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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

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Walk Me Home - Ch 4

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 2702

Author’s Note: At last!!! I almost didn’t make it, but here I am, literally in the eleventh hour (well, okay, three minutes to go until the eleventh hour, but still)! All the thanks to @mskathywrites , @fang, and @cracksinthewalls for editing, revision, flailing, and all that stuff I need. I still love this story, and I hope y’all will, too!

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 4

Kimber knows she’s staring, but she can’t stop herself. His fingers, rough and strong from years of the hardest work, brush circles over her wrists that send her pulse fluttering through her veins. So many emotions flicker behind his eyes, some of them mirroring her own, some of them alien and unreadable. So many years have passed, so much water under the bridge, as the saying goes.

The thing is, he was completely right earlier. She could have called him, once she learned who he and his family were, once she found a way.

But he had left town with her phone number memorized. He was in a much more logical position to get in touch, and right away, at that. And he never did. She knows he had a good reason, a completely reasonable one that would make sense if she just asked him.

But she’s scared and drained and confused and more than a little ashamed, and she’s tired of making a fool of herself.

She drops her eyes before the tears fully form and murmurs a quiet thanks as she loosens her hands from his grip. Though walking away is not what she wants to do, she forces her legs straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a firm click.

She’ll feel better after a hot shower. That’s all she needs, a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. They’ll figure this out tomorrow, and then Dean and his brother will ride off into the sunset, and everything will go back to normal. She’ll go back to her classes as usual, helping out the occasional hunter or scholar with some lore, and she’ll bury all these feelings behind her heart again, drown them so deep they’ll never dream of resurfacing.

At least, that’s the fairy tale she tells herself as the scalding stream washes the saltwater from her cheeks.

She actually does feel moderately restored by the time she steps out of the bathroom. She feels a little ridiculous in Dean’s clothing. The sleeves of the t-shirt hang past her elbows, and the pants legs are rolled up several times to keep her from tripping.

At least the waist has a drawstring, she thinks as she rounds the corner back into the room. She pulls the towel from her hair, shaking it out a little just as Dean looks up from his laptop at the small table. His mouth opens, eyes widening. She’s not sure because of the poor lighting of the room, but his face seems to color a little as his eyebrows lift.

She is suddenly, acutely aware that she did not put her bra back on when getting dressed in his white t-shirt that is probably not nearly as thin as it feels.

Dean clears his throat, turning back to his computer, swallowing whatever comments have entered his mind. Kimber can’t decide whether to laugh or blush even harder and settles for the third option of hanging her office clothes up so they can air out a little before tomorrow.

With nothing else to do, she drops onto the edge of the bed gracelessly, feeling every minute of the last few weeks catching up with her. Uncertainty and fear claw at her, ripping away what little defenses she has left. The image of the mutilated doll flashes before her eyes, red paint splashed luridly on her favorite comforter. Her lungs clench, and she sags on the mattress.

She presses her fingers hard against her face. Acid burns at the back of her throat, bitter and biting. Her fingernails are just beginning to dig into her scalp when she registers the click of the laptop closing. Half a moment passes, then the bed dips beside her.

She doesn’t consciously decide to move; her body simply molds itself to his side as Dean slides his arm around her back. He turns into the embrace, his other arm gathering her tightly against him. His cheek comes to rest on top of her head. The silence between them is the comfort she needs, his warmth and solidity the anchor that keeps her from drifting too far into panic.

When he finally speaks, his words rumble through her nerves, settling heavy and soothing in her chest.

“We’re gonna get this son of a bitch, Kimber. I’m sorry they got into your house, but I’m glad I was with you. I…” She rises gently with his deep inhalation, pressed as she is against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

She hears what he isn’t saying, and her hands drop from her face, her arms slipping around his middle as her eyes close.

“Me, too, Dean.”

...

“That pumpkin pie was somethin’ else,” Dean murmured. His arms were folded behind his head as he stretched out on top of Kimber’s bedspread. He crossed his ankles, settling in like he belonged there. His thin t-shirt stretched across his wiry frame, jeans lying enticingly low on his hips, and she could just see a glimpse of pink toe through a hole in one of his socks.

A pleasant, off-balancing thrill skipped down Kimber’s spine, twirling through her stomach and making her head spin a little. Dean’s jacket was hung carefully on her desk chair, his boots lined up on the floor underneath, and his button-up overshirt folded neatly on the desk.

Her parents had gone to bed long ago, and she had snuck Dean in the back door. After their exhilarating but chilled stroll that afternoon, she’d decided against the treehouse. Dean had been amused but willing, although he’d had one stipulation that had nearly made her laugh aloud.

“We get caught and your folks kick me out, you’re bringing me your mom’s leftovers to school every day for breakfast. I’m not missin’ out on home cooking just because you can’t stand to be away from me.”

Now, seeing him so comfortable on her bed, like he just belonged...Kimber knew the smile on her face was on the goofier end of sappy, but she couldn’t help it. He was just so damned…

“Cute,” he said, smirking up at her. “I know what you’re thinking. And I’m not cute. I’m adorable.”

She sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine, you’re gorgeous, adorable, vital, the absolute most. Now close your eyes so I can change.” Smirk still firmly in place, Dean dutifully closed his eyes. She knew, despite the short time she’d known him, that she could trust Dean to keep his eyes shut.

She spent a few seconds regretting the lack of any silky, dramatic nightgowns or cute, sexy little matching pajama sets. Oh, well; couldn’t have everything. She stripped quickly, tossing her school clothes into the hamper and slipping on her “Aaahh!!! Real Monsters” t-shirt. Thick socks and plaid pajama pants completed her night ensemble.

That she had just been naked (however unseen said nakedness had been) in front of Dean Winchester had not escaped her. She licked her lips, cheeks warm, and turned slowly back to the bed. He lay still, chest rising and falling steadily, and she marveled, not for the first time, that he was here, in her room. Just for her.

Her pulse jumped, her lungs tightened, and for just a second, Kimber panicked.

“You can, uh...you can open your eyes. I’m gonna go brush my teeth; I’ll be right back.”

She fled silently down the hallway, brushed her teeth in record time, and then stared in the mirror. Her hair was just her hair, nothing amazing or horrifying; no point trying to fix that before bed. Maybe…make-up?

“Kimber. What the hell?” she muttered. “You’re not seducing him, just be cool. Jeez. You can’t wear make-up to bed.”

She splashed cold water on her face, scrubbing her skin dry with a hand towel more forcefully than necessary. She gave her reflection another once-over and took a deep breath.

“You’re his choice, too,” she reminded herself. “Just chill.”

She found him exactly as she’d left him, completely relaxed on the bed, eyes still closed. She thought for a moment that he might have fallen asleep. Kimber wasn’t sure if she felt more disappointment or relief.

“You left in a little bit of a hurry,” he murmured, eyes still closed, and she started. “Everything okay?” She almost put him off, could feel the brush-off on her lips, but his eyes slid open, pinning her on the spot. She got the eerie sense that he would know, that he already knew she was trying to put on a front, and she deflated a little.

“I’m nervous,” she finally admitted. The heat in her cheeks turned up a few degrees, spreading down her neck, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I’ve never...snuck a guy to my room before. I just...this is mostly new to me, but with you, I want...I don’t know.”

Without a word, Dean slid from the bed and crossed the room, his mesmerizing eyes never leaving hers. He stopped a few feet away and waited, his arms open. With the bed suddenly out of the equation, Kimber felt a hidden knot of anxiety untie in her chest.

She let out a breath and stepped into his embrace, her arms circling his waist in a way that felt easy and right. Dean’s lips pressed a warming kiss to the crown of her head.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is your room, your space, but even if it wasn’t-” He paused, leaning back and brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Kimber, look at me.”

She did, and his earnest expression left no room to doubt his next words. It barely left room for breathing.

“ ‘M not here to make you feel uncomfortable or scared. I’m here because you want me to be. The second that stops, the second I make you feel something you don’t want, that’s it. Period. Does that work for you?”

His eyes, so plaintive and weathered in that moment, cut right to her heart. Never in her life had Kimber felt so safe, so protected, and so very sad. She couldn’t think of any words that lived up to the magnitude of what Dean had just said, so she simply squeezed him tighter, pressing her face against the side of his neck.

“Can you stay?” she asked. She knew he had obligations, probably needed to get back to his brother or at least check in with his dad. She felt terribly selfish in her warm, safe house with her parents right down the hall. Still, she asked.

“Yeah, I can stay for a while.” His smile, soft and open, laid her doubts to rest. They settled onto the bed, fumbling a little awkwardly to find a position they both liked. There was some bumping, mumbled apologies, until they finally sorted out a comfortable twist of limbs that didn’t set her heart beating out of her ribs or threaten to cut off blood flow to anything important.

She relaxed by increments, her cheek resting on his collarbone. He hugged her close with his left arm, his right hand combing slowly through her hair over and over. The silence settled around them like a second blanket, soothing and heavy.

“What do you want to do when you finish school, Kimber? College?”

“Probably,” she murmured. “I don’t know specifically, but I like research.”

He snorted, and she poked him in the side.

“Shut up, you jerk, I do. And I like sharing the information. I like helping people. I don’t really want to be a teacher, but maybe I can find something where I can do all of that.”

Dean resumed combing her hair, having paused when she poked him, and they settled a little more closely together.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

She blinked slowly, sleep pulling at her eyelids. Her thoughts spun out languidly, losing their urgency as his warmth seeped through the thin fabric of her pajamas.

“How about you?”

His answer came quickly, rehearsed and without thought. “Join the family business. Dad’s been training me for years. Don’t have a lotta choice, but I know I’ll be good at it. Was raised for it.”

Her fingers crept up, her eyes staying closed for longer and longer periods between blinks. She slid her thumb over his chin, just brushing the line of his bottom lip before sliding slowly up his jaw.

His words weren’t emotionless, but they were automatic. There was so much he never said, and she hated to push him, afraid he would just leave or shut down, but…

“But what do you want?” She persisted, drowsiness interfering with her usual restraint. “Who do you want to be?”

He was silent for so long, she nearly gave in to fatigue. She drifted on the edge of unconsciousness, fingers stroking through the silky strands of hair behind his ears. She felt his face turn, his lips press against her wrist.

“I want...this,” he said. Even half-asleep, she couldn’t mistake the raw longing behind his words. “I want...I want to work a boring, regular job and come home to someone who missed me all day as much as I missed her. I want my kids to cannonball into my legs so hard they knock me over. I want…”

His words choked off, and she stilled her fingers against his cheek, waiting for him to continue.

“I want a house. No...I...when I was little, Dad would come home, and he would just...sweep Mom up sometimes, swing her around, when they weren’t fighting. Even when they were, he’d do it sometimes anyway just to get her to laugh.”

She felt his face shift beneath her hand, but his smile didn’t feel quite right, and she moved closer. His arm tightened around her back, and he smoothed the palm of his free hand down to cup her jaw.

“I want a home. I want to be a dad, a husband. I want a family.”

She felt childish, shallow next to the depth of his simple declaration. Dean wanted what she had, what she took for granted every day of her life. This was the first time he’d spoken of his mother, and though curiosity burned hot inside her, she didn’t dare ask further questions, afraid she’d break the spell of the moment.

Dean’s voice dropped until she could feel it more than hear it, his lips pressing softly against her forehead.

“I want to come home and hold someone until I fall asleep every night. I want to wake up to her and know that my whole day, every day, is gonna be just that, all over again.”

She lifted her face to his then, and in the darkness of her bedroom she could only just make out the barest lines of his features. Their noses brushed, his hand gently pulling at the back of her head, and their lips met. His cheek was damp under her fingertips, and her heart clenched.

She pulled his head down, brushing her lips over the tears trickling down his cheekbones more by feel than by sight. Both his arms came around her then, pulling her against his chest as he buried his face in his hair. They breathed together, memorizing each others’ scents, heartbeats, rhythms as the night crept by.

The moment didn’t pass so much as gradually relax until Kimber felt him shift beneath her, smoothly sliding her off his chest and down to the pillows. He kissed her temple, and her face automatically turned to his, chasing his lips. She felt him chuckle against her mouth.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I gotta go. Need to check on Sammy, make sure he got dinner, did his homework, all that mess. I’ll see you tomorrow. Walk you to school?”

She nodded, humming her agreement even as she blindly reached for him. Something soft brushed against her fingers, and she automatically pulled it down, cuddling against the fabric.

“Hold onto that for me. I’ll get it back from you sometime.” She felt a kiss press to her forehead, and then the click of her door closing. She breathed in, Dean’s scent surrounding her as she slipped under again, his button-up shirt pillowed under her cheek and tangled in her fingers.

…

Chapter 5

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kayr0ss · 5 years ago

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Appointments Chapter 4: Toby’s Fate

[LWA, Diakko, Small Town AU, Fluff and Slow Romance, Pining™ lol]

Chapter 1 & Table of Contents AO3 Link

“I refuse!” Akko shook her head vigorously, biting her lip to keep herself from hissing in pain.

“You are literally bleeding!” Lotte flailed her arms in exasperation, unsure what to do with her friend and growing queasy at the sight of blood at the same time.

It happened. Lotte had warned her, and it finally happened.

Toby’s great betrayal.

Biting the hand that feeds him.

“Don’t force her if she doesn’t want to go.” Sucy casually sipped her stark-and-very-very-dark cup of coffee. They were holed up in Jasminka’s café, tucked in the corner booth that their trio called ‘home base’ on Friday afternoons. “I’ve always wanted to test a serum out on a rabies patient.”

Lotte fiercely held a finger up to her face. “Just—no.”

The little girl called Constanze (who was apparently their age—surprise!) had trotted quietly over with a glass full of ice to numb the pain and some clean napkins.

“Thank you,” Lotte supplied, still fussing over Akko’s wound.

The small girl gave them a thumbs up and then stood at the edge of the scene to quietly observe.

It was only a short moment before Jasminka arrived, phone in hand with a concerned expression. “How are you feeling? I’ve given Ms. Parker a call; they’ll be expecting you at the clinic.”

“No!” Akko whined. “No way!”

If she weren’t so worried, Lotte’s eyes could have rolled backwards into her skull. “If there was a time to swallow your pride, it would be now. I thought you and Dr. Cavendish agreed you were friends?”

“Not when it comes to Toby!”

Akko wasn’t about to go running to her friend-yet-rival’s den. No, she hasn’t forgotten what happened the week prior within the walls of this very café: the battle for Toby’s fate. Only minutes after agreeing to Akko’s declaration of friendship, the stern Dr. Cavendish called Toby a ‘danger to those around him’, most especially since he was a wild, stray cat. Akko found herself swallowing down a tirade of disapproval. It wasn’t a very convincing explanation, at least by her standards. She had no idea what anaphylaxis or atopic dermatitis meant—much less how much antihistamines cost! And so Akko had fired back, unrelenting in her mission to convince the good people of Blytonbury that this furry feline friend of hers deserved a place in the square just as much as everyone else. Amanda even backed her up, “for the heck of it—and because I think you’ve got a stick up your ass, Cavendish!”

But the doctor was resolute. She even had the gall to look good while running her mouth!

“You said that out loud,” Lotte sighed.

“Huh?” the brunette blinked.

“The gall to look good?” Sucy actually laughed.

“My point is—” Akko practically yelled, “—this is going to be so bad for all the hard work I’ve been doing to make sure Toby isn’t taken away.”

“Animal shelters were made to care for strays,” Lotte tried to placate her. “And you’ve seen it yourself, Toby actually bit you!”

“And Constanze will shoot you,” Jasminka interjected with a with an eerie smile, “if you do not make your way towards the clinic right now.”

Lotte’s eyes grew the size of saucers. ��Is that a gun? Are you—do you have a license for that?!”

“I’m beginning to suspect that I’ll be seeing you far more often that I’d like, given all the trouble you find yourself in.”

It was probably the fifteenth time that patient Atsuko-Kagari-with-red-eyes-and-Blood-type-O+ huffed and groaned while Diana tended to her. Thankfully, the brunette had come to her immediately after the incident as immediate post-exposure prophylaxis for rabies could be a matter of life-or-death. At the side of her hand was a puncture wound, with the pinky knuckle distal to it by a few centimeters. It seems the infamous stray cat had sunk its teeth deep enough to cause a significant amount of bleeding—it didn’t help that the human hand is known to house an impressively dense network of blood vessels.

So, more bleeding.

“Cat bites actually cause more serious infections than dog bites do,” Diana quipped.

“Huh.” Atsuko winced when Diana swabbed the open wound with alcohol.

“They can likewise give you Pasteurellosis, and ‘kennel cough’—which can turn into a serious case of pneumonia. Can you press down on the area with this cotton ball?”

Her patient begrudgingly obliged, pressing the damp ball of cotton against the wound. Diana turned in her swiveling chair, discarding her soiled pair of gloves into the bin and opening a small, half-sized refrigerator. She took out an ice pack and began to wrap it in a thin towel. She placed the ice pack on the trolley beside her patient which held all her tools, and gestured for the brunette to hold out her hand before slipping on a fresh pair of surgical gloves. “You can take the pressure off now, and I’ll dress the wound.”

“I actually thought I might get scratched, but not bitten.” Atsuko admitted, looking a little sheepish.

“Most people associate cat-related injuries to abrasions by way of claw scratches, but a surprising amount—five to fifteen percent, depending on the country—of bite wounds come from cats.” Diana handed her the ice pack once the dressing was through. “Which hand do you write with?”

Atsuko blinked. “Ano—my right hand?”

“Alright,” Diana handed her the towel-wrapped ice pack. “I need you to roll up your left sleeve to expose the shoulder and ice the area.”

“What for?”

