#a bit weird that people would allow themselves to be bullied to silence about it but that's personal choice i guess

[askshivanulegacy]

I've seen this post going around, so I watched the documentary (and that's really what it is - a documentary of this Somerton YouTube rando's vid "career") and not only does it point out how insanely bad Somerton was as a person, but it's also a surprisingly thoughtful take and pretty entertaining.

It's really incredible just how deliberately Somerton preyed on his fellow queer creators, while making himself out to be the queer martyr of the YouTube nets. The guy's a weirdo and a thief and deserves to have his career prospects trashed forever.

The swiftness and brutality of Hbomberguy’s complete evisceration of James Somerton’s career cannot be overstated.

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

[nightowlwriting]

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

[unmaskedagain]

Not Waiting forever

I’m pretty sure this has been done like a million times already. But I decided I’m going to try to answer as many prompts, that are already in my asks, as I can before I burn out. I AM NOT CURRENTLY TAKING PROMPTS.

THESE will not be full-fledged fics but more than likely ONE-SHOT drabbles. I need to push through my writer’s block. This is disregarding Miracle Queen.

 …It wasn’t Marinette’s choice.

Ladybug, the new guardian after Fu’s tragic heart attack, had gave her opinion but that was it. Kwami were stubborn. No matter what Marinette said in defense of Alya and Nino, Trixx and Wayzz. None of the Kwami were willing to be given out to anyone they didn’t give express approval of anymore. It wasn’t a risk they could take. And now that Marinette was the Guardian on top of being a full time hero, they couldn’t allow just anyone to watch her back. They all decided that Marinette needed someone she could trust and who trusted her. And just as importantly, they needed wielders who better fit them.

Alya failed to see through Lila Rossi. She fell too easily for lies to be a master of illusion. Instead of searching for the truth, gathering evidence, she rather just believe what she’s told. She demanded proof from Marinette rather than believing her friend over someone she just met. She was stubborn and once Alya’s mind was set on something, there was no stopping her.

Trixx refused to go back to her. The kwami wanted someone more creative and free thinking. Maybe a different type of writer, she said. A clever story teller.

Nino failed to stand by his friend when she needed him the most. His lack of loyalty to one of his oldest childhood friends had left a bad taste in Wayzz’s mouth. He chose Alya’s side, and thus Lila’s, without even bothering to hear what Marinette had to say. Or even demanding that they at least take her view into consideration.

If Nino couldn’t stand by his dear friend over a minor issue, the Kwami couldn’t trust he’d guard Ladybug’s back, who a technically stranger to him. Wayzz refused to allow Nino to be his holder again.

           Marinette had gotten more than a bit defensive because despite everything that was going on in class, she still believed Alya and Nino would come around. She believed that the two, and everyone else in class, would realize Lila was lying.  It was just a matter of time.

“That’s the issue, Mistress,” Wayzz frowned at her. “You shouldn’t have to wait for them to have your back.” He told her.

           Trixx nodded, “Alya could’ve easily looked up any of Lila’s claims when you told her Lila was lying. But she didn’t because she didn’t want to. Lila’s tales about Ladybug are a hit on her blog. Alya would rather cling to fool’s gold because its shiny than do what she knows is right.”

           Marinette crossed her arms, “Alya can just get a little… excited. You know how much the Ladyblog means to her!”

“Yes. We do,” Trixx nodded. “What we don’t know is how much you do. From what we can tell… not that much. Alya would rather think you’re jealous,” Trixx added, “And that you’re the problem than consider that her and the entire class got duped. It’s not fair.”

“Your friends routinely ditch you,” Wayzz reminded her. “Ignore you in class, believe the worst about you. They have all but severed their friendship with you completely. This has been going on for months. This is not something that can just be blamed on Lila���s falsehoods. It was their own choices that led to this. We do not trust them.

“I trust them?” Marinette offered weakly.

           Trixx and Wayzz shared a look before shaking their heads.

“No,” Wayzz said. “You want to trust them.”

“There’s a difference,” Trixx told her. “You want to trust them like you want them to be the friends you knew again. You want them back. I’m sorry, Marinette. But we want new holders. All the Kwami do.”

“You need a team now,” Wayzz stated. “Not a later. Hawkmoth is growing stronger. You need allies. It’s time.”

“Pollen doesn’t want a new holder,” Marinette said petulantly.

           There was silence.

“…Pollen was always the weird one,” Wayzz shrugged. “Pollen will never change her mind about Chloe.”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes. That had been the longest argument ever. Eventually Marinette had lost the battle when she was forced to admit how much the blond hero had improved over time. Chloe hadn’t bullied or hurt anyone’s feeling in a very long time. There had been no tantrums or threats to call her daddy. Even without a mask, Marinette had spotted Chloe helping people escape Akumas at the risk of herself. She was proving to be a hero outside of being Queen bee. Marinette did trust her to fight by her side which had been the deciding factor.

Plus Pollen refused to give in, and the only one the Kwami would pick. So Marinette gave in. She went to Chloe as Ladybug and gave her the hair clip.

“Welcome to the team,” Ladybug smiled as best she could.

           Chloe held the hairclip with disbelief and tears in her eyes, “I’m going to be a hero? You trust me.”

“You are a hero,” Ladybug said and did the bravest, and possibly the stupid thing in her life, “Spots off.” She detransformed in front of Chloe. The blonde’s mouth dropped. “And I do trust you.”

“Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe hissed but then goarned. “I should’ve known.”

“Yes, Chloe gets to stay.”

           Trixx giggled, “Pollen only likes Queen Bees, and she hasn’t come across any better than Chloe at your school.”

“And, while, Chloe didn’t like you before, she does now.” Wayzz admitted, “She was always very loyal to Ladybug. She has potential to be a good hero if we can break her love of the limelight completely.”

           Marinette huffed.

“And I remind you, there were conditions,” Wayzz advised. “A new costume and a new name. New hair color. Whatever it takes. She can never tell the public who she really is. Killer Wasp has a nice ring to it.”

           Marinette sighed and slumped face first onto her. She could hear Tikki snickering in the background and vowed to only bring oatmeal cookies to her for the next week.

What was Marinette going to do? What could she do? She had been so excited when the Kwami told her they wanted to get more permanent use like Tikki and Plagg… Until they broke the news. (And just a bit of Marinette’s heart)

           Now Marinette had to find new users.

           Trixx wanted a creative free thinker who wasn’t the least bit stubborn. A different type of writer, Trixx has suggested. A clever story teller.

           Wayzz wanted who had the natural born ability to be a protector. Someone smart and hardworking who had proven themselves to be loyal.

           Marinette’s head snapped up and she glared at the two Kwami, “You already know who you want, don’t you?”

           Trixx and Wayzz smirked.

“In my chosen’s defense,” Wayzz started, “She has proven herself to be loyal to a fault. And with the right amount of confidence, she will be an extraordinary ally.”

“My chosen is so creative,” Trixx swooned, “The most brilliant imagination. As a natural storyteller, his mind was born to see all the possibilities. It allows him to come up with theories and ideas no one else would even consider. There is no illusion he can’t see through because as soon as he sees it hundreds of different explanations run through his head.”

           Marinette raised an eyebrow and gave them firm stare. “Who is it?”

“I want Marc!” Trixx said happily.

The bluenette looked thoughtful for a moment but eventually nodded, admitting that Marc would be a good match for Trixx. “Agreed, I will give Marc a trial run to test his abilities.” Then Marinette turned to Wayzz who was looking very sheepish.

“Hear me out, if we get my chosen on our side, she’d be unstoppable,” Wayzz told her. “There would be nothing she wouldn’t do for those she cares for.”

“Who. Is. It?” Marinette asked again.

“I like her,” Wayzz insisted. “She has potential. If she was just a bit bolder…”

“Wayzz…” Marinette said.

Trixx snickered, “There’s a reason Wayzz gave into Chloe…”

Marinette paused. She slowly sat up on her bed, and looked at Wayzz long and hard, “…Sabrina? You want Sabrina!!!”

“Yes.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” The shout could be heard all over Paris.

“She hated me,” Marinette reminded the kwami.

“Disliked you,” Wayzz corrected. “But only because Chloe did. Once Sabrina found out you and Chloe had become friends, you have to admit she has become rather sweet. She’s a hard worker and defended you against Lila three times last week.”

“And you do like her,” Trixx added. “Why else would you have a slumber party with Chloe and Sabrina?”

“…I hit my head a lot during fights,” Marinette shrugged. “Magic can’t take away all the damage.”

           She sighed. Marc and Sabrina, huh? Marinette wondered how that was going to work out. She hated to admit it but Wayzz and Trixx were right. Ladybug couldn’t wait anymore. She needed a team. One she could count on in and outside of the mask. The city needed more heroes.

           It wasn’t right to make them wait just because she clung to a hope that everything would go back to the way it was. Marinette really missed her friends but she couldn’t wait for them anymore. It had been months.

           And even if everyone in class discovered Lila’s was lying, that Marinette wasn’t a jealous, nasty bully, that she was their friend… That Marinette had always been their friend… It wouldn’t matter.

           Truthfully, after everything that had happened, Wayzz was right. Marinette didn’t trust them, she just wanted to. And that wasn’t enough.

           Not enough for Kwami, and not enough for her. (not anymore)

           Nothing could or would go back to the way it was no matter how much Marinette wished it. Once bitten, twice shy. A part of will never entirely trust them again. (Not when they traded her for fool’s gold already before.)

           Paris needed more permanent heroes. Ladybug needed a team. Marinette needed people she could trust.

           She was done waiting.

(She wondered how Alya and Nino would handle being replaced...)

…

…

            ...They didn’t take it well.

(Sabrina, Shield Maiden, and Marc, Renard Masqué, thrived as heroes.)

[krakenartificer]

This may be my ignorance showing -- heaven knows I'm not an expert on organized action -- but this article feels like it takes a really weird stance on how groups working together for collective benefit .... works?

The guild has generally taken a hands-off approach to its rank-and-file’s messaging, for the most part neither dictating talking points nor attempting to give notes that might hem output. (These are, of course, professional writers.) It’s unconventional for a large institution of any sort: allowing the tail to, at least publicly, wag the dog.

That's... not what that phrase means?? "The tail wagging the dog" is about a tiny section of a body controlling what the rest of it (the vast majority of it) does? Which is the exact opposite of what's happening here? The tail wagging the dog would be if only people declared "leaders" or "PR managers" were allowed to decide what people say. This situation is literally the opposite of that.

“If you’ve got members posting very negative things about a deal and saying they’re not going to vote for it, that can spiral, and you could have a domino effect and you could have more and more members saying, ‘Oh, well then I’m not going to vote for that deal either.’”

Yes? That's.... how voting works? Are you.... are you complaining because this peer-to-peer communication makes it hard for a small group of leaders to manipulate the group's perception of what's happening and how they should feel about it?

A former guild staffer tells The Hollywood Reporter that the online dynamic, whatever its merits, also comes with the price of silencing dissent, as a cheerleading, on-message ethos prevails: “I don’t think [people] can have free and fair conversations at all because the bullies are going to bully.” .... “To have some members with platforms bigger than the organization? That’s a unique challenge.”

These two I agree are valid points -- I mean, certainly I'm getting a disproportionate amount of my information on this strike from Neil Gaiman, simply because of the size of his following, and it's a bit of a problem when that's a chosen-by-luck position rather than a chosen-by-the-people position. But the argument suffers from a poor-counterfactual problem: what alternative do they propose? The only other option mentioned in the article is to have the guild control what people do and don't say, and that hardly seems like an improvement on the "silencing dissent/on-message ethos" front...?

I don't know -- like I say, I am a complete n00b on all of this collective-action stuff, and maybe there's context that I'm missing, that would make all of this make perfect sense. But it feels to me like these journalists have completely missed the entire point of unionizing -- that it's not about saying "We don't like your small group of elites telling us what to do, so we're going to install our own small group of elites who can tell us what to do" .... it's about actually having a large group of people who get to decide for themselves what they want to do. ... Isn't it?

"Credit a unique sense of solidarity across Hollywood’s aggrieved labor community in 2023 and writers’ tendency toward communication. Or the imperviousness of corporate leaders whose chief stakeholder concern appears to be shareholder value, and who have recently preferred not to wade into labor battles on the record."

[omegapausestuck]

So you killed Homestuck². Let’s talk

Hello, hello.

It’s me; 5ider.

Now, I know that you all don’t care about me, and maybe you shouldn’t, but I have been one of Homestuck’s most stalwart supporters. I’m one of the old guard, from back when the MSPA forums were still up and running — when "Karkat steals hands” was still considered the peak of comedy... and I have waded through Andrew’s knee-deep bullshit through hell to high water, patiently waiting for the pay-off that will surely someday come. I do this because I believe that there is something pure, and genuinely wonderful, buried beneath all the self-effacing and irony and melodramatics; and I wanted to make sure, that as long as there is one more person out there with any level of investment with this fandom, I would be there to show them that we care.

Through all the pauses and retcons and hiatuses and everything, I have remained steadfast. Even during the godawful GIGAPAUSE, where I watched in horror as hundreds of my friends wandered away to greener pastures, I made a promise to post something wholly original EVERY DAY!—just to keep the fires of fandom burning even a little bit longer—and when it turned out that the thing lasted more than the three weeks I feared it would, I never relented. 365 days gave 365 new pieces of content; despite the inexplicable strain it put on my mind, my body, and my spirit. I wound up in the hospital for overwork, and I never even mentioned it. The posts still flowed nevertheless.

Now, like I said, I have been a part of this community for a very long time, and I have, indeed, born witness to all manner of malice, and childish savagery. Of course, I’m nowhere near happy with the stories I’ve been given. I’ve been very vocal about my reservations, and my dissatisfaction, along the way; but I have always been a staunch believer in the respect of your fellow peers. You can only expect to be heard when you take the time to listen to others! No belittling, no bullying, no exposing, no.. no fuckeries!!! As such, I made a specific choice not to lend credence to these people, and neither respond nor denounce their behavior, because it’s not my job to be your babysitter, and it’s not my responsibility to educate other thoughtful, intelligent people in how to carry themselves. I just figured that eventually people will figure it out, and those who can’t play nice will eventually burn out all their own goodwill. I wanted to magnify what is good, and uplifting about us. By spotlighting the best of us, those with intent to spark wildfires of confusion and rancor might see that there were other ways to express their feelings. Powerful ways. Maybe even forms that are Objectively Beautiful.

But I can’t keep quiet any longer. I fear that my silence has allowed others with more short-term, violent ambitions to fester forth, and grow, unchecked, with time. I’ve seen hosts descend on misinformed, ignorant, and even innocent parties; with ruthless ferocity, unquenchable in their bloodlust and fervor. I’ve watched you bully, and gaslight, and purge, and raze through people; using them up like they’re no more than firewood to be cast into the pyre of this never-ending witch hunt for “equality,” and ..what’s that other one? “Employee benefits of the what pumpkin team?”

What a load of bullshit.

Many of you just want an excuse to go vent your frustrations at someone, and you’ll use any hot buzz word you can get behind to lash out with your venemous tongue. Thousands of people descended on Hussie at one point because of some weird “Narrative Rights” meme, and once those ides were thankfully depleted, you doubled down and kept deluging his account with more and more words, “for the joke.” What purpose does it serve to send a windfall of pustulant notifications in a volume so grand that you can be absolutely certain that he won’t be able to apprehend it all?! All he can do is ignore you. Perhaps if a couple hundred meaningful messages were sent his way in a non-confrontational matter, he might be able to process them. Maybe he might even consider them, and eventually come to an understanding. But the way that we spearhead monolithic campaigns against people like an orchestral carpet-bombing of these people’s inboxes and notification feed! IS NOT CONSTRUCTIVE! A person drawing a picture of a he/him John Egbert IS NOT RECPTIVE! A writer involved in a fandom they are highly passionate about IS NOT VINDICTIVE! These are human BEINGS, you guys! They are people! Just like you or me! No one deserves to be crucified in this way! It doesn’t matter how much you dislike the thing that they’ve done, It doesn’t matter how inspired by emotions or opinions or trauma or sorrow, or any other such justification you dream up! You cannot talk to people in a way that is designed to crush their spirit, and bury them under a bottomless deluge of vitriolic malevolence. Every hour of every day. Twenty-four/seven. Day in, day out. Without ceasing.

You are not their Executioner.

