloak and mutters "I'm too fucking sober for this."

Zarek-Last Friday at 7:42 PM

Zarek runs his hand through his hair "Yeah, I'm done now." then he lies down and mutters "Guess I was just worried."

Aneris-Last Friday at 7:53 PM

Aneris just gets mad again, Zarek shouldn't be allowed to back down after she let herself get worked up like that. She scoffs at him. "What do you even have to worry about, it's not like you were the one that got stabbed." She stops herself before she can add 'It would take a bear to restrain you' . . . . . that would just come back to bite her in the ass. Arguments are about not reminding people you're 5 feet tall.

Zarek-Last Friday at 8:08 PM

Zarek slightly gets up again smirking a bit. "Oh yeah, guess you weren't awake to see when I got stabbed." He gave aneris a more serious look, both backing down and arguing back would equally provoke her and it was too late to think 5 times before speaking. "Why do you even ask, does it take that much effort to realize I was worried about you?"

Aneris changed the channel name: Zarek-senpai, how could you tease me with such kind words. _doki doki_Last Friday at 8:26 PM

Aneris-Last Friday at 8:30 PM

Aneris nearly flinches, Zarek getting stabbed was brand new information. "Realize what, that you were worried you would miss out on getting another chance to burn a murderer if they got to me first?" (Aneris +12 deflection xp)

Zarek-Last Friday at 8:38 PM

Zarek sneers a bit "I said I was worried about you, where did you even pull such a wrong conclusion from!? did you even bother to listen to what i said?"

Aneris-Last Friday at 8:58 PM

Aneris has spent the whole night mad and getting called wrong just added to it. "You think I'm so pathetic I need to be worried over? Because I don't need to listen if that's what you're saying." Aneris gets off the bed and heads back the way she came.

Zarek-Last Friday at 9:10 PM

Zarek gets up from the bed too, and follows Aneris' direction to correct her "Luckily for you that's not what I'm saying at all. If I actually thought you were pathetic then I wouldn't be worried, I wouldn't even care about you or bother talking to you if that was the case. But it's not at all." Zarek gets a bit more heated up than he wanted to when saying that, and stops in his tracks a bit.

Aneris-Last Friday at 9:31 PM

Aneris just stares at him. "Yeah, lucky for me, I'm sure." Aneris glares again. "Now are you going to follow me all the way to the bar, or are you going to tell me what you're saying. My buzz is wearing off and it's been a long day." Though she got to miss a big chunk of that day laying in her own blood.

Zarek-Last Friday at 10:02 PM

Zarek stares back at her "I just meant that I value you a lot as a person, and I was worried my lack of action or coordination would cost us that..." he changes the subject and smirks slightly "Anyway, now that you've so kindly invited me I think I wouldn't mind going for a drink or two. I'll drop the topic if you want too."

Aneris-Last Friday at 10:08 PM

Aneris' expression softens back to somethign neutral for her at least. She stands for a moment before turning and opening the door but then pauses. "Fine but you owe me something strong for this bullshit." She continues out the door.

Zarek-Last Friday at 10:12 PM

Zarek smiles and follows her lead "Sounds fair enough to me." he closes the door on his way out.

Part II: I Can't Believe Beaford is a 150 Year Old Shapeshifting Spy"

Aneris-Last Friday at 11:12 PM

[It then takes the pair 15 irl hours to walk to the tavern]

Aneris-Last Sunday at 3:14 PM

Aneris heads back to the bar, and ignores any look the bartander might give her. It was probably more common to take someone away from the bar than to come back with someone. She tells the nice, non-judgmental man to give her something strong and unreasonabley priced. She then tells him to pour something light and fruity for her lady friend as she gestures to the six foot tall bearded man who followed her inside. "Bills on him" She informs before finding a nice dark isolated part of the bar to occupy. She idly thinks the corner is familiar before remembering she was probably here less than an hour ago.

Zarek-Last Sunday at 3:17 PM

"Guess I don't look old enough to order for myself, huh?" Zarek follows to sit with her in the isolated corner. "I'll trust you have good taste for this sort of stuff though."

Aneris-Last Sunday at 3:21 PM

"Not in the least" Aneris looks at the large man and his tiny tiny drink. It was a poweful image "And I'm not doing it for taste, I'm doing to it kill time . . . . by not remembering time." Her poor buzz was on it's last legs. Time to refuel.