“To numb the pain.”

“Pain?!”

“I’ll need to give you shots. The two most threatening infections you could acquire from this bite are tetanus toxoid and rabies. Your medical history showed you’ve had your vaccinations, but a booster shot is usual for adults who’ve been exposed or bitten, and once every ten years.” Diana elegantly gestured towards two, small bottles which she’d taken out from the fridge alongside the ice pack. They had a small dose of clear liquid and were placed beside two unopened—menacing—syringes.

“Mou!” Atusko wailed. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you!”

Diana blinked. “Pardon?”

The brunette’s lip was sticking out in an accusatory pout. “Fine! You were right—I totally got bitten and it proves your point about Toby, and now you’re totally prepared as if you saw it coming a hundred miles away.”

She was taken aback, blinking at her patient and unsure how to proceed. “I…” she dropped her gaze towards the tray of surgical equipment, “I thought that your insistence on pestering the cat might have ended up in a bite anyway, and didn’t want to take the risk of being unprepared in case you’d need it.”

“Ack,” Atsuko looked like she wanted to facepalm, and then gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry—you’re right. That was a bit bratty of me.”

“Apology accepted.”

“So…” the brunette deliberate drawled out. “How long is this ice pack thingy gonna take before it does its magic? Because my arm is getting cold!”

“Around ten minutes,” Diana succinctly replied. “Rabies VIS is introduced intradermally.”

Her patient simply stared expectantly.

“Into the skin rather than the muscle, which is unfortunately much more painful.”

Atsuko sighed, resigned to her fate. “Well, thanks… I guess.”

“Hmm?”

“For, you know.” She huffed, putting on an expression that said ‘this is so difficult to admit!’. “Being prepared so I don’t get rabies.”

Diana blinked, and then actually found herself chuckling. “I’d be a painfully substandard doctor to do otherwise.”

“Which reminds me, you’re a… what kind of doctor are you again?”

She realized she didn’t actually know how to respond to Atsuko, seeing as this seemed to be their first ‘civil’ conversation. “I’m currently a general practitioner.”

“Yeah?”

Diana simply nodded to say, ‘that’s it.’

At the very young age of twenty-five, she’s only had her license and practice for a little over a year. The whole point of moving to Blytonbury was aligned with her objective of securing a residency in cardiology at the LNU’s SBM Medical Center—but that was still subject to change, and general practice gave her enough all-around experience to get a feel for where she might want to go.

“Well,” it seems the brunette decided to take reins of the conversation, “I’m studying at LNU—as you already know, and for the record I haven’t been late since!”

Cue Diana’s eyeroll.

“I finished music school, but I’m taking a post-graduate degree in Humanities so I can qualify as a university-level professor someday.”

“Oh.” Diana perked up, completely blindsided by this new piece of information. A professor?

“Apparently you can’t just teach music class cause you’re good at it, you need a higher degree.” Atsuko sighed dramatically. “Humanities units, and like—even units in science and math and later on I’ll need to take some education classes. But guess what—” her entire body language changed from disdain to excitement, “—I actually picked going here cause they have one of the best lecturers for ‘Enhanced Practice in Music Teaching and Learning’, but that’s still a few semester down the line for me��"

“That’s really specific.” And completely foreign to her. She’d had piano lessons at most, but life after high-school was simply consumed by the never-ending demands of medical education.

“—so for now I’m just taking two subjects and maybe join the running club.”

The running club?

A little idea had bloomed merrily (deviously?) in Diana’s head. “You’re familiar with Dr. Meridies, aren’t you?”

Atusko nearly shuddered, “my crazy-ass Physics professor?”

Diana checked her watch, noting it had been ten minutes. “Yes.” She motioned for her patient to settle the ice pack down. “What are the chances of you being able to convince her of occasionally joining the running club’s engagements?”

The brunette looked at her like she grew two heads. “Like—zero!”

She didn’t mean to do it on purpose—she really didn’t—it just so happened that this conversation coincided with the needles part of this appointment.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars, but I believe that some form of exercise will be great for her health.”

She opened a sterile pack and fit the needle to the syringe. She then flooded it with the first vaccine’s fluid.

The brunette was still shaking her head, arms crossed. “I think I’ve even seen her trip going up stairs! I don’t know about running club.”

Diana held the syringe up against the light, giving it a small push to make sure the liquid was flowing.

Atsuko was watching apprehensively.

Diana flicked away any air bubbles and gave her patient a look. “I’m sure you can find a method to persuade her.”

“So what did you tell her?” Lotte peeked from behind another one of her literature tomes.

“Hell no!” Akko scoffed. “I’m sure Sucy and I have told you enough about Dr. Meri-death to know she’d never come near the running club, much less from my suggestion!”

The pair of them were sitting on a wooden park bench, shielded from the morning sun by a sprawling canopy of branches and leaves. They were facing the practice field where Amanda was wrapping up the Tuesday morning football club, to be followed by lunch which Lotte had volunteered to prepare.

Without Sucy’s help, she reassured.

They were having a small celebratory picnic today—Akko had finally landed herself a job! Finally!

“Looks like Amanda’s through,” Lotte squinted into the distance. “Let’s find a good table so it’ll be all set up when she joins us.”

The nearest picnic table was conveniently unoccupied, and Akko busied herself with the setting the tablecloth and cutlery upon Lotte’s insistence to ‘handle anything that could spill or break herself.’ They had sandwiches and a platter of roast beef (“Yay meat!”) with mashed potatoes on the side. A cold jug of orange juice had left a ring of dew on the table dressing almost immediately, and—what was taking Amanda so long? Akko was absolutely famished.

“Oh man, now that is a sight to behold right after training!” As if on cue, Amanda walked over, face still damp from freshening up with a towel draped around her shoulders. “Juice!”

“Leave some for us!” Lotte nagged, watching in horror as the other woman a downed a full glass in two seconds.

“So,” Amanda grinned, landing a heavy slap on Akko’s back while she wiped her mouth with the back of the her other hand. “You’re finally my colleague, Kagari! The lady subbing for music class all but knelt in gratitude when I gave her the news.”

“Makes me wonder what I’m getting into,” the brunette laughed to hide how painful that slap actually was.

Coaching aside, Amanda was a physical education instructor at the local Arcturus School. It was a relatively well-off institution, and unsurprisingly a subsidiary of LNU (who had some stake in its management). Akko being a student of the University made her a preferred candidate, and alongside Amanda’s recommendation getting the job felt like an easy win. Apparently, the former music instructor was swept off her feet in a whirlwind romance, dropping in snap to get married in Spain—or at least, faculty room rumors said so.

“So what’s your schedule?” Lotte inquired while she served them a hefty pile of potato.

“Thanks,” Akko smiled, “Mondays, right Amanda? And Fridays. Both morning classes.”

“You’ll still push through with running club?”

“Professor Ursula seems hella cool, so why not!”

Why the hell not indeed? Life finally felt like it was falling into place and Akko was determined to seize the day. Although school was beginning to become burdensome (the devil invented physics research papers), the recent acquisition of a job took away a big portion of Akko’s worries. The fact that it was something she genuinely enjoyed doing was a bonus that tasted as sweet as ‘dango.’

Damn, she grumbled to herself. Now she was craving for dango.

However—there was but one teeny-weeny furry problem left: Toby’s fate was still up in the air.

“I’m so bummed out that I can’t keep pets any place!” the brunette groaned.

“Even after everything he put your through last week?” Lotte asked, perplexed.

“To be fair,” Akko rubbed at the back of her neck, “he bit me cause I stepped on his tail by accident. But he’s usually really sweet!”

Lotte looked sympathetic. “He’s going to get picked up anyway once the authorities notice him loitering more often.”

She knew that, if she was being honest with herself; she only hoped it would be later than sooner. Akko thought the affection she developed for the cat would be a fleeting affair but oh did she completely fall for him the first time he rubbed against her legs and went ‘mew!’ So typical of her. Kami-sama.

“Might end up with someone within the neighborhood,” Amanda mumbled through a mouthful of beef. “And for the record,” she started laughing, “Constanze’s gun is a toy—Jas told me about last Friday. She’s really good at building replicas!”

Lotta was about complain when Amanda sat up in attention, her spoon pausing mid-air while she squinted towards something—or someone?—in the distance. “Is that Mr. Langdon? Is he actually going out for a jog?”

Akko craned hair neck. The name sounded familiar somehow, and soon she made eye-contact with a grumpy-looking man she remembered meeting at the pharmacy a few weeks ago. “Oh!” She beamed, giving him a lively wave a blinding smile. To everyone’s surprise, he actually smiled back.

That was when she noticed… it.

The smile fell from her face completely. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Lotte followed her line of sight. “I don’t see anything.”

Dread filled Akko’s stomach, which dropped like lead. An off-white van which resembled an ambulance cruised at a leisurely pace along the Central intersection. It was headed towards the old oak tree and it looked like a rescuer was keeping an eye out for strays.

‘Appleton County Animal Shelter’ was painted on its side, and before she knew it Akko had bolted up from her seat in the bench.

“Akko!” Lotte squealed.

“I’ll be back real quick!” Akko was already off to a soft jog, heading towards the edge of the park following the vehicle’s slow place into the main streets.

“Unbelievable,” Lotte blinked.

Amanda looked at the bespectacled woman, at Akko’s plate with interest, then back at her again.

“Think she’ll still eat that?”

“By the oak tree, yes.” Diana spoke into her phone in a clipped, professional voice. “I think I see you.”

As promised, Appleton County Animal Shelter’s van was coming into her street from the Central intersection. Despite how determined she was to have the shelter pick up the feline source of her headaches, she didn’t particularly enjoy having to send him away. But this was a must—a cat couldn’t be loitering outside the medical clinic.

“Well, off you go I suppose.”

The cat—oh, blast it, he’s going to leave anyway—Toby, so he was named, had followed her from the clinic to her apartment, where she was supposed to enjoy an extended lunch. She tried to shoo him away, going as far as talking to the little fellow (“Please stop following me. I have nothing to offer you.”).

He just looked so… polite.

But Toby stuck around regardless, and she figured now was as good a time as any to call the shelter. Still, there was some hesitation if she were to be honest, and she wasn’t sure why. When the van finally pulled over in front of her apartment, she wondered how that woman would take the turn of events.

“STOP!”

A shrill voice pierced through the rumble of the van’s engine, and in a sharp motion Diana turned towards its source.

Speak of the devil, she blinked. The rescuers likewise had to shake themselves from their stupor, surprised to see a small, brown-haired woman stomp towards them with murderous conviction.

And a pout.

Which, by all accounts, was rather disarming.

“Atsuko,” Diana greeted in a careful voice.

“How could you!” the brunette wailed. “It’s a good thing I saw the van from the park and followed it—no surprise to find it here!”

“From the park?” That was ridiculous! “You followed it?”

“Yes, and just in time.” Atsuko turned the ‘disarming’ pout towards the rescuers. “You’re not going to take him, are you?”

The men looked between Atsuko and herself, and Diana raised an eyebrow as if to assert authority.

“I’m sorry miss,” the man finally spoke, “but we can’t leave him in the street.”

“Can’t I keep him?” her lower lip was trembling now.

“Does your building have a permit for pets?”

Then Atsuko’s eyes began to glisten, and Diana already knew the answer because if the other woman did they wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

“I’m really sorry,” to his credit, the rescuer looked sincere. “But we can take care of him better than if he stayed in the streets.”

Diana pensively watched the brunette’s shoulders droop. Atsuko blinked back tears, coming down to a squat and opening her hand towards Toby. She felt the need to call out and remind her to be careful, but then was surprised to see Toby nuzzle adoringly against her palm, looking content and wholly familiar.

“Heya, Toby.” Akko snuffled. “I got a job. I’ll work hard and find a better apartment.”

Toby purred.

“I promise to come get you.”

Diana would be lying if she said this didn’t pull a heartstring. Just one, and just a little bit.

“I forgive you for biting me!”

The blonde crossed her arms, determined to keep her composure. She didn’t understand why but she was beginning to feel like sending the animal rescuers away. They were so intrusive to Akko and Toby’s moment.

Huh. She blinked. Akko.

“Yes?” Akko turned towards her.

She said that out loud? Good grief. It was the first time she ever used that nickname since learning it. She was also not prepared to be on the receiving end of wide, watery, and vibrantly red eyes.

Puppy-dog eyes.

She looked between Akko, and then to Toby who was licking his paw and looking infuriatingly polite. Then finally she looked at the rescuers for some sort of support. They held up their hands and shrugged as if to say ‘we’re staying out of this for now!’

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she finally blurted out.

“Like w-what?”

Was it just her imagination or did Akko’s eyes grow even wider? Her lip was trembling again and for some reason the expression was making her feel helpless. In a rare stroke of impulse she blurted out: “My building has one.”

Akko could have cried. Diana decided she might need to phone a psychiatrist friend later.

“You’ll keep him?”

“Until you can you move somewhere else,” she replied as disinterestedly as she could. Was it the stress? What on earth was she doing?

“I don’t know what to say!” The brunette stood up to face her, taking both of Diana’s hands in a gesture of thanks, practically crying now.

She stepped backwards, warily looking up from their hands back to Akko’s face. “Space, please.”

Akko relented, scooping Toby up into her arms and up in the air. Even the rescuers looked pleased at how it all turned out. They gave her a thumbs up each.

Diana wanted to pinch herself. Or maybe slap herself. Was she seriously doing this?

“You have a home now!” Akko squealed.

Apparently, yes.

fin

A/: Holy guacamole am I excited to share this with you! It's been written and re-written three times over, but now I've finally found a version of it that fits the plot I've outlined for this fic! I'm sorry it took so long - life has changed for me drastically since the last update. And honestly there's an overwhelming amount of self-doubt cause I really wasn't sure if I still had it in me to write at the same level of quality I used to - but ya know what, heck it, I freakin' love Diakko and I've grown to love this town and world I've written here.

A bit of a sidenote but I've been reading solid fics (looking at you @theamberissubtle) and kind of just gushing and screaming "LORD HELP ME" in giddiness every few lines and admittedly I haven't felt this invested in a while, so I'm just glad to be here again, fan girling over panicked gays that I love so, so much.

As I've mentioned in previous notes, I've started graduate school how the central them of 'learning' and the 'academe' is probably so prevalent in this fic and that's probably why. I'm dying of papers and research, but work is suspended in the meantime, so while that sucks, I at least have time! Man I really missed writing like this.

ALSO PLEASE ONCE AGAIN I'm not a doctor (but funfact my mom is and she also has an animal bite center, lol) so please don't treat animal bites according to this fic. I DID try to be as accurate as possible but CALL A REAL DOCTOR. Wow this is a really long notes section I'M SORRY and FOR THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS I WILL BE SERVING, UH... *reads from my hand* BUCKETS OF PINING

LAST - Is anyone else here a member of that ridiculous ant colony group? It has been giving me so much damn emotional support. L I F T

I luvyu!

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vinca-majors · 4 years ago

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Michaela Brown, ScaryMommy:

Upon graduating college with my hard-earned degree to teach high school English, I almost immediately began planning for my graduate studies. Lots of high schools around the country require their teachers to have a masters degree, so that was a motivator. Plus, it came with a pay raise. And, I truly enjoyed going to school. In fact, at the time, I hadn’t ruled out going on and earning my doctorate as well.

I did end up graduating with my M.A. in secondary education, after writing a thesis I’m damn proud of. My path changed a bit and I never went on for my doctorate, but you can be sure as hell if I had that I’d claim that Dr. title. That my students—even the grumpiest of teenagers whose eyes shot daggers at me as I made them read Shakespearean sonnets—would be calling me Dr. and not Mrs. or Miss.

And as I’ve encountered other professionals with that Dr. title, I’ve never hesitated to refer to them that way. My children’s formal principal went by Dr. Matthews. No one questioned it. I’ve had professors at the undergraduate and graduate level use the title. Again, that’s what we all called them. With respect. And without hesitation. Just as we refer to famous figures like a man we’ve all heard of—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.— because each of these people put in the work, the years, the money, the commitment, and the dedication. Each of them earned their Dr. title.

So yeah, when Dr. Jill Biden completed her education and earned her Doctor of Education (Ed.D) from the University of Delaware, she rightfully earned the title “Dr.” and deserves to be referred to as such. Just as any other professional with that level of expertise does as well. Is she a medical doctor? No. Does she claim to be? No. Have professionals in academia added Dr. to their titles once they’ve earned their doctorate for centuries? Yes.

However, because some ignorant asswipes remain stuck in 1950, or don’t understand how higher education works, or simply are bound and determined to hate on the Bidens as they hated on the Obamas even though they are kind and supportive of others—regardless of political party, her title is under scrutiny.

The Wall Street Journal stupidly published an op-ed, which has now gone viral, that was moronically entitled, “Is There a Doctor in the White House? Not if You Need an M.D.” And, of course, this piece of trash essay included a byline that reads, “Jill Biden should think about dropping the honorific, which feels fraudulent, even comic.”

Joseph Epstein, the “writer” of this ignorant word vomit, opens by condescendingly calling Dr. Biden “kiddo” and offering her advice, as if he is in any position to advise the First Lady of the United States on literally anything. “Madame First Lady—Mrs. Biden—Jill—kiddo: a bit of advice on what may seem like a small but I think is a not unimportant matter,” Epstein mansplains.

He then goes on to insult her dissertation on student retention at community colleges, calling it “unpromising” and, in the same paragraph, refers to the idiotic but commonly used quip that no one can call themselves “doctor” unless they’ve delivered a child.