You have no right to cast judgement on these people you have never met, and know nothing about. Very few of you have tried to initiate a genuine conversation with any of these people you are so consumed with resentment towards. Very few of you care. It needs to stop. I’m sick of seeing it. I’m sick of hearing about it. I’m sick of fearing it. You’ve harassed your way into your own detriment, and the bad faith of a few hundred-thousand has forced all the millions of us to suffer. MAYBE YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT HOMESTUCK^2. MAYBE YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT HIVESWAP. MAYBE YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT PESTERQUEST. MAYBE YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT PSYCHOLONIALS. BUT MANY OF US DO. AND IT IS NOT YOUR RIGHT TO SPEAK FOR ALL OF US. GROW UP. SIT DOWN. LISTEN.

that’s all

[votederpycausemufins]

for the longest time my brain just did not want to write. but then two scenes came to mind and bam, chapter!

and as always

@petrichormeraki​

Wilbur showed up like he was arriving at a party. In a sense he was since Dream was taken down and he was going to see Tommy again. Dream may have revived him, but even that wasn’t going to convince Wil to help the tyrant. When he reached Philza and Techno, he was surprised to see no sign of Tommy. “So, where is he?”

“Tommy? He’s showing off his base to Tubbo.” Grian spoke up, making Wilbur notice him. His parrot wings were folded tightly so they couldn’t be seen, which was perfect for him. "Hey, you got something in your hair.”

Wilbur patted his head. “What, my hat?”

Grian shook his head and put a blue feather there. “It’s right there.”

“I can feel you put something there.” Wilbur pulled the feather out. “Don’t need you-” He stopped talking once he actually looked at the feather.

“Hey look, I’ve got one too.” Techno said pointing at the yellow feather placed behind his ear.

“No.” Wilbur sounded dumbfounded and looked back at Grian, who now had a red feather stuck in his own hair.

“Alright, let’s go see Tommy.” Grian spoke nonchalantly before Wilbur grabbed him.

“Oh no you don’t! You don’t just get to drop that bombshell on us and walk away!”

Grian laughed. “What, missed me?”

“Yes! Where the fuck were you?”

“Oh, here and there. How are you doing being alive again.”

“Less violent than I was before dying I suppose.”

“Good! But I’m still not letting you near Tommy.” When Wilbur tried to say something, Grian stopped him. “Nope, you can’t argue. I’m oldest now.”

“What the fuck to you mean, I’m a minute older than you bird boy.”

“Not anymore, I’m now in my thirties.”

“Wh- How?!”

Philza put a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “We can talk more when we meet back up with Tommy.”

“Yeah, we can visit his base hermit cribs style. I’ll grab my backup elytra and some rockets!” Grian ducked into a shop to use their ender chest. “Oh yeah, are you guys okay with rockets? Because Tommy told me Tubbo doesn’t like them. They won’t explode or anything, they’re just to help you with flying. Obviously dad and I won’t need them, but uh, you guys don’t have wings.”

“I’ll take them.” Wilbur said. Techno was less eager, but did also accept the elytra.

As Grian was about to take off with his family, Scar cleared his throat to get their attention. “Now Grian, while I am glad that you have found the family you lost, I am still very serious about that paperwork. I have different forms for if they’re planning to stay permanently or if they’re just going to visit often. I can send the paperwork to your mansion if you want though if you just want to come to town hall right now, we can do it there.”

“Scar, right now I want to talk with my family and figure out what we’re doing. We can’t really sign paperwork if we don’t know which paperwork to sign, right?”

Scar nodded in agreement. “Alright, I’ll send it to the mansion then. Also about the other people visiting.”

Grian flapped his wings to quickly get into the air. “Sorry Scar too far away can’t hear you byeeeee!”

On the ground, Phil sighed, though he was smiling. “I guess this means we better start flying. Let’s get up higher for an easier take off.”

Though it took an attempt or two, the avian lineage seemed to help Techno and Wilbur get the hang of using elytra extremely fast. Though in the air, Grian hadn’t flown too far and the others easily caught up with him. He guided them to the south west towards where Tommy’s base was. 

As it came into view, Grian couldn’t help but laugh as he heard a gasp from behind. They landed in front of the arch acting as a doorway on the ground floor to find Tommy leaning against it. “Took long enough dickheads.”

Grian was about to jokingly scold Tommy when Wilbur went to hug and or lovingly bully his younger brother. Tommy waved his arms in an attempt to get Wil to stop, but he kept running towards Tommy. Just before he could reach the blond, he was tackled to the ground from the side by Grian.

“Grian! I was joking! It was going to be fine!” Tommy complained, helping to pull the avian off Wilbur. “You don’t have to keep mothering me! Stress does that plenty!”

“It’s not my fault I wore the chicken mask that long.”

“That is entirely your fault! And wearing a mask that long doesn’t change anything.”

Tommy and Grian continued to playfully argue until Philza caught their attention. “Oh right, forgot we had meetings to get to. Hey Tommy, which floor do you think is best for talking about all this.”

Tommy put a hand on his chin. “Hmmm, how about the sixth floor? I mean, that one is based on the smp.”

“Sounds great!” Grian said before flying up there, leaving the others behind.

“Hey! No fair!” Tommy shouted up. “Some of us have to use rockets to fly! Ugh fine we’re taking the bubble stream.”

Entering the tower, the first floor was just completely made of cobble. It was his favorite block and all, so if he was going to mainly use the first floor, that was the design he wanted. There were also a number of chests placed around to the point that it had become a bit of a chest monster. Wilbur couldn’t help but be curious and opened one chest, eyes widening at the contents. “This is filled with diamond tools and armor! You’re just leaving it here?”

Tommy looked over to what Wil was referring to. “What? Oh, that’s from endbusting. It’s all cursed gear. You should have seen the time I caught Joe afk and gave him a set of binding diamond armor. I’m not sure how he didn’t notice right away, but the moment I mentioned I liked his armor, he jumped in the nearest lava pool.”

“Really? Other than the curses, this seems like it’s pretty good?”

“Not really. No one is really stealing from each other so everyone’s got great gear. Besides, part of the prank was giving Joe diamond gear. He apparently said he wasn’t going to use diamonds this world and burns them when he gets them.”

“He just burns diamonds?!”

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugged, then walked over to one of many bubble columns. “Here, this one goes to the sixth floor. You guys go first. I want to make sure you go in it and not the others. I’ll show off my shit hermitcribs style later.”

When they got off the bubble elevator, it was something that was recognized immediately. The floor was made of grass and one wall was missing and looking right at the now setting sun. In the middle of the room was a simple bench and a jukebox.

“Your bench.” Wilbur spoke up, making Tommy nod.

“Yeah. There’s also one in the shopping district. That’s for more public stuff. I’ll just be hanging on the bench and other hermits can show up to talk about shit. This one’s for more private stuff like this.”

“Or for letting me cuddle with you.” Grian poked his head up from the other side of the bench. 

Tommy’s face turned a shade of red. “We do not cuddle!”

“Then what do you call what we do when you’ve had a long day and need me to come over so you can use my wings as a blanket.”

“Hanging out. Cuddling makes it sound weird.” Tommy crossed his arms.

Grian just tackled Tommy and wrapped him in his wings. “You’re not allowed out until you admit it!”

“Never bird bitch!”

He rubbed the feathers against Tommy’s face. “Say iiit!” Tommy just plucked a feather out making Grian pull back. “Ow! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I thought you wanted us to talk as a family or some shit.”

Grian rolled his eyes, but did nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” And then he sat down on the ground across from the bench. The others found their own places to sit and just sat there in silence for a few moments before Wilbur started the conversation.

“So, you changed your name then huh? Everyone’s calling you Grian.”

Grian nodded. “Yeah, I started using it back when I was in the orphanage and legally changed it when I was eighteen. Though it took a while with the criminal record.”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Philza asked sternly, but Grian just shrugged.

“Yeah I sort of murdered some people. I probably could have found a way around it, but at the time, it was the best answer I had. And I didn’t really have a good support system. I mean, I had friends, but how are you supposed to tell them you have voices in your head telling you what to do when they’re already not the best people themselves.”

Philza rubbed his forehead. “How bad?”

“Well…”

“No, nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“So, you’re a Watcher?” Techno spoke up in a monotone voice.

Grian used enough of his power to make a third eye appear for a second before making it disappear again. “Yeah, whatever took me from you guys happened again and dropped me off in a world that was like, so many years in the past. I actually got dropped there with a lot of people and the Watchers sort of played around with us. Nothing as bad as what Dream seemed to be doing, just puzzles and cryptic clues and portals everywhere to push us forward in time when they saw fit. Eventually they convinced me to join them.”

“Just like that?” Techno raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, I was a real pain in their side for loads of time before they finally asked me to join. I’m pretty sure it was because it was because that was the one way to get me to stop messing around.” Grian laughed at his own joke before looking sadly at the floor. “First thing I did was start looking for you guys. I assumed you would still be in the castle or somewhere nearby, but the place was abandoned. And it’s harder to find someone when you don’t know what world they’re in.”

Philza started to reach for Grian, but the younger avian’s wings started to puff up in agitation. “You know, I don’t know if I should be happy that I found you or upset. I could have never figured out where you guys were unless I got lucky peering into worlds. Only reason I found out was because Tommy came here. And he only came here because he ended up in a dangerous world with no family helping him. And you nearly took him back there.”

Tommy put a hand on one of Grian’s wings, making him puff up even more. “Hey, calm down Big G. You made sure they couldn’t do that. And if they do try, just knock some sense into them.”

Grian calmed down, though there was still tension in the room and no one spoke. The first thing that broke the silence was a yell from above them. “Tommy! How do you get down? I don’t have a water bucket on me!”

Tommy jumped up from where he was sitting. “Oh shit! I’ll be right there Tubbo!” And Tommy jumped out the window. Grian waited a moment before asking the others to look behind them, which they did just in time for all of them to see Tommy making a face at them all as he went up the bubble stream. A few moments later, Tubbo was going down a different bubble elevator and then Tommy glided in through the window. “Sorry, I keep the down one closed off so the bees don’t wander their way into it on a suicide mission. Tubbo couldn’t find it and obviously he’s not flying around.”

“Can you actually ask him to come up here? I want to say something that involves him.”

“Got it.” Tommy leaned out the window. “Hey Tubbo! Come back up here! Use the one with green glass!”

A moment later, Tubbo exited onto the floor. Tommy pushed Wilbur off the bench to make room for Tubbo to sit. “Hey! How are you so strong!”

Tommy gestured at the room around them. “I mean, I got help from some of the hermits for the interior, but the exterior was all me. I mined tons of shit looking for diamonds and I used it for here. I mean, I also got some help with the flag on top, but otherwise, all seventeen floors were built by me.”

“Seventeen floors?!”

“I know, they’re all as tall as this one so it’s small as fuck. Only big one is the top since I didn't waste an extra ceiling with the roof there.”

“You should do what Tango did last season and add a dragon or two.”

“Nah, might just start making a castle to pair up with it.”

“Tommy! What the fuck!” Tubbo said suddenly. “How did you get so good?!”

“It’s just sort of how we do stuff here on Hermitcraft.” Grian answered. “You were at Iskall’s tree right? That’s his base. He got us to help collect the leaves, but he’s been placing it all.” Tubbo just looked like his head was about to explode. “Anyway, I wanted Tommy to call you here because I didn’t get the chance to tell you. You’re the admin of the smp now.”

“I’m what?!”

“I figured after all I’ve heard about you from Tommy, you would be safe to turn into the admin. Obviously it can be moved to someone else, but you were the first choice.”

“I can’t be the admin! What if I end up like Dream?! I already wasn’t the best at being president! What if I screw up and they put me in pandora’s vault too!”

Tommy hugged Tubbo. “You were a great president, you just had to deal with bad people. And they’re not going to put you in some stupid fucking vault for a mistake.”

“And if they do, we call in Mumbo. Speaking of him, I should call him over.” Grian pulled out his communicator and hit the call button for Mumbo, putting it on speaker for the fun of it. When the redstoner answered, Grian spoke in a dramatic and joking tone into the microphone. “Mumbo. Babe. Light of my life. Father of our children.-”

Though Grian sounded like he was going to continue, a tired sounding Mumbo came through to stop him. “What do you need Grian?”

“We’re at Tommy’s base. Can you come over and meet everyone?”

“I was already planning on finding you. I’m of course on Grian watching duty after that stunt you pulled. I would have already shown up but the redstone blocks finally needed replacing.”

“Remember to bring scaffolding. You know water and redstone don’t mix.”

“I’m well aware. Bye Grian.” And Mumbo hung up.

Grian and Tommy explained more of everything on Hermitcraft and answered more questions while they all waited for Mumbo. Finally there was the distinct noise of scaffolding being placed and they saw a tower appear in front of the window and then keep going up. From below, they could hear Mumbo talking to someone else he had brought along. “You don’t need that much. Grian said they’re only on the sixth floor.”

“But I want to see Tubbee! Tubbee Tubbee Tubbee!”

“You can see Tubbee later. C’mon, let’s see Grian first.”

After the talking stopped, up the scaffolding came what looked to be a small child. Behind them was someone a bit taller, but obviously still young, and last was a man in a black suit and a mustache.

“Dad!” The smallest one ran over and jumped at Grian. Wilbur looked between Grian and the kid.

“Wait, so that wasn’t a joke. You actually have kids?”

“Well you have Fundy. I have these two. Meet Grumbot and Jrumbot.” 

Wilbur opened his mouth again with a sly smirk. “Is he any good?” and then added in a wink.

When he realized what was being implied, Mumbo’s face turned a bright red and he tried talking but it was all flustered stuttering. Grian has a similar though not as pronounced reaction to the question. Jrumbot looked between his dads confused while Grumbot looked at Wilbur. “My brother and I were merely built and are powered by redstone. We have no organic parts. Our dads are not together and thus have not had se-”

“GRUMBOT!”

[sunritual]

Robots don’t need to be sentient to destroy us.

Navy mock neck long sleeves big orange and little white stripe on tube cage sides

A veritcal line stretch waistband

Cross cross and straps back

Square high neck

Scarlet polka dots around can light blue text and beach image as front

Blue stroke red inside square, blue triangle rainbow with eye and funky font

Y either know a particular topic or not , but it’s hard to pin down intelligence on one category

Cream background , ice cream pink script name kinda bev hills hotel script looking ish

Move your mouth in a differ way

Supersonic vibrating butt cleaner

Half magenta half red violet a blue teacup in the center with white floral frills thick serif font

Pink background am orange flower in a vase white present ribbon n red as a table

An app that familiarizes people with science - through experimental learning ― hands on experiences that make it seem less top down and authoritarian , and more like a set of steps that we take, things that anyone can do to get closer with nature and the world

A social media philosophy app - teaches what others said and gives people a chance to express their views , postulate, argue, etc gadfly? How would be avoid a shit show, how can we make social media more humanitarian. how can we care about people while also expressing deeply held ideas , how can we encourage users to examine their deeply held ideas without alienating them. How can we discourage hatred and abuse and groupthink with design? How do we slow people down and encourage them to recognize the human behind the screen. Street epistemology? Socratic dialogue?

Socrates - asking questions. Breaking it down to bits. Deeply understanding their argument. Asking about different possibilities and circumstances. Take vast assumptions and show scenarios that make go against them.

Build fact checking into apps

Narrative self vs experiential

Walks you through steps of the sciefitifc method and encourages you to explain how you feel each step actually helped you- then walks you through a scientist doing the same for their reasarch

Republicans only want to be free in the specific ways that benefit corporations

Are Christians more willing to support the death pen early because they already believe in the cruel and overstepping punishment of hell?

Where did the idea come from that you need to remain impartial when trying to persuade

The idea that there is someone in a similar but different dwelling, hearing similar but different sounds and feeling similar but different feelings is wild

We synthesize sets of traits, and particular actions in a super biased culturally constructed way

With the way we see things as humans- we categorize things into groups that aren’t really reaaal ― paratheletic groups

I just want the people and jobs that benefit society

Connection to nietzsches Dionysian art and eckheart tolle/Taoism

No matter your personality, there is probably a part of the world that you would fit in with naturally.

An ordinary girl is selected as one of the representatives of earth in the first meeting of various alien species after one advanced planet discovered and United 10. Confused as to why she was chosen, she goes on her journey meeting

Wha ba Bada da da da da dada he’s a wha ba ba dadada as a matter of fact it’s not my fault if you came up here thinking that you would win

Wanting to break boundaries and rules for the sake those who are hurt by the rules

You are imagining the best case scenario of the life you want to have and experience Ming the reality of the life you so have.