Zarek-Last Sunday at 3:34 PM

Zarek grinned at Aneris' statements. Wasn't the best way to kill time at night sleeping anyway? "That's too bad, I was hoping you would have a good recommendation" Zarek takes a sip of his drink, even knowing Aneris ordered it to make fun of him isn't reason enough to not have it after being the one who paid. The apple flavor on it is better than he expected too.

Aneris-Last Sunday at 3:41 PM

"Why do you even need recommendations? Aren't you a little old to not know what you like??" Aneris drinks while trying to remember how old Zarek is . . . . . . . there were defenitly 2 digits, but only 2 digits. Most liekly only 2. "Though I didn't know what I liked when I was 50 either . . . I guess that's not too bad." Aneris picks a nice safe number in the middle.

Zarek-Last Sunday at 3:46 PM

Zarek takes another sip and laughs a bit "I'm sure I will figure it out before another 3 decades go by and I get to that age. I just don't usually try new drinks unless I'm celebrating something." Zarek pauses a bit before going for another sip, this thing was deceptively stronger than he expected.

Aneris-Last Sunday at 3:54 PM

Aneris flinches, she was off by a factor of 2.5? "That sounds boring." She makes a mental note that Zarek holds back in every aspect of his life and drinks heavily. This probably wasn't intended to be consumed quickly. "You're going to die bored."

Zarek-Last Sunday at 4:06 PM

"Nothing as fun as drinking 'to kill time' I guess." He smirks, mentioning how bad overdoing this shit was for humans was just an overall bad idea.

Aneris-Last Sunday at 4:11 PM

Aneris frowns deeply "I do . . . other things." SHe can't think of a single other thing at the moment but that doesn't mean she's boring. Though if she says that she drinks when she's upset, he'll know she's upset so she just drinks more to avoid arguing in a bar. A perfect solution.

Zarek-Last Sunday at 4:16 PM

Zarek tries to hold back from laughing at Aneris' response. "I guess I have no choice but to ignore the strong scent of alcohol and take your word for it."

Aneris-Last Sunday at 4:25 PM

Aneris, utilizing only the finest available motor control, slams her cup on the table a tad bit harder than she intends. "The whole building smells like booze. And I'm not boring, I've been places, I've seen things." Aneris desperatly tries to remember anywhere she's been in her life or a single thing she's done but according to her memeories she wa born in the bar just earlier in the evening. She wonders if it's the apathy or buzz that's hurting her memory retrival.

Zarek-Last Sunday at 4:33 PM

Zarek gets taken by surprise by the cup hitting the table but his reaction is pretty neutral "Well, I've been smelling booze since before we left the inn." He smiles in a less mocking way than before "And you don't have to tell me you're not boring, I've seen you in enough places and doing enough things to know that. But don't act like you didn't call me that first" His smirk turns more smug while saying that last part.

Aneris-Last Sunday at 4:45 PM

Aneris isn't sure if she's being patronized or not but looks away rather than linger on the thought. She's starting to doubt she's ever going to get the upper hand with Zarek. That's an annoying thought. "Ehh, I didn't say that you were borning, just that you were going . . . to die . . bored." Aneris considers what she said. She sits for a second. "Guess I did kinda call you boring." Additional liquor.

Zarek-Last Sunday at 4:56 PM

Zarek just watches Aneris drink more, it wasn't common to see Aneris back down but it wasn't an unwelcome sight "Yeah you kinda did, I don't care enough about it to make more remarks though."

Aneris-Last Sunday at 5:09 PM

(Anti having never been to a bar has no idea how someone sitting down at a bar would aquire additional devil liquids so I'm just going to say that she did) "Well you won't hear me complain about someone being uncaring." Aneris glares a little at the table, now that she thinks about it Nicol is an uncaring piece of shit. "So thank you for this grand mericful gesture of not having to hear any mroe of your 'remarks.' " Aneris perks up for a second, she killed that spider bitch! That was very un-boring. Too late now though.

Zarek-Last Sunday at 5:14 PM

"You're welcome for this blessing" Zarek says and drinks what was left of his drink, which wasn't much.

Aneris changed the channel name: Aneris attempts to make smalktalk but instead drinks heavily and sits quietlyLast Sunday at 5:49 PM

Aneris-Last Sunday at 6:41 PM

"You said you wanted to do that stuff tomorrow, so you've picked out who you want to kill then?" Aneris speaks the last half of her question into her mug.