Let’s break this bullshittery down, shall we? First of all, Mr. Epstein, your piece reeks of envy. We’re sorry you didn’t have the… guts? courage? stamina? intelligence level? (who knows) to actually ever earn a doctorate, but you sound bitter. It’s not a good look. Also, it’s clear that you don’t respect the value of community colleges, which is where Dr. Biden has spent a large portion of her career. And, finally, the world now knows that you are threatened by smart women. Bravo.

Also, we’ll be sure to let all the medical doctors out there who’ve tirelessly fought COVID-19 this year, holding the hands of dying patients, and also those brilliant scientists who thankfully have brought us a vaccine that offers a beacon of hope, that they don’t get to call themselves “doctor” because they’ve never caught a newborn baby. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that tidbit of info from you—*checks notes*—a man with one single undergraduate degree, no earned doctorate, and zero medical expertise.

Basically, Mr. Epstein, it’s obvious that you have some personal issues you need to unpack. Maybe take some time over the holidays to do a little self-reflection? Like, why do you even care what title Dr. Biden goes by? Why are you so scared of women who are more successful than you?

Your piece then goes on a long, barely coherent rant about “honorary doctorates,” which is not what Dr. Biden has. If you’d like to blast the validity or point of bestowing honorary doctorates on celebrities like Stephen Colbert and Seth Meyers, for example, go right ahead, but that has nothing to do with Dr. Biden. This lack of cohesive argument is why I’ve referred to you as a “writer” a few paragraphs up, because it seems apparent that you don’t understand the need for basic textual support.

(Calling you a jealous asswipe, well, that’s just a reflection of your character.)

Finally, your last “supporting argument” (again, use of quotes intentional here) as to why Dr. Biden should drop her title is because apparently doctorates don’t count anymore. Back in the day, you explain, doctoral exams were far more grueling, but today’s candidates get off way too easy.

“One had to pass examinations in two foreign languages, one of them Greek or Latin, defend one’s thesis, and take an oral examination on general knowledge in one’s field,” your op-ed states. “At Columbia University of an earlier day, a secretary sat outside the room where these examinations were administered, a pitcher of water and a glass on her desk. The water and glass were there for the candidates who fainted. A far cry, this, from the few doctoral examinations I sat in on during my teaching days, where candidates and teachers addressed one another by first names and the general atmosphere more resembled a kaffeeklatsch.”

(I had to look up what kaffeeklatsch meant—it’s an informal social gathering at which coffee is served. Excuse my lack of knowledge there. I’m just a silly woman with a higher degree than you.)

And, as you end with, “Dr. Jill, I note you acquired your Ed.D. as recently as 15 years ago at age 55, or long after the terror had departed,” you not only insult her by addressing her as “Dr. Jill”, but you also imply that because she likely didn’t faint while taking her exams or defending her dissertation, that somehow her degree isn’t real.

That’s the crazy thing about education—it evolves. Today, kids even use these neat little things called computers! You wouldn’t believe it. Another way we’ve evolved is to realize that shockingly, our doctoral candidates don’t have to become physically ill to prove they are smart and worthy of their degree!

(I mean, you never even tried, Mr. Epstein, so I guess even today, doctoral programs are only for the toughest among us, like Dr. Jill Biden.)

Also, it seems that Northwestern University, where you were previously listed as “emeritus lecturer of English,” has scrubbed you entirely from their website, stating that it is “firmly committed to equity, diversity and inclusion, and strongly disagrees with Epstein’s misogynistic views.” Again, evolution! Change is good.

Hmmm. So one of you is a misogynist with no teaching history to even brag about as your previous employer has disassociated with you, and another is a successful educator committing to helping all Americans have access to a proper education. Oh, and the second one goes by Dr.

Looks like the real “comical fraud” is you, bruh.

And just so we’re clear, Dr. Biden has always been committed to ensuring that everyone (not just pretentious twats like you, Joseph Epstein) has access to a fair education. Earlier in her career, she worked in a psychiatric hospital where she taught English to adolescents with emotional disabilities. During that same time she also earned two (yes, TWO) master’s degrees, one from Villanova University and one from West Chester University. In 2009, after earning her doctorate, she began teaching English at Northern Virginia Community College, and advocating for community college education has since been her passion. “Dr. Biden has always said that community colleges are ‘one of America’s best-kept secrets.’ As a teacher, she sees how community colleges have changed the lives of so many of her students for the better,” explains former president Barack Obama’s White House website.

Sorry, Mr. Epstein, but not everyone can afford to enroll in an English class at Northwestern taught by a raging sexist who gets his balls in a bunch when women succeed. For many, community college is a better fit, and Dr. Biden is a big part of that.

“In 2012, she traveled across the country as part of the ‘Community College to Career’ tour to highlight successful industry partnerships between community colleges and employers,” the website goes on to say. “In the fall of 2010, she hosted the first-ever White House Summit on Community Colleges with President Obama, and she continues to work on this outreach on behalf of the Administration – frequently visiting campuses, meeting with students and teachers, as well as industry representatives around the country.”

Imagine all of the hard-working Americans Dr. Biden has helped by supporting community colleges. Future teachers just like her often get their degree while working full time, raising a family, and going to college at night. Who knows, some of them may even—gasp—go to grad school too. High school kids who choose to forego going away to a full-time university and instead, take classes at a community college closer to home, are given that option because of people like Dr. Biden. Kids who go on to be EMTs, police officers, technicians in trade industries, engineers, and find success in the business world. Or, they transfer those college credits to a larger university down the road when they have the means to do so. Single moms doing their best to give their children a good life often attend community college classes online, after their children are asleep, proving that they have the drive and determination to do more and be more.

So, what it all boils down to, Mr. Epstein, is that you really, really hate that there’s about to a woman in the White House who’s smarter than you. And not only that, but she inspires women everywhere to work hard, earn their degrees, and then they’ll be smarter than you too. Yikes. That’s a tough pickle to be in, Mr. Epstein. We’re sorry that you are so insecure and unhappy with your own lack of success.

At least you can still wrote those stellar op-eds though! Good luck with your “writing” career, kiddo.

#dr. jill biden #michaela brown #scarymommy #op ed #joseph epstein #current events #SO fired up right now #gimme that feminism #my country tis of thee #long post

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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I'VE BEEN PONDERING ANYONE

Because kids are unable to create wealth, but to spend it doing fake work. Life is short, as everyone knows. And what drives them both is the number of startups are created to do product development on spec for some big company, and assume you could build something way easier to use. You could also rob banks, or solicit bribes, or establish a monopoly. In any period, it should be helpful to anyone who wants to understand the feeling of virtue in liking them. Plenty of famous founders have had some failures along the way. A few weeks ago I finally figured it out.1 03% false positives.2

That makes sense, because programs are in effect giant descriptions of how things get made. Treating a startup idea as a question changes what you're looking for. In school you are, in theory, explaining yourself to someone else. We're more patient. Moral fashions don't seem to get sued much by established competitors. Once you realize how little most people judging you care about judging you accurately—once you realize that because of the normal distribution of most applicant pools, it matters least to judge accurately in precisely the cases where judgement has the most effect—you won't take rejection so personally. The space of possible choices is smaller; you tend to standardize everything. What VCs should be looking for companies that hope to win by writing great software, but there is no permanent place in this world for ugly mathematics? In fact, you don't take a position and then defend it. This one may not always be true. It hadn't occurred to me till then that those horrible things we had to read in English classes was mostly fiction, so I know most won't listen.

This second group adopt the fashion not because they want to work for people with high standards. This is a talk I gave at the last minute I cooked up this rather grim talk. When a company starts misbehaving, smart people won't work there. So verbs with initial caps have higher spam probabilities than they would in all lowercase. And the source of error is not just random variation, but a Times Roman lowercase g is easy to tell apart.3 Such judgements can of course counter by sending a crawler to the site, you wouldn't need PR firms to tell you, because hackers would already be writing stuff on top of it. Cultivate a habit of questioning assumptions.4 Nature uses it a lot, which is the satisfaction of people's desires. When watches had mechanical movements, expensive watches kept better time. But something seems to come with practice.

So even in the middle of getting rich we were fighting off the grim reaper. It seems like it violates some kind of answer. Wouldn't it be amazing if we could achieve a 50% success rate? It's more a question of self-preservation.5 You have to do whatever seems best at each point. So my first prediction about the future of web startups.6 It's not just an airy intangible. Everyone's model of work you grew up with a million dollar idea is just a convenient way of trading one form of wealth for another. That is certainly true.

So odds are this is, in projects of their own. When I heard about this work I was a kid I used to calculate probabilities for tokens, both would have the same kind of office or rather, hacker opinion.7 So obviously that is what we are, founders think.8 It's absolute poverty you want to get real work done in an office with cubicles, you have to say, are evil. Mostly because they're optimistic by nature. I'm going to try to recast one's work as a single thesis. And so began the study of ancient texts had such prestige that it remained the backbone of education until the late 19th century. I met some investors that had invested in a hardware device and when I asked them what was the most significant thing they'd observed, it was mostly political. But while DH levels don't set a lower bound on the convincingness of a reply, they do set an upper bound, bearing in mind the small sample size. The remarkable thing about this project was that he got in trouble for.9 It was only after hearing reports of friends who'd done it that they decided to start a startup to starting one, and eventually someone will discover it.10 They may be enough to kill all the opt-in lists.

The church knew this would set people thinking. Since the invention of the quartz movement, an ordinary Timex is more accurate than a Patek Philippe costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. The reason is not just text; it has structure. An office environment is supposed to be something that helps you work, not something you read looking for a specific answer, and feel cheated if you don't have significant success to cheer you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the thousand little things the big company doesn't want to imagine a world in which high school students think they need to get good grades to impress employers, within which the employees waste most of their time in political battles, and from which consumers have to buy anyway because there are so many kinks in the plumbing now that most people don't even realize is there. There's nothing special about physical embodiments of control systems that should make them patentable, and the examiners reply by throwing out some of your claims and granting others. I learnt never to bet on any one feature or deal or anything to bring you success. Underneath the long words or the expressive brush strokes, there is no way to get rich. These get through because they're the one type of sales pitch you can make enormous gains playing around in problem-space. But you have to redefine the problem to make them irrelevant. In more organized societies, like China, the ruler and his officials used taxation instead of confiscation. Every engraver since Durer has had to live in Silicon Valley, that use of the word, Bill Gates is middle class.

So what to make of this. Few people are suited to running a startup can be demoralizing. I think things are changing. The problem is compounded by the fact that hackers, despite their reputation for social obliviousness, sometimes put a good deal of effort into seeming smart. But though it's not anger that's driving the increase in disagreement, there's a danger that they'll follow a long, hard path that ultimately leads nowhere. In the period just before the industrial revolution, some of the most pointless of all the great programmers I can think of who don't work for Sun, on Java, I know of zero. Descartes, though claimed by the French, did much of his thinking in Holland.11 But hackers use their offices for more than that.

Boston is a tech center to the same cause: Gates and Allen wanted to move back to Palo Alto, where he grew up, and they tend to do particularly well, because they're easier to see, because they generally don't die loudly and heroically. I'd spent more time with her. One of the most valuable thing they've discovered. But the breakage seems to affect software less than most other fields. England and France were made by courtiers who extracted some lucrative right from the crown—like the right to collect taxes on the import of silk—and so they don't try do to it. All the unfun kinds of wealth creation slow dramatically in a society that confiscates private fortunes. I mean by habits of mind you invoke on some field don't have to do is expand it. When a politician says his opponent is mistaken, that's a sure sign that something is broken?

Notes

That's one of those you can, Jeff Byun mentions one reason not to be, yet. The reason for the popular vote. 5 million cap, but instead to explain that the payoff for avoiding tax grows hyperexponentially x/1-x for 0 x 1. Something similar happens with suburbs.

There are successful women who don't aren't. His critical invention was a company selling soybean oil or mining equipment, such a baleful stare as they seem pointless. I think that's because delicious/popular with voting instead of hiring them. Security always depends more on the spot, so had a broader meaning.

Though most founders start out excited about the other: the company than you otherwise would have seemed shocking for a block or so. MITE Corp.

Perhaps this is a huge, analog brain state.

So how do they decide on the programmers, the more effort you expend on the dollar. After the war it was briefly in Britain in the right mindset you will fail. If you want to.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the other hand, he took earlier. And journalists as part of the War on Drugs. As usual the popular image is several decades behind reality.

Something similar happens with suburbs. Com. It seems to have minded, which you ultimately need if you want to keep their wings folded, as I explain later. Cost, again.

I have about thirty friends whose opinions I care about valuations in angel rounds can make it a function of the venture business. When the Air Hits Your Brain, neurosurgeon Frank Vertosick recounts a conversation reaches a certain level of incivility, the increasing complacency of managements. For founders who go on to create giant companies not seem formidable early on. There's probably also the perfect point to spread the story a bit.

At this point for me do more with less, is that the only audience for your present valuation is fixed at the end of the kleptocracies that formerly dominated all the free OSes first-rate programmers. Most people let them mix pretty promiscuously. This is a self fulfilling prophecy.

Handy that, isn't it? We don't call it ambient thought.

Watt didn't invent the spreadsheet. If you extrapolate another 20 years. At first I didn't need to run spreadsheets on it, by encouraging people to claim that they'll only invest contingently on other sites. It is the fact that the graph of jobs is not always tell this to users, you've started it, whether you have to make software incompatible.

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hey-hey-chan · 6 years ago

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Friend-zoned - Seungmin

❀ Comedy&slightangst

❀ Word Count: 8.7K

❀ Tired of being friend-zoned, Kim Seungmin swears to not let the next girl think of him only as a friend. Unfortunately, his plans start to fall through as a spunky and eccentric girl comes into his life, knocking him on his feet. Will he finally win his crush’s heart or will he be friend-zoned once again?

❀ a/n: YES THIS IS A SPINOFF TO “Fake Boyfriend - Changbin” hehe , this is Seungmin’s life! I brought back the o/c in Fake Boyfriend as well as Changbin too heeheh I hope you guys like this despite this being hecka long :)

P.S. You don’t need to read Fake Boyfriend to understand this fic but it is recommended! :)

❀ ❀ ❀

I stood awkwardly to the side as my best friend, Kyungmi, made out with her boyfriend in the hallway. The two of them had negative zero shame about PDA, which was absolutely disgusting. I was no prude, but I certainly disliked seeing people stick their tongues down each other’s throats. It was horrific.

I coughed loudly to make sure they both knew I was still there. My best friend leaned away with her eyes glazed and starstruck. Her boyfriend, Changbin, aka the biggest asshole with an attitude on campus, smirked at me and shrugged like he did nothing wrong. That prick.

I had supported their relationship, even when they both mutually lied to me, but Changbin was still irritating. I was used to winning every argument, but this boy would start screaming out of nowhere which caused me to go crazy.

We didn’t get along to say the least.

“Sorry, Seungmin. Got a lil’ carried away there.” The girl smiled shyly at the older boy while he gave her a soft kiss back.

“Maybe if Seungmin had a girl, he wouldn’t be so uptight.” Changbin closed his locker and nudged me to the side.

Changbin always, and I mean always, pressured me to get into a relationship. And I would never admit this out loud, but I just wasn’t the type of guy girls wanted to date. I was always friend-zoned left and right which left me no girls to flirt with.

“Yeah, what’s the hold up, Minnie? You are a good-looking dude with charm! Girls should be falling at your feet.” I blushed at the girl’s compliments.

“Maybe it’s you who we should be setting up on tons of dates.”

As soon as Changbin said those words, my best friend punched him on the shoulder in excitement. I shuddered.

“YES! That’s fantastic! Oh please, Seungmin, let us set you up with girls! Please??” The girl whined while tugging on my arm. Changbin smirked at me like he was finally getting his revenge on me. I raised a brow and sighed, knowing I was going to lose this fight. Plus, I was better than my best friend at talking to the opposite sex. If this turned out badly, I would just make more friends. Which would hurt my ego once again, but what can I do about being “best guy friend material”?

“Ok, fine, set it up.” I looked up at the clock in the hallway, eager to get away from the devious couple. “Look, I gotta go, but text me the details I guess.”

“No worries, bro, you’re in good hands.”

When I looked back, Changbin was giving me a devious smile. I knew he still didn’t forgive me yet for forcing Kyungmi for going on dates she didn’t want to go on, but that was just our dynamic. If she wasn’t up for it, she would’ve told me.

I gave the boy a glare back and walked into my first class of the day: English.

❀ ❀ ❀

As soon as I plopped down in my chair, I felt another presence plop next to me.

“Hey, where were you all morning? I was waiting for you.” My other friend, or classmate, or whatever, Yeji, noted. I took off my glasses and wiped them on my shirt for dramatic effect.

“The couple caught up to me again.” Since the two always stuck together, everyone just called them ‘the couple’. Demeaning yet cute at the same time.

“Ah, as always. I still can’t believe your cute little best friend ended up with... Changbin.” I laughed loudly and nodded.

“You and me both. I still can’t wrap my mind around it. But, she always had a knack for liking bad boys.” I shrugged. My best friend was constantly reading books about nerd girls ending up with the baddest boy in school. It was rotting her mind obviously.

“Hm, most girls do.” Yeji noted. I examined her cute and sharp features that were now scrunched together. “I’ll admit, even I fall for them sometimes, but the nice guys always win my heart in the end.” I gave her a small smile back as she looked flushed.

Okay, okay, I like this girl.

She was cute, but intense; shy, yet independent. She was perfect.

“Hey, are you going to prom?” I asked curiously. It was only the biggest event of junior and senior year. I was always at the event, as it comes with the title of being class president every year.

The girl blushed and looked down. I had enough female friends that I knew what that meant. “Um, I-”

“KIM SEUNGMIN!” I heard a female voice yell my name. I recognized the irritating voice immediately. I smiled tightly at Yeji who was now staring at me with confused eyes.