Yes her drips cosmetics line to students i. Class

Chez it people can goldfish people

Your personality flows where a system needs it to go to maintain balance

Ah you fucking saw a tik Tok about that didn’t you

Coincidence and intention are two sides of a tapestry, my lord. You may find one more agreeable to look at, but you cannot say one is true and the other is false.””

Clay busts with abstract art and philosophical musings (throws up)

Do a sketch a day

What if someone ran for president as an impression of a famous person

Full stemmed flowers, wiggly text creeping behind

Balloons of various sizes and cooors holding people and things

Kelly green cream hot pink black

Green outline one pink air brush cream background black marks

Emdr applebees , bat mitzvah toasts Amitals bat mitzvah , Fiona - i like her better just kidding ,

We tend to learn words by synonyms and not definitions

A bully who takes a kids lunch money everyday all through out high school and secretly puts it in a Roth IRA and presents it to them at graduation

Set up drum set

When it comes to something we have no knowledge of or evidence or proof being certain is the most illogical thing you can be

Getting a degree in philosophy is the not going to college of going to college

It ain’t what they call you it’s what you answer to

You don’t just get to jump from bright moment to bright moment - part of the job is the frustrating ones and the climb to get to be actually good. It’s gonna be bad in the beginning but it’s a measure of how dedicated you are to your craft. Frustration is the process.

You have to decide whit shit sandwjicj you prefer - everything is gonna suck some of the time but if you pick your dream you’ll have those bright moments and at least that shit sammie will be worth it - the bad parts of job you have no interest in don’t add up to anything. If you love what you do you will accept the downsides.

People are like tape. Going through the world collecting bits and pieces of things but none of those things are really them . We can identi ft with them and create with them but we can also escape from them.

I wonder what all these people think about being alive

Curiosity makes everything play. It invites exploration. It makes me see opportunities everywhere makes everything new

Bias to action. Try things. Get your hands dirty, fail Fortean and find what works. Remaining nimble and constantly rethinking

Reframe the problem. Step back, re-examine the problem, examine biases and be open to new solutions

Clay matches clay fire

The differences and similarities between us

Looking back, historical events seem bound to happen, but a few small events could’ve stopped them. Thinking diffently.

“They became revolutionaries despite themselves”

Artists way workbook design

I’m at Eton having to walk around to quell the feeling of being so exited about the future and my possibilities and so sure of success and beauty and magic and love and adventure. I’m going to make beautiful pictures I’m going. To tear down the status quo I’m going g to make people feel like they have on antigravity. I’m so a part of it i made it. I’m a muse I’m it omg I’m so exited - listening to John Denver

Joy is just a thing that he was raised on love is just a way to live and die.

The only thing that made Abe Lincoln Abe Lincoln (tm) was doing what Abe Lincoln (tm) did. The actions that he took made him a hero in history. There was nothing i ate in him that made his great, his actions did. Whatever help inate qualities may have gave him in terms of doing the actions that made him what he was could be negated by pma and doing the damn work to get yourself to where you need to be. Believing it so makes you inclined to take the actions that improve your skills and get to to the point where you can do the things it takes to be who you want to be.

Little vases

I feel like we’ve become addicted to finding things wrong with what people say. Silence the critic. It’s fine. Most people have the best intentions. It’s not that serious. The group you are offended for likely aren’t mad anyway. There is way more you can do - they don’t care about picking the right term

I wanted a very simple menu that could maximize customization options in The shortest amount of time possible for a very fast paced food truck. The system allows the customers to design their own grilled cheese sandwich but ideally would save time by not requiring each guest to decide which cheese and which bread from a long line of choices.

I feel I’m so afraid of being dunning Krueger that i tell myself i am terrible at everything no matter what i actually think about my abilities. You can just say your a beginner you don’t have to say you suck. Plus thinking you suck doesn’t make you any better, honestly worse. You don’t have to rate your abilities just focus on the future, make sure your doing baby steps and make sure they are the right baby steps

Chives ward off insects

Loving thebsunlightttttyt!!

I don’t think music is really something that needs to be critiqued for me ― it’s more about feeling it’s about magic and truth and light or darkness. Getting whatever needs to be out out. it all serves a purpose and is for an audience , if your not in that audience then there’s no need to comment

I have to is weird backwards idea that it’s Nobel to be like you know what I’m not good at this imma bow out. But that is so wrong you have to struggle through it. Pike how i feel like my thoughts are more concise then my writing. There’s no glory in not trying to improve that. You have to awkawardly write until you can beautifully write.

[pretty-rad-arson-dad]

Hey guys so, about the whole situation that had happened with me being fasley accused of being a pedo, I said I'd make a post telling our side of the story (cause this involves so much more than me and them) and involves about 10 other people.

Also, ahead of time, sorry if this is messy, I just really don't know how to make these kinds of posts to clear things up? Explaining things like this is not something I'm good at. I was also going to post this sooner, but stuff in my persona life happened, and I've also received threats from this person's friends if I tried to come forward with my side of the story (or more like made anymore posts about it, as there's already a whole call-out post about them on Instagram, which I'll be showing later). After some debate, I actually realized it would probably be best if I actually did, just to get a warning out, even though I know there's a chance this won't be recieved well cause this is fucking Tumblr... And again, I'm just trying to tell our side of the story and warn others so the same doesn't happen to them. Also because I do believe this guy might have a Tumblr account and might try to seek out more people to abuse. I sure as hell know one of his friends who helped stalk us have a Tumblr though.

So, the person making the accusations was someone who joined my discord server, and at the time of joining, he was saying that he was of age. Several members on the server can vouch for me when I say this. Of course, in regards to him telling us he was of age, this is apparently something he failed to mention when he decided to make that callout conveniently enough. I'm still unsure of what his actual age is, wether he actually lied to us about being an adult when he joined the server or if he was lying when he claimed to be a minor in his callout. 

Anyways, sometime after he joined the server, he started to become a problem. Me, being an idiot and feeling bad for him, allowed his behavior to slide, though I didn't know the full extent of what he was doing til a bit later.

He would constantly talk about how he was being abused and we'd try and help him with advice, which he never really listened to, and if anyone on the server mentioned that they had done something fun or had a great time doing something that day, he'd go off and make us feel guilty for having fun, cause his at home life was shit and apparently if he wasn't happy, we couldn't be either. He actually tried to pull some shit while I was celebrating my birthday with my family. This kinda becomes a bit important later? Or at least the day becomes important later.

He's also known as kind of a pathological liar on the server, claiming that they one of the official FNAF artists (one who doesn't exist, btw), and start rumors about YouTubers and other people we liked, and whenever I'd ask for proof, they'd get all defensive. This itself isn't a big deal, except he also has the tendancy to start rumors that people are pedos if he gets into a heated argument with said person. It's actually happened when one of my friends said he didn't feel comfortable with people shipping things between adults and children. This caused a giant argument to erupt and I had to temporarily boot said friend from the server. At this time, my accuser then decided to make accusations that the friend of mine was a pedo because he... Didn't like people shipping adults and children.... Of course, we told him to cut the bullshit and stop causing rumors.

Now, keep in mind, they got upset over someone being grossed out by shipping adults and children.

This becomes a bit important later.

We ended up having a few other problems with them as time went on, them critizing other members AUs (well, more along the lines of bullying them for their AUs and projects), more guilt tripping and at one point, even bragging about pushing someone to suicide (at least that's what 2 of the other server members are telling me, I can't confirm this, as it seems it happened during a period I had no internet, and there's a good chance they might have deleted it, but do feel free to take this with a grain of salt). 

Eventually, he actually ended up leaving the server for good because of Tupperbot. Adding the stupid bot was the second best decision I've ever made in regards to him, honesty.

However, for a lot of us, the main tipping point was the roleplays and private DMs.

He loved to roleplay some pretty fucked up shit with a lot of people on the server. We've actually had one member as young as 11 come forward and say he had tried to do shit with them too. Keep in mind, he told us he was an adult when he joined. He would love to roleplay all sorts of weird, incestous and pedophilic shit with us, and would force it on us out of the fucking blue. Another thing worth mentioning, me and a few others are victims of childhood sexual abuse and rape. He CONSTANTLY put this shit in most of the roleplays he did with no regard to how triggering it was for some of us. We never even got a warning or an ask if it was okay to have something like that put in a roleplay. Some members spoke to him about their discomfort involving the shit he was putting in the roleplays, but it was disregarded and he'd continue to do it. Some of us were even so scared to say anything about it, as we were afraid he'd lash out at us and threaten us, so we just put up with it. 

Aside from the roleplays were the really weird direct messages he'd sometimes send. There were times someone would be venting (this would happen in the server as well) and he'd respond with that they had no reason to be upset and that he's been through much worse. There would also be times when someone would be feeling depressed, and he'd make these private little group chats to try and "intervene" by inviting a few of us in there with the said person. This would be fine on its own, but he always made it a point to invite one person that we've REPEATEDLY had to tell him not to invite. I'll call this person Wah, cause I don't want to cause them any more stress by exposing their account name. Wah was someone we've told him not to invite because she was, at the time, experiencing a lot of suicidal idealations and we were worried putting her in a situation like this where one of her friends was feeling like killing themselves and her having to help to talk them down would be the sort of thing to set her off into hurting herself. We obviously didn't want that, so we made it a rule not to ever get Wah involved. Accuser knew this and went and always invited Wah anyways. And would shrug it off whenever we'd go off and remind him of Wah's own mental health issues. There has also been at least one instance with them and another user, who was feeling suicidal. They mentioned they had been wanting to kill themselves and accuser went off about how if they killed themself, accuser would kill themself too. This obviously scared the shit out of this person and made them feel more awful.

And there of course, is the shit they did to me. They'd sometimes randomly flip out on me in my DMs out of literally fucking no where, and purposely trigger my PTSD.

There's more, but I can't remember all of it because just so much went on.

Anyways, sometime after they left the server, people began coming forward with their experiences with accuser, telling all that he'd been doing in DMs, and mentioning his prior behavior on the server. We started venting about the way he had been treating us in the vents chat because well, we figured if we couldn't try to talk to him about his behavior, at least we could vent amongst ourselves. Apparently he had actually made a few friends on the server and they let him know we were talking about him.

Fast forward to my birthday celebration and I'm getting DMs from him. They start our fine enough but eventually he suggests we start a thing where we mention one positive thing that's happened to us each day. Cool, a fine idea on it's own, but as I've mentioned above, he's had the tendancy to make us feel like shit for having anything cool and fun in our lives, so of course me, and a few other people who apparently had received the same message, were hesitant.

I left him on read to think about it and also because, again, I was celebrating my birthday and I was about to blow out the candles on my cake and open gifts.

I don't remember all of what went down, and I don't seem to have access to the Instagram DMs anymore since I have him blocked on there too, but eventually, I received a message of him flipping out because he knew about our vents. I believe I might have ended up calling him out and telling him exactly why we were doing it, but I can't remember. This happened back in May so the memory is a bit fuzzy and I don't have the DMs anymore.

All I know is that most of the members of the server decided to cut him off.

After that, he tried to tell Wah I wasn't who I seemed to be and attempted to ruin our friendship, made several accounts to stalk the Instagram accounts of serveral other of the server members and I, and then we ended up having to kick a few of their friends from the server cause they were starting to cause trouble.

Then there was silence for a bit.

And then there was the incident. They had gotten a (at the time former) friend of ours involved by lying and manipulating them into believing I was doing all sorts of nasty shit. The friend, who I'm going to call Pasta, ended up bringing that stuff over to Tumblr, unaware that they had been lied to. I'm not sure if it was Pasta who reached out to us, or if it was one of us who reached out to Pasta, but we ended up telling them what was going on, and somehow, accuser found out, and accused them of being a traitor and freaked out on them. They admitted that accuser was responsible and we ended up making up.

I've also since then had some of accusers former friends come to me and tell me about the call-out, further confirming that it was them who started all this as a way to try and get back at me.

And, since of course some obligatory proof is required, I shall provide these call-out posts with some screenshots. And you can even see in the comments we're far from the only ones who have dealt with them.

These aren't the only things from them, obviously, but considering the fact that we've all now got them blocked and some of us have even deleted the DMs (because tbh, most of us thought that cutting them off would be the last of it), this is what we currently have.

Anyways, thanks for reading this long ass mess. Hope y'all stay safe.

[bunnyhani]

Izuku Needs A Weight Blanket

Summary: "I've been thinking about this for awhile now... And I think you should try out a weight blanket, I'm pretty sure it would benefit you a lot." -Aizawa to Izuku. Basically: Izuku is in a need of a weight blanket, because he can't sleep and he's way too anxious. Dadzawa to the rescue.

Ship/Relationship: Platonic! Izuku Midoriya & Shouta Aizawa. (Basically AIzawa being a good teacher and a dad.)

Author’s Note and trigger warnings!! So there is anxious tendencies and thoughts. And there is unhealthy coping: Izuku knocks himself out to sleep. Also this fic does deal with depressing thoughts. If any of these things trigger you somehow, please be careful.

There is a part two just coming, with the title: Izuku Needs Therapy.

The knockout scene starts like this: He tried the one knockout point on his neck... And ends at: Yeah definitely not again.

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

Izuku sat on his bed, quietly humming to himself and fiddling with the hem of his nightshirt. It was already way past midnight, but he just couldn’t fall asleep. There was way too much going on in his exhausted mind, and the second he stopped fiddling with something, anxiety kicked in. It itched under his skin mercilessly. If he stopped, then his body would start jolting from time to time, as if he would get scared by someone continuously. Thankfully nobody really had noticed his jumpiness, since he has always been that kind of person and he normally fiddled with a lot of things, whether it was with his pen during class or his phone during lunch. Nobody was onto him and that made him both relieved and sad. He was happy that he wasn’t worrying anyone with his antics, but he was also sad that nobody really noticed his struggles. Maybe he had grown way too good at hiding behind a smile. Years of bullying and lying about it probably made it possible, he supposed. So he couldn’t really blame them. Besides, he was used to not being really seen, since all his life he had been a nobody. So the thought of someone seeing him, like really seeing him, made him want to curl up in a ball and just disappear.

Izuku slowly did lay down on his side and brought his knees to his chest, hugging his legs tightly. He could feel the anxious energy running inside of him, his fingers twitched. He gripped his knees tightly, nails digging into the flesh of his legs. He swallowed with difficulty and released a shuddering breath. You might be wondering why on earth was he this way. Well… Izuku was ashamed to admit, but during an exercise, Bakugo had slammed into him and his explosion had went off right next to his ear and burned his shoulder. It had scared him. The loud noise, the heat… It brought back memories that he wasn’t particularly fond of, and now he was on edge. All the time. It was like his body was on fight-or-flight -mode all the time. He just couldn’t relax. He couldn’t stop the anxiety from raging on and his body jolting randomly. Izuku squeeszed his eyes shut tightly and forced himself to take deep breaths. He really didn’t have time to have an anxiety attack at ass o’clock in the morning. He needed to sleep. S l e e p. But honest to God, he just couldn’t. He was so tired. So so tired. He’s had this same problem for a few weeks now and the anxiety that had his body gone rigid, was also draining his energy. Soon people would start seeing the cracks in his act that he tried so hard to keep up. He just wanted to sleep. Somewhere in the dark hours of the night, he did manage to fall asleep. Little did he know, his act would be busted very soon by someone, whom he wouldn’t have first guessed and gets help.

Izuku was brought back to reality by his awful alarm. He jumped and slammed his alarm off with a little too much force. The poor alarm clock shattered under his fist and he hissed under his breath. He rubbed his now sore fist tenderly and frowned. The alarm had scared him awake, but he still felt bad about the fact that he had actually broken it. He sighed heavily and left the shattered clock to his nightstand and moved on. He needed to wash his face, brush his teeth and get dressed. And cover his under eyes, a new part of his routine. Izuku sighed yet again and gingerly sat down onto the floor in front of his mirror. He grabbed his concealer, foundation, powder and his beauty blender. Some might think it was weird for a guy to own items like these, but he had grown used to them. Back then, he had used all this to cover bruises and some burns, so he really didn’t think too much of it. Besides, who was he to judge someone for wearing makeup? If it made someone happy, then they should go for it. It allowed the person to freely express themselves and it certainly didn’t hurt anyone. With those thoughts, he started blending his concealer under his eyes and lids with practiced hands. After he was done, he looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. He looked normal again. Izuku was still drained, both physically and mentally, but as long as he was breathing, that was good enough for him. (Okay, it wasn’t, but that was something he would have liked to believe.)