May 22, 2017

Zarek-Last Monday at 8:54 PM

Zarek perks up a bit at the question "Oh yeah, I did look into a few targets. I'm torn between two of them though, so I was thinking you could pick one." Zarek pauses a bit and signals a #1 with his hand "The first one is a thief who is said to live in some ruins in the town's outskirts." Then he raises another finger "And the other dude is apparently a vampire, I heard he's been seen around the abandoned districts near this town."

Aneris-Last Monday at 8:59 PM

Aneris perks up. "Ruins sound fun but . . .is 'vampire' supposed to be a nickname?" Aneris tries to recall if she's ever met a vampire before but she doesn't really make the habit of asking probing questions. "Two sounds a lot more interesting."

Zarek-Last Monday at 9:01 PM

Zarek smiles "Yeah I was thinking that too, I don't think i've ever heard of an actual vampire... have you?"

Aneris-Last Monday at 9:03 PM

Aneris shakes her head. "Not one that was bragging about it at least." She takes another drink and lowers her voice. "I wonder if you have to do anything special to kill a vampire."

Zarek-Last Monday at 9:08 PM

Zarek rested his chin on his hand. "Hmm, all my knowledge about vampires are basically dumb tales for kids. I'm not even sure if they're at all like people describe them.... If they do exist that is..." Zarek thinks on it more but is too tipsy to actually remember anything he's ever heard about vampires.

Aneris-Last Monday at 9:17 PM

Aneris back a big show of leaning back and rubbing her chin before leaning in too quickly. "Zarek I don't know a single fucking thing about vampires. Are vampires like, a creature or like, a person? Or used to be." Aneris mutters "Maybe their own race, and there's little vampire kids. There's too many damn races I can't keep up"

Zarek-Last Monday at 9:28 PM

"Hmmm." Yeah, he's not gonna remember shit this late at night. "I...guess they would be a person? some stories say they can shapeshift...but they can still talk I think, that would make them a person right? But...cuntface can talk too. That's probably a bad standard for deciding..." Zarek keeps going on about what could the difference be, not really getting to anything.

Aneris-Last Monday at 9:35 PM

Aneris chuckles then mutters into her glass "Yeah he mostly talks out of his ass so a bad standard." "But I guess there's no use worrying about details tonight" Aneris sighs worrying about it "I don't even understand half the assholes we're with. Is it weird that you and London are the only humans, you're used to being the majority huh?"

Zarek-Last Monday at 9:42 PM

He laughs at Aneris' comment about nicol. "Well we're 3 with Beaford... maybe 4" He isn't sure if Wolf-shapeshifting would be similar to a vampire's mythical bat-shapeshifting. "I've never really traveled with a group before anyway, plus I did get to see more than humans from where I came from... I think I'm more bothered by some of their personalities than their races though."

Aneris-Last Monday at 9:52 PM

Aneris also misses the last half of Zarek's comments as her face flushes at the conflicting number. "There's no way. 4 is too high," She grabs her pinky finger and holds it up to Zarek "Pawo is like, half dog, all ass, he doesn't count." She jumps a tiny bit, containing either a burp or hiccup and then release the Pawo finger to grab her middle finger. She had aimed for her ring finger though. "And Beaforn isn't human either, that bony weirdo said he was Japandknees, I've never heard of that before but I also never heard of Deamon before." She lets of her hand so she can grab her glass and slide back into her seat. "He's probably another shapeshifter, we're surrounded by them." She eyes Zarek suspisously over the rim of the glass.

She sets her glass back down and mumbles again. "You know he always looks so damn tired. . . . . maybe it takes a lot out of him to mantain a human form."

Zarek-Last Monday at 10:05 PM

Zarek smirks while trying not to laugh at Aneris' comments on beaford. "Well, I really don't know enough about Pawo to argue with you on it, he's a pretty weird guy." "I also haven't heard what that is but, I'm pretty sure Beaford is a human... I mean, doesn't Kimuri need to sleep less than actual humans? Why would Beaford require more sleep to maintain his shape...wouldn't he go for a more efficient shape to keep?" God, Beaford was definitely a human but the possibility was still there. "I think he's just a human from a weird place."