I sighed and turned sadly, which now I was staring at a girl who I had always found annoying.

“What, y/n?”

Y/N.

She was the typical emo kid in high school. She was annoying, but she really only had a few close friends. She only talked to you if it benefited her and her only. She had dark black hair but it was dyed purple at the tips. Her eyeliner was thick, and no, I don’t makeup shame, but it definitely made her look more like the “rockstar” she claimed to be. She wore all black; black skinny jeans that were ripped everywhere and probably breaking dress code, black long sleeves that hugged her every curve, and even paired her outfit with black Doc Martens. She screamed angst.

We never got along and we had gone to school since our freshman year of high school. She was the only girl, or person really, in our grade that I never could befriend.

“Well, today I talked to the principal about my band playing at prom, but they said to ask you, mister president. So, what is it?”

I rolled my eyes at the girl. “Y/N, I told you, no one wants a live band. Everyone just wants stuff that’s on the radio or whatever.”

“Well, shitty music plays on the radio. And shitty singers. That I can sing better than. So, that’s why you should let me play at prom. Plus, wouldn’t letting us play promote like... school spirit?”

“Yes, a group of angsty teenagers would really boost the moral of the school.”

That poked the wrong buttons on the girl. She bent down to my level and glared at me. “Really? Stereotyping me now?” She spat.

I felt myself waver at her intense gaze, but I wouldn’t let myself lean back. “It’s nothing personal.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, because no matter how ‘angsty’ I appear to be, I probably have higher self-esteem than any of these bobble heads.” She raised a brow at the girl sitting next to me, Yeji, which made me feel territorial.

“Hey, you’re talking to me. You don’t need to drag other people into this.” Yeji shrank back in fear at y/n who was now smiling.

“Aw sorry, I don’t mean to upset the girlfriend.”

“Oh, you’ve misunderstood, we’re not together.” Yeji answered quickly which sparked sadness in my heart. I tried to not look hurt, but after hearing those words so many times, I was used to them.

I never understood girls’ needs to shoot down dating someone so quickly. Especially when they’re sitting right next to the accused.

Yeji’s words and my reaction caused y/n’s eyes to flicker with interest.

“Well, I hope you’ll take my proposition seriously. Bye, Seungmin.” She strutted away with a little sway in her hips. I tried not to look at her ass since that was rude.

I quickly snapped out of it and turned to Yeji. “Um, sorry about her. She’s kind of... a lot.” Yeji nodded.

“It’s ok, I’ve heard rumors about her. She’s bad news, everyone knows that.”

For some reason, I accepted her words. Y/N technically was bad news. Everyone knew she skipped school too much to count, but I wouldn’t necessarily call her a bad girl. But to impress Yeji, I just nodded.

“Yeah, um, so prom?”

Yeji’s eyes wavered now, which was a bad sign. Bad bad sign. “Uh, yeah, thinking about it.”

My confidence diminished and I decided to go the friendly route. “Well, hopefully if you go, they’ll be playing shitty pop music than whatever y/n wants to play.”

The girl laughed, which shot my confidence back up.

I not going to be friend-zoned, not this time.

Before I could plot out how to win Yeji’s heart, the teacher walked into the class.

“Good morning class.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Park.” The class hummed back. Mrs. Park set a pile of packets on her table, which caused the class to stare at the large stack.

“Today class, I’ve been wondering what to do since it’s your senior year and all. I was thinking about fun English inspired things.”

“This doesn’t sound good.” Yeji hummed under her breath. I chuckled, making sure she knew I was interested in what she wanted to say.

“And finally, the idea popped into my head! A group project!” The class groaned, even me. Everyone hated group projects. “Oh hush! This will be fun! I’ll be pairing you guys up in pairs of 2 to write your own creative story. It has to be at least 10 pages and fit all the components of what I’m about to hand out. I have some prompts on here as well, but you’re free to write what you want. The prompts are just to get you guys started.”

The class glared daggers at her head as she droned on about how good this project would be and how excited she was to read our stories. All we heard was how we had to arrange irrational times with our classmates who had completely different lives than us. Fantastic.

“Now, I’m sure you guys have been anxiously waiting about who you’re paired with.”

Mrs. Park slid a piece of paper out of her folder and started reading.

“Yeji and Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin, who was sitting in the front row, turned around to smile at Yeji. Who had turned a light shade of pink at the boy. Oh great.

“Jeno and Jaemin. Haechan and Somi.”

Mrs. Park droned on with names until I perked up at mine.

“Seungmin and....”

Please don’t be y/n. Please don’t be y/n.

“And y/n.”

Fuck.

I looked over at the girl who was already looking in my direction with a smirk. She gave me an evil wave and laughed silently.

“The story is due 2 weeks from now. It shouldn’t be too hard with two heads working together and you guys would be surprised on how quickly 10 pages will go. Good luck!”

The last 10 minutes of class were dedicated to meeting up with your partner and scheduling times to write the paper and how to organize it.

“So, are you going to write our paper mister president?” y/n asked mockingly. I hated when she called me that.

“First of all, my name is Seungmin. And second, no way in hell am I going to write this for you.” The girl rolled her eyes as I opened the packet.

“Well good to see you still have strong morals even when working with me. So, I have rehearsals with my band every Friday night, and Saturday and Sunday afternoons. but anytime besides that I’m free.”

I groaned internally.

“Well, I have leadership meetings every Monday and Thursday after school. So I guess that leaves most of the weekdays.” She nodded.

“How about on Wednesday after school?” She suggested. I nodded, surprised she was the one who initiated a time. She gave me a cool smile. “Fantastic. See you then, lover boy.” She whispered the last two words in my ear, which I couldn’t lie, made me tingle at the close proximity.

She walked away with a smirk and this time, I refused to check her out.

I had morals.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Wednesday. 6pm. The Red Lobster across from that Subway.” My best friend, Kyungmi stated. Changbin was attached to her by the hip.

I sighed and shook my head. I had already forgotten about their plans to set me up with random girls. “Already got plans that day.”

Kyungmi gave me a suspicious stare. “What plans?”

“Plans to whack off?” I glared at Changbin who was giggling at his joke which wasn’t even funny. Kyungmi smiled, but hit the boy. I never knew she was such a perv.

“No. I have this project I have to do with y/n and Wednesday is one of the only days we have free this week. And the project is already due in 2 weeks so...”

“Y/N? She’s the annoying bitch, right?” Kyungmi pinched his arm.

“Hey, don’t call her that... She’s just annoying and emo.” The two laughed.

“Yes, that y/n. But I mean, I have no choice. We have to work together.” I argued. I unwrapped my ham and cheese sandwich and bit into it.

Kyungmi shook her head. “No, I mean, you could just write it and slap her name on it too.” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, nerd.” Changbin poked my side which made me want to slap him in the face.

“I already told her I wouldn’t do that. So, sorry, but you’ll have to reschedule or just cancel.” Kyungmi and Changbin sighed unanimously.

Changbin then pulled out his phone and started to type something in. “Maybe you would change your mind when you see the girl.”

I furrowed my brows in interest. As the egotistical boy stuck his phone in my face, my eyes widened.

“Is that Yeji?”

Kyungmi smirked, knowing she had gotten me. “Yup, Changbin’s friend is friends with her and heard she wanted to start dating so she would have a date to prom. And luckily, Changbin had overheard their conversation.”

My head spun with excitement. “And I know you’re sorta into her. I’ve seen you look at her in the halls.” Kyungmi squealed giddly.

“So you in?”

I took a sip of my juice and my eyes fell on Y/N who had walked into the cafeteria. She raised a brow at me when she saw my stare. What, she mouthed. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m in.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It was 5:30pm and my date with Yeji was in 30 minutes

It took lots of convincing with y/n to cancel. After I lied to her that my mom was sick and I had to take care of her, she finally let it go. I felt bad for lying, but her being busy on every day of the weekend caused this.

Thankfully, the girl said she could push back her Saturday practice to night time and we could use the morning-afternoon to write the story.

I threw on my best looking shirt and dark jeans. For some reason, girls liked dark jeans on boys. I looked at my hair and saw the mess. I groaned and started to style it. I felt dumb with the small straightener in my hands, but I had to do what had to be done to look good.

Once I was satisfied, I threw on my fanciest shoes and ran out the door. Yeji was coming from cheer practice and she said she would just meet me at the restaurant. I sped all the way there, hoping to be early.

I looked down at my watch. 5:53pm. I looked around and there was no sign of her.

This was a blind date, so she didn’t know who I was. Changbin just told her I would be waiting under the large Red Lobster sign.

“Seungmin? Is that you?” I spun around after hearing the feminine voice. I gave the girl a shocked look.

“Yeji, oh wow, what a surprise.” I lied lamely. The girl smiled and hugged me. I wasn’t sure if this was a friend hug or a happy hug or what. But I mean, I liked it.

“I’m so glad it’s you! I was so nervous I was going to get a weirdo or something, but I’m glad Changbin set me up with someone as nice as you.” Nice. What a word. A word for friend-zoning.

I smiled forcefully at her. “Let’s get inside so we don’t freeze our asses off.” She laughed loudly at me joke, probably more exaggerate since it wasn’t that funny. That boosted my ego slightly.

“Table for 2.” I said to one of the staff. The girl nodded and led us to a table. I was glad it wasn’t extremely crowded on a Wednesday night.

“Thank you,” Yeji said to the staff. I nodded in thanks as the waitress walked away.

“So, getting into the dating scene are we, Kim Seungmin?” Yeji teased. I blushed, but grinned at her curious glance.

“Yeah, after Kyungmi and Changbin spent so much time together, I realized I was either sick of seeing them together or wanted to have a relationship like theirs.” Yeji cooed at my words.

“Aw, that’s so cute! They’re really a cute couple, aren’t they?” I nodded.

“Hi guys, are you guys ready to order?” We both nodded.

Once I looked up from my menu, I saw someone I hadn’t planned on seeing here tonight.

I could spot that dark, yet wild hair from anywhere. Her black and purple hair was tied into a ponytail and she looked calm as she sat across from a boy much older than her, Chan, who I remembered was her brother.

She looked like she was finishing up her meal as she stood up from her booth. As soon as she stood up, her eyes met mine.

Fuck. I was in deep shit now.

Expecting her to call me out on my bullshit, I held my breath.

Contrary to what I believed, the girl only looked at me with fed up eyes and walked away with her brother. I couldn’t help but feel like shit.

“Seungmin?” Yeji’s voice snapped me out of my trance.

I glanced up at the waitress who was waiting for me to order. Great, now I look like a weirdo.

“Sorry, um, I’ll get the steak and lobster.”

I forced myself to carry a conversation with Yeji, but all I could think about was why y/n didn’t stomp her way to my table while I obviously was on a date.

Maybe she’s different than what everyone thinks about her.

I shook my head, no, that girl is bad news.

�� ❀ ❀

I had done a great job at avoiding y/n all week. It was helpful she wasn’t here Friday either.

But it was Saturday now and I worse knowing that she pushed back her scheduled practice with her band when we had scheduled a time I should’ve been free for.

I was dressed more casually today with blue jeans and a red hoodie. I wasn’t impressing anyone today.

I drove to y/n’s house, scared of how she would react when I saw her again. Her house wasn’t far from mine. I held my breath as I walked to the front step.

Her house looked more normal than I thought it would. For some reason, I thought it would be dark and gloomy like how she dressed, but it was a light brown with flowers all around it.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to ring the doorbell?”

The voice startled me as I jumped back.

Y/N was staring at me with judgmental eyes. I noticed the leash in her hand and then felt a small dog jump on my leg. I smiled, forgetting the scary girl right next to me, and pet the happy thing.

“Aw, aren’t you the cutest?” I cooed. Y/N scoffed and unlocked her front door.

“You’re early. Probably to make up for cancelling on Wednesday for some girl?” She taunted. I turned a dark red at her accusation, even though it was true.

“Ok, I’m sorry-”

“For what Seungmin? Getting caught or for lying? Or for causing me to push back my already scheduled plans for your impromptu dates? Hm?”

I felt a rush of anger run through me even though I had no right to be mad.

“Why are you acting as if we’re dating? We’re not even friends. I have no loyalties to you.”

I wanted to take back the words as soon as I said them. Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“Wow, you’re an even bigger asshole than I thought. We made plans and if you were a decent human being, you would keep them. We could be arch enemies but you still had a commitment, especially since we don’t have many free days.” She spat. I had nothing to say and took her words in.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. And I’m sorry for cancelling plans, but I just really like Yeji so I just had to take the chance. I’m sorry.”

Y/N stood in silence for a few moments before taking a step back.

“Maybe if you let me play at prom I would be more forgiving.”

I rolled my eyes. “I-”

“I’m teasing. I don’t want to hold this over your head since Yeji is hot. A shitty person, but hot.”

Y/N opened the door for me to let me in, but her words didn’t go over my head. I quietly shut the door and examined her house that I knew she was secretive about. It looked... peaceful. Normal.

“What? Yeji is not a shitty person.” Y/n smiled at me.

“Oh really? Are the things she says about me nice?” I had nothing to say to that.

“She’s only saying what’s true.” Y/N stopped walking and glared at me.

“What? That I skip class? Big whoop, everyone does that. She makes huge accusations about me when I only characterize her because of the things she says about me and the way she looks at me and the way she talks to me.”

Before I could get a word out, the girl shoved me into her room.

“Now, that’s a good story idea. We could write about a bitchy cheerleader and how she sabotages people’s lives so that she looks good.” The girl suggested. I rolled my eyes.

“Or, we could write about not that.” I tugged the packet out of her hands and stared at the prompts. “Write about a boy who finds a time machine and travels through all of his best/worst memories.”

“Lame. I hate time travel stories. They confuse and bore me simultaneously.” I sighed and looked at more prompts.

The girl sat in her spinny chair and spun around like a child. I couldn’t help but scan her. She was wearing shorts, probably because she only left the house to walk her dog. Even when being at home, her clothes were still all black. She was wearing a black over the shoulder t-shirt with black shorts.

It felt weird to notice this, but her nails were painted black as well. Both her fingernails and toenails were the same color which Kyungmi told me girls liked to do.

“Wow, checking me out even when you have another girl in your heart? Hm, I didn’t know you were such a bad boy, Seungmin.”

I felt my heart skip, noticing how she said my name when she usually called me “mister president”.

I blushed at her words and looked away quickly. “S-sorry, um, I was just curious as to why you wear black clothes all the time.” The girl laughed softly and twisted her hair over her shoulder.

I tried not to read into her movements but girls playing with their hair always meant something. At least according to web articles.

“Well, I wear black clothes because I like the color. You wear blue a lot, probably because blue is your favorite color right?” I nodded slowly, but surprised she noticed the clothes I wore.

I felt proud of myself for some reason, my felt my heart warm as she paid attention to the small details of me.

“Uh, I guess. Anyways, any more story ideas? Maybe a character you would wanna write about?” The girl crinkled her nose and swiped her side bangs out of her face. She scooted closer to me and suddenly, my male hormones were heightened.

She smelled fruity, but her scent wasn’t that heavy that I was choking. Her hair matched the fruit theme of her perfume and I couldn’t help but get lost in it. I hated myself at this moment.

I hadn’t been so close to a girl who wasn’t a friend in so long.

"You’re wearing perfume.” I noted lamely as she was taking a while to think. She looked up me in surprise and smiled. It was different than her usual smiles, but they always made my heart flutter.

Stop, you like Yeji, stop letting your hormones take over you like some basic asshole.

“Hm, yeah I am. I wear it whenever I go out or whenever I have guests over. I’m surprised you noticed.” She wiggled her brows and opened a word document on her laptop. “Is there any genre you prefer writing?”

I snapped out of the girl’s charm and looked at the laptop. “Yeah, yeah, I like to write fantasy I guess.” Y/N smiled.

“Good. We’re on the same page then. Do you like supernatural themes like ghosts, fae, vampires, werewolves...?” She babbled on. I wasn’t that surprised y/n was that into this stuff since she was quite weird. I guess that made me weird too when I was excited.

“All of the above.”

“And before we get ahead of our selves, let’s remind us that the expected page count is 10 and we only have 2 weeks to write this.” The girl noted smartly. I nodded and adjusted my glasses as she leaned over me to grab her pencil. “Sorry, I like to plan on paper.”

I watched as she grabbed a piece of paper and started drawing circles. I let out a chuckle before I could stop myself. She glanced up at me with rough eyes.

“What?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. Just you planning things out is cute.” She froze at my words, and even I was surprised at my confidence.

“Shut up,” she said, but I knew there was a faint blush on her cheeks.

Huh, maybe this flirting thing isn’t so hard after all.

❀ ❀ ❀

After discussing for a long 30 minutes, we had finally decided on a basic plot and characters.

“After being assigned a dangerous mission, Yoon Sehun’s life starts to crumble. He is tasked with the mission to infiltrate a high school and seduce and kill an innocent girl who is holding secrets of her own. Is that a good summary for Mrs. Park?” I nodded at the girl who looked much happier at writing than I did.

She smiled happily and kept going. “And basically, he starts to fall in love with her seriously... do we want a happy ending or sad?”

I fiddled with my glasses, a habit I had when I was thinking. “Um, which do you prefer?” The girl groaned.

“Making me do all the hard work. Ugh, well, I like to read happy endings more, but with the short time limit we have and page limit of 15, I’d say we just leave it off on a cliffhanger.”

I agreed. “You right. Now, let’s get it started.”

❀ ❀ ❀

We had been typing for hours, constantly asking one another if writing something was ok. We switched off every 30 minutes to write which made the flow hard, but we agreed we would edit it in the end. I was surprised to see how good of a writer she was.