Izuku walked with Iida to homeroom class, with sleepiness hazing his mind. He tried to stay present and not get too lost in his head, since that was never the best thing. If he spaced out once, it would be hard not to space out again. So he focused on Iida’s calm tone, as he explained something about the chemistry homework they had last night. The chemistry homework that he had forgotten to do. A silent “fuck” was uttered under his breath and he frowned. “Is something wrong, Midoriya?” Iida asked, noticing his friend’s frown and sour mood. Izuku shook his head and pulled a sheepish smile to his lips, rubbing his neck in an awkward manner. “Yes, I’m okay. Just realized that I forgot to do the chem homework yesterday”, he said. Iida hummed in acknowledgment and after pondering for awhile he said: “I can help you during our free period. I will not give you the answers straight away, because that would cheating and highly unrespectable.” Izuku smiled brightly at that. “Ah, thank you, Iida-kun! It means a lot to me!” the green haired boy exclaimed with fist bump into the air. He was willing to work for it, and this was just good for him. Iida was good chemistry, while he wasn’t the worst, he wasn’t the best either. And the last chapter had been hard to understand. Probably because of all the lack of sleep was messing with him, his brain unhelpfully supplied. Shut up, he hissed in his head. Either way, he kind of has a tutor for the subject that he was struggling with recently and it was someone whom he genuinely liked, so he wasn’t about to complain. His steps felt a little lighter when the two of them walked to their homeroom.

Something that Izuku had definitely forgotten, was the nearly impossible battle against tiredness during classes. Aizawa-sensei’s voice was always calm, mono-tone but calm either way. It sounded a lot like a lullaby to him, especially on days like these. Izuku leaned forward and let his head fall heavily against the desk. It made quite a loud thud and he cried out quietly at the pain, slowly rubbing the spot on his forehead, that was sure to turn into a bump later during the day. But at least it woke him up. Then he flinched when he felt someone looking at him. Everything inside of him was screaming to run away and hide. He looked around carefully, moves stiff. Then he made eye contact with Aizawa-sensei. Izuku froze completely, staring back at his teacher. Then, his body also decided to betray him. He flinched. And it wasn’t a small flinch either, it was a full body one that definitely didn’t go unnoticed by his teacher, if him quirking his eyebrow at Izuku was anything to go by. Everyone else seemed to be completely unaware of the interaction and slowly Izuku forced himself to look away. He had not done anything wrong. He was fine. The class went on as Aizawa-sensei rolled back into his sleeping bag. Izuku exhaled out slowly. Maybe he was lucky enough that Aizawa-sensei wouldn’t say anything of that. After all, he had no reason to. His grades were suffering just a little bit and he hadn’t answered in classes as much. But that wasn’t enough for someone to just stay back and have a talk, right? Right?

Wrong. Izuku was very wrong and very dumb. Usually Izuku considered himself to be pretty smart and capable of great analysing skills and being reasonable, but at that moment, he self-proclaimed himself as one of the biggest dumb asses he has ever known. Of course his teacher would want to talk to him. Aizawa was no fool (unlike him cough cough), and he was as observant as ever. It was basically his job, to be able to observe others around and read the situation going on. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be a very good hero. But seriously, he was sharper than other teachers. Or just maybe he had encountered very arrogant and careless teachers before that did not give a crap of his well-being. Thankfully the teachers at UA were sincerely interested in them and wanted the best for them.

The moment Izuku was ready to sprint out of the classroom to escape the talk with his teacher, Aizawa was faster. “Midoriya, please stay behind. I have something to discuss with you”, the black haired hero said, while maintaining a steady eye contact. Dejectedly, Izuku nodded and sat down back onto his chair, while they waited for everyone else to leave. Uraraka sent a concerned look to him, but he just shook his head and gave a small smile, hoping that it would reassure her enough. She smiled back, a little hesitantly, but it was enough. After everyone was gone, the silence that settled over them felt suffocating. Izuku started to fiddle with his sleeves almost immediately, but flinched again, when he felt Aizawa-sensei’s eyes on him. He moved his hands behind his back, wringling with them behind his back. The silence was becoming a bit too much for him. “Ah, you wanted to discuss something with me…?” He asked unsurely. Aizawa nodded and gestured him to come closer to him, since he was at the back of the class, still at his seat. Izuku walked over, but still left some space between them. For some reason, it felt safer that way. Aizawa narrowed his eyes, but said nothing of it. The man then sighed and asked: “Problem child, what is going on?” Izuku knew that he would cut straight into the point, but still hadn’t prepared him for it. He flinched again. “Nothing. Everything’s fine”, the boy answered lamely. “Oh really? Then why do I hear from other teachers that you easily doze off or space out in classes and flinch without a good reason?” Aizawa pointed out. Izuku seriously wanted to rip his hair out. There was no escaping him. Aizawa was patient and had his way with words, right now, Izuku couldn’t say the same about himself. He was so tired that he could barely form proper excuses. Aizawa took in his silence and took that as his que to keep poking. “So?” He asked. Did Izuku already mention that he wanted to cry? If not, he surely did. Izuku head was empty of excuses, yet his brain was working overtime trying to think of anything rational to say. He couldn’t exactly just spill the truth like that, since just no. He knew very well that it wasn’t shameful at all to sometimes to get like this, every hero went through it. Izuku just feared that if he now said something, Aizawa would be keeping a closer eye on him in the future and would most definitely notice that his anxiety levels were always a little too high to be considered normal. And that would lead to more talks, where he was asked more questions that he didn’t want to answer. And in the end, the truth would be forced out of him eventually. And then they would ask him to go to psychologist or therapist and then the therapist would say that he wasn’t capable of being a hero. So, he had to stop the spiral from even starting. Maybe he was thinking too far into the future and just went overboard, but he couldn’t exactly just say “stop” to his mind.

Aizawa was still patiently waiting for him to start talking. Izuku had been quiet for too long. The boy forced himself together and finally said: “Okay… So maybe there is something going on… I’ll fix it though. It’s okay. Sorry for making you worry.” The pro-hero just looked at his student but Izuku forced himself not to break in front of his teacher. “Fine. However, if you do not ‘fix it’, as you said, I will be talking to you again and then I won’t be waiting for answers”, the teacher said. Izuku nodded, bowed and with quick steps, he left classroom as quickly as he could, while trying not to make it too obvious that he really would have rather been anywhere else except there. Aizawa shook his head. The resident problem child continued to living up to his name. He would have to look after him a little more closely from now on. No matter how much Aizawa wanted to deny it, he was worried. Despite what others might believe, he did genuinely care for his class and would go to long lengths to keep his students safe and give the best for them. That didn’t always mean the most pleasant options, but if that was for the best, then he would do it.

Izuku rushed through the day, trying to redeem himself already. The quicker he got started, the better. He found himself to be pinching himself multiple times to keep himself awake and suppressing his frequent flinches. He somewhat made it through with okay results. But there was still the question that how on earth would he get his much needed sleep. If he didn’t fix it soon, then his school performance would start suffering even more,which would for sure get Aizawa onto his tail again. And soon his concealer and foundation wouldn’t be enough to cover his dark eye circles. They were already kind of reflecting from under there. Maybe he should google knockout points on a human’s body, he thought to himself as he did his Japanese homework.

He tried the one knock out point on his neck last night and wasn’t planning on trying it again. His neck was kind of hurting and he realized how uncontrolled the whole thing was. Izuku realized how dumb idea that had been, but honestly, at 2am almost any idea would seem pretty good. This was no exception. But he decided not to do it again, he didn’t exactly trust himself doing it again when he was sleep deprived and would probably manage to harm himself. Like what would he do if he accidentally paralyzed himself or broke his whole neck. Shudders shook his shoulders and he grimaced. Yeah, definitely not again.

By the end of the week, Izuku was seriously questioning that should he just go Recovery Girl and ask for some kind of sleeping pill or something that would help him sleep. And ask for some kind of relaxing methods. He was so done with the never stopping anxiety and the flinches it brought with it. It was only 1am and he got the brilliant idea of getting up and go to the dorm kitchens to make himself some tea. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the fact that the reason he never went to the kitchens or any common areas during the night was because he didn’t seriously want to be caught. He knew that a lot of students were getting caught that way, so he kept to himself in his room, no matter how suffocating it sometimes was. But now, he just wanted to drink some tea and sit on the kitchen chair and space out. There was a feeling in his stomach that kept telling him that this was the night that he was going to be busted. He didn’t care. Maybe he wanted to get busted.

Izuku stood next to the stove, watching the water to slowly start boiling. “Problem child. Why are you up at 1am?” Aizawa’s voice came from right behind him. Izuku flinched hard, even though he was kind of expecting the teacher to come at some point, he didn’t expect him to come so soon. He placed his hand over his racing heart and swallowed with difficulty. His breath came out in small wheezy puffs. “Making tea”, he murmured back, shoulders still tense as he felt Aizawa still looming over his much shorter figure. Aizawa hummed and moved back, giving him space. Izuku’s shoulders didn’t relax much but enough that they weren’t going to start cramping in the next 5 seconds. The silence is fine, he thought to himself as he moved around the kitchen, preparing his tea. After it was done, he slid to a kitchen chair, pulling his legs to his chest and leaned his chin onto his knees. The tea cup rested on the table, steaming and warming his cheeks. He slowly took a sip of the delicious tea.

“Why are you really awake, Midoriya? I doubt you just decided to wake up at 1am to brew some tea”, the teacher inquired with a quiet voice. Izuku smiled bitterly. “Yeah, maybe not… Sleeping is hard”, he replied, his eyes still glued onto the steaming cup. Aizawa hummed, wordlessly urging him to continue talking. Now that the student was completely still, he had a chance to really look at him. As if realizing that he was being seen, Izuku shuddered, glancing at Aizawa. What caught the teacher a bit off-guard was the sight of the teen’s eye circles, which were surprisingly dark. He still thought that letting Izuku talk on his own was the best course of action, since he seemed a bit more relaxed than usual so he didn’t want to scare the boy into shutting him completely out. “I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to for awhile. Been too anxious. And because I’m not getting enough sleep, I’m getting more anxious and because I’m so anxious, I can’t fall asleep”, Izuku finally said numbly. Aizawa made a little “oh” sound. Made sense. Izuku was kind of caught in an endless circle. A nasty one at that, Aizawa himself had dealt with that one himself too so he couldn’t help the sympathetic pang in his chest. “What’s making you anxious?” Aizawa finally decided to ask. Izuku heaved in a sharp breath. This was the part which made him the most nervous. “A lot of things… At first it was just one thing and then it kind of hung onto everything. Now I just can’t relax. I can’t even sit completely still longer than 5 or 10 minutes”, he said quietly, looking away from his teacher. “What happens if you won’t move?” The hero asked. He had his own  suspicions, but still waited for Izuku’s reply. “I flinch. So I try to fiddle with things as much as I can, but sometimes even that’s not enough”, Izuku said after a while. So he had been right. “I’ve tried to relax and just sleep, but it’s not really happening. I’ve tried some really dumb things too… Like knocking myself out. And before you start lecturing me, I know, it was dumb, but in my defense it was like 2am… So like every dumb idea seems kinda good”, he continued rambling. It felt a bit relieving to be finally able to talk. But at the same time he was thinking that he really should shut up already. Aizawa rubbed his face with his hand. “I’ll figure out something. For now, I’ll be more forging if I catch you sneaking out at night. Just… Keep trying to sleep, okay?” The tired man said to his student. Izuku nodded in agreement. Maybe he would be fine eventually. “Oh. Why are you awake, Aizawa-sensei?” Izuku asked, slowly leaning a little more towards his teacher over the table.

It had been a few days since Aizawa and Izuku's little chat in the dorm kitchens at night. At first, Izuku wasn't able to even look at his teacher in the eyes and he was kind of freaked out. He had spilled. He had one win though! Aizawa hadn't asked what was the thing that at first had caused him anxiety. Although he was sure it was going to come at some point, since… It was Aizawa, okay? Aizawa just didn't forget to ask something or leave business unfinished. So he probably had some kind of motive why he didn't bring it up right away. Was he reading too much into it? Maybe luck was on his side just this once and Aizawa had forgotten about it and just wouldn't ever ask about it. Highly unlikely, but it never hurt to hope. He really wasn’t up for answering those questions, but he was afraid that he wouldn’t have a say in the matter. With his luck, he most likely didn’t. His grip on his pencil tightened again and he the inside of his cheek.

“Izuku! Stay after class”, Aizawa called out to him when the bell rang. Izuku nodded, but internally he was sighing and cursing the whole thing down to Hell. Uraraka and Iida stared at him for a moment and Izuku felt compelled to say with a small smile: “I’ll catch up to you in lunch. Save me a seat.” Both smiled back in response, seemingly pleased with him answering and talking to them. That kind of made Izuku realize how quiet he had been and he was instantly hit with a wave of guilt. Of course they would forgive him, but he just felt bad. He had been more or less ignoring his friends and kept them in the dark about the whole ordeal. Then he stopped at that thought. He hadn’t told anyone of his struggles, Aizawa just had been there to press at the “correct timing”, unfortunately his friends hadn’t had the same luck as their teacher. He should tell them what has been going on but it felt bad. And he hasn’t even resolved the problem, he really didn’t want to worry her friends and make them think about his problems. It made him feel like a burden. He had to focus on something else, otherwise he would get sucked into that “I’m the worst possible person on this earth, I shouldn’t be here” -hole, which was never easy to get out of. He was getting slightly better with it, but it was never pleasant. Izuku zoned back in time, as Aizawa just repeated his name probably for the third time. “Sorry… I got lost in thought. What did you want to talk about?” Izuku asked the teacher. It looked like Aizawa’s eye had twitched at that but it was gone as fast as it had appeared so Izuku blamed it on his lack of sleep. “I've been thinking about this for awhile now... And I think you should try out a weight blanket, I'm pretty sure it would benefit you a lot”, the teacher said after a moment of silence. The first thought that went through Izuku’s head was “A what now?”, before he remembered reading about it in the internet some time ago. “Ah, sure but uh… How so?” Izuku asked. “There has been done some research on weight blankets. Because of it’s weight, it’s mimicking a therapeutic technique called deep pressure stimulation. So it’s good, since deep pressure makes the nervous system to calm down”, he explained. Izuku nodded and pondered his options. “Can I google it really quickly now?” he asked, hands already sliding into his uniform pocket. Aizawa nodded and yawned. Looks like he wasn’t the only one losing sleep. Well… Aizawa always looked like he was constantly in need of sleep. Quickly Izuku googled everything he needed to. He took a deep breath and looked back to his teacher, who had at one point during his googling, went to his sleeping bad and lied down on the floor. “I’ll take it”, Izuku said. Aizawa looked back up to him and nodded. “It’ll probably come in a few days. I’ll give it to you in the dorms when it arrives”, he informed the nervous teen, who just nodded back, bowed and ran to the cafeteria to his friends.

Just like Aizawa said, the teacher waited one late evening for everyone slowly go to their own rooms and took a gentle hold of Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku jumped at the sudden contact and looked to his teacher. Then teacher pulled something from behind his back and handed the heavy packet to Izuku. Izuku looked at his teacher questioningly, until he remembered. “Is this the…?” Izuku asked while slightly petting the packaging. Aizawa nodded. Without wasting any more time, Izuku and Aizawa went to his room and entered in. Izuku felt a little bit awkward having his teacher in his room, but he was too tired to start freaking out. He could leave that for tomorrow. He scrambled to his bed and ripped the packaging off of the heavy blanket. After little struggling, Aizawa took the packaging and opened it without any trouble. At that, Izuku did blush. “Lay down, problem child”, the teacher said in a bored tone. “What?” the boy asked in confusion. “Just do it”, Aizawa hissed lowly. Izuku complied, but he was confused. If he had been any more awake, he would’ve probably figured out what was going on but he wasn’t. The stoic man set the blanket on top of him and kind of tucked him in. Izuku looked at his teacher in disbelief. “We still need to consult Recovery Girl about taking up melatonin and you definitely should talk to your friend. And we still need to discuss about what got you so anxious in the first place. But for now, sleep”, the man said and stepped back. Izuku nodded sleepily. Aizawa got only to his room’s door, when Izuku called out to him again in a quiet voice: “Aizawa-sensei.” Aizawa hummed as a reply, showing him that he was paying attention. “Thank you for doing this… Thank you for worrying. Good night”, the teen said with a yawn. Aizawa took a deep breath and smiled lightly. “Good night, problem child”, the man said back in a soft tone. If anyone asked, he would deny ever using a tone like that. The last thing Izuku remembered thinking was: “Thank you, you’re a good teacher and a hero, Dadzawa.”