Aneris-Last Monday at 10:14 PM

Aneris persists. She leans in again and waves her hand, trying to wave away Zarek's comment. "Well Kimuri said she was from another plane right, maybe Beaford is too, but like, his real form is something huge or disgusting and completely different from humanoids, and that's why it takes him so much energy." Aneris leans in deeper as her conspiracy gets deeper. "Maybe he's some kind of otherworldy spy and he has such a taxing form so he can spy on us. . . . Pawo's probably in on it to that asshole." She studies Zarek. "They never . . . . did anything to you did they. . . . . you ever notice any hair missing when you woke up?" Gods, she was already too late, they probably already stol his organs.

Zarek-Last Monday at 10:22 PM

Zarek lets out a laugh after hearing Aneris' theory "Wouldn't he need to actually be awake to spy on us? We could probably find more stuff about him than he can find on us I bet." He passes his hand thru his hair, as if checking that all his permanent bedhair is in place. "I don't think I've seen many hairs missing from my head either." He then stares at aneris "Why would he even need my hair anyway?"

Aneris changed the channel name: Beaford is a dirty fuckign shapeshifterLast Monday at 10:27 PM

Aneris-Last Monday at 10:29 PM

Aneris gets off the table. "Hey I didn't say I had all the answers, just that he's not human" Another drink "Or he's at least as human as I am"

An additional drink "I don't know maybe he eats it?"

Zarek-Last Monday at 10:35 PM

Zarek thinks on it for a second, maybe if it wasn't 1am he wouldn't actually be worried about such a stupid thought. "I guess if you only ate hair instead of actual food you would be tired all day." He looks at Aneris get another drink before continuing "Isn't 25 years old kind of young for a non-human though?... Nevermind, I'm probably just making assumptions based on the other non-humans in the party....except for Pawo..." What a tough topic. "I really don't think I've given this whole 'party human to other races ratio' much thought."

Aneris-Last Monday at 10:40 PM

Aneris nods along with Zarek's words, he's finally understanding this truth she herself has understood for all of ten minutes. "Well, mentally, thats pretty young for an elf at least." SHe leans in again "Beaford is obviously lying about his though." "Guess I don't have to think about ratios either, it'll always be 1 to whatever the other number is" SHe leans back again. All this rocking is starting to get relaxing

Zarek-Last Monday at 11:01 PM

"Nah, if he was actually lying about his age he wouldn't act so awkward whenever he remembers he's older than me." Zarek leans back on his chair too. "Yeah, it's not really worth thinking about anyway I guess." He tries not to laugh while saying the rest of the sentence "specially with shapeshifters around."

Aneris-Last Monday at 11:03 PM

Aneris nods so more but makes a mental note that Kimuri is okay, and it's just Pawo Beaford and potential vampires that should be distrusted. "Could be a good liar though"

Zarek-Last Monday at 11:43 PM

Zarek snaps his fingers after a realization "Would he need a stupid wig and girl clothes for a disguise if he was a shapeshifter though?"

Aneris-Last Monday at 11:48 PM

Aneris slams her cup down again. "Fuck you're right. Or maybe he's a weirdo!"

Zarek-Last Monday at 11:51 PM

Zarek snickers "Well I can't argue that he isn't a weirdo, but with two shapeshifters in the party already if he could grow his hair out he wouldnt use girl disguises." Zarek smiles feeling victorious.

Aneris-Last Monday at 11:54 PM

"Yeah well if he's trying to spy on us that he would get a wig to ya know, not seem suspicious." Aneris apologizes to the cup by draining. "That bones guy didn't stick around for ever long after he outed Beeford" Aneris squints in suspicion

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:09 AM

Zarek watches the cup as aneris speaks "I don't know. In such a group of weirdos he could have eyes on his hands and I don't think it would be suspicious. I mean, it's almost hard for a weirdo to stand out if they were in our group."

Aneris-Yesterday at 12:14 AM

Aneris flashes a quick glance at Zarek's hands before replying. "The perfect cover." She looks at her own hands. No recent additions. "Guess we do stand out as a group."

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:30 AM

Zarek confusedly looks at aneris' line of sight turning from one set of hands to the other. He really had lost count of how much Aneris had drank tonight. "No surprises there. I guess it could be worse though." Zarek said as if they weren't wanted criminals.

Aneris-Yesterday at 12:33 AM

"Yeah . . . . .. imagine if there were like . . . .. . . 2 Felaian's" Aneris shudders then whispers. "I might cry." "Or two Pawo's" Aneris looks for comfort in her glass and finds none . . . when did Zarek steal her drink?