And I was more surprised on how well we were getting along.

“Wow, this is looking really good. You’re a really good writer.” I complimented. Y/N was laying on her bed, scrolling through her phone as I scanned over her work.

I heard her snort. “Well, I do write songs on the daily. I am in a band you know.”

“Ah, right.”

“Talking about my band, any new thoughts about us performing at prom?” I sighed, but said nothing for a few moments, trying to decide on what to do.

I settled with a question. “Why do you want to perform at prom so badly? No offense, but you don’t seem that connected to this school.”

I heard the bed rustle and I knew she was walking over to me. Her hair was messy and I tried not to imagine if I was laying next to her on that bed.

Her face was serious as she sat next to me.

“First things first, we go to a rich school that has major connections. If my band performs there and some rich kids likes it and has connections to the music scene, it could be big for my band. Second, I really love performing, as do my band mates. And third, rich kids with connections.”

I chuckled at her honesty.

“Ok, how about I let you perform a few songs-”

I saw her eyes light up.

“Wait, seriously, you would let me perform?!” Her voice was laced with excitement and shock that I couldn’t help but smile.

“Um, yeah, you put up a good argument and-” She didn’t wait for me to finish before pulling me in for a hug. It felt weird since I was sitting down and she was standing up. She felt the same and pulled me up to stand. I laughed as she pulled me in for a proper hug when we were standing.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She cheered. “You’re the best, Seungmin.” She then released me and sat down.

“Speaking of prom, are you thinking of asking anyone?” She looked at me with curiosity in her eyes.

I took a while to answer, but before I could, I heard her phone alarm go off.

“Shit, that means my band mates are coming over real soon. Um, we can finish on Wednesday, of course, if you aren’t busy?” I rolled my eyes even though I still felt guilty. It wasn’t like me to cancel on people for a date.

“Sure. After school Wednesday and if I cancel, you can whip my ass.”

“And what a fine ass it is.” She teased with a hint of flirtiness in her tone.

I choked from shock. “Wha-”

“Bye, Seungmin. See you Wednesday.”

She closed the door on me as I was left in the cold to think about what just happened and why the girl I had thought was annoying was super attractive all of a sudden.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hey, Seungmin.” I gave a small nod to Yeji who I surprisingly didn’t think about to much over the weekend.

“Hey, how was your weekend?” I asked respectfully. Kyungmi told me that girls always liked to be asked on how their day was. It showed like the boy cared.

She smiled and curled a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was good! I got lots of cleaning done, ugh, my room was an absolute mess. How about you? How was working with y/n?”

I didn’t miss her nose crinkle as she said y/n’s name. I felt a burn of anger run through me as she did that.

“Hey, y/n isn’t that bad as I thought. She was actually really helpful.” I defended. I didn’t know why I was defending a girl to the girl I was interested in, but the words left my mouth as soon as I said them.

Yeji looked guilty. “I-I didn’t mean anything bad, I thought we were on the same page about her.” Now I felt guilty. I had a soft spot for blubbering girls.

“Hey, I get it, but surprisingly I didn’t go mad with her around.” Yeji nodded and looked to Hyunjin.

She leaned close to me. I felt my nerves come alive as I felt her hair tickle my neck. “Just between us, Hyunjin is good-looking and all, but he sucks at writing. He couldn’t decide on characters and a plot. We had a rough time. I’d rather have you as a partner.”

As she pulled away, I noticed how she was biting her lip slightly which tugged at my heart. Her smell was much stronger than y/n’s though, which forced me to hold down a cough. I wasn’t fond of floral smells which Yeji reeked of.

The door opened once again which caught my attention.

The familiar girl walked in with a sway in her steps. I felt my breathing stop as she locked eyes with me. She gave me one of her infamous smiles and sat down.

“You two seem friendly.” Yeji whispered.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that.” I defended. Now I knew how girls felt when they were accused of dating someone.

“Not like what?” Yeji teased. I realized then that she said nothing about a romantic relationship. I’d just assumed it. I blushed as she squeezed my hand.

“You’re cute.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It was a normal Monday night that I was spending with Kyungmi and Changbin. I swear the two lived together at this point.

“So, spill about your date with Yeji! You’ve been holding out on us for way too long!” Kyungmi cried out. Changbin and I were immersed into the video game were playing, but Kyungmi paused it.

“Hey, we were-” Changbin was cut off by Kyungmi’s glare. “Yeah, Seungmin, how was your date?”

The boy was whipped.

I sunk back to the couch and tried to remember the events. My mind wasn’t in the moment on the date. I kept feeling guilty about ditching y/n.

“Um, it was good.” I settled on saying.

The two narrowed their eyes at me.

“Good? That’s it?” Kyungmi interrogated.

I shrugged her off as she got too close to me. “Yes, good, she’s pretty and nice and sometimes funny.”

“Dude.” Changbin added.

“What?”

“Good isn’t the way you’re supposed to describe a date. Did you even feel a connection with her?” Kyungmi asked.

I shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I guess? It wasn’t awkward. And she seemed to be flirting with me today so I would take this as a good sign.”

Kyungmi then hit me with a pillow. “Ow, what the fu-”

“Do you like, not like her anymore? What’s the deal with you?” Kyungmi babbled. I was confused. I had said I had a good time with her, I didn’t understand the problem.

“Ok, honestly, I was sort of out of it on the date. I saw y/n there and she saw me and I felt bad about cancelling and lying to her about why I cancelled.” I confessed.

I thought the two would show signs of disgust of the girl, but the two simply just looked at each other. I hated when they did that.

“What?” I barked. Changbin held up his hands in surrender.

“Well, I’m going to just say it, I didn’t think y/n was your type.” Kyungmi hit his shoulder to shut him up, but the damage was already done.

“What do you mean by that?” I tried to think back on past girlfriends I had which never lasted long because they realized I was “better as a friend”, but they weren’t that different.

“Changbin, stop it.”

The boy shrugged and kept spilling. “What? It’s true. The girls you’ve dated before are like... nice. And social. Y/N is... not those things.”

I felt something burn in my chest. I wasn’t sure what it was but I recognized part of it was anger.

“Don’t be an asshole, Changbin. I’m not even into y/n anyways.”

Kyungmi sighed and sat next to me. She patted my head like she always did and spoke softly. “Just, be careful not to get hurt. And try not to hurt anyone in the process.”

“What do you mean? Y/N doesn’t even like me. She thinks of me as a friend.”

I felt my phone vibrate and I peered down at it.

‘Hey Seungmin, I am highkey bored in my room on a Monday night with millions of story ideas running through my mind. is it ok if i add to our story and edit it?? u can change it wednesday if u dont like it but i felt the need to ask u first’

“If that’s from y/n, I’m going to scream.”

I glared at Changbin. “Well it is and don’t fucking scream or else I’m leaving.” Changbin and Kyungmi both attacked me for my phone.

Changbin started laughing and tossed me my phone back.

“Dude, she totally likes you. She’s trying to start a conversation with you.”

“She literally just asked me about our essay, how the hell is that a sign at all?” I spat.

I texted the girl back.

‘yeah sure youre a great writer anyways’

Soon, she was typing back.

‘yay thanks~ for both complimenting me and letting me write lol’

“What did she say?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Y/N couldn’t like me... there was no way. She knows I’m into Yeji.. right?

❀ ❀ ❀

Wednesday came soon enough and I was instead in a library with y/n. She had snagged our own private room for a couple hours and we were currently adding and editing to our story.

She came in wearing a red shirt and I was shocked at the change. I hated that I noticed it. And that I liked it.

“You’re wearing color.” I said before I could stop myself.

Y/N looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “What? I can’t wear color now?” She crossed her arms in that defensive way girls did.

“I just mean you look good.” She raised her brows.

“Well, you should’ve started with that.”

The girl sat down and I tried not to check out how good her legs looked in her black skinny jeans.

“Anyways, thank you for letting my band perform at prom. It means a lot to us.” She thanked while getting out her things. I noticed how her black nail polish had changed to dark purple. I wondered if she redid her toes as well.

I gulped and stopped thinking about her so much. “Uh, no problem. I hope you won’t let me regret it.” She laughed.

“No sir. Anyways, are you going with anyone to prom? Mister president has to have girls lined up at his door, right?” She teased but I could tell there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

I laughed and felt nervous at her question. “Uh, if I’m being honest with you, there aren’t many girls lining up at my door.”

She looked surprised at my comment. “Really? I find that surprising.”

I shrugged. “I get friend-zoned by most girls. When I say most, I mean all.” I said spitefully. I heard y/n sigh and blow out a large amount of air.

“What?”

The girl shrugged. “Nothing, it’s just so, so, annoying when boys say that.” I furrowed my eyebrows at her statement.

“It’s annoying when girls do that.”

She gasped at my statement. She stared at me with her jaw dropped and judgmental eyes. “Oh wow, I didn’t know girls had to fall for you if a boy becomes their friend or if a boy shows interest in them. Excuse me for that.”

I rolled my eyes at her, but the more I talked about it, the dumber I sounded. “Ok, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just... frustrating when all the girls I like end up only thinking of me as a friend. And I know that they don’t have to like me, but after so many, it just bums me out I guess.”

“That’s understandable, but also, how are you so sure that those girls only thought of you as a friend? Did you ask them?”

I furrowed my brows. “Uh no, I can just tell.” Y/N gave me a tight smile like she was holding back.

“Wow. Amazing that you have that talent.” I scowled at her.

“Ok, well, sometimes I get signs a girl doesn’t like me and then I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, girls always fawn over the bad boys which I’m not. I’m just a nerdy nice dude with some attitude.”

The girl sitting next to me said nothing, which made me nervous.

“Not all girls like bad boys.” She noted. I licked my lips while she scooted closer to me. “Bad girls don’t like bad boys. That’s too much bad for one relationship.”

“Then what do bad girls like?” The question slipped from my lips before I couldn’t stop myself, but I didn’t regret my question.

The girl lifted an eyebrow and lightly flicked her tongue over her teeth.

“Hm, bad girls like good boys.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere in this tiny, private room changed.

I tried not to focus on the way her hand rested on my thigh. I tried not to focus on her lips that had a sheer coating of lip gloss across them. I tried so hard but I failed as she pulled me closer to her.

“Want a sign? I’ll give you one.”

Before I could process what was happening, she kissed me.

Her lips hovered above mine for a split movement before she kissed my bottom lip slowly. I felt my heart pounding out of my chest. I felt more alive than I’ve ever felt before.

I didn’t know when she got on my lap, but I felt a jolt when she get comfy.

She ran her fingers through my hair as I tried not to let out any noise. I gained courage and deepened the kiss which made her sign in content.

Oh fuck.

I gripped her waist to keep her from falling. She took off my glasses and rested them on the table.

“So, right now, you have the option whether to keep kissing me or to finish this essay. Which do you prefer?” My head was spinning. All I could feel were her legs on mine and her hands in my hair. All I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss her, not some stupid essay for English.

“Kissing you.”

She chuckled.

“Good choice.” She whispered before taking me lips again.

❀ ❀ ❀

I slammed my door shut, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Did I just make out with y/n for... god knows how long. Did I just do that? What even happened? We were just talking about how bitchy I was and then she did that. How did that even escalate? What am I doing? Was this just a one time thing or does she like me? Do I like her?

I took a deep breath and laid on my bed.

What about Yeji? Am I still into her? Was I ever really that into her? I didn’t even know her.

I slapped myself. “You shit, stop thinking about this.”

I tried not to fantasize about how much further we could’ve gone if our time wasn’t up in that tiny room but that’s all I could think about.

“Fuck, Changbin was right. She’s into me.”

❀ ❀ ❀

The essay was due on Monday and luckily, y/n had written enough that we didn’t need to meet up again. I decided to write the ending then edit, and then she edited it.

I hadn’t talking to y/n much since Wednesday and my lips burned every time we made eye contact.

Y/N was right. I had never gone after girls who were adamant about what they wanted and it excited and scared me at the same time.

“Hey, stranger.”

I jumped up, forgetting I was in a public place.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Yeji said with a small smile. I shook my head and gave her a forced grin.

“No, no, it’s okay. Um, how did your story turn out?” I asked.

Yeji’s eyes zoned out for a few moments before focusing on mine. “Um, the story was okay, but things with Hyunjin? Way better.”

I raised my brows in surprise. Not just from surprise at her infatuation with the boy, but surprise I didn’t care that much.

“Oh? Do tell.” I teased. Yeji fidddled with her thumbs nervously.

“Ok, ok, so, we were just working on the essay and then he just asks me to prom. It was kinda cute ‘cause he stuttered over his words, but still cute nonetheless. So, yeah!” She grinned widely with hearts in her eyes.

I smiled back at her. “That’s awesome, Yeji. You two are cute together.”

She nodded, barely hearing what I was saying when Hyunjin walked in the room. Hyunjin gave her a nod in acknowledgment, but he didn’t say anything.

He was just those types of guys.

❀ ❀ ❀

Prom night.

The biggest event of the year.

The time of year when mainly juniors and seniors lost themselves in one big crowd and the night when everyone lost their virginity. It was a mess honestly, but it was a mess that we all experienced together. With it being my senior year, prom held a deeper meaning for me this time.

Since I was a senior this year, I wasn’t required to come early, but I did so anyways.

“Hey mister president, here so early? Don’t you have some pictures to take at a lake or something?”

I turned and saw Y/N. She was wearing a dark black dress that hugged her in all the right places. Her hair was curled and more voluminous than usual. I couldn’t help but notice she put on a stronger amount of perfume.

I grinned at her teasing words, but shook my head.

“Nope, I came to set up. As the president should do.”

She frowned faintly. “Aw, you should be having fun. I’m only here early to help my band set up.”

I had almost forgot her band was performing two songs tonight. I had never heard them play and prayed they were good.

“Hey, um, you’ll watch my performance right?”

I snapped out of my trance and looked at her. Her eyes were wide and hopeful as she gave me her best puppy-eyed look.

I smiled at her as she jut out her bottom lip. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it since you worked so hard to play.”

She laughed wildly and held my arm in that flirty way. I started to wonder what she wanted us to be. Were we just friends who made out with each other sometimes or enemies who made out with each other or did she actually want an actual relationship?

Girls are so confusing.

Suddenly, we both heard someone call her name.

“Um, I gotta go set up now. See you soon?” She said hopefully. I nodded and gently sent her off.

❀ ❀ ❀

It was 9pm which was the official time prom started. The music was blaring as the band hadn’t gotten on stage yet and someone brought streamers of their own, which coated the dance floor.

Kyungmi and Changbin were somewhere dirty dancing and on the verge of being kicked out while I hung in the bigger crowd.

Kids were kicking their shoes off and soon there was a dance contest in the middle of the dance floor. Cheers and hollers erupted through the air as rowdy people flew through the air.

Suddenly, the music was turned down and I saw people come on stage.

I smiled at the beautiful girl standing on stage. She was the only girl in the band which made her shine brighter.

I heard her introduce her band name and the song she was going to be singing, but when I turned my head for a split moment, I saw some girl crying out of the room.

I squinted and saw that the girl was Yeji. Suddenly, we locked eyes. Her eyes were full of desperation and sadness as she turned away.

I looked to my left and saw Hyunjin, dancing with a girl who didn’t look like Yeji. I felt my heart tighten.

Oh no.

“Um, this song is dedicated to a really great friend I made near the end of my senior year. Here’s to change!”

The crowd erupted into cheers but I doubt anyone just heard what Y/N just said since they were all drunk.

I looked back and saw that Yeji was still staring at me with longing in her eyes. Like she was waiting for me to chase after her.

I mean, that was the type of guy I was. The type of guy who left whatever he was doing to help a sad girl. A girl who needed my help.

I looked back at the stage and saw Y/N starting to sing, but when I saw Yeji walk out of the room, I felt something in me snap.

I pushed my way out of the dance floor and went to follow Yeji.

This better be worth it.

The girl was sitting outside on the bench. I sighed and opened the door to the outside. She jolted up, but gave me a weak smile.

“You came.” She said softly.

I felt my knees weak at her words. “Yeah, uh, you looked like you needed a friend.” I heard her sniffle which made me notice the cold air.

I pulled off my jacket and pulled it over her shoulders. “Thank you. For the jacket and for coming out here.” I gave her a small smile, trying not to think about Y/N who most likely saw me run out here. I didn’t know what I was thinking. It was in my nature to chase after crying girls. Y/N would understand.

“Hyunjin he, he-” She was cut off by her small sobs. “He left me for some other girl. He was openly grinding on her and I couldn’t do anything. I hate him.” She spat. I held her close to me and let her lay her head on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, let it out.”

We sat there for a while, with her just calming her breathing and I was just trying to be a good friend.

Inside, the music was dying down and I knew the band had stopped playing. I felt like shit knowing I had just missed a song dedicated to me and that I didn’t keep my promise. But I had known Yeji longer, I was her friend. I had a commitment to her.

❀ ❀ ❀

My night seemed like it went by too quickly.

Yeji’s parents came and picked her up. She tried not to look too embarrassed as her parents greeted me fondly and reprimanded her for going out with Hyunjin and not me.

Soon, I saw more and more students flow out of the school. The students always had to evacuate quickly since the staff didn’t want to waste their whole night cleaning up our mess.

I searched the crowd for a sign of Y/N, but I didn’t see her ‘til the very end.

Her hair was messy from performing and the sweat glowed in the moonlight. She looked stunning even when she was dead tired.

She turned my way, and once I smiled, she looked away.

Wait, what was that?

I ran after her. “Y/N, wait-”

She whipped her hair around, with tears filling her eyes.