[echos-orchard]

Equinox, Chapter 1

...so...I'm rewriting an old story of mine, and was actually pretty proud of the results of the first chapter so...yeah!

Equinox is the story of Chloe and Orion, newfound friends who find themselves struggling for survival after a geometric disaster.

The human mind, a dark and dangerous place...or at least it can be. It’s almost taunting sometimes, how it exploits our deepest fears and insecurities...regrets.

Chloe sat in silence, listening to her psychology teacher ramble on about god knows what. Honestly, she knew that this would probably be on the test, and that she should be paying more attention- but she just couldn’t. Instead, she continued to doodle in her sketchbook- a concentrated look on her face. 

“Psst, hey,” she heard the whisper of a boy's voice. It was probably one of her classmates asking�� a question to someone- or seeking the attention of a friend while the teacher was distracted. She continued to draw in silence, stuck within her own little world. 

“Chloe, incoming!” the same voice whispered, a tad louder this time. She looked up, and was about to ask him what he wanted, when the teacher came and scooped up her sketchbook, idly flipping through and saying something about how it was a fine example of personality, but Chloe was far too embarrassed to listen. Mrs.Hemingway turned the book showing the rest of  her students- Chloe’s peers, the weird stuff she would doodle in her free time. 

The teacher placed the book back down on the desk with a smirk before walking back to the front of the classroom...what a bitch. Chloe placed her head in her hands, face redder than a beet. She could hear some of her classmates snickering, of course this would happen. The bell rang, Chloe practically threw her book bag behind her, and sprinted out of the room into the already growing mass of students flooding the halls. 

Lunch time was usually a time for friends to meet up, talk about life, and have fun together in a crowded lunchroom, but Chloe wasn’t about that shit. When she first transferred to this school two months ago to start her senior year, she made a vow to herself that she would never ever eat in that vomit inducing, disease ridden room. Instead, everyday she would go outside and read instead of eat- because fuck people, and fuck overpriced school lunch. Even so she was happy with her schedule. She would sit and read in silence, free from all the annoying assholes she went to school with. She was allowed to be lost in her own little world for forty five minutes before returning to hell. 

Chloe sprinted down the stairs to the first floor, where most of the students had already filed out. Taking a few deep breaths, she stopped in front of the bathroom, walking in cautiously. She checked every stall to make sure that they were absolutely empty, no one else needed to see her mess. She looked at herself in the mirror, sleep deprived dark brown eyes pooling with hurt and anger, her black hair that went down to the middle of her back was  disheveled, all around she just looked fucking terrible. 

She took a shaky breath. What the actual fuck? Why would her teacher do that? Everyone knew Mrs.Hemingway was a bitch but seriously!? It took everything in her power not to cry, but hey, she managed. Chloe combed her hands through her hair, trying to smooth out the previously perfect braid she once had, honestly just trying to regain her composure. She rinsed her face with cold water, reapplied her lip balm, readjusted her black sweater and skinny jeans, just doing some self care after that stressful situation. After calming down, she left the bathroom, entering the empty hallway- or well almost empty. A boy stood awkwardly reading a few feet away, on the opposite side of the hall, smiling ever so slightly. Though the content smile made the situation ever more strange seeing as he was reading outside the girls bathroom? The boys room was down the hall.

The dude had some decent height on him, Estella had to fucking look up to meet his eyes so.... He stood about six foot or six foot one or two?, while she herself stood about five foot five, which was a tad shorter than most of the girls around her school. He wore a red and white varsity jacket over a black t-shirt and some jeans. The guy had a mess of honey blonde hair and bright blue eyes that were looking down at a book he was slowly flipping through, no no not just any book. Chloe’s sketchbook. Fuck. This. Shit! How did he even get that, she was sure she had put it in her bag. What  did he come to tease her about it or something!?  Don’t fucking think so. Chloe snatched the small book from his hands, squaring her shoulders, and looking him dead in the eyes.   

The boy seemed taken aback for a second before smiling at her, “Sorry I didn’t really mean to snoop I just...you’re a killer artist dude!”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, gazing at him warily. Huh? The fuck did this man just say? Her drawings were trash, what was he thinking  of pulling here?  The jock stuck out his hand, “I’m Orion Berry, you’re Chloe Anderson, right?  We have a few classes together!”  He said cheerfully. 

Chloe shook his hand cautiously, honestly just confused about who the fuck this kid was, and why he was talking to her, if not just to bully her. “Yeah nice to meet you, sorry I’m a bit busy right now” Chloe mumbled, walking past him towards the double doors that led outside.

Apparently he didn’t quite catch the hint. Orion followed her, talking on and on about who the fuck knows what, Chloe wasn’t really listening. She sighed, fed up with this shitty day and this annoying kid she didn’t know or want to talk to, following her like a lost puppy...maybe this was why she had no friends actually. Chloe continued walking toward her usual spot on the bench in the courtyard, tuning out the overly excited jock to her left.

 “Sorry Orion, I actually need to meet up with some friends now, I really shouldn’t keep them waiting anymore” Chloe fake laughed, trying to get him to leave her alone.

“But you don’t have any friends Chlo-…” The boy blurted out, it only took a second for his eyes to widen and throw his hands over his mouth. ...okay ouch.

Chloe stopped in her tracks, “Excuse me?” she said, a sad melancholy filling her voice. 

“I have plenty of friends you douche!” She raised her voice slightly, catching the attention of some passersby.

Orion flung his hands off his face, shaking them panickedly  “No no no no that’s not what I meant to say, I just have never seen you hanging out with anyone before-”

“So what, you have been stalking me too!?” Chloe was both absolutely pissed with this kid, and sad at how obviously lonely she apparently was. Orion looked genuinely apologetic, but she didn’t even care, she wanted to but she has had such a shitty day. Her mother yelled at her that morning, and it was raining so she came in late and soaking wet. She forgot her math homework at home, was teased by a group of girls at her locker, had a sore throat from crying the previous night and was off key in choir because of it, and then she was embarrassed in front of her entire psychology class, and the day still wasn’t over! 

“No! We have a lot of classes together, I told you earlier! I just assumed- I’m sorry!” Orion tried to defend himself desperately. He definitely did not need a rumor flying around calling him a stalker. 

Chloe took a deep breath, “What. Do. You. Want.” She spoke clearly and harshly. Orion  frowned and faltered for a minute. “I just wanted to be your friend...you looked like you were having a hard day, and Hemingway obviously didn’t help... I’m sorry.” 

Fuck. Now she just feels bad. He didn’t want her to be stressed out and all alone. God fucking damn it. She sighed and put her face in her hands. “Well why didn’t you say anything before now?” she gritted out.

“I...I  did? Just a few minutes ago?” He mumbled. Of course. Of course he did. Right, when she wasn’t paying attention. I mean this wasn’t all her fault, right?...no it totally was, one hundred percent.

“Okay fine. You can tag along or whatever, just like shut up and yeah...sorry” She gave in. Orion brightened up a little, and the two of them walked in silence to the courtyard. Once she got there, Chloe collapsed onto the bench and closed her eyes. Orion smiled and sat by her. They sat there in awkward silence for a good few minutes, Chloe could feel his eyes on her and she sighed. 

“What do you want?” she asked, meeting his bright blue eyes. 

“What’s your favorite animal?” He responded innocently, a strange sense of wonder in his eyes.

“I don’t know, maybe like a panther, or owl, or something.” She replied. Then she sat there and answered questions for thirty minutes. She actually didn’t even mind it, he was pretty fun to hang out with. What the fuck? Chloe couldn’t believe how much of a bitch she was being to him earlier,  that was kind of fucked up. 

Still part of her struggled to believe it. He had to be planning something, maybe talking to her as a dare? When lunch ended they walked to class together, Orion still being his happy self and Chloe being tired as fuck but whatever.

When Orion said they had a lot of classes together, Chloe was expecting maybe two, not like the entire day...EXCEPT two. Honestly she did start feeling better, after completing her work in history she ranted about her day, it was nice to have someone listen. Orion even seemed happy to listen, and offered her some advice. They just kinda vibed and worked together all day. ...It was nice, unexpected, but nice.

The final bell had rung and Orion was still sitting and talking.  “Can I walk you home Chloe?” He gently asked.

“Absolutely not.” She laughed. Orion whined for a second before pouting. 

“But why not?

“Well first off I said no, second off I just met you, and third I said no, fuck you” Orion laughed at her response. 

“Well what are you doing later?” He asked cheerily.

“Studying, drawing, chores, the usual I guess. What about you?” Chloe said, honestly vibing with her new found...friend? Adopted son? She would totally adopt this dumb puppy.

“Visiting my little brother before his surgery.” Orion responded absentmindedly.

“Is he sick, or injured, or something?” Chloe questioned.

“His name is Oliver, he’s like twelve, he’s getting a tumor removed later today” 

“Oh, I hope it goes well.” She responded empathetically.

Orion smiled and thanked her. “We should hang out soon though, yeah?” Chloe tilted her head to the side “Do you have something in mind?” 

“How about we go to the movies?” 

Chloe nodded, “I’m free Friday?” 

”Sounds good! See you tomorrow Clo!” Orion said, walking out of the classroom, a slight skip in his step. ...Bro...Did she just agree to a date? Is she going on a date? Or like a friend date? Are they hanging out as friends...or? Chloe’s face flushed, no, no way it was just a friendly outing, they had literally just met. Either way she couldn’t help but smile.

...

...

...

...

God, she wished things could have just stayed that way.

[mostweakhamlets]

Tedious Turning of Pages and Toys

Bea is a somewhat successful lawyer, co-parent, and divorcee whose son befriends the new girl at school with a hot aunt. Crowley is the most doting parent in the world to make up for the fact that he's never been in a committed relationship with his daughter's other father.

Together, they carpool and provide healthy snacks at Sports Day with healthy doses of bitching in between.

Read on AO3 | Posted first on Patreon

Thursday

Bea woke up to silence, which hadn’t happened in over 6 years.

At first, they thought that maybe they had woken up in the middle of the night. They thought this with a little joy, knowing they could roll over and get maybe another three hours of sleep. Maybe four. They curbed their enthusiasm at five hours. They hadn’t had more than five hours of sleep in years.

But there was a nagging feeling underneath, chewing at their stomach. Maybe they had slept through their alarm, and they were hours late to work and Cain was hours late to school.

It was silly, they thought. They had an extra cup of coffee the day before. The caffeine was keeping them up.

But they opened their eyes. And saw light through a gap in their curtains.

“Shit.”

They grabbed their phone off their nightstand. Their alarm, annoyingly, was set to 6:00 pm.

“Shit.”

They had 20 minutes to get themselves and Cain dressed, fed, groomed, and out the door. It could be worse, they thought. 20 minutes was enough time to throw on clothes and shove a granola bar at Cain. They could eat at their office—their desk had an abundance of processed foods stored away inside it—and brush their hair in the car, then their teeth in the office bathroom.

And if there wasn’t time to detangle Cain’s hair or scrub his face free od crumbs, well, little boys were supposed to be messy. No one would look at a little boy with untidy hair and think, “That’s quite unusual.” Especially when dirt and bugs seemed attracted to them like a magnet. It was a rule of the universe. Little boys get to be messy without judgment.

“Cain, get up. We overslept.” Cain whined when Bea turned the lights on and threw his blankets off of him. “Come on. Get your uniform on.”

The six-year-old boy sat up with a scowl that rivaled his zaza’s. Bea was pleased that he had inherited that from them even if most of the time he was a walking ball of sunshine. They had no idea where that came from with a zaza like them and a father like Gabriel.

“Come on. Trousers. Shirt.”

Cain was a spitting image of Bea. He had their blue eyes and dark, unruly hair. Everyone had said that it was a shame he didn’t look more like Gabriel—specifically, that he didn’t get Gabriel’s purple eyes. Bea usually snapped in response, “They’re not purple actually. They’re just a really odd shade of gray. And Cain would probably get bullied if he had purple eyes, so it’s best they came out blue, isn’t it?”

Every night for the past four years, Bea rejoiced in the fact that Cain looked so little like Gabriel.

Once he was in his little school uniform and running off to the bathroom, Bea returned to their own room with a prayer that they had an outfit for the day. Laundry day had been skipped when Cain needed supplies from the craft store for a project on Tuesday and the skipped again when Bea desperately needed a nap on Wednesday.

They pulled their last top out of the closet and grabbed a somewhat-clean pair of trousers from the chair in the corner. It would have to do. Laundry could be done that night when they got home. It would need to get done. Cain was running dangerously low on clean pants.

“Zaza!”

A distressed voice came from the bathroom as Bea shook out the jacket they had worn every day that week.

“What is it?” they called back.

“Zaza!”

Bea sighed. “One minute!”

While tucking their top into their trousers, they began to make their way to the bathroom where Cain was yelling. Their phone buzzing behind them stopped them and forced them to turn on their heel.

They didn’t want a call. They wanted to get Cain in his shoes and backpack and out the door.

“What do you want?”

“I have a huge favor to ask of you.” On the other end of the phone, Anthony Crowley sounded hoarse and tired, and Bea knew where the conversation was going. “Can you pick up Eden and take her to school?”

“Are you serious?”

“I have that bug that’s going around. I can’t take her.”

Bea took a moment to breathe in deeply. There was no time to get angry even if Crowley made their ears ring and heart race.

“Only if Cain gets picked up with Eden today.”

“Fine. Zira’s doing pick up. I’ll let him know.”

Bea didn’t like leaving Cain in the care of Zira. He was the only man to make Bea see red just by existing.

Cain learned bad things from him. Like to be nice to everyone regardless of what they do. And to always turn the other cheek when wronged. Bea didn’t want Cain to become a push-over. They wanted him to stand his ground and have the balls to tell people what he really thought of them. The world didn’t need any overly-friendly kindness.

And Zira wasn’t even a totally kind person. He was passive-aggressive and spiteful and hid behind his nice guy persona to maintain his holier-than-thou complex.

Bea dwelled on this as they brushed a knot out of Cain’s hair.

“We have to leave a bit earlier to pick up Eden,” they said. And then, mostly to themselves, “It takes only five minutes to get to their house, but it’s in the opposite direction from school. So, it’ll take 15 minutes instead of 10 to get to school. We’d have to leave Crowley’s house at 7:45 to get to school on time. Which means we have to leave here at 7:40. Which is…” Bea looked at their phone. “5 minutes ago.”

Bea rushed Cain through the rest of their morning routines. They brushed his teeth quickly (they had a spare toothbrush and travel-sized toothpaste in their work bag for mornings like these) and shoved shoes onto feet. Bea rutted around in the glove department in their car on their way to Crowley’s house until they found an abandoned energy bar that resembled a brick under a napkin and an empty bottle of pain relievers.

“Eat that.” Cain happily began to. “I’ll get Eden.”

Crowley answered the door in his robe and childless. He was pale, and his hair was pulled into a messy bun.

“Where is she? We’re late?”

Crowley leaned in the doorway. “Didn’t you get my text?”

“No. I was trying to leave my house so I could tote your child off to school on time. I didn’t look at my texts. Why would I look at my texts?”

“Eden’s sick, too. She vomited on her uniform. I called her off—”

Bea was already storming away. They stopped half-way down the walkway and turned back around.

“Can Zira still pick up Cain?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Bea wrinkled their nose when they imagined Cain walking home with him, probably being asked about the best parts of his day and being praised when Zira heard he shared a snack.

“You know, forget it. I’ll get him on my break.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

There was no way they were going to make it to school or work on time now. All because of the diseased Crowleys. All because they had tossed their phone into the bottom of their bag rather than their jacket pocket as they usually did.

“Where’s Eden?” Cain asked, mouth covered in chocolate (did the energy bar have chocolate in it?), when Bea slid back into the car.

“Eden’s ill.” Bea threw the car into reverse. “She’s bloody ill.”