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:35 AM

"I think we have a pretty comfortable amount of healers as of now" Zarek sighs, the thought of two faelians worried him a bit, but not as much as the look aneris gave her inanimate glasses of alcohol worried him.

Aneris-Yesterday at 12:42 AM

Aneris slumps her head on the table "They're all a bunch of freaks is what it is. Especially that dog boy"

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:45 AM

"Not on very good terms with pawo huh..." He looks at aneris' head lying in the table "are you okay?"

Aneris-Yesterday at 12:48 AM

"Who could be" She mumbles to the table. She closes her eyes for a moment "I'm always okay. I've never not been un-okay" It is very important to Aneris that the table, and only the table can hear her words

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:49 AM

Zarek gets up from the table, it doesn't look like Aneris is gonna keep drinking, at least not without pouring 70% of it on the table. "Wanna go back to the room?"

Aneris-Yesterday at 12:51 AM

"You go on . . . . . . . . . " Aneris lays there for a minute then remembers there's a second half to her sentence. "I'll catch up in a while" Drunken pride has decided that admiting she doesn't trust her legs would be bad, but to nap on a bar table would be just fine.

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:53 AM

Zarek stares at Aneris "...Is the table really that comfortable?" he asks almost in a mocking tone

Aneris-Yesterday at 12:56 AM

Aneris opens her eyes and glares in the general direction of Zarek's voice. "No but the floor might be, want me to introduce you?" It might have still sounded like a threat if not for the slurring. "Don't talk down to me" She closes her eyes again.

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:58 AM

He sits down again to get on closer eye level, just in case. "Will refrain from doing so."

Aneris-Yesterday at 1:01 AM

Aneris sighs. Is this a fucking joke? "What are you just going to sit there till my legs work again? Or are you ordering more?" she asks annoyed

Zarek-Yesterday at 1:02 AM

"Well it would be rude to leave you here when you're the one paying for the room. Specially now that you admitted your legs aren't working" Zarek slightly smiles saying the last part

Aneris-Yesterday at 1:05 AM

"Never mind I'm sleeping here tonight. And my legs are just fine tank you." She just doesn't trust them is all. She lifts her head so she can make a pillow out of her arms. "Goodnight, have a safe trip back to the inn."

Zarek-Yesterday at 1:10 AM

"Goodnight" Zarek says, not moving from his seat and deciding to wait for her to pass out.

Aneris-Yesterday at 1:13 AM

Aneris murmurs a responce into her arm and then lays there and waits for Zarek to leave.

Zarek-Yesterday at 1:17 AM

Zarek decides to stay there a bit longer to check for her reaction

Aneris-Yesterday at 1:21 AM

Aneris doesn't really react, she just lays there until her breathing evens out. At least passing out in a bar has a bit more dignity that passing out in the dirt outside.

Zarek-Yesterday at 7:46 AM

Zarek gets up and approaches Aneris to check up on her after her breathing calms down, it really is only his second time seeing her asleep so he really wants to be sure she's out before trying to carry her... Man, she looks cute sleeping. He taps her arms to double-check. He doesn't really like the idea of surprise stab wounds on the way to the inn.

Aneris-Yesterday at 11:10 AM

Her brows reflexively furrow at the touch and a low "mm" is heard but she doesn't move beyond that and her face quickly relaxes again.

Zarek-Yesterday at 11:41 AM

With this response as confirmation, Zarek proceeds to gently lift Aneris off from her table/pillow, and softly puts her in a more comfortable position on his back. Making sure not to wake her up.

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:09 PM

Zarek then left the bar and continued on his way to the inn with Aneris on his back. It felt nice enough to having her so close and feeling her head rest on his shoulder that it was easy to ignore the heavy alcohol smell. Maybe going out to drink wasn't that boring after all. After getting to his own room he gently put Aneris on her own bed, and heavily considered putting her pillow on top of her head...but decided against it. He then got into his own bed "goodnight" he muttered, god it was late.

Aneris-Yesterday at 12:13 PM

"I'm not paying you this time" Aneris mutters/slurs back before covering her face with the pillow again. Blood loss probably affects alcohol intake she notes for the next time she dies.

Zarek-Yesterday at 12:15 PM

Zarek's eyes open hearing Aneris' voice. Luckily his body was turned around for her not to see it. "It's a package deal with the drinks, don't worry." He felt he was paid more than enough anyway.