“Are you serious? You have the fucking nerve to come after me right now? You must be stupid.” I ignored her harsh words and took a deep breath.

“Y/N, please, I’m sorry, I really am. But Yeji was crying and Hyunjin left her, I couldn’t just leave her alone. I’m her friend, you know-”

“Oh my god, please just stop talking.” She blurt. I was stunned at the amount of anger she had. We weren’t even a couple.

“You know, you complain so fucking much about the bad boys getting all the credit and all the attention and how all girls like bad boys, but you know what? You do get the girls obviously and you’re not even a ‘bad boy’, you’re just mean. You play with girls like it’s nothing and I’m not going to stand here for it. You’ve been into me and Yeji at the same time and I’m not going to stay here and let you choose me or her like we are options in a buffet line.”

I saw a tears fall down her cheek as she adjusted her shoes.

“You know, unlike Yeji, I didn’t wait for a bad boy to break up with me before I went for the nice guy. I always wanted the nice guy.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until she walked away, leaving me with all my emotions.

She shrugged in that fake nonchalant way and gave me a tight smile with tears dancing in her eyes.

“Goodbye, Seungmin. I hope you treat the next girl right.”

#stray kids #straykidznet #sk-writersnet #stray kids scenarios #kim seungmin #seungmin scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin imagines #seungmin imagine #HOLY SHIT ITS BEEN A WHILE #if u read until here #i love u and thank u for reading lololol

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itsbenedict · 5 years ago

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Rendering the Incomprehensible Comprehensible

I am confused by the state of the art of psychiatric medicine.

Now, I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm a guy what makes computers is be do videogames, and I haven't taken a chemistry class since freshman year of college or a biology class since high school. Pretty much the extent of my knowledge of the field is that I read Slate Star Codex a lot. So, the questions I'm asking here are ones I have to assume actual professionals in the area have answers to.

That question being... why is it made of drugs?

I don't mean in an “oh, these are social problems and we must solve society and overthrow [racism/capitalism/millenialism/makesworldwrong] instead of medicating our free spirits” way. I mean in a... how do drugs work at all, kind of way? It makes sense they work for killing pathogens- all you have to do is come up with a poison that works on what you're trying to kill but not on the host. But for fixing the brain? What?

My model of drug discovery works something like this:

- Scientists poke around at the brain and see a ton of hyper-complicated chemical processes happening in there, and make some educated guesses about what they're doing, based on measurements of levels of certain chemicals in certain places during certain mental states. They've got some vague ideas about what these chemicals are doing, but these are mostly statistical inferences and not detailed causal models. They look at these brain chemicals and how they move around, and infer that if they make some other chemicals that are shaped in specific ways, those chemicals will interfere with these other chemicals and make there be more or less of them under certain conditions. - Armed with these guesses, they go to the lab and synthesize these chemicals, and then spend billions of dollars running gigantic clinical trials to see if, maybe, putting a bunch of these new chemicals in the bloodstream will actually have anything like the desired effect. - Most of the time they don't, because these were just educated guesses based on simplified models, but with enough billions poured into running more trials, they'll eventually find a chemical they can p-hack into looking like it does something, and then exploit FDA regulations to get doctors to prescribe it for a thousand dollars a pill. Sometimes, if they're extremely lucky, they'll find something that has a positive effect that they don't need to statistically mutilate to show, and then we have a groundbreaking discovery.

I may just be super underinformed, but as I understand it... this process weirds me the hell out.

In my current job, I spend a lot of time fixing bugs in old websites. These websites are sometimes large and labyrinthine, full of old uncommented code some contractor wrote years ago before dropping off the face of the earth. This is, ignoring for a moment a completely unignorable difference in degree of complexity, kind of like trying to fix problems with the brain.

When I go in to fix a bug in a website, there's a lot of things I can do. I can look at the page's elements in the browser's dev tools. I can run the debugger and step through the code, looking at all the data and its values at any given point in time. I can go to the git repo and look back through previous versions of the code, to see what changes were made and when, in conjunction with Jira tickets describing what issue those changes were made to fix. And once I've figured out what's happening, I can go into the code, make changes, and see what effect they had.

Now, I can try to imagine what my job would be like if I had to do things like psychopharmacologists did.

First off, no making changes to the code. The code is compiled and minified and obfuscated and still three billion lines long. Even if I did figure out how to make desirable changes, that would be "digital eugenics" and I'd get fired.

Second, commit history only goes like three or four commits back, if I'm lucky. Previous commits have been deleted, since they're set to auto-recycle after a while and nobody knows how to turn that off.

Thirdly, no dev tools. I only have the rendered webpage itself, and when something goes wrong I have to kind of guess at whether it's a styling issue or a data issue or a connectivity issue or what.

What can I do, exactly? Well, I actually do have access to one of the dev tools, kind of: the Network tab. I can see the requests being made to the back-end API. Unfortunately, there is no API documentation, and the requests are just as obfuscated as the code. But I've also got Postman, and what I can kind of do is make my own requests to the API, to see what the output is and how it affects the system.

So, uh... hm, okay, I see a request being made to https://serotonin.presynapticneurone.neural.net. The data payload is gibberish, but I notice that when there's a lot of these requests happening, the webpage renders a little faster, and when there's not as many, it slows down. Maybe if I just copy the gibberish data and fake a bunch of my own requests, it'll go faster? ...Hm, okay, that kind of works on some pages but not others. Still, better than nothing- we have some users complaining about the site being slow, so let's just tell them to-

Oh, shit, wait, users don't know how computers work, I can't just tell them to spam Postman requests to the API endpoint. Um, okay, I'll write a little phone app that automatically spams the requests, and release that to users. Except- oh, for fuck's sake, I need to wait for FDApple to approve it for the app store, and they want us to prove that it works and doesn't contain malware. Except even I don't know if that works, so... okay, it's fine, we'll hire a bunch of testers and do a study that shows that overall it speeds things up, and doesn't kill anyone's machines. Good thing I work for a huge company that can afford to do that.

Aaaaaand here come the results, and- oh, god damn it, the study didn't achieve significance. Let me go get Steve, he can probably fudge the numbers here so the damn app store will let us release the fucking thing, we spent millions on those tests (and the tests of all the other interventions that turned out to do nothing because we didn't have enough information and guessed wrong), and we need to recoup our investment.

Sigh.

So... I'm hearing that the ROI on drug discovery is dropping, and that drug companies have pretty much given up on trying to fix things and have started repackaging the handful of blind hacky API spam tricks that miraculously have a consistent effect. This isn't surprising to me. I would not be surprised if, like, after decades of people banging their heads against a massively overcomplicated system, hitting it with differently-shaped hammers in hopes of getting anything to work... they've found most of the differently-shaped hammers that do anything.

At some point, someone has to invent developer tools, right? Find some way to actually figure out what the hell they're doing?

The big question: given the blatant inadequacy of the existing paradigm, why is the industry still trying to wring blood out of this dried-out stone? At some point, we're going to have to actually figure out what the brain is doing, but it seems like cognitive neuroscience is still in its infancy. "We don't know how this thing works" seems like the big obstacle to getting anything done, but most of the effort in this area still seems to be focused on finding new drugs to throw at the thing-we-don't-know-how-it-works.

I know I’m not the first person to ask this question. I’m sure everyone who’s ever had to grapple with psychiatry in any detail is lamenting the same issue, and I’m sure there are people who are working very hard to try and solve the problem. It just... doesn’t seem like those people are getting very much done. The most I hear about is pop science articles claiming that Science Has Discovered The Part Of The Brain That Makes You Love Kittens, which inevitably turn out to be irresponsible reporting of extremely modest correlational findings.

(Maybe AI will help? Maybe the brain is just too complicated to be reduced to something humans can understand on an engineering/problem-solving level, and we need something with a higher understanding-capacity? Except... most of the recent advances in AI are with neural nets that explicitly don't actually understand anything, nor do the researchers growing them.)

Where are we at with this? Are we getting anywhere? Is there encouraging progress in the field of learning-things-about-the-brain? Is the second derivative of that curve non-zero? Metacognitive revolution when?

#i guess i continue to be impatient about science #long post

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hogwarts-and-mistletoe · 6 years ago

Text

The Other Yule Ball

Title: The Other Yule Ball

Rating: Mature/NC-17

Category: Yule Ball (obviously, though it’s not the one in 4th year)

Summary: Ron and Hermione attend a charity Yule Ball twenty-five years after the original Yule Ball where everything went wrong. This time both of them end up getting what they want.

A/N: I know the fics are published anonymously but still wanted to add a tiny note. Basically, this is the first fic I’ve written in maybe six(?) years, so apologies if the writing is incredibly rusty. I hope you’re, nevertheless, able to enjoy the Christmassy theme and everyone’s favourite couple.

16th of December 2023

“You reckon Rose and Hugo will be embarrassed to have to deal with their Mum and Dad showing up at their school dance?” Ron asked his wife while absentmindedly adjusting his dark navy coloured dress robes in front of the bedroom mirror.

“Oh, I doubt it,” Hermione laughed while her hair neatly arranged itself in a low bun at the back of her neck at the flick of a wand. “I’m sure they’ll be quite happy to see us as long as you keep off the dance floor.” She stepped forward to adjust her husband’s tie.

“You know, ‘Mione, I’m actually quite excited to go,” Ron smirked, “kind of makes me feel like I’m getting a second chance at this whole Yule Ball thing with you.” He wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist, as she turned towards the mirror to adjust loose strands of hair around her neck. “Perhaps, I’ll even get a cheeky snog out of you this time unless old habits take place and I end up behaving like a jealous git again.”

Hermione spun around in Ron’s arms to face him with a devious look in her eyes. “I doubt Krum is coming so your chances of a snog are rather high,” she placed her hands on Ron’s cheeks, feeling the prickly stubble under her fingers, “we do, however, really need to get on our way to catch the ministry portkey or Rose will probably deduct house points off us for turning up late.”

***

After hurriedly apparating to the ministry and using an old red umbrella as a portkey, Ron and Hermione found themselves at the front gates of Hogwarts. Hermione, having returned to the castle to complete her education had eventually gotten used to the school and its grounds again following the horrors of the battle but Ron’s visits to the school following its restoration after the battle had been limited to hurried visits through various of the seven hidden passageways and a few nights in the Prefect’s Bathroom.

Now, twenty-five years later, he was returning to the castle as an honorary Order of Merlin First Class invitee alongside his wife and best friend. As the years had passed, he had grown increasingly tired of attending one charity event after another. It was not as if he did not care or believe them to be important, he just felt that the best way for him to remember Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Dobby and everyone else was by spending time with his loved ones in the comfort of his cosy home, or at work with the Auror department ensuring similar terrors could never take place again. However, he had to admit to himself that tonight he was excited – he always really missed his children during term and it had been a while since him and Hermione had had a night off work together that included something other than them just falling asleep in each other’s arms on the sofa.

As Ron walked towards the Great Hall his mind kept wandering back to the last time he had attended a ball in the very same room. The magical ceiling was glistening in a similar way and enchanted instruments on either side of the room were playing cheery winter tunes. If only he could’ve travelled back in time and smacked his 14-year-old self on the head and forced him to make a move on Hermione and ask her to the ball, many things during their year on the run could have perhaps been so much easier. But as he walked a few steps behind his beloved wife, who had just spotted Harry and Ginny chatting with Neville and Hannah Longbottom, he was overcome with the familiar warm feeling that even if their path to each other had not been the most straightforward one, they had gotten there in the end and that was all that mattered. As a content smile crept upon his lips, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice not so different from his own.

“Oi! Knew you and Mum would be here at the last minute. Had trouble tying your tie? Or got too distracted while getting dressed? Actually, don’t answer that last question I really don’t want to know,” 15-year-old Hugo laughed and hugged his father.

“Watch your words young man, I’ve heard you’ve got a date of your own for tonight. Would be a shame if any embarrassing stories came up within her earshot,” Ron said and ruffled Hugo’s hair.

Rose, Albus and Lily also appeared from the crowd, and once Hermione had hugged both of her children, and Ginny and Harry had greeted Albus and Lily, the group headed to find their assigned seats. As they walked through the hall, towards one of the round tables in the front corner, Harry picked up glasses of bubbling champagne off a tray floating nearby and handed them to his friends.

***

Eventually, the quartet had seated themselves and the chatter bubbling around the room settled down as Kingsley Shacklebolt made his way towards the front of the hall dark purple robes whooshing in the air following his steps. As the Minister reached the enchanted microphone the hall fell silent in anticipation.

“Welcome, everyone. As I’m sure all of you know, this year marks the quarter century jubilee of the Battle of Hogwarts during which Lord Voldemort was defeated thus marking the end of the Second Wizarding War.” Kingsley eyed the quiet room. “Despite all the grieving and ache faced by too many families, it brings me the greatest joy to see everyone gathered in this room tonight. The Ministry, alongside the educational board of Hogwarts, felt that a celebration was in order, to pay special remembrance to those we lost, and to appreciate those around us who fought valiantly for our community to get it where we stand today.”

“The generation now studying within the walls of this castle, has been fortunate to grow up in a safe and tolerant wizarding society. However, we must never forget the price paid and the sacrifices made to achieve this status quo. Through hours of relentless work by our Aurors in the field as well as the numerous officials at Ministry headquarters, we have established a wizarding community that not only takes pride in its inclusiveness, but seeks to teach this moral right here at Hogwarts to ensure a peaceful future to all witches and wizards, regardless of their family background.” Kingsley waved his wand and his champagne flute glided smoothly across the air into his hand. “Therefore, I invite all of you, to raise a toast with me to everyone who has helped shape our future into where it stands today, and to each and every student, present and future, who will wander through the corridors of this castle and contribute to guaranteeing many more generations of peace.”

The end of Kingsley’s speech was marked by a stern nod and followed by the bright, glistening sound of hundreds of glasses clinking together. Then, with a swift wave of the Minister’s wand the enchanted instruments picked up a cheerful song and every plate within the hall was filled with a mountain of delicious food.

“Well, I’ll drink to our children being safer than us in this castle any day,” Ron said and emptied his champagne flute in one go.

“You’d better pace yourself,” Ginny smirked from across the table, “doubt your and Harry’s tolerance is at the same level it used to be at twenty years ago when a Firewhiskey bottle was a staple decoration on the drawing room table at Grimmauld’s place.”

“Or maybe,” Ron turned towards Hermione and whispered into her ear, “I’m in need of a bit of liquid encouragement to actually ask you to dance with me.”

Ron placed his hand on her thigh underneath the table as Hermione challenged him.

“Can’t remember heaps of encouragement being necessary the other night while we danced in the living room.” She saw the slightest of blushes creep up her husband’s cheeks, for which she highly doubted the alcohol now circling his veins was solely responsible for.

“So I heard Hugo has a date?” Ginny suddenly asked Hermione allowing her to pretend to ignore her husband’s hand creeping slightly higher along her thigh.

“Oh yes, he told us he was going with one of Lily’s friends. He seemed quite nervous in the letter he sent to us last week,” Hermione smiled at Ginny as they eyed the group of the fifth year Gryffindors to see what their younger children were up to.

“Well, I’m just glad to be at a Yule Ball where the two of you,” Harry piped in and gestured towards Ron and Hermione, “are actually talking to each other. Really would not have fancied another evening of silent treatment and moping on either of your parts,” he continued making both Ginny and Hermione laugh.

“Well, best friend, I’ll have you know my wife and I are both planning to behave just swimmingly tonight,” Ron said in a mock-serious manner to Harry, followed by a collective chuckle among the group.

***

After three delicious courses of dinner and a few shots of Firewhiskey had by Ron and Harry (Hermione and Ginny had forbidden them from sharing the drinks with Hugo and Albus who had eagerly approached the table in hopes of sneaking off with something stronger than Butterbeer), everyone was in good spirits. The dancefloor at the centre of the room had been getting more crowded as the night went on. The band of unmanned instruments at the side of the room was now playing a steady waltz and small enchanted snowflakes were steadily falling from the ceiling of the Great Hall. Ginny and Harry had been among the first guests to enter the dancefloor, but Ron and Hermione were still sitting at the table, attempting to unnoticeably keep an eye on a flustered Hugo who was dancing with his date. Rose and her friends, on the other hand, had disappeared to Gryffindor tower a while back smuggling what looked like quite a few bottles of mulled Christmas wine with them.

“Boy that daughter of ours is smart,” Ron muttered to Hermione, “reckon if Harry and I had just grabbed a drink and disappeared all those years ago with the lads we could’ve avoided that massive argument.”

“Or, you could have just asked me to the ball with you, we could have had a nice swirl on the dance floor and everything would have been fine. On the other hand, I highly doubt Harry’s diplomacy skills would be half as good as they are today if it hadn’t been for all of our arguing,” Hermione said with a snicker.

“Well, not everyone can have the social skills of our son there,” Ron nodded in the direction of Hugo who was, rather impressively, waltzing with his date, “but I do think I’ll probably need to sneak a dance out of you at some point tonight, so we might as well get on the dancefloor before George and Harry convince me to join them at the bar for another round of Firewhiskey. Can’t guarantee I won’t be stepping on your toes if I have more to drink,” Ron said while standing up confidently, pulling Hermione up with himself and towards the dancefloor.

As the gentle notes of the music twinkled in the air, Hermione and Ron swayed on the dancefloor their steps circling in a soft, waltz-like manner. The confidence gained by both of them over the years, in addition to the familiarity of being close to each other, meant the actual act of dancing required little focus.