--

Crowley waited until Eden was sound asleep before he called Zira. He brushed her red hair away from her feverish brow while the phone rung.

While his stomach had calmed with a cup of tea, Eden only wanted the comfort of her father to cure her ills. And who was Crowley to deny her that when he knew that a good cuddle was the best medicine?

“Anthony?”

“Hey, angel.”

“What’s the matter? You sound ill.”

Crowley smiled. Zira was so intuitive. “I am. And so is Eden. I was just letting you know that you don’t have to pick her up from school today. Or probably tomorrow. We’re taking the rest of the week off.”

“Poor things.”

“You don’t have to have her this weekend, either. I’ll keep her here.”

There was a pause before Zira spoke again. “I don’t feel like I have to have her.”

“Yeah. But you get the weekend off, either way.”

“It’s not like she’s a kid I’m babysitting. She’s my daughter.”

“I know. I know. I just mean… it’ll be a nice break, you know? Just you and yourself.”

“I like having her.”

“I know you do.”

“I look forward to our weekends together. If she’s ill, then keep her home. But I never feel like I have to look after her.”

Crowley rubbed Eden’s back. She was the best thing to ever happen to either of them. They adored her, and she was doted on every minute they had her.

If anything, she was the main reason Zira and Crowley maintained their weird-somewhat-relationship-thing. Co-parenting allowed for phone calls and texts and dinners. They went to school programs and did shopping for Christmases and birthdays together. They alternated whose house they did holidays at and occasionally took trips out of London. They had dozens of pictures of the three of them at beaches and in little shops and cafes. Crowley couldn’t have asked for a better co-parent/sometimes-boyfriend.

But Crowley felt that sometimes Zira didn’t know what to do with her. He had confessed once that he was paralyzed with fear the first he had her one his own. She was just a baby, and he barely left her side. Even at night, he slept in a chair next to her crib with everything she could possibly need on standby.

“She’s not a chore,” Aziraphale said. “She’s my daughter.”

“Yeah.”

Aziraphale continued to struggle as she got older. He tended to spoil her with anything she wanted—too afraid to say no in fear that she would develop any resentment towards him. When Crowley said bedtime was at 8, Aziraphale would let her stay up until 8:30. When Crowley told her no sweets too close to dinner, Aziraphale would sneak whatever she wanted to her.

Crowley thought of it less as parenting and more of an anxious attempt to be Eden’s friend, which left him in the dangerous position of being the strict parent.

“If you’d like, you could always pick her up from school Monday,” Crowley said.

“I’d love to, but I’m working late Monday.”

“Right.”

“But maybe we could all have dinner then if you’re both feeling up to it. I’ll cook.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll let you two rest. Feel better. Give Eden a kiss for me.”

“Will do, angel.”

[popcornbutterflymedia]

it’s a little before seven in the evening as i am attempting to begin writing this post on the day a former president has died. in other words, i am winging it and praying it comes out half decent. i have been winging all my the posts for this show, but writing this post about this particular episode at the tail end of the last week is interesting, to say the least.

upon first viewing on iwanttfc, i had already tweeted “consider this the soul of the show.” at this point we’re not even halfway to the entire series. that declaration carries such weight, but this episode did prove to be the soul of the series. this is also the first episode i’ve had a visceral reaction to, beyond the understandable kilig. i was lightheaded, stumped, and on the verge of tears after the first episode viewing, that’s probably why this is taking awhile to put out.

this also feels like an episodic answer to a lot of questions.

max has entered the lion’s den, lost, but with her defenses up. deib was less than prepared to fight back, considering the circumstances, but he was quick to gather his wits about him, pinning max where he is at an advantage. even now, as i am writing it, i feel it - it’s a notch above giddiness, it’s an awareness, it’s pushing the envelope in a way that’s right for their age, but still surprising, and refreshing. it’s the naughtiness of the sly smiles, the role reversal, and the trading of banter, all of them collectively are building blocks to max and deib’s dynamic.

the banter graduates to actual conversation, that, for people who are considered arch rivals, is surprisingly decent, and seemingly cordial. both max and deib give as good as they get, much like a tennis rally where either one refuses to be on the losing end. this amuses to no end, and ups the kilig factor in such an intelligent and substantial way. this is how you know, this part of the series is their story. more on this later.

outside of the boy’s room, the banter becomes a challenge, a daring as represented by a pool table, and the number of games that such table hosts. these pool games between benison’s star player and mindoro’s top billiard player, and pool center fixture, these games are metaphors, with the stakes higher each game, for their rivalry, and their curiosity about each other. more so his curiosity about this slip of a girl who he finds difficult to win against. i daresay, at some point he gave up trying to win, and just gave in seeing her in a different light. deib’s eyes give him away, and as for donny’s eyes, finally doing the work, this is it, and it’s a sight to see, a growth to enjoy.

it’s a given that belle makes donny’s job easier for him. four episodes in, and i am still in awe at belle’s ability to transform. it’s still surprising, how she willingly gets lost in character. i am watching max, but she doesn’t make me forget that i am watching belle. it’s a weird thing i have watching actors in character - i am aware i am watching both the character and the actor wholly and simultaneously, and belle is one of the few who makes me do that with ease.

deib’s mother announces her presence, interrupts the pool tournament shaping up between taguro and sensui.

in front of his mother, deib the star bear, the alpha disappears. he signals for max to leave, and just when she was about to, max is invited to join them for dinner. it is insisted that she join her for dinner. he warns his friend: 'don't say anything that will get us into trouble' prompting said friend, max to wonder, what could she ever say that will put them both in trouble?

at the dinner table, the silence weighs heavy between mother and son. a silence foreign to the lone guest, a silence she attempts to diffuse, by talking about anything other than subjects, as touchy as family, and the like. then again, between this mother and son, the line between touchy and permissible topics of conversation are blurred and fragile.

food! food is a free for all, food is a benign subject. the food's delicious, is it her own recipe? max is genuinely curious ma'am. the woman across the table laughs off such a formal honorific. call her auntie, she says. 'tita' is more like it. 'tita' it is, max decides. not stopping there, max asks if she'd gone to one of deib's games to see his lay ups and three pointers. she regaled him with embellished stories of his reputation, of being an all around star student and an instant friend. this, much to the mother's relief - her son is apparently surrounded by good people. max was able to do all this, when all deib asked of her was to not get both of them, into trouble. just like that, the girl single handedly broke the tension and dispelled the air of formality, in a way no one else has. if that isn't enough of a surprise for deib, max held the door open for him, and granteded him access to his own mother's heart, and let hope spring in his own.

after dinner, we find max and deib in his room, steeped in the assigned work. it's an easy silence between them, proof that from that dinner encounter, something new and beautiful and unnamed grew between them. he pays her his due, and thanks her for not damaging his reputation more in front of his own mother. so he knows how to say thank you, after all, she's surprised...in jest. he allows it. and so insues an exchange of histories, and fears and lessons. she reads him so perfectly, he's supposed to be scared, or condemn her, or banish her from this earth, or whatever it is the deib lhor enrile does to those who get a bit too close for comfort. he, instead allows it, giving her unprecedented access to his friends, his brother, his heart. and his heartbreaks. he dares to get closer himself, in the most physical sense so the curiosity planted at the pool table grew exponentially. that is until she breaks the spell. there is resistance in letting him in, which he knows to hold against her. he wins, and she relents. we learn of a ghost of a past love, a young love. a better player than deib is.

just a note though: for a past love who ghosted her, max boasts of rj being the better basketball player still. this could be true, based on who I am guessing rj is, but consider this: could she be clinging onto the untarnished memory she has of this first love, disregarding the pain she was caused, because straying away from that memory will allow her the space to fall, and that's what she promised herself she would never do? if that's the case, max is just as complex as deib is, maybe even more so.

after knowing her story, he did promise to go up against this ghost of a lover, in a one on one game of basketball and win it for her. someone is making her promises now. that's unsettling.

meanwhile, the barb is winding down as alpha two plus lorde strolls in. they keep it open for the boys who are in for a later night shot of caffeine, sweets, a shot at love perhaps?

art and sweets and flirtatious, funny quips are choice ammunition in this game of love, or something like it. naih's confidence is legendary. she gets away with her boldness because of criza's charm. joao, you know, that boy always makes it work.

tob and michiko are easy, because rhys and kaori make it easy. i understand the visual. I get the chemistry. I swear I get the hype. I have been waiting for this. you all know that. they've only cemented their place in the industry as new partnership, and there are hardly any words for it, a chemistry this strong. theirs is an unspoken connection and sincerity that cannot be taught. they are all that.

it is clear, though, that this is deib and max's story. see, I have been hyping myself up for thst tochiko moment, probably from the time when we still had very little news in the junket about donny and belle. and they did deliver, they did not disappoint. max and deib's chemistry surprisingly captured my heart from the get go, though, especially in this episode (as they should, this is, again, their story anyway). if I was a teenager, I would be fawning over tochiko's eye to eye silent conversation and up to now, I still do to some extent. I'm just older now. give me substantial kilig more than anything any day. give me kilig in context. kilig that opens up the heart. kilig with emotional intimacy.

max and deib in the fourth episode is kilig (just as tob and michiko are), but I can't stress enough, just how much and why. from the entire conversation from the banter to the interaction with the mom to the entire encounter in the room, they aren't trying to make us kilig. it isn't exactly sweet, but you'll reach a point where just the mere act of people wanting to have a conversation with you is life changing, when someone cares enough not to put you in more trouble than you expect, matters so much more. it shows you your worth. and that to me is the sweetest most loving thing ever. that is, even before both of them acknowledge that love between them.

a breakthrough has been reached. walls have been shattered.

the day of their school presentation, the event is met with an air of uncertainty, not for the two's lack of skill, but because two people from separate ends of the social spectrum are to work together, which up to that point is unprecedented.

the presentation started out shaky even for max and deib themselves, but once they got drafted, they had the audience, most of them, at least in the palm of their hands.

'we are all bullies, yet we are also victims. the cycle never ends...because we are all trying to survive this cruel world, trying to succeed, trying to grow. trying to discover who we really are. trying to accept who we really are. trying to be accepted for who we really are...'

this was followed by definitive apologies from both deib, for bullying, and max, for judging, and not necessarily helping to make things better. this prompted the entire community to mingle, and make their own apologies.

a few things about this whole moment:

there is such power in calling things as they are, calling things by their name. 'bully' and 'victim' are such weighted words and there is such a relief in taking responsibility for your disgressions and through that responsibility allowing your victim to embraced their pain guiltlessly.

there is also such power and humility, that while one did not do anything explicit, to stop the cycle, they did not do anything to make things better, easier. there is humility in realising that even as a victim your own pain, might have caused more pain to others.

apologies matter. the word 'sorry' matters. and it matters across the board. while metaphorical apologies are in some ways acceptable, and poetic, sometimes, the simpler, the better. a sincere 'sorry' should suffice. no one is ever too old to apologize.

now, even the sincerest words have parameters that are dictated by how many listen, and how many don't. and that's what we cannot control. there is power in recognizing who you are in the community, and that, especially when you are in a place of influence, you have the power to create change. the power to stop the cycle. there is peace in knowing we've done all that we could to make things better, just like deib had his own moment of reckoning.

as for max, the moment she stepped into that school, she was meant to be a trailblazer, and even at this point, she had been nothing but an agent of change.

I am curious now, how she is changed by the newness of her surroundings and the possibility of a budding love?

everything is well and dandy for everyone else, max and deib even had that little moment by the tables, again with the simple but powerful chemistry. everyone is changing (this is a shoutout to melizza again. every time the camera pans to her, especially when max was speaking at the auditorium, you could sense an internal transformation. she knows the assignment well, huh? )...everyone else, but aimee. I feel sorry for her. it makes me want to know more of her story. what makes her cling to being mean? why the volatility? more than anger, there's curiosity. I feel sorry for her. there's more to be told. breakthroughs open the narrative up for more, newer stories.

this was a fast one to write, but I held off until these last few moments, because it's incredibly triggering and just as healing. more than the kilig I understand and we all enjoy, the real message is the importance of communication, telling people how you really feel. don't let them assume and don't assume they know. it's also important to call things as they are, even if it's ugly, even as it hurts. some days, there is no replacement for a 'sorry,' a genuine apology.

be gentle. be kind. listen. everyone, after all, is a story.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I’m not in a terrible mood this week although I am completely exhausted with everything.  Home is great when you have internet.  Not so great when people try to disrupt it by setting up service on top of your address.  People can be terrible communicators especially when they are focusing only on themselves.  We live in isolated times I understand.  The idea that people ‘project’ all the information you need is incredibly exhausting to have to read into all the time.  Especially when no one bothers to read what you project back.  I often wonder if it will get exponentially worse when people feel safer returning to a public facing world.  I’ve been public facing throughout all of this and for many years prior.  You can’t travel the world alone and develop some sort of toughness.  The real trick is being able to turn your defenses on and off.  It’s a reflex.  Like how in one breath I can tell somebody to fuck off then turn my head and help a kitten from the sidewalk.  If it were called acting then I would have a job already.  I often have to look back at how I’ve grown over time to figure out the headspace.  I’ve always been sort of awkward.  Mostly because I was sensitive to what others thought of me.  I’ve always been bullied as long as I can really remember.  I grew up in an Irish Catholic suburb filled with white people, white pride and whiter drug problems than they cared to admit to.  Most of my friends were losers and rejects.  I kept to myself and listened to hip hop on a broken yellow sony walkman.  People would call me the n word every morning on my way to school proudly claiming I was going to hell.  I was a shy and nerve racked honors student.  I grew up an only child who wrote poetry and science fiction.  I played pen and paper role playing games by myself because nobody shared the same interests.  At times, the friend groups that I did find had group agendas that dwarfed my social needs.  This never really changed.  I spent most of the last ten years revisiting this sort of solitude.  I travelled Korea, Japan and China by myself.  I stayed in hostels in group situations where I still felt uncomfortable.  I developed skills to talk to people.  I met a lot of weird people.  I met a lot of nice people too.  In Seoul particularly, I found a normal that I’d never really understood before.  I’d go out and actually do things with people I didn’t know.  I went to a guitar cafe once in a basement in a small neighborhood called Hyehwa.  The group was myself, a hostel owner, a soccer fan from Dalian, and a random guest.  We sat in silence as a small old man played “Goodbye to Romance” on a small guitar as silent Pink Floyd concert footage played out on the tv behind him.  I escaped to Korea for a long time.  I’d go every six months for two to three weeks on vacation.  At the time I had the vacation from my job to use with impunity.  If I stayed home in the states, people would follow me.  I realized this later when I switched my trips to New York.  My boss and my CIO would stop at nothing to contact me on my vacation to write emails they couldn’t formulate.  Ask questions about things they already knew the answer to.  Looking back on it, there are so many times people made my life miserable enough to make me quit.  I never really got the message because I’ve been so bullied over my life that I learned to ignore it.  My CIO famously cornered me in a hall once and asked what was wrong.  He told me point blank I didn’t have a good poker face.  I replied I wasn’t aware we were gambling.  It was so subtle I don’t think he understood I wasn’t bluffing.  I lost that hand six months later when he fired me over video chat.  Nine months later I’m dead to an entire twenty years of friendships and professional connections.  If I don’t look surprised or scared, it must be the poker face I’ve been working on.

This is to say I understand or process none of anything that has happened to me anymore.  It hurts beyond hurting.  And I’ve become an expert at dealing with it all alone and in silence.  So much so that people follow me around like lost puppies thinking I can offer them clarity.  Or treat me like a practice dummy in their attempt to haphazardly attack the real problems in society.  I’ve never been so tired, done and particularly bored with everything until now.  And yet the bitterness never really gets me anywhere except physically sick and depressed.  Throughout all of this as the situation in society starts to worsen, I see people looking to me for leadership or guidance.  This is often without even asking or having consent.  They think I’m part of some revolution that they’ve never asked about.  Nobody has ever asked my name.  They just know me as the guy they see around all the time.  That I’m some wise and silent protector of things when I’m just some regular person suffering just like everybody else.  If you really added it all up and put these chapters I write together, you’d see an alarming trend.  That for whatever movement people include me in, I’m expected to fight all of this alone.  And me knowing full well how well movements and revolutions have left me completely insignificant and invisible after the things I have done is disheartening.  People enjoy getting a reaction.  Pushing all the buttons every time you step outside your door.  Sometimes it’s a hundred yards before someone starts trouble.  Sometimes it’s the minute you step outside either porch you share with your neighbors.  The lack of dignity and respect is something I deserve because of my supposed position of power.  America is like that.  There is so little to go around that everything is a Hunger Games glorification. Classes need to provoke each other not identities.  And yet we measure each other’s value by our differences and not our common strengths.  America has always been a paradox in this way.  The magical chaos of Anarchy that allows everyone to be free at the expense of others.  The real way to be free in America is money.  And money locks us out from the dialogue more often than not.  It’s a great narrative that people can start their own businesses here in America when all the contract work is locked behind corporate recruiters, headhunters with signing bonuses and worse.  That somehow at the end of a pandemic I’ve survived almost completely alone in I’m supposed to give in at the end.  It’s like the clown in It gnashing it’s teeth as it shrinks into a harmless baby.  I feel a bit sorry for America right now.  And yet that clown has become less menacing to me and has been forced to feed on others.  After all I’ve seen and been through I have no luxury to be afraid of anything or anyone.  I have completely lost my innocence in that respect.  And the face I put on for society when I walk out the door is one of stone.  It is futile to expect that anyone can engage me with respect, humility and courage.  Nobody can ever say my name.  I have not heard my name spoken in forever by people I know well.  I hear it spoke when I get Korean food down the street.  My neighbors simply tell things to me.  Or give me a longing glance like I’m supposed to read their mind, their agenda and trust their nosy intentions of being there at exactly the right time.  We’re all in this together.  We’re all connected.  And yet after all of this I’ve realized no matter how well and good that may seem, it’s a liability to be social without a proper level of respect for your right to be human.  Acting like the neighborhood secret police is not revolutionary. Acting like I owe anybody anything in this city after what IT has put me through is subliminal torture.  I’ve told it like it is more than often about my life here in America.  So much so that it echoes around the globe at this point as an anomaly.  Is it really true that this guy clearly does not give a fuck about what anybody thinks of him?  Yes.  This is how I stay the fuck alive out here.  I need you to understand just how desperate that sounds.  Then I need people to realize that the only thing I’m desperate for is to be left alone at this point.  

The reason I’m invisible to many people is that I’m not worth shit.  We are all technically not worth shit.  This might be news to all of you who read these.  Because I generally feel the most care from people on this platform.  I’m baffled by my own thoughts on this.  How a click can mean more than the world to me than a bunch of people in real life shouting or glaring at me with hidden intentions.  A glare and a hidden message on the internet is most likely spam.  A glare in the streets with a knowing look is basically an invitation to fraud for me at this point.  If you’ve seen me all over the place maybe you should ask my name or introduce yourself.  And yet in Nazi Germany, you wonder if the secret police felt the same.  The overall effect of having people follow, watch and keep tabs on you has this lofty narrative.  Don’t you feel important now that secretly you are being watched?  Don’t you feel special?  I have travelled all over the world by myself at this point.  I paid off the credit card bills to prove it.  Do you think I don’t know what it is like to be surveilled and followed?  Do you think in an era where white people actively target people and hurt them I feel any safer than anyone else?  I am appalled at what I’ve heard in the news.  And yet it is always the same root.  White extremism.  White culture.  White people.  Power abused.  Defenseless broken down worthless trash in rebellion.  Poor me for having a bad day.  In my admonishment of my mother’s call for information for Ancestry dot com, we had a conversation about family.  There are huge segments of my family I stay away from.  My cousin who I have not spoken to for years lives out west.  I learned last night that he sells guns for a living.  My mom told me a story of his father who was an avid gun supporter.  My parents approached him about being godparents.  He replied that he would only accept on one condition.  That when I came of age he would teach me how to shoot a gun like a real man.  I’ve never touched a gun in my life.  I’m a registered conscientious objector.  I swing a hammer in game more often than not though I’m known to creep around with a sniper rifle in Cyberpunk.  That’s a fucking game.  My cousin is out there somewhere at a gun show with a Trump flag and an internet connection just like every other right wing troll on the internet.  And I have to deal with the Fallout just the same.  Everyone bangs away at their status messages and twitter feeds and accomplishes more of the same.  Fear.  It froths over.  It never goes away.  It burns into hatred.  It becomes a righteous cause for which to stand behind.  My rights to be free.  As if holding a gun protects you.  As if wasting your prayers on causing harm to others really heals the world.  As if playing power and mind games on people you don’t know is somehow an act of liberation.  As if boring me the fuck to death with how cool you think you are by thinking you on anywhere near my fucking level helps my situation.  I have a right to be exhausting with all this performative bullshit.  And yet the world keeps upping the ante.  Like we’re in some high stakes Hunger games casino and the reward is your freedom at the expense of others.  We are not all in this together until we can look each other in the eye and understand the cause of each other’s pain.  The pain is that we do not communicate like human beings.  We skitter and prey upon each other like animals.  Animals remember when you feed and protect them.  Humans are worse.  If I know one thing about Planet of the Apes is that not even Mark Wahlberg can save you now.  Just let me exist outside the dome and forget I’m somebody important.  I’ve got my own life and loves I have to protect.  You don’t know what I go through daily to honor that.  And that secret is nobody’s business but mine.  Since there are no jobs left in America, I’ll settle for that one. I don’t need a letter of recommendation.  I write one every week.  Yeah we all float down here.  You’ll float too.  Better than sinking.  <3 Tim

[willow-salix]

OK, this is random and silly, but also a bit mushy, not really my usual thing at all, but I felt the need for a squishy Virgil and to let you all awwww. This is my offering for this week's #fabfivefeb that the lovely @gumnut-logic is hosting. Enjoy.

"Duck…duck…duck...duck….GOOSE!" The young boy slammed his hand down on Selene's head, packing a powerful punch for one so small. The boy shot off like he'd been fired from a cannon to the cheering of his schoolmates. 

"Selene, you gotta run!" Gordon bellowed. It took Selene a second to scramble to her feet but then she took off, running the perimeter of the circle. 

"No! This isn't Baseball, you don't need a home run!" Alan laughed so hard he actually fell backwards out of the circle. 

"Chase him!" 

She changed course and raced after her attacker, who was as slippery as a greased eel and dodged around her, easily avoiding her. 

"Catch him!" Virgil yelled encouragingly.

"I'm trying!" The young boy slipped out of her grasp and threw himself down into her vacated spot. 

"Home!" he smiled triumphantly. 

"Heck, I missed," she threw up her hands in mock disappointment, "I guess I'll just have to sit out." She didn't get more than two paces before she was called back. 

"Sel, you can't leave, that's not how the game works," Virgil grinned from his spot on the ground, where he was sitting cross legged, just like  everyone else. 

"I can't?" 

"Nope," Alan chimed in. 

"THIS GAME MAKES NO SENSE! Why do we even have ducks and geese, what's that all about?"

 "Haven't you ever played this before?" Gordon looks horrified. 

"No! I never played that at school."

"What did you play then?" A little girl asked her. 

"We played lots of other games, I suppose one of the closest to this is British Bulldog."

"What's that?" a smaller boy who had been looking incredibly bored, suddenly sat up and took notice. 

"Yeah, I've never heard of that one," Gordon admitted. 

"Can we play it now?" a smaller girl asked. 

"I… I guess so, I mean, I don't see why not."

"How does it work?" 

"Well, the aim of the game is to run from one side to another, without getting caught, kids are only allowed to do touch tagging, adults are fair game. We start off with four people in the middle who have to catch and tag as many people as possible, the ones that get tagged join the catchers in the middle. We run back and forth until one person is left that makes it safely to the other side."

"That sounds fun," Alan grinned, "I'm in!"

EARLIER THAT DAY

"Once again I want to thank you all for doing this, and apologise for not being able to attend myself, we had a minor disaster with Hyper2, nothing to worry about, just a small acceleration problem," Tycho Reeves' hologram floated above the instrument panel of Thunderbird Two where John usually appeared. 

"Acceleration problem? I'm not going to have to shoot down another tube am I? We didn't bring Four."

"No, no, it's not that type of problem," Tycho assured them. "The issue is that as soon as we reach full acceleration she starts to go backwards. We think the safety cut off Brains designed is working a little too well."

Selene heard Alan's muffled snort of laughter behind her but managed not to join in, unfortunately Gordon wasn't so disciplined. 

Tycho cleared his throat before continuing.

"As I explained to Scott, the school is counted as a low income area and so it's helped by the charity I patron. They are doing heros week and International Rescue was the most written about people. The competition was held over three schools in the district and the essay that was chosen belongs to a boy named Will."

They all nodded, having read the brief. 

"I've scheduled you in for two hours but the school is more than happy for you to stay as long as you like, the kids especially would like you to have lunch with them if possible."

"I'm always up for lunch," Gordon said, having managed to gain control of his laughter. 

"We'll stay as long as we can," Virgil promised, "but if an emergency comes in, we'll have to go."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Tycho smiled, cutting the feed with a goodbye nod. 

"This is going to be so much fun!" Alan cheered. 

"This is going to be hell," Selene groaned. 

"You didn't have to come," Virgil pointed out gently. "I don't know why you're making such a fuss, you're great with kids."

"I had to, I couldn't leave all the girls to the mercy of all your testosterone, they had to know that girls can be part of a team too. But I'm still allowed to make a fuss," Selene grumbled.

"We aren't."

"You're boys, it's common knowledge that boys have a hidden inner child that's always bursting to get out."

"I resent that remark," Gordon mock huffed. 

"Plus," Selene continued as if he had never spoken, "you aren't the ones with a womb that your Grandma is determined to guilt into popping out great-grandchildren."

"Would that be so bad?" Virgil asked innocently and she could already see the images he was imagining from the little smile forming on his face. 

"Yes! With all that Tracy super sperm, I'd have a herd in a year! You guys don't just stop at one." 

Alan choked, Gordon laughed so hard that no sound came out, just a wheeze like asthmatic bagpipes. 

"Bit dramatic, don't you think?" Virgil's eyebrow arched but his lips twitched as he held back a grin. 

"Not really. But, we talked about it and neither of us feel even remotely ready to think about anything like that, it's just not the right time. Honestly, I don't know if it will ever be the right time or if we'd even want any, at the moment we don't. Much the same as we aren't getting married to please everyone else, I'm not popping out kids for any reason other than us wanting them either."

"Fair enough," he nodded, seeing her point. "You know, Dad used to go to schools and talk to the kids about being an Astronaut. One time he came to the school that Scott and I were at and it was so weird to see all our classmates going crazy over his stories, stories we'd heard a million times before and thought were rather boring. To them he was Jeff Tracy, Astronaut, but to us he was just Dad, the slightly goofy guy that made us do our homework and gave us chores to do around the house."

"Do you think that Dad will want to do it again after we bring him home?" Alan asked, not remembering anything that Virgil was talking about. Selene reached over to take his hand, giving it a little squeeze. 

"Oh I'm sure he will," Virgil smiled fondly, "that was the only time that people thought he was cool, he'd never give up a chance to tell impressionable kids all about space."

Gordon laughed. "He got John and Alan but never managed with me, I prefer to keep my sights set a little lower and wetter."

"Boy, do not be saying stuff like that in front of the kids," Selene warned as Alan sniggered beside her. 

"I just meant-" 

"We know what you meant," Virgil laughed. 

"Well I'm just going to shut up if I'm going to keep getting picked on!" 

They lapsed into silence until the school playing field came into view, the only place big enough to land. There was already a crowd of children and teachers waiting to greet them. 

"Wow, that's a lot of kids," Alan's eyes grew wider as he looked out of the window to the field below. "Can we handle that many?" 

"Luckily we won't have to, we're doing a talk to everyone in the school hall, and then going to hang out with the winner and his class," Virgil assured him. 

"So only say, thirty kids, not 300?" 

"Yep." 

Alan nodded. "That we can handle." 

Virgil brought the big craft down softly on the grass, and even the soundproofing of Two couldn't drown out the cheers and excited screams of the children. 

"Here we go," Gordon gulped as they walked down into the belly of the craft to make their appearance. 

                                 ***

"And remember the golden rule, be safe, be careful, and be kind. Those in need of help aren't just the ones in danger, they are the ones being bullied, being hurt, or in a sad situation. There are some things in life that people can't help and there are some that they can, and you are the next generation of International Rescue Agents, it's your job to make sure that you help as many people as you can," Virgil smiled, looking around at the rapt faces of the kids. 

" You don't have to be big to be a help, " Alan chimed in. 

" You don't have to be super strong," Gordon continued. 

" You don't even have to be a boy, " Selene added to the cheers of a number of girls in the audience. "You don't have to be an action man to help someone, sometimes the help that people really need is to know they have a friend, someone to have their back and to stand with them when they need it. Emotional support is just as important as physical support." 

"Wherever you go, whatever adventures you go on, remember to always think things through and plan for your safety. It can be a big, dangerous world out there and taking risks makes it all the more likely that you'll end up in trouble. Always play safe," Gordon instructed, reiterating the lessons they had just gone over involving safety in the water, out in nature and even in the city and towns. Danger was everywhere, they knew that better than anyone and knew that a situation could turn deadly in a matter of seconds if you weren't fully prepared. They had instructed them on how to make themselves as safe as possible if they did get into trouble, how to call for help and what to do while waiting for help to arrive. Now they were making sure that their lessons had hit home and wrapping up the talk. 

"Always carry your phone," Alan continued to drum in their words of caution, "and never be afraid to ask for help, because there is always someone willing to step up. It could be the police, the fire service, paramedics, mountain rescue, the coastguard or even us."

"We aren't the hero's, we're just the ones that use the equipment and knowledge we have to the best of our abilities, and you can too. You can be a hero, you don't need a Thunderbird, you just need a good heart and to be a good friend," Virgil concluded. "Thanks for listening to us today, remember what we said, and together we can all make the world a better place.

The teachers started clapping first, then the children joined in. Selene watched her boys visibly relax as they finished, not really used to public speaking.

The principal joined them at the front of the hall and thanked them for their time. 

"Are there any questions for International Rescue before we finish and go back to our lessons?"

A sea of hands shot up and Principal Jones waited patiently for them to pick a few children.

Virgil scanned the little faces, the waving arms and the zeroed in, pointing to a smaller boy sitting on the end of a row, who startled and looked around to make sure that it was actually him who had been picked. He was clearly very nervous and not used to being noticed, but he sat up straighter, his voice growing louder as he gained confidence. 

"Hi, my name is Jason, I just wanted to ask-"

"Speak up, Jason, we can't hear you," a teacher called encouragingly. 

Jason took a deep breath and spoke again, this time a little louder. "How did you guys get so big, big enough to help people? Were you ever smaller, like me?" 

"Alan's still small," Gordon quipped, earning himself a glare from his brother. 

"Believe it or not, we were all small at your age," Virgil answered, ignoring his brothers. 

"Even you?" 

"Even me."

"So I won't stay this small forever?" 

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being smaller," Alan insisted. "You don't measure a person's worth on how big they are, but on what they do. You don't have to be big to be brave." 

"Jason will never be brave or big then," a voice called out from the other end of the row. 

Jason hung his head, looking down at his shoes, clearly embarrassed. 

"Hey, that's not a very nice thing to say, Jacob," Principal Jones called out. "We don't bully people here, were you not listening to a word these nice people said?" 

"Sorry Principal Jones," Jacob called back, sounding a little less cocky and a little more contrite. 

Virgil was off before anyone realised he was moving, coming to a stop beside Jason's seat. He hunkered down, getting as close to the boys level as he could. 

"Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't be brave, OK?" He was speaking directly to the boy but his deep voice carried across the hall with little effort, making sure that everyone heard him. 

"But it's true, I'm not brave." 

"Sure you are, you're talking to us now aren't you? That's brave." 

Jason didn't answer. 

"There's nothing wrong with being quiet, you know. Not everyone has to be loud and the center of attention."

"But how will I ever be a Thunderbird if I can't be brave and talk to people?" 

"I know it's hard, but you don't have to talk to people face to face to be brave or to help people." 

"I don't?" 

"No, our brother is much like you, he doesn't like to be around many people or to talk to them if he can help it, but he still spends all day, every day helping people." 

"How does he do that?" 

Virgil smiled. "He listens. And sometimes that's all people need, to know that there is someone out there that cares enough to listen for those that need help. We couldn't do our job without him." 

Jason appeared to think about this for a few moments before he nodded. "OK, I'll do that, I'll listen to people and make sure they get help if they need it." 

"Good plan," Virgil hauled himself to his feet, patting the boy gently on the shoulder before joining the others once again. 

"Are there any more questions?" Principal Jones asked and once again what looked like a million hands shot up into the air. 

"It's going to be a long day," Gordon whispered to Selene in a side whisper. 

                                      ***

"So, everyone clear on the rules?" Selene called over the noise of almost forty excited kids and three grown men who were just as loud. 

She, Gordon, Will and a little girl named Mandy were lined up in the center of the games area, while Virgil, Alan and the rest of the children stood in a pack in front of them. 

"On your marks, get set, GO!" their teacher yelled, blowing a whistle. The kids surged forwards, Virgil and Alan running with them. 

Selene managed to tap two gently on the shoulder, Gordon tagged four and Will and Mandy tagged one each before the rest made it to the other side and safety. 

The eight tagged children joined them in the middle, spreading out to form a line of defense. 

"We've got them now!" Gordon crowed as the whistle blew again. This time he only caught two and Selene didn't manage one. They were slippery little buggers who could duck and dive better than Kayo. 

Third round and Gordon leapt on a screaming Alan, bringing him down to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Selene went after Virgil but missed. 

Fifth round and they had all but three children and Virgil in the center, ready to rumble.

"Team, we've made it this far, we've done our best, no matter what happens next, no matter who wins or who falls, we're all winners!" Virgil's rousing speech was met with whoops from his team mates as they exchanged high fives then prepared to run. The whistle blew and they sprang forward.

Two were caught instantly and joined the ranks of the catchers, one dodged past three kids and dived between Selene's legs only to be tagged by Gordon who was protecting her rear. That left… 

Alan broke away from the pack and chased after Virgil who was running full pelt, trying to reach the end of the line and dodge around the edge, unable to plow through the middle. 

With a battle cry that sounded like a strangled baboon, Alan leapt onto his brother's back. 

"Bundle!" he screamed and a gaggle of kids rushed to his aid. 

They swarmed Virgil, some grabbing onto his legs, others hanging off his arm as he fought valiantly to keep moving. Technically he had lost the second Alan had landed on his back, but they were clearly having too much fun to stop. 

Virgil continued his attempt to walk but eventually he had to give in and admit defeat. 

Declaring Virgil the winner, the kids teacher pried a few enthusiastic kids off his leg, although he asked her to leave the little girl who had hold of his hand and was refusing to let go. 

It was a tired but happy group of children who waved goodbye to their heros an hour later. 

Selene sat back in her chair with an exhausted sigh, Alan beside her. It didn't take long for his eyes to droop shut and his head to come to rest on her shoulder. 

She pulled out her phone and started to flick through the pictures she'd taken. There was Gordon making faces with a couple of boys, there was Will reading out his prize winning essay, Alan pointing out various planets and constellations on a map to a number of enthralled kids and last Virgil. The little girl who wouldn't let go of his hand now perched on his lap, hugging his arm as he sat on an impossibly small chair that looked like it was about to buckle any second, a ring of starstruck children sitting on the floor in front of him while he told them stories of their rescues. 

Selene had always known that he was an amazing big brother, just like Scott was but for different reasons. Scott was the one that would leap to your defense and want to pummel whoever had hurt his sibling, but he had a devilish streak that surfaced now and then. Virgil always had his brothers backs, he was always there, ready to lend a hand and help them out of any situation, he was the solid, comforting presence that soothed your fears and made everything better. Seeing him with the kids had given her a glimpse of what he must have been like with Alan and Gordon when they were younger and it made her love him all the more.

She hadn't said anything while they had been speaking of children, but one of the reasons she and John were so dead set against kids at that moment in time was because John, as well as the others, knew only too well just how hard it was to grow up missing a parent, and for Alan he'd done it twice. They led dangerous lives and the thought of one of them possibly not making it home to their children one day wasn't something they wanted to think about. But now, seeing how they were with the kids at the school, Selene knew that any child she had would have the most wonderful family to look out for them, with four amazing uncles, a kick ass Auntie in Kayo, a tough as nails Grandma and hopefully a Grandfather that would adore them. 

[beacon-sanctuary]

Chapter 2: Class decisions and dorm warfare for the win!

introduction, Ch.1

Note to self: next time Bean and Merlin fight, get popcorn, and maybe grab wall rubble, I’m not a hoarder, scouts honor~

     I looked up at the teachers with stars in my eyes, everyone was so cool!  Plus, I got a head pat-so that’s even better!  Ugh, why’d you guys have to make so hard to choose a class, hmmm let’s put our suspects, up shall we?  Looking at the professors, I saw the grumpy Alchemist guy, his pale wood patterned skin shone in the lights above as once more those dang amber eyes of his bore into my mind.  Like chill man, how can putting a baton in your jacket be mind warfare?!  Huff, he looked so cool during the show but ehhh, too strict for me.  

 Well, Rasputin’s a no I guess, number 2, Louis Armstrong, seems like a fun guy, buuut I have no musical talent, got two left feet, voice sounds like a banshee bleh, ain’t a good fit.  It’s not you Louis it’s me, sorry man. Onto suspect 3, Hobo Billy the kid, chill, kinda dusty, but I’m not stealthy, wouldn’t have light-up shoes if I was after all.  Suspect 4 come on down!  Here we have Joan of Arc, awesome sword wielder and dealer of cherished head pats, 9/10 we might have a winner here people.

 Now onto suspe-oh no megaphone man’s back, just in case, I pulled my beanie over my ears, no hearing loss for me.  

 “Ah, jolly good show everyone!  It was quite a sight to see, I must say, now children, if that display did not solidify your choice-well buck up!  We’ve decided to allow our professors the chance to remind you of their profession and the meaning behind each class!  And remember no class is better or worse than the ot-”

 “Guerillas are best, don’t listen to the loudspeaker” Izusa jabbed in

 “Heheheh, Izusa I am glad for your class pride still runs deep, but we are headmasters, after all, we need to be unbiased!  Let our bright youths decide for themselves!”

 “Unbiased, you have your freaking Knight necktie on” She fired back motioning to his stripped blue silver tie which he straightened. 

 “Well, of course, one must never forget their roots after all, and even though I myself favored our knights here, this is not-” Before he could finish, a sharp  “Shush” interjected.  Professor Blum strode forward hand massaging his temple.

 “If we listen to this squabble any longer, we shall not move anywhere, and I would like to return to my facility before night comes if you don’t mind.” Fixing his overcoat, the amber eyes of the earth magi quickly returned to the crowd, piercing them with a cool stare as he began to speak once more.

 “To you lot” he admonished us snapping his arm, “Listen well, for I shall only say this once.  Despite what the news or the media has led you to believe, Alchemists are those who study and pick apart the gears of magic and the world for all its worth.”  When he said news and media he spat out each word as if it were venom in his mouth, and as he began to go on, the methodical style of his speech began to ebb more into a stately passion. 

 “We are no mere scientists, we are alchemists! The fusion of creativity and scientific reasoning to understand, this little thing we call magic.  Despite the moniker of “Youngest class,” Human, Magi, or whatever in between that’s shuffled about on this rock has always been curious of this force in our world.  Whether you trace our origins to the wizards and warlocks of old, or to the Alchemists of which we’ve gained our title, we are both and neither of our predecessors!” 

      Pacing a bit, he calmed his voice back down as he continued on, “Were our ancestors simply explored the capabilities or tried to pick apart magic for their own uses, we have a different goal.  We carry the light of knowledge, illuminating the unknown for our fellow people so that they may find comfort in said findings.  If you choose this path, burn this into your mind! If you have no passion or hunger for finding the secrets of magic and our world, then as soon as you enter my facility, you. shall. be. Gone!  I do not want to hear your complaining, “Oh it’s too hard,” or, “ Oh, it’s too boring” for if I see one hint of uninterest in your eyes, I'll throw you out myself! For if you have no passion or drive in your field what is the point of you?  Now then,”  

 After a long sigh, he quietly composed himself, “if you feel this is right for you, step forward now.” he crooned out. And to my left, I felt a rustle beside me Orion groaned up and walked towards the old magi, he gave me a two-finger salute and lazily walked forward.  And as everyone saw him go, bit by bit more people stood in front of Rasputin, as each was handed some black clothes in a bag.  And as if on cue, a sharp whistle broke the silence, bringing all our eyes on Billy the kid.

 “Alright, kiddos eyes on me for a sec’. Thanks to ole grandpa given that essay, I’ll be straight with ya.  Guerillas are the rebels, outlaws, anarchists, or whatever they call us now.  Where there's some rules we break 'em, were there's laws we go past 'em. We be the judge of those in power, that roarin' flame under they feet that keep our leaders in check. And if they go too far, well, this lil' fire finna burst into an inferno I'll promise ya that.  If ya got freedom and rebellion in ya chest. We yo people, see a riot, we in there, see a protest, we in there, and if you see a revolution? Hoo boy, you sure as heck know we in there! We carry the light of freedom and change, always there to stop a leader if they go too far and if they do, we gon' hold 'em accountable and make somethin' new.  If my words struck home, we be happy to have ya, welcome to the family kiddos.” legs dangling over the stage the professor watched as the future Guerillas approached, heck even one girl flew up and gave a high five to him.  Thanks to her wings, she was an air magi, had some golden-brown wings and storm grey hair, and perched atop the stage as her classmates rushed up too.

             At my right, I heard a grunt as freaking Joan of Arc hopped off her pommel and kicked the sword in her hand like it was nothing!  Yup, definitely joining her I don’t care what anyone says-Imma be a knight!

 “Heh, alrighty, may as well start, hmph” She grunted, holding her sword in a rigid pose.  If I’m being honest her face looked like she was constipated “to be a knight you be gallant, focused measured precise and powerful, my children take up arms your calling is nye it is time for a crusade!  We shall take back the holy land,Deus vult, DEUS VU-pfffft, heheheh, sorry I had to” she chuckled leaning on her sheath “Oh, that never gets old, ok serious time now” she took in a breath to speak but

 “Ah, it seems the impossible did happen, you being serious” Rasputin interjected walking past her, to this he received a light snicker

 “Listen I can be serious sometimes, on occasion, when I feel like it, every few years.  But, as I was saying before mister essay interrupted me, Knights are old as heck alright, we’re the first beacons, defend people for generations, all that good stuff.  But just cause we got knight in our name, don’t mean we’re Chivalrous, glistening warriors who vanquish evil to the ends of the earth that’s only a third of the pie, we’re not just warriors, we’re healers and guardians kids.  The sword, shield, and healing hand, we become that light.  We guard against the dark and give people a haven.  In more than one way!  So,” she said resting her sword over her shoulders,

“If you want to be a knight, grab some chainmail and a tunic from the stage and come to my class tomorrow.  I’d be happy to have you” She winked strolling out.  Yeeep, I’m all in let’s freaking go!  I cheered in my mind, but I had a feeling I had a dopey smile on my face all the same.

             After that, not much else happened, learned about the other two classes, Artificers, basically artists, builders, and all that fun stuff that entertains or helps people. And seekers, explorers, and stuff, always run headfirst into the unknown and hard to pin down.  But by the end I got some bag of clothes and a rune stone. It was a smooth navy-blue rock with a messed-up F burnt into it.  It felt warm and hummed a bit in my hand as I turned a bit, it was like a weird magic compass to my dorm I guess, this is so cool!  Welp, into your prison-I mean my bag little guy.  As I was putting my stone back in my bag, a gun shot made me nearly drop it on the ground.

 “Gah!  what is this, give Eir a heart attack day?!” I mumbled clamping my stone as Headmaster Ortiz cleared his throat.

 “Knights, Alchemists, Seekers, Guerillas, and Artificers, thank you all for continuing in the protection of Human-Magi kind.  This is the first step of your journey as Beacons!  For even having the courage to step up this far, you should be proud!  Bully indeed for you!  I already can see great potential in all of you, all I can say is good luck, and may your lights always shine bright.” He finished his final speech and gave us all a hearty laugh and warm smile before walking into the back as Izusa made her way to speak.

 “Alright Torches, like the headmaster megaphone said, this is your start, remember you all wanted this, so get ready, tomorrow starts four years of hell, have fun~” she sang away into the darkness from whence she came.

             After the speeches of fluff and doom we all dispersed to our new dorms, which for some freaking reason was on the of the fort!  School’s in the middle, makes sense, access to everything, but the dorms. At the very edge of the freaking coast, who designed this and where can I smack them with my bag?  I’m going helicopter them so bad won’t know what hit them.  But still, I walked to my dorm.  Weird F rune dash 5 as the stone in my hand vibrated more and more the closer I got to my door.  The jade-gold rune patterned carpet sat atop a shining wood floor and the air had a scent of strangely chocolate, and fire?  

 “Who’s burning something?” I thought aloud, but right as the words came out of my mouth, the wall right across from me shattered as a flaming girl bulldozed through while a hand patted me on the head.  Whirling my head from side to side I saw Orion standing besides me snickering at the dragon girl.  She had two jagged black horns sticking out of her messy flame like curls.  She was short but had a stocky frame, I think I even saw a few muscles if I’m being honest.  And as I saw her gold eyes stare daggers at Orion(nickname still pending) a wicked smile seared across her face, disrupting the red scales upon her cheeks.

 “Orio get back over here so I can hit ya!” She growled in her rough voice, to which Orion strolled across from me with a playful shrug

 “nahhh, don’t really feel like it sunflower, good offer though, you’re getting’ better at em, I’m proud!”

 “Tsk, I told ya before, I ain’t no little flower, I am the sun!” she yelled crouching down for probably another charge.  Orion chuckled as he held his free hand at his ear

 “Uh, say that again white dwarf, I ain’t hear ya~” he teased, and at that my eyes even glared at him,

 “Please don’t my ears have suffered enough for a day!” I groaned,

       But as at the girl, it seemed like she physically had a tick mark on her head as the whole room heated up to 90 degrees. I had to take off my hat and fan myself, what the freak did he say to make her that mad? But unfortunately, I got no answer as the girl barreled forward with a battle cry.  Careening towards Orion before I saw him poof out of existence in a blue flash before reappearing behind the solar magi.  He placed a hand on her back and caused it to steam, but what instantly caught my attention was two words that slithered from his mouth.

 “Liga Hostem” he said, and yanked his hand back as multiple black and blue chains wrapped around the girl, battling against the fire and the light she gave off.  Making the hallway as wicked battle of heat and cold. Gasping from excitement I rapidly said

 “You used a binding spell!  It’s not the full incantation but that’s still awesome!  Wait, your element doesn’t usually go into that unle-“

 “let’s save this for later, I ain’t tryin’ be bbq magi over here”  to further his point the girl took in a deep breath and bellowed out a stream of flames in the boy’s direction, cursing under his breath Orion slammed his hand on the ground and cried

 “Fortifico!” as a black and blue hexagon of swirling void, blocked the incoming flames, and as soon as the barrier was released, the girl charged forward with an knee aimed at Orion’s fac, he rolled back and threw a punch at her stomach, but she brushed it to the side.  Back and forth they parried and dodged each other’s blows like clockwork.  Oh I wish I had popcorn, this is so good, but sadly before the fight could continue, the door behind me slammed open as I saw a baby face looking Asian guy with, a long, rat tail… Oh its him, time to give him a piece of my wait why is he my dorm mate?!

 “QUIET” the pale faced boy roared, on his face was now a pair of jade, metallic looking goggles, and as soon as he looked at the two magi his face grew a face of sheer disgust. “Ugh, just typical of their kind, arrogant and loud beyond measure. You two, cease this disturbance immediately, I am trying to work. “ he screamed in his childlike voice waving a large wrench at the two.

 “Hey, angery baby man, shush.” Said angery baby man looked agasp and was about to say something before I said

“Oi, ya owe me an apology from earlier, what was your deal?” I demaded looking over my shoulder

 “just my luck, of course I’m roomed with you of all people.” He rolled his eyes

 “Me of all people?!  Square up baby man, lets go!”

 “First of all, I am not, a baby man.  My name is Lin Su-Wang, and I am not fighting a munchkin.”

             And this is how this went for like thirty minutes, four people either fighting or yelling at each other before, nothing, I really can’t remember what happened afterwards, only thing is I woke up with a pain in my neck for some reason.  Weird, buuut yeah, this was one interesting first day.

 Day one-completed! :)