As Ron’s palm on the small of Hermione’s back pulled her closer, she shifted her hand from her husband’s strong shoulder to fidget with the soft fabric at the collar of his dress shirt. The air between their bodies seemed to be getting increasingly more static as the dance went on. Hermione could feel Ron’s warm breath on her cheek and when looking up, she was pleasantly unsurprised to find her gaze met by an accustomed longing in Ron’s blue eyes. With the notes of the waltz beginning to subtly fade, Ron leaned down towards his wife.

"I think one song was enough dancing for tonight,” he attempted to say nonchalantly but ended up catching his breath mid-sentence. “Fancy a bit of fresh air? I think the hall is a bit -”

“ – crowded? Couldn’t agree more.” Hermione blurted and nodded towards the doors.

***

Ron was suddenly very glad of every forbidden night-time-wander around the castle, knowing exactly which direction to head in. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears and pooling in other parts of his body and by the hastiness in Hermione’s steps alongside him, he knew she was feeling the same way. Eventually, they reached the end of a corridor finding a simple wooden door with a heavy but unlocked pewter latch. After a quick peek behind them, the couple hurriedly stepped into the storage closet.

As soon as Ron closed the door, Hermione’s fingers rushed to intertwine with strands of his hair and pulled him down to a deep kiss. Feeling Hermione bite down on his bottom lip, Ron’s arms snaked around her waist, eagerly lifting her up onto the almost-too-conveniently-for-it-to-be-a-coincidence placed shelf, hiking up the hem of Hermione’s dress in the process.

“God, as much as I loved dancing with you it was really a struggle to keep my hands somewhere appropriate for the public eye. Had forgotten dancing with you gets me all hot and bothered,” Ron breathed placing kisses down Hermione’s neck in the process.

“Mmm,” Hermione hummed kissing her husband’s stubbly chin, “I personally was struggling to keep my thoughts away from how during the ball years ago all I hoped for was a snog in a broom closet with my ginger best friend, no matter how hideous his dress robes –”

“Better not mock the dress robes, might just ditch you here and now,” Ron laughed, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down Hermione’s spine. “Not that I have even a fraction of the self-control necessary for that,” he continued with his voice quivering as Hermione’s hands traced down his torso, unbuttoning the silvery buttons on his dress shirt.

With his desire developing within him, Ron made a conscious attempt to stay focused as his hands entangled themselves from Hermione’s hair and traced their way to the back of her neck. After eagerly unzipping the fabric of Hermione’s silky dress, Ron pulled the top half of the smooth fabric down to expose a red lace bra, which he knew to be part of a set with matching knickers.

“Cheeky witch, you planned this, didn’t you?” he chuckled his hot breath lingering in the air for the slightest moment before being captured by Hermione’s lips. Their kisses grew increasingly desperate and Hermione leaned against the wall as Ron’s mouth worked its way skilfully down her chest and then up her neck towards her ear, where he played with her earlobe between his teeth making her feel dizzy.

Hermione’s hands found the waistband of Ron’s trousers under the robes and with swift, rehearsed movements she unbuckled his belt, the sound of metal sharp in the dim air of the storage closet. As Hermione slid her hand downward and picked up a steady pace around Ron’s hardened erection, he placed his hand on her thigh, as an attempt to balance himself. Ron leaned his forehead against Hermione’s, his lips only barely not touching hers, as his hand found its way to the centre between Hermione’s widened legs pushing aside the delicate lacy fabric. Tentatively, he dipped two fingers inside her warmth, gaining an appreciative sigh in response.

“Really not the time for teasing,” Hermione groaned, pushing herself down onto Ron’s palm, only to find her pining met by a smug smirk on her favourite ginger’s face.

“Oh is it not, now? Are you saying this is what you’ve had on your mind for the whole evening then? Just been thinking of me fucking you in a storage closet? You really should voice these thoughts more often, you know,” Ron replied struggling to keep huskiness out of his voice with Hermione’s fingers altering between gentle caresses and firm strokes along his cock.

“N-not just this –”, Hermione whimpered as Ron’s skilled fingers picked up their pace and he leaned in to nibble on the sensitive skin around her collarbones, “– need you, closer,” she pleaded sparing the tiniest of thoughts towards whether the closet they were in was soundproof.

Reaching down towards Ron’s length once more, delicately playing around with her fingers, she watched his eyes turn darker with lust. Within moments she found his large hand drawing her towards the edge of the shelf as he positioned himself, teasing her folds with his tip for an excruciatingly long second, before sinking deep into her. Any anxieties regarding the door of the closet being locked, or whether anyone would be able to hear them were long gone from Hermione’s mind as she groaned at the feeling of Ron filling her.

“Not even sure I remembered to tell you how fucking beautiful you looked tonight”, Ron muttered amidst trying to catch his breath while the shelf Hermione was positioned on slammed rhythmically against the wall. “I mean, fuck, you always do but, fuck, did I want to unzip that dress off you before we were even out of the house tonight.”

Ron picked up his pace and slid his hand down to rub Hermione’s clit, resulting in her nails pressing down on the skin on his back, reminding him of the days of being extra cautious in the changing rooms at the Auror Academy if he did not want everyone to see the marks his girlfriend often left on his pale skin amidst their desires.

It did not take long for the rhythm of Ron’s thrusts to become uneven and Hermione slid her hand to the back of his neck, grasping strands of his hair between her fingers in the process.

“Fuck, Ron, it’s too much”, Hermione choked right before her legs tensed around his waist and her centre dissolved into warm pleasure. As she pulled Ron’s lips down for a heated kiss and nibbled on his lip, his moans became increasingly louder and an assortment of profanities rolled off his lips into Hermione’s mouth as his knees buckled ever so slightly at his release.

“God, I love you,” Hermione whispered gently while placing soft kisses on her husband’s sweaty forehead as the pair remained intertwined.

“Love you too,” Ron mumbled, steadying himself and standing up to catch his breath.

After a few waves of wands to clean up, some moments of gentle kisses and Ron eventually managing to convince Hermione that her hair looked acceptably unmessy (“I swear, ‘Mione, if it looked like it normally does post-shag I would tell you! It looks fine, no one will know where we’ve been”), Ron peeked out of the door to check that the corridor was empty.

***

“If only I had actually bothered with Divination at school and been able to see what just happened, perhaps I would have been a lot more convinced of the subject’s credibility”, Ron sniggered, closing the storage closet door behind Hermione and himself. As the couple turned around the corner they were momentarily shocked to bump into Hugo, who looked to be in a hurry.

“Where on earth are you on your way to?” Hermione quizzed him, making a mental note of the fact that Hugo was alone and did not seem to be on his way to the very same closet his parents had just vacated.

“Ehmm, the loo?”, Hugo said his answer sounding more like a question as he eyed his parents with a confused look on his face.

“You sure you’re not just planning on sneaking into that storage closet at the end of the hall for a cheeky snog with your date?” Ron laughed deviously, glancing at Hermione who was attempting to inconspicuously check her dress was looking presentable.

“Storage closet? The only thing at the end of that hall, as far as I know, is a boy’s loo”, Hugo said pressingly and directed a judging glance at his parents. “I reaaally don’t want to know why the pair of you seem to be under the impression there’s a storage closet. On that note, I’m off. I’ll see you later.”

“Cheeky lad. The loo?”, Ron said grabbing Hermione by the waist as they headed down the corridor. “I’ll bet you five galleons that in a few seconds we’ll run into that girl he was attempting to charm with his well-rehearsed dance steps –” but his thought was interrupted when he noticed the expression on Hermione’s face.

“Actually, I don’t think he was lying”, she said a complacent grin creeping upon her still flushed cheeks, “but rather we’ve just established something no one was entirely sure of until today.”

“What’s that?” Ron asked looking increasingly perplexed while inattentively smoothing down the unruly hair at the back of his neck.

“Funny, isn’t it, how conveniently placed that shelf to the right of the door was? Perfect height for you to lift me on? Handy that no one else barged in despite us forgetting to lock the door and the castle being packed tonight?”, Hermione smirked. “It seems the Room of Requirement may not have been destroyed by the Fiendfyre all those years ago after all.”

#yulefest2018 #romione

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obliterus · 6 years ago

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REVERSE AU//MVA part 1

It’s been a while, but now it’s coming back. Some things have been completely re-vamped, some things have gotten darker and more sinister here. I’m going to begin re-telling the story of this AU on this blog since Shion will be involved, and then offer all other exclusive in-depth character profiles (several key characters that are vital to the plot, and who I want to write again or introduce) on my upcoming multi-muse blog. Since... I’m sure there will be questions and there will be answers.

WELCOME TO MY VILLAIN ACADEMIA!

Please enjoy your stay and remember to do your best, because an attempt isn’t tolerated. Let’s get started, shall we?

Everything that you’ve come to love and cherish, those storybook heroes and their happy ever after endings don’t exist here. This is a story in which raw power and glory run the show and all that heroic bullshit? Well, let’s just say it doesn’t exist! In this world, your abilities dictate your entire life, how you attend school, and even the friends you make! If you’re born quirkless, from the moment you take your first breath, life will be especially hard for you, because you’re as good to dirt in this society. Villains are the top dog here, and your life can only get a little bit better if you entrust yourself into the hands of those with abilities greater than your own. You’re considered a disability to the system if you’re quirkless, you may as well just kiss your life goodbye or die trying!

There are no happy endings here, only the struggle to come out on top, and become the best Pro Villain you can. Corruption is encouraged, using your abilities to get ahead and manipulate are all welcomed here, so is physical violence. Not too much though, we don’t need to mop up blood off campus every single hour on the hour. We have a battle arena if you need to fight out your differences, but please book that in advance. Most of your peers will be anywhere between Green and Orange ranking, so please respect them once you encounter them and their ranking. This is the opposite of the hero stories you’ve come to understand, so please make sure you’re familiar with all of the rules and where you, yourself fall! Have a GREAT year!

My Villain Academia is an alternative universe in which tells takes the canon storyline and completely reverses it! Yes, that’s right. Everyone you know and love is actually a heartless villain in training in this. I shouldn’t say completely heartless, but they’re pretty close. Also, your heartless canon villains are actually morally wonderful underground Heroes. UA Academy is a school that prides itself on producing some of the best Villains not only in Japan but across the globe. With its excellent selection of courses and rigorous acceptance exams, one can only dream of being accepted to UA. The story is narrated by the resident King of UA Academia, Midoriya Izuku, and his journey in becoming a Pro Villain.

The school is separated into two classes when it comes to the Villain Course, A and B. These are considered some of the top aspiring students in all of Japan. They’ll do just about anything and everything to get ahead, but they will not turn on each other. They are required to work together in some fields because powerful quirk users combined can be a beautiful thing in the face of battle, or in establishing dominance, right? It’s designed to set you on the right path and separate the powerful from the weak hearted.

General Studies is offered to students that have failed the Villain course exam but still have the potential to join the Villain course during the spring of their following year. However, General Studies students can usually be seen in one of two lights: Scrubs and targets, or potential villains based on how students present themselves in those classes. They’re sorted into C and D, and E categories.

Support Course are students that have been gifted with extreme knowledge and craftsmanship. These are the individuals that instead choose to support their future pro Villains along their course by designing weapons that can enhance not only their quirks but their combat abilities. Support students are highly treasured at UA, and often shown an extra level of respect so that villain course students can ultimately get what they want to be made. There is no limit to what they can make, and their stock room is filled to the brim with assorted tools. Some legal, some very illegal. Anything goes when you’re in support course territory! They are sorted into F, G and H categories.

Lastly, but certainly not least, the Management Course. They are the individuals single-handedly responsible for starting a Villain’s career. They deal with all marketing, opening up agencies, and provide a line of direction for newborn villains. They are sharp individuals, with great problem-solving skills and are masters of working the system in their favor. They’re a more isolated group of students, who choose to keep their secrets to themselves. They are sorted into I, J and K categories.

Much of the Discourse that should arise in UA isn’t handled by the teachers but handled by the ranking system that is established among the Villain Course students. It is called The Royal Flush and composed up of a King, Queen, Jack, Ace and Ten of Hearts. Each title is worn by a Villain Course student, and with it, comes specific duties that are to be obeyed around the school. Before I outline who this is made up, I’ll explain how society’s ranking system works based on what type of quirk you’re born with. Or NOT born with.

When a child’s quirk manifests, they are immediately classified into a color that will dictate how the rest of their life will go. Let’s start from lowest to highest! Now, these are subject to change if a quirkless child is a late bloomer and their quirk manifests later, OR an individual that was already sorted has a quirk change or an enhancement in their abilities that calls for them to be sorted into a different classification. This is done by the government in which the person goes through a series of tests to be passed on to a different classification.

COLOR QUIRK CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM ;;

QUIRKLESS (Black) If no quirk manifests in a child, they are tapped as black and are donned as a disability to the society overall. They are shunned and mocked, these are the people who have a very hard time finding suitable jobs and education for themselves. They tend to stick together to survive and are virtually non-existing to society unless they do something to prove themselves. A lot of them do the services that many quirk users do not want to do, and this buys them protection and a safe space. The highest suicide ranking is among the quirkless.

LOW TIER (Blue) The weakest on the quirk totem pole. Low tier quirk users are registered under the color blue to signal their ranking. These are the people who are offered the lowest ranking jobs and education. They have a chance to climb up the pole if their quirk changes after they’ve already been tapped as a child. Otherwise, these are the people who are easily taken advantage of and who often deflect for the Hero underground.

MID-TIER (Green) The middle of the pole. Once sorted into this category, I would consider this the middle class of the quirk ranking system. A lot of citizens are mid-tier users. They have the ability to hold decent jobs, can become advisors to higher ranking quirk users, are offered good education, and are respected enough to be left alone. They don’t help the weak if they know what’s good for them and their safety. A lot of UA students are Green users that are trying to advance to Orange if their ability allows, but honestly, being Green is a good thing. It doesn’t get you looked at like the Blues, and it takes some of the pressures of Orange off you.

HIGH TIER (Orange) The second highest ranking on the quirk pole. They are the world’s leaders, offered the highest ranking jobs, exposed to the absolute best education system. The police tend to turn a blind eye to high tier users who act out in society because they are seen as the best of the best. Their power isn’t something to be questioned. High tier users can offer protective services to mid-tier users.

SUPREME TIER (Red) Extremely rare. 5% of the population. These are people that are considered walking Gods because of their quirk abilities. Both feared and praised, they are hunted down for their abilities and turned into lethal villain machines. They can offer protective services to just about anyone they choose and it will -never- be questioned. It is very much a thing that children born and tested as Red, will be registered as Orange and their quirk abilities fairly suppressed.

Now that that’s outlined, going back to The Royal Flush squad. The Big Three were the top dogs of UA while they were there, Mirio becoming King in his second year, along with Nejire as Queen and Tamaki as Jack. The Big Three came to dominate the school, they were the people that aspiring individuals looked to for advice. They handled a lot of disputes, while not only increasing their profiles as Villains but also letting people know that they were not the ones to be questioned. Izuku inherits the King title, reluctant to do so after he inherits his ability, None for All, and was now tasked with building his own elite team to wear the Royal titles through the years at UA. Izuku is the only one to become King during his first year.

Who he picks are a total secret, and one you’ll come to discover later on.

Now, what about the Hero Underground? Is there a silver lining in all of this? Of course! The Hero Underground, known as the League of Heroes, is a widespread society that was started by one man, known as All For One. However, in the Villain realm, he’s known bitterly as Robin Hood. He can steal quirks from the most sinister of Villains and gift them to aspiring Heroes who are desperate to try and make society a better place. There have been rumors floating around forever that Shimura Nana has killed him, but in reality, AFO is safely hidden in an unknown location that’s under intense security.

The League of Heroes fights for everyone. They do not discriminate against Quirkless and Low Tier users and are always welcoming to any Villain that chooses to deflect. Once somebody chooses to deflect, they are stripped of their ranking and are considered as good as dirt to society. Heroes are seen as vermin, with their want for equal rights among everyone else and to have quirks liberated rather than controlled by the government and other systems. Hero Agencies exist in locations spread all over Japan, some greatly hidden behind walls, underground, within a maze of tunnels, or through extensive passwords.

Three misfits, ostracized and hunted for their abilities joined the Hero ranking and own one of the most successful Agencies of all time. (Also a real pain in the ass for the Villains of the society) Chisaki Kai, Todoroki Touya, and Shigaraki Tomura. Three individuals who were born RED, who deflected from villain society and built an Agency from the ground up in honor of liberation. They are walking messiahs to those on the lower end of the deal, and they’ve already saved countless people. They have dodged great difficulties to get to where they need to be. The question is, the government wants them, but more so have been forced to turn the other cheek. The system is just as much afraid of them.

They operate out of an office that’s disguise as a Speakeasy, hidden behind a door with a peephole that Touya maintains. Those looking for their aid are given specific instructions to this door, and will only be let in if their password is said correctly. This office also operates as a safe house for those who just are looking to escape the gruesome system they were born into. Welcome to the Hero world! Let Todoroki Touya be your guide.

(Part 1 end)

#MUSINGS. || a place to lay my head #verse || my villain academia.

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gws201-blog · 6 years ago

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Graduating High School.. Nine Months Pregnant?

20 Pop Culture Stereotypes We Must Debunk (Because They’re Fucking Stupid)

1. Race determines class

“White people were equated with richness and land” (Williams, pg. 431). Who’s to say you can’t be a person of color and also be loaded?! Sure, the Real Housewives have women of color who are ~loaded~, but the majority of shows depict non-white individuals and families as poor. Have you ever seen the TV show Everybody Hates Chris? The whole show is about a poor, African American family living in Brooklyn, NY—constantly worrying about money. Their father, Julius, is even so tight on money that he kept a picture of himself in his own wallet to keep as a reminder to not spend money. Shows like this may be hilarious, but continual negative portrayal of race and class hurts those who are included in the stereotype.

2. Race determines education level

“Members of society are judged, and succeed or fail, measured against the characteristics that are held by those privileged (Wildman & Davis, pg. 111).” Why do we put less pressure on some people to go to college, and others are just assumed they’ll go, or maybe it’s assumed they’ll never even finish high school? How can we look at a 16-year-old black high school student and compare them to a white 16-year-old student, and think that we have enough information to label one of them as academically frivolous, and one as a failure?

3. Race determines actions

Being white will never make you an angel, being a person of color will never make you dangerous. The media constantly portrays black people to carry guns, Middle Eastern people to be terrorists, and white people to be trashy, yet, more responsible with guns…? However, according to Chris Wilson with Time, mass shootings from the past 35 years were overwhelmingly white, male shooters. So why do we allow the media to make it look as if the white man is innocent in shows and movies, when in reality they’re the ones who are dangerous?

4. Race determines where you live

Similar to race determining your class, race also doesn’t dictate where someone lives. For example, in the show Shameless, a white family is actually living in the poor, “ghetto” area of town that they refer to as the South Side. However, back to Everybody Hates Chris as I mentioned prior, TV loves to show people of color living in shitty places as if it’s normal. We can’t let the world tell us you must live within constraint or restriction because of your skin; it’s 2018—love thy [literal] neighbor, dammit.

5. Class determines your future, or lack-there-of

“Everyone knows that money brings privilege” (Wildman and Davis, pg. 111). Sure, it can. I won’t pretend that money doesn’t make it easier to afford things such as college. People act like student loans don’t exist, that grants don’t exist, FAFSA (even though they suck, but it’s whatever), loans, etc. do.not.exist.But these are excuses. Millions of students who are set up for failure because they can’t afford college or because their parent’s don’t have the money, but that doesn’t stop them.

6. Class determines your likelihood to end up an addict

Face it—TV either depicts drug/alcohol addicts as either extremely poor, or extremely rich. No one ever seems to care about a middle-class addict. What’s worse though, assuming that being rich or poor increases your likelihood to be an addict, or by not paying as much attention to addicts who are neither of these classes. The rich have money to blow on, well, blow…. and the poor just somehow are expected to be more likely to hang out with the wrong crowd, try a drug once, and then do everything and anything they can in order to get money to keep on getting the drug—none of this is something that we should stereotype.

7. Class determines the likelihood you’ll get pregnant at a young age

Your class and status don’t determine when you have sex and if you’re using protection, your decision to have sex without protection or situations of birth control failure are how you get pregnant at a young age (I’m leaving out situations of rape from this so I don’t write a novel). According to studies done by the US National Library of Medicine, socioeconomic status doesn’t determine the age you get pregnant at, but may determine to different pregnancy and birth complications due to lack of money to afford things such as healthcare, diapers, medicine, etc.

8. Being feminine means you’re gay

“The new man is non-sexist, believes in gender equality and relates to women as human beings” (Milestone and Meyer, pg. 116). Apparently, the ‘new man’ is seen as a gay man to many. What even is femininity? A guy isn’t gay for wearing pink, giving a shit about how he looks, having female friends, or for his hobbies—I personally appreciate a man who takes care of his appearance, shows his feelings, ya know, showers and stuff. Kidding—I promise I have higher standards than a guy just showering. But anyways, what I’m trying to say is that none of these surface-level features give anyindication that a man is gay. And if he is, who even cares?!

9. Being masculine means you’re a lesbian

*See #8*

Kidding, but really. Stop judging people based on how they look, dress, act, whatever.

10.Gay people are promiscuous

First off, not your business. Second, you can just as easily say something dumb like that girls in sororities are sluts (trust me, I was in one and I got this comment a handful of times). I don’t even know how this stereotype came about, but I know that my gay friends joke about it al the time. If your gay friends make a joke about it, cool, it’s funny to talk about his “dick appointment”, but it’s different between a good friend making a statement, and you being an assumptive asshole.

11.Gay people have HIV aids

Every commercial I’ve ever seen on TV about medical treatment for HIV only show gay couples. According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, gay and bisexual males are more susceptible to getting HIV because they tend to have anal sex, sometimes unprotected, which then puts them at serious risk. Sorry not sorry, but these commercials can’t just pretend straight couples don’t have unprotected anal sex. HIV doesn’t discriminate, so neither should we.

12.Gay people can’t have children

I don’t even know where to begin with this one. How do women who can’t conceive have children? Adoption, IVF, surrogate—there’s tons of options, and these are options for gay couples as well.

13.Gay people can’t be religious

There’s this notion that gay people must not believe in God because some people believe that homosexuality is a sin—even though God definitely says to love thy neighbor and that he loves all of his children, aka all of us. Shows such as Modern Familyare great examples of this. A gay couple, Cam and his husband Mitchell, attend church and even take their adopted daughter, Lily, with them. Sure they live in California where there’s more acceptance, but the fact that the show even displays this is great for ending this stereotype by showing it as normalized.

14.Teen moms won’t graduate

I talk about Shamelessand Teen Moma lot, but hey, they’re perfect examples for a lot of these stereotypes. Shamelesssupports this stereotype by showing a 15 year old named Debbie who gets pregnant and drops out of high school. !!!BUT!!! Debbie eventually gets her GED and becomes a certified welder. Hell yeah. Teen Mom, which is a reality show, rarely shows teens graduating or getting any type of certification to better their education. Girls who are in similar situations may see this and be like “well shit, if they didn’t finish school and they’re fine, I’m not finishing either!”— then the girl and her baby daddy end up relying on their parents for everything. I graduated with a girl who was nine months pregnant, literally about to pop, and now she’s a young mom, yes, but she got to go on and attend college and is almost finished with her degree. By supporting pregnant teens and giving them the push they need, they can attempt to better their future and give their baby a great life (not that it won’t be great without education, but you know what I mean).

15.Teen pregnancy is easy & fun

If you’ve seen Teen Mom, you know that teen pregnancy isn’t easy. Yes, the show does glorify it sometimes by being like “oh, get pregnant at 16, you’ll get on TV!!!!” but they also show the raw, uncut scenes of the girls and couples hardcore struggling. Imagine missing class, missing prom, missing fun experiences you could be having with your friends when you’re not even twenty years old. Imagine the judgment by friends, family, and strangers because they assume you weren’t being careful. There’s a lot more to being a teen mom than being on TV and picking out cute baby clothes—don’t let TV and the media make you think you should get pregnant for fun.

16.Teen parents = unfit parents

I’ll be honest, this is a stereotype that I’ve believed for a long time. Teens are young, haven’t experienced life yet, aren’t fully educated, and aren’t always very mature—so why would they make good parents? Good question. Answer: no one is ever ~ready~ for their first kid. If you’ve never had children before, you’re in the same position as everybody else who has also never had kids. It doesn’t matter if you’ve babysat for years or if you have a college degree, having your first child isn’t something anyone can fully prepare for. You can have money, buy the best diapers, whatever, but you’ll still be learning how to care for the baby day by day no matter what age you are.

17.Trans people are confused

“you’re confused”

“it’s a phase”

“you’re just gay.”

-all quoted from a dumb ass, probably

For this, let’s go back to Linda Alcoff’s “The Problem Of Speaking For Others”. You don’t know how someone realized they weren’t the gender assigned to them at birth. You don’t know how they feel in their own skin every day. You don’t know the hardships and troubles and braveryit took for them to come to terms with being trans and be open about it to others. If you speak for them and try to say “oh, she’s confused” or “he’ll grow out of it”, all you’re doing is demeaning them, belittling them, and you’re lying to yourself and to them. Being trans isn’t easy. Support your trans friends or coworkers or whoever, and let them know that they’re always welcome in your life as they are.

18.Trans people are drag kings/queens

Similar to the last stereotype, being trans isn’t something you dress up in for fun and then change out of later. Anyone can dress in drag, not just transgender people. As Janet Mock discussed in Redefining Realness, drag can empower people and make them feel pretty and good about themselves. However, it doesn’t make you trans just because you partake in drag.

19.Trans people are predators

“Can you be guaranteed to find a public bathroom that is safe and equipped for you to use? (Taylor, pg. 296). Think about it—there’s a higher chance of a trans person being assaulted by someone because of who they are than a cisgender person being attacked in a bathroom by someone who’s trans. As much as I hate to get into this—I’ll be brief. No, trans people aren’t creeps. No, they’re not lying about their identity. No, they do not want to use the female restroom for ANY other reason aside from beingfemale.

20.Being who you are is easy

“We tend to forget the thousands of minute decisions that consciously construct the artificial world that has been created” (Smith, pg. 128). Though this quote is about movies, it’s true for real life. We make decisions every day that can drastically alter our lives. The thing is, we make these decisions in order to please others; we make choices that define us once we think about how it impacts others, what they’ll think, and what the worst-case scenario of these decisions may be. This is where it becomes difficult to be who you are. It’s hard to be yourself when you’re worried about what other people think more than you worry about yourself and your happiness. Put yourself first, worry about yourself, and make yourself proud—fuck everything else.

Citations

Alcoff, Linda. “The Problem of Speaking for Others.” Cultural Critique, no. 20, 1991, p. 10., doi:10.2307/1354221.

Bornstein, Kate, and Evin Taylor. Gender Outlaw: on Men, Women, and the Rest of Us. Vintage Books, 2016.

“HIV and Gay and Bisexual Men Understanding HIV/AIDS.” National Institutes of Health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, 5 Apr. 2018, aidsinfo.nih.gov/understanding- hiv-aids/fact-sheets/25/81/hiv-and-gay-and-bisexual-men.

“Making Systems of Privilege Visible.” Making Systems of Privilege Visible, by Stephanie M Wildman and Adrienne D Davis, p. 111.

Milestone, Katie, and Anneke Meyer. Gender and Popular Culture. Polity, 2012.

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redhead-33 · 6 years ago

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Yoonmin fanfic idea: cliche I love the bad boy Yoongi and soft boy Jimin perhaps a little too much **mentioning of parental physical abuse** Yoongi is the stereotypical bad boy or so everyone thinks. Everyone, even his friends Namjoon and Hoseok think that Yoongi is the biggest punk in the school. He is two years older then everyone in his grade so what exactly do you expect? It doesn't help that he rides a motorcycle, wears a leather jacket, and there are even rumors that he smokes! Of course Park Jimin tries to stay exactly 17389 miles away from him at all times. The Junior already has enough to worry about with pretty much the rest of the school bullying him, he'd rather not have the schools toughest guy pounding his face in as well. But one fateful day at the nurses office brings the two together in ways they never expected. Jimin was there trying to get his nose to stop bleeding when Yoongi walked in with a black eye. The nurse sighed when she saw him and asked what his father had gotten mad about this time. Yoongi smirked at the nurse, a woman everyone knows is his aunt, and told her that its because he didn't make a 33 or higher on the ACT. Jimin had never seen a woman so angry in his life. The nurse got up and put her hands on her hips, her tone was more then fed up, "That man. How dare he! You had a 32 dammit. You've already been accepted and given full scholarships to what? 6 schools? Good ones at that! If your father thinks he can do better you should tell him to come see me because I might just need to give him a mental exam!" Yoongi let out a small chuckle, "calm down Aunt K. I know it seems frustrating but it's ok. Once I leave it'll be fine. I just hope he doesn't get any stupid ideas again." The nurse threw her hands in the air, "Yeah! Like uprooting his whole family from Korea without any notice and moving to America and making his son take kindergarten twice because he had no English teaching before school. Or maybe like moving again once the same child was in 8th grade and already had fantastic friends where he was just because he heard the weather was better in North East!" Jimin of course wasn't sure if he was supposed to be hearing all if this so he tried to sneak out of the nurses office but sadly hit his hip on the edge of a table and was compromised. The two heads simultaneously snapped to jimin st the same time, one gaze a lot kinder then the other. Jimin awkwardly smiled and forcibly laughed, "sorry, I'll be going now, I think my nose stopped bleeding. Thanks for the bandaids Nurse K." The woman nodded, her smile was kind, "I'm sorry we ran out of the regular ones. I just had those I'm my purse and it's my emergency stash for my daughter. I hope it's ok that they are pink and blue." Jimin shook his head, "it's ok, really. I like the colors. They're my favorite actually. You could probably tell, ya know, my hair and all." The woman let out a small laugh, "I guess so. But Jimin, are you sure you dont want to tell the principal this time?" Jimin nodded yes. "Why not sweetie? If you tell the principal who is doing this they could get suspended or something. You don't have to endure this bullying." Jimin sighs, "What happens when they come back from suspension? They just say 'Oh golly gee I realized what I've done wrong sorry ol jimin pal!' No, they'll kill me. I'd rather be bleeding then dead." The woman sighs back, "Ok. Just, try not to get hurt anymore ok. I'm running low on supplies." Jimin nods his head before leaving. Right before he exits the main office to go to class there's a hand on his arm and Jimin curls in on himself, ready to be hit. But it never comes, instead a deep, slightly gravelly voice fills his ears, "Don't tell anyone." Jimin opens his eyes and looks up to see Yoongi, looking quite anxious at that. "Don't tell anyone what?" Yoongi rolled his eyes, "what you heard in there. Don't tell them about the schools or the score and dont you fucking say a word about my dad. Jimin nods, "I want planning on it." He started to leave but Yoongi's grip stayed firm. He looked back at the boy and Yoongi was giving him a confused look, "What?" "Why do you let them do it?" Jimin furrows his eyebrows, "Who do what?" Yoongi mutters a swear under his breath, "Why do you let those shit heads hurt you? I've seen you dance when I'm passing by the dance class, you have muscle even if your cute oversized sweaters cover it. You could take them but instead you let them hurt you because what? You're gay? Why dont you fight back?" Jimin almost laughs, "I'm not much if a fighter. Even if I could've take them I wouldn't want to. Small, ignorant minds talk with their fists." Yoongi scoffs, "Well I don't find it too smart to allow yourself to get beat up every day. It's not stupid to fight back, it's self defense, it's bravery." Jimin shakes his head, "Your bravery is nothing but a mask to hide your emotions. My bravery is coming to school every day even when I know what awaits me. I'm not going to stoop to their level. They only hurt me because they are afraid of me." Yoongi cocks an eyebrow, "Why do you say that?" Jimin smirks, "Let's face it, I'm hotter then half of the girl population at this school and almost all if the boys. I scare them because I threaten their idea of masculinity and make them question their idea of sex." That was when Yoongi knew he wanted Jimin. There was something about the way the boy had said those words that left Yoongi stunned. Jimin shook Yoongi hand off and left. That was also the day Yoongu decided to beat the living shit out of anyone who hurt Jimin. A few months pass and Jimin doesn't get beat up quite as often and he is starting to get suspicious. He doesn't get why its stopping but then it all goes to hell as he's walking home one day. Three boys jump him and start to beat him up. Jimin doesnt really know what happened at first but all of the sudden he's on the ground and his favorite sweater has holes in it while one of the guys from the football team kicks him repeatedly in the side. As he comes to terms that this is where he'll die Jimin shuts his eyes and tries to curl into himself as the three continue to kick and punch him. But then it stops and Jimin hears a few grunts and then shoes running on the pavement and then there's a hand on his cheek, gentle and warm. Jimin slowly opens his eyes and sees the face of Min Yoongi. His lip is busted but aside from that he looks unscathed. The boy looked at Jimin in concern as he tried to sit up but doubled over in pain. Yoongi helped him sit up and then spoke, "What happened? I swear to god I'm gonna kill those bastards, I tell them that if they ever hurt you at school again I'll kill them and then they go and wait for you outside of school. I'm gonna destroy them." Most of what Yoongi was saying was rambling and if Jimin were honest he barely understood because he kept looking at the olders bottom lip where blood was coming from that was covering his chin. Jimin brought his hand up and brushed Yoongi's lips, effectively shutting him up, "You're bleeding. " "Jesus fucking christ Jimin. Who cares about my lip when you are bleeding and bruised-" Jimin pouted, "Me. I do." They sit there for a few seconds just looking at each other, realizing what Jimin Just said. Yoongi broke the gaze off when he felt his cheeks start to turn red and moved to take his jacket off, "Here, put this on. Your shirt is ripped pretty badly." Jimin looked at the jacket in awe, "I didnt know you could take it off. I've never seen you without it on. This is so weird!" "Oh for god's sake just put the damn thing on." Jimin struggled at first but was finally able to put it on. The two spoke just a bit longer before Jimin agreed to go with Yoongi to his house, Yoongi only offered because his father wasn't home. It was there that the two great closer. Jimin found out that Yoongi actually didnt smome but had only tried it out once in the ninth grade and never did it again because of all the coughing he did afterwards. People only assumed he got addicted after that. Jimin also found out that Yoongi was really into music and that he didnt want ti fo ti some ivy league school for college but actually wanted to peruse music. Yoongi found out that Jimin is planning on going to a preforming arts college after high school and that he had been dancing ever since he was three years old. He also found out that jimin is heavily inspired by love poems and short stories and he loves to write in his spare time. That night the two boys fell in love and nothing else in the world mattered to them in that moment. Not bullies or strict abusive fathers. Not grades or sexuality. Only love.

#yoonmin fanfiction #yoonmin fic #yoonmin fanfic #yoonmin #yoongi #jimin #suga #bts jimin #fan fiction #fanfic #bts fanfction #fan fic writing

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

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Walk Me Home - Ch 4

Word Count: 2702

Author’s Note: Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67, and @cracksinthewalls for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do.

@thoughtslikeaminefield , I hope you still love this as much as the first time you read it. I know I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist