#and they didn’t have many extra curriculars outside

[charmac]

It’s not unheard of that, in the USA, a chunk of rich kids get into Ivy League universities because their parents donate large sums to the school to ensure their kids get admitted… and a lot of the time the kids don’t even know that their parents “helped them”. Knowing that,

No option that neither did and only one knows cos like, we all know they’re not keeping that to themselves for thirty years lmfao

(If you aren’t aware of the standard of US Ivy Leagues, in short they are the most prestigious universities in the country and require almost perfect grades/test scores as well as multiple extra curricular activities or title positions in high school and a strong written essay in order to be admitted)

[mrsaltieri-real]

I Can Be Sweet (Mickey Altieri x GN!Reader)

Word count: 1.5k

Warning/s: GN!Reader (no specified pronouns, Mickey uses the pet names baby and babe) fluffy fluff fluff, language, nudity, Mickey being soft, (yes it’s a warning) the L bomb gets dropped, romantic shit, Mickey being a terrible cook, Mickey still somehow being a little shit, etc

I’ve had a really, REALLY shit week so I wrote this as like a little soothing thing for myself and anyone else whose having a crappy week. I just needed to comfort myself by writing something like this. I’ve got good friends that have helped me through my stuff this week (you know who you are) and I wanted to say a big thank you.

Anyway, here’s a fluffy Mickey fic because sometimes we need our murder boys sweet.

You knew him better than almost anyone.

Even though you didn’t know about his… extra curricular activities, you knew Mickey.

He was cocky, sarcastic and most of the time a complete ass because that’s simply all he’d ever been. He never allowed anyone to get too close to him in fear they’d disappear like everybody else. He was a performer, an artist. A master of deception and only letting people see what he wanted them too. But once you broke through that hard shell and got to the soft centre, there was a whole different side to him.

Mickey was… sweet, he was romantic and passionate yet remained surrounded by his defensive coating until he finally trusted you enough for you to see it.

After a particularly exhausting day of serving booze to the drunk college assholes in the on campus bar you worked in to make extra money so you could live in an apartment by yourself to avoid having to share a dorm room, you walked toward your door, head pounding and feet aching. You wanted nothing more than to shower and go to sleep in preparation for what would undoubtedly be another shitty day tomorrow.

You rummaged in your bag for your keys but paused for a second outside your door, furrowing your eyebrows when you heard soft music and dishes clanking together. Had someone broken in? Fuck, that was just what you needed.

You pressed your ear to the door to try and hear a little better when you heard a familiar soft humming rendition of the current song playing on your speakers and all the paranoia faded away in an instant, calmly unlocking the door and walking inside.

Mickey was flitting around your tiny kitchen like a hurricane, trying to do far too many things at once.

“Oh, fuck me.” He cussed as he lifted the lid to one of the pots on the stove, grimacing at whatever horrible sight he’d concocted.

“Mick?”

He jumped a little, head snapping in your direction.

“Hey! Hi, you're back!” His cheeks were slightly flushed and his shirt had splatters of food spotted over the light blue material and you raised your eyebrows a little.

“Yeah, there was another fight in the bar. Shit got broken so we decided to close… what are you doing here?” An amused expression crossed your face as Mickey continued to move around the kitchen as you spoke, clearly growing more and more frustrated.

“You uh.. you said the other day you were having a rough week so I thought I’d TRY to do something nice for you. But I… yeah. I can’t cook.” He admitted sheepishly.

As he spoke you dropped your bag on the floor by the door and walked over to him, touched by his effort. “Yeah, I can see that.” You teased, gesturing toward the pots and pans completely wrecked with the burnt food coating the bottom of them. “But thank you, that’s really sweet.”

He shrugged, waving you off with his hand but you caught it, pulling him close to you. “I mean it.” You said softly and he smiled down at you, looking a little bashful.

“Sorry ‘bout your cooking shit.” He said, eyes narrowing at the ruined pans. You laughed a little, shaking your head at him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Probably was due to get some new ones anyway.” You let go of his hand and walked around him to turn off the stove and grabbed a garbage bag, dumping the pots and pans inside. “I’ll throw them out and buy some new ones tomorrow.”

“Oh, I did do one thing right!”

You tied the bag, placing it down before looking at him.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He grinned at you, gesturing for you to follow him as he left the kitchen and walked down the hall to your bathroom. You followed him sceptically, unsure of whatever the hell he had awaiting you but was taken aback when you entered your bathroom after him to see he’d run you a beautiful bubble bath, candles scattered around the whole room with your favourite song playing softly on your other pair of speakers. Whatever he’d used in the bath smelt of honeysuckle and lavender, the smells oddly complimenting each other.

Mickey dipped his hand in the bath before smiling proudly to himself and turning to face you. “I might be a shit cook but I can run a mean fucking bath.”

You didn’t respond, staring at the bubbles until they blurred into fuzzy white spots, a tear falling down your cheek. “Hey, hey, hey! Why are you crying?” Mickey’s voice sounded alarmed as he moved in front of you, his hand automatically reaching forward to wipe the fallen tears.

“I… no one’s ever done anything like this for me.” You felt slightly pathetic for crying, trying to move your head so Mickey wouldn’t see your face but he held your cheeks in his hand, beautiful face soft and affectionate.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it was gonna make you cry, baby.” He still looked a little anxious, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“No! No, these are happy tears.” You assured him, sniffling a little. His hands dropped from your face and slid down your arms, seeming at least a little comforted as he said, “still.”

You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up on your toes so you could bury your face into the crook of his neck. He let out a small laugh before wrapping his arms around you, hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades and burrowing his face into your messy hair.

“You stink.” He mumbled into it making you laugh and pull back, playfully smacking his arm.

“Yeah genius, I work in a college bar of course I stink.”

“Want me to help you?” He gestured toward the bath before his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, a broad smile on his beautiful face as you nodded eagerly.

“Lift your arms.”

You obeyed, raising your arms above your head so he could pull your shirt off of you, placing it carefully on top of your laundry basket. His hands moved down to your jeans, popping the button open and pulling down the zipper slowly, smirking a little at your soft shiver when his warm fingers made contact with your skin. “Easy babe, we’re just taking a bath.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly nudging his hands away so you could remove your jeans along with your underwear, turning to toss them on top of your shirt.

When you turned back round Mickey was already naked and your eyes automatically dropped to his package before quickly diverting away, making him laugh again.

“Giggly prick.” You muttered as he climbed into the bubbly water, opening his arms out for you to climb in in front of him.

You took his hand, sighing happily at the perfectly warm water before you sat down between his legs, head resting back against his shoulder. He leaned forward, picking up your washcloth and dipping it into the water and wringing it out a little before he smoothed it over your chest, his head resting softly against yours.

“You’re being very sweet tonight.” You said softly, hearing his breathy laugh in your ear.

“You sound surprised. I can be sweet.” He defended himself in mock offence.

“I know, but never like this.”

It was quiet for a moment as Mickey continued to gently wash your aching body. The warm water in combination with his hot body was relaxing your tight muscles in a way that almost had you floppy in his arms.

“Am I really that bad?“ he murmured into your ear.

You frowned a little, lifting and turning your head so you were looking at him. “I didn’t mean it like-“

“No, no it’s okay. I know how I can be sometimes, and I guess in addition to me doing this because you’ve had a bad week it’s also to show you how much I care about you.”

You leaned up a little so you could press your lips to his cheek softly before sinking back into his arms, head leaning back again against his shoulder and your eyes fluttered closed.

“There’s also another reason.”

“Mm?“ you hummed absentmindedly. You felt his heart rate pick up and his breathing hitch ever so slightly as he swallowed, as if he was terrified of whatever he was about to say.

“I uh…” he sighed, face burrowing even further into your shoulder. “I love you.” He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by your skin.

You froze for a moment, trying to comprehend what he had just said. “Y- you what?” You twisted around so his head moved off your shoulder and he was forced to look at you.

“I love you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face and you struggled to turn all the way round to face him in the bath, and he laughed as he gripped your elbow to help you. “Steady, steady.” He said softly.

“You love me?” You whisper once you are facing him. You were straddling him, knees either side of his thighs and your hands resting on his chest while his rested on your hips under the water as you looked into his eyes, trying and failing to stop the tears from welling up again.

He bobbed his head once and even in the dim light of the flickering candles you saw his cheeks flush slightly.

“You don’t have to say it back!” He suddenly said quickly. “Please don’t feel like you have to say it b-“

“I love you too.”

A relieved sigh came out of Mickey’s mouth and his lips turned up into a devastatingly beautiful smile. “Thank fucking god.” He whispered, leaning forward and resting his forehead against yours.

[qprstobin]

Different first meeting post-s1 Stobin AU (that sort of turned into Fruity Four) I was tossing around for myself to write but am going to put it out into the world because I’m not sure I’ll ever get to it.

It’s the Spring of 1984, and Nancy is looking for a way to help Steve pad his college application after seeing him struggle with his essay writing for the past few months. Somehow, this leads to her convincing him to join the Spring play, Romeo and Juliet. Not only will it look good on his application to add another extra curricular, but the English teacher always gives extra credit for drama participation, especially the annual Shakespeare play.

Steve, of course, ends up getting the lead role, much to his chagrin, and he turns out to be a pretty good actor. This should all be smooth sailing, a way for him to get an easy add on to his apps, if it wasn’t for who was playing Juliet.

Band Geek Buckley.

She isn’t the worst choice - they have pretty good stage chemistry, and she’s funny in a mean way (in a way he’s kind of missed now that he no longer is talking to Carol and Tommy) but she hates his guts. He honestly didn’t even really know who she was before this, but he could feel her glaring at the back of his head in first period every day.

Honestly, they would be fast friends if both of them weren’t trying their hardest to make sure the other knows no showmances will be happening between them. (Robin for obvious reasons, and Steve because he is very much in love with Nancy at this point and would not ever cheat on her.)

Steve at one point tells her that she isn’t his type (which actually, is kind of a lie but it doesn’t matter because it would never happen), and Robin is just, so fucking offended. She would never want to date him (he’s a man AND an asshole), but where does he get off saying shit like that?? Robin in turn, nearly outs herself at one point by claiming she’d rather kiss his girlfriend than him.

(Nancy on the other hand… spends the entire play very confused, because despite the disgust that both of them express during the (rather chaste) kiss scenes, Nancy thinks it’s kind of hot. She has a lot to think about.)

Even before they become actual, spill your secrets on the bathroom floor friends, they get into so much chaos together. Definitely the type to be bickering with each other but then team up to turn on someone else when they are being rude or creepy. Even though there are no Russian Spies to bond them together for life (yet), they probably go through some harrowing night together that leaves them with something of a headache.

Maybe they accidentally eat too many weed brownies together at a cast party, maybe they get locked in the prop closet for several hours, maybe they get stranded at a gas station outside of town when their director sent them on what was both a “you are going to work your shit out TONIGHT for the sake of the play” and “y’all are the only ones available” emergency prop run. Either way it ends in tears and laughter and bathroom (or closet) floor confessions and a rock solid friendship.

Nancy is happy that Steve has a friend that isn’t just her or Jonathan, and is happy to have a new friend herself, especially a female one.

Tammy Thompson is less happy that Steve’s attention is on Robin, which is unfortunate, as this is Robin’s peak Tammy Thompson era, and Tammy gets mean. Nancy definitely tries to fight her at some point for how rude she’s being to all of them (Tammy didn’t like Nancy much either, she just didn’t honestly care much about Tammy saying rude shit to her, but she isn’t gonna let someone be a bitch to her friend like that). Steve was just going to ruin her reputation, but honestly, he didn’t even need to with how hard Nancy went in on her.

(Nancy trying to fight Tammy is also how Robin moves on from her “god what a priss” mindset regarding her. A minor crush may also blossom. Steve is happy to commiserate over being clocked in the head emotionally by Nancy Wheeler, he made t-shirts.)

Their odd friend group gets rounded out to four (five if you include Jonathan, who does eat lunch with them everyday but who thinks that Stobin are a bit too loud for him in anything other than small doses) by another cast member - the drug dealer Eddie Munson.

This is Eddie’s first try at senior year but his prospects aren’t looking great. English isn’t the only class he’s doing poorly in, but it is one of the main ones, and his English teacher has offered him a boon - get a speaking role in the spring play and he’ll get enough extra credit to pass the class, as long as he makes an actual effort to turn in his work for the rest of the year. He thinks fuck it! Might as well, this is the only deal the hag is going to give me, and ends up landing the role for Mercutio.

His start with the group isn’t as tumultuous as the Stobin friendship starts out, though there definitely isn’t any love lost between them. Steve may have dropped Hagan and Perkins earlier in the year, but he’s still a jock, and his prissy, perfect girlfriend isn’t much better. Eddie doesn’t have any personal issues with Robin, but Robin definitely isn’t a fan of his, not with how loud the other man is.

There isn’t any real dramatic moment that adds him to the group, at least not as dramatic as what finally solidifies the Stobin bond, but spend enough time running lines together and he sort of realizes that maybe they aren’t as bad as all that.

(Really Eddie is just there to cause chaos, and try to pass Senior English. Falling into the weirdest friend group known to Hawkins High is just a bonus.)

Honestly, I came up with this idea because I just wanted more Stobin dif first meetings, and thought the idea of Stobin having to play romantic leads opposite each other in a play was hilarious. It ended up becoming Fruity Four just because Stancy is still happening here, and Eddie was perfect for the role of Mercutio. I didn’t even have set ideas on how I want this to end shipping wise. Just wanted to get it out of my misc WIP document <3

[oddeyevibes]

Extra Curricular Activities Part 1

Summary: Your students become worried about the man in the red suit that visited you at school.

Words: 1828

The class of 3-C weren’t the best students. They weren’t the worst either which is what made them so frustrating to many of the faculty. They didn’t have the drive to raise the bar and many teachers had an issue with that. 

Not you though. 

That’s not to say you didn’t believe in any of these kids but you also didn’t feel the need to pressure them. They are young and they have their whole lives ahead of them. Your philosophy was that the pressures of school were heavy enough without someone badgering them to not be anything less than perfect. 

There are those moments in time where the school expects you to make them study but you just let them be. It was perfect for actually connecting with them and reminding them that they’re more than they’re grades. 

Plenty of teachers that used to teach them would tell you that “trying to be their friend” would get you nowhere but…they were patronizing. They never approached them like people, they approached them like toddlers that needed to be reminded not to eat glue and when you’re dealing with teenage rebellion, that usually ends with teens doing the thing you told them not to do. 

You can admit that even this approach is motivated. Coming off as someone they can see as their big sister rather than a nagging authority figure. Someone who can be chill but can still put their foot down if the situation called for it. 

But you just…got it. 

Many of them had stuff to do outside of school. That was the ACTUAL issue. Many of these kids had to take up responsibilities because their parents either can’t or won’t take care of them or their siblings. This was the case with Takara Sugimoto, an aspiring author who lives with both her mother and grandmother. However, her grandmother had a knee surgery recently and needs some help and Takara offers since her mother has to work. 

Three generations helping each other stay afloat. 

She doesn’t hang out much with her friends but it warms your heart how her friends understand. 

Like her friend, Hajime Tsuda. His own father had gotten into a car accident and he had been visiting him often with his mother. He wants to be a baseball star when he gets older. 

Then there was the rowdy Da Liu, who never failed to mention how his dad is in the Yokohama Liumang and several times you’ve warned him to keep it down because when push comes to shove, the Liumang would probably have no choice but to expel his dad. 

There was also his twin sister, Chun Liu, who always did her best to stand out against her brother’s antics, less she only known as the class clown’s sister. She liked makeup. She liked regular makeup, she liked glamorous makeup and while she only told this to a few people, she also liked monster makeup. She’d shown you pictures of the Halloween makeup she’s done for her and brother and she has some serious talent. 

There was also Ju-Hee Chung. Whereas the school saw a fair amount of Japanese and Chinese students, Korean students were somewhat rare around here as often many people under Geomijul protection opted to just have their kids learn within their communities. There were outliers though such as Ju-Hee who transferred in after you started teaching this class and she became quick friends with Chun because they liked the same idol. She’s also into fashion and wants to be a designer…or a model…she hasn’t figured it out yet…maybe both.  

Then there was Shuichi Ono. He was one of the bigger kids. Apparently, he’s been weight training with his father because he’s taken a new interest in wrestling and now he currently wants to be a wrestler but the training makes him exhausted and you’d feel bad so you only really wake him up during these breaks whenever another teacher is coming, especially the snitches. 

Sure they weren’t “perfect”. They didn’t get their grades but they were passing. And maybe it did make you a bad teacher or a bad influence but did you wanna be the person that makes them feel that their world is going to collapse on themselves if they get anything lower than an A. 

Yes, this country gets competitive with stuff like this but you’ve always moved with one thought in mind. That very thought stood as one of the reasons you became a teacher. One day, the old destructive ways will die and then the young will change it for the better. They might not be on the front lines, but they will be there and it’s important for them to know that you’re proud of them. 

They’re being their own people. 

They will enact change

……..

……..

Their first order of business is getting you away from that guy that visits you at work. That weirdo in the dusty red suit and the rat’s nest for a hair who seems to be putting the moves on you. 

It started with Da. You had gone out of the room because some of the teachers were talking about some guy just hanging around the school grounds and they were about to call the cops but then you recognized who it was and told them he was harmless, even telling them that you’ll talk to him. 

Someone was supposed to watch the class but after a few rounds of rock, paper, scissors, everyone decided to just leave them be. 

Da, taking the opportunity, decided to pull some of his impressions of British people. At some point, he saw you and Ichiban talking and then he saw Ichiban take hold of your hands and he made his thoughts known. 

“Hey…who’s the bird nest with Ms. L/N?” He asked. 

While most of the students were just actively ignoring him, the aforementioned ones all came over to the window with Shuichi towering over all of them. 

Chun looked over Ichiban’s entire outfit. “I can smell the vintage on that suit from here.” 

Da shot his sister a confused look at her expression before turning his attention back to the both of you. 

“Is that her boyfriend? Did anyone know she had a boyfriend?” Chimed in Takara. “I didn’t think she was into…men.”

 Shuichi’s brows raised in shock. “You sayin Ms. L/N likes women?” 

Da waved it off. “She could be into both, y’know? My mom says she saw one of our neighbors at a hostess club and THEN at a host club. Bisexuals are everywhere. We could all be bisexuals and we wouldn’t even know it.” 

Then Hajime chimed in with a confused tone. “I’m not bisexual.” 

In response, Da leaned in closely to Hajime’s face and whispered, “but how do you knooooowwwwwwww?” 

“Shh!!!” Chun hushed him. “I can’t focus.” 

“Focus on looking?” Da asked with a scoff. 

“I’m trying to practice my lip reading, I wanna know what they’re saying.” 

Shuichi leaned in as if it would give him a clearer look at their expressions while Ju-Hee pulled out her phone from her large sleeves, their main purpose. 

She tried using her camera and zooming in the lens but it was for nothing. The windows were murky from the half-assed job they did yesterday from cleaning it. Well, specifically Da, who’s lip imprints were still visible on another panel. 

“I can’t see anything, if I zoom in too much it gets all fuzzy.” Ju-Hee complained.

Hajime stepped in to try to be the voice of reason. “Maybe it’s her friend?”

“No,” Takara shot it down. “He’s gotta be her boyfriend. Who would voluntarily come back to school?” 

Everyone shot her a glance. “Teachers?” They all replied in unison. 

She scoffed. “Without pay?” 

“........teachers.” They were more sure.

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe he’s so smitten by her that he can’t resist showing up looking like a creeper at the place she works.” 

“Yeeeeah….I’m pretty sure that’s just stalking.” Hajime reasoned as he often did whenever she started losing her head into the clouds. Then he gasped. “Is she being stalked?” 

A gasp from Chun followed. “That bastard!” 

“I mean…she looks like she’s smiling.” Shuichi pointed out. 

“YOU FOOL!” Chun yelled. “That’s a defense mechanism. Women often smile when they’re worried that the guy might kill her. I hear it’s especially dangerous in places like the States with their guns. You don’t laugh at a guy’s joke there, BAM they shoot you, in front of EVERYONE and the cops STILL won’t throw away the key.” She let out another gasp. “That’s probably why. She’s probably suffering from PTSD.” 

“But she grew up in Japan.” Shuichi replied. 

“She was born in the states and moved here when she was way younger and then she went to college in the states. Something could’ve happened.” 

Hajime let out an exhausted sigh. “Then would she have anything to worry about? Guns aren’t legal here and it’s hard to get them normally and even if you buy them in parts, it’s illegal to put it together.”

Then Da had a revelation. “Unless…he’s a gangster.” 

Now everyone looked to him but their expressions all portrayed roughly the same sentiments. Da could be right. 

“They don’t care about legality.” Takara whispered in shock. “He could have a gun on him right now.” 

Ju-Hee gasped. “Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe he’s playing her.” 

“He could be Yakuza. Y’know, they walk around in bright suits all the time. My uncle used to be Yakuza and when he wanted to leave, he had to cut something off.” 

“Wasn’t that back when the legal system was a bit more loose?” Hajime asked. “They wear normal suits now, don’t they? So they don’t stand out?” 

The energy among the group deflated. “Maybe…” They were all heard muttering quietly. 

Then Takara perked up. “Or…that’s his plan.” 

Everyone looked at her. 

“What if he’s trying to trick her? Like dressing so ridiculous that Ms. L/N won’t even consider him being a gangster? What if he’s trying to traffic her?” 

Jun-Hee spoke up. “They always do go for people they think are foreigners.” 

Hajime huffed. “If they’re foreign tourists,” he tried correcting his friends. 

“No, any foreigner is a good foreigner to them.” Ju-Hee replied. 

Takara let out a sad sigh. “Poor Ms. L/N. Doesn’t even know she’s being played for a fool.” 

“Bullshit!” Da exclaimed, pushing himself away from the window. “We can’t let this bastard get away with this! This guy’s playin’ her and we don’t know what other bullshit he could have planned for her.” 

“Should we confront him now?” Chun asked, now she was becoming fully invested in her brother’s words. 

“No. We have to get proof. If we go now, she’ll just tell us everything is fine.” 

His eyes turned back towards Ichiban but you were seen coming back into the building. 

“We’ll have to make plans to follow him.” 

[glass-rose-paperweight]

I just want to take a moment to talk about what the “gifted track” at my school was like. Because in a lot of ways, it was closer to the popular media depiction.

It started in 2nd grade. You had to take a special test to get in (a test I have 0 memory of taking). Once a week, you got to bus over to a different campus that was part of the school system. For a whole day, you got to be with a whole other teacher and do things completely outside of the school curriculum. I was learning about neurons and how the brain worked in the 2nd grade. We had entire units on the Titanic and Louis and Clark. There was a whole semester I think dedicated to invention and creation where they gave us a bunch of different challenges worth different amounts of points and we had to figure out how to complete them. In 6th grade, we had a unit on ASL and a (small) unit on paper airplanes.

The units and classes we fun. The whole point of it was to think outside the box and be creative. Perhaps surprisingly, those of us that were part of this program didn’t really get bullied for it (I was bullied pretty heavily throughout elementary school. Being a part of the program was never a reason for it). I loved the program. In hindsight, I really do think the test we had to take was an unintentional screener for neurodivergence.

It stopped in 6th grade because that was when the “advanced” classes started. And there was an unspoken expectation that those of us who were in the program would take the advanced classes track, as though that was an adequate replacement. Our fun and creative learning got replaced with harder concepts and a bigger homework load. None of us had much choice about it in 7th or 8th grade, but there were only 1 or 2 classes back then. We had choices when we got to highschool, but by that point, it was already ingrained in us to take the harder classes. Most of the people in the advanced track classes and AP classes were in the gifted program in elementary school. Instead of external forces pushing us into class loads we could barely handle, we were expected to do it ourselves.

It’s one of the reasons I got so much flack for not doing it my senior year. My junior year was spent taking algebra 3 and organic chemistry at the same time. The homework load was absolutely unreasonable, and I only had one extra curricular activity of debate. I decided I didn’t want to do that again. Against the encouragement and suggestion and argument of pretty much every person in my life - parents, teachers, counselor - I chose to take way easier classes my senior year. And I don’t regret it because I was already burnt out. After junior year, I was fucking burnt out, not that anybody knew or could have recognized it.

I guess my point in talking about all this is to say: even in the “good” programs that don’t have nearly as many issues as what the OP was explaining, burn out is still a very real problem, one that doesn’t get better upon graduation because suddenly, you are expected to take care of yourself basically independently, possibly hundreds of miles away from the support system of your family, and many gifted/former-gifted kids have no idea that they’re neurodivergent, and that complicates things even further.

(Also, side note about the whole existential crisis that they’re not special, I can’t speak for anyone else at my school, but I had this crisis in 7th grade, when suddenly I was in a classroom of peers who were all just as smart as me and just as able to tackle harder academic concepts, something I hadn’t been exposed to in my “normal” classes before. Especially since I had always been bullied for being “smart”, if had been a core part of my identity that had never been shaken with the gifted program because the point of the gifted program wasn’t knowing but learning. We didn’t get grades like we did in normal classes. We did t get tested. So I didn’t need to be smart, and that wasn’t a part of myself I was measuring against the other students, which I think was one reason the gifted program felt so freeing. But when the advanced classes started, suddenly, that was the MAIN thing being focused on, and I found myself competing against people who knew stuff just as well as I did. And I can’t imagine that was a singular experience, when it came to people in my specific program or kids in gifted programs more broadly)

I think a lot of the skepticism and derision toward the idea of "gifted kid burnout" stems from the fact that a lot of folks have no idea what the gifted track in most high schools actually looks like; they've got this mental image, possibly informed by popular media depictions, of "gifted kids" as a privileged group of students who get to go on extra field trips, monopolise the teachers' attention in class, and constantly be told how special they are, but are otherwise treated identically to all the other kids.

In practice, the gifted track in most high schools – most North American high schools at any rate – has the same problem as any other educational program: the need to adhere to published metrics. These programs exist for the benefit of students only insofar as those benefits can empirically be measured, which leads to several common outcomes:

Students on the gifted track being afforded fewer choices regarding elective classes – often to the extent of having no choices at all – in order to stream the highest-performing students into the subjects that are most valuable in terms of boosting institutional metrics.

Students on the gifted tracking receiving restricted access to educational resources such as tutoring because it's perceived as a waste of resources. In many cases, gifted students are not only denied access to tutoring, but expected to serve as volunteer tutors and teaching assistants themselves, effectively becoming a source of unpaid educational labour for the schools they attend.

Students on the gifted track being assigned considerably more homework, often literally doubling their workload in an environment where homework loads are already routinely high enough that kids have difficulty finding time to eat and sleep, simply because you get more measurable academic performance data that way.

The upshot is that the gifted track is often less about fun perks and constant praise, and more about receiving less freedom, fewer resources, and heavier workloads than one's peers, getting strong-armed into providing unpaid labour to the school on top of it, and constantly being told one should be grateful for it – and that's without touching on the fact that the unspoken secondary purpose of many gifted programs is to serve as a quarantine for all the neurodivergent kids the school couldn't find an excuse to institutionalise or expel.

Like, shit, there's a reason kids on the gifted track exhibit elevated rates of alcoholism and substance abuse compared to general student populations. That doesn't arise in a vacuum!

(To be clear, I'm not saying that people graduating from high school and immediately having an existential crisis upon realising they're not special after all isn't a thing that happens, but in my experience that's more usually something that happens to the kids who were on the football team, and reframing it as a nerd culture thing is really weird.)

[heartofasoldier]

welcome to marina, matthew thompson ( cis male, he/him ) ! they are a thirty year old who has lived on the island for four months. word on the street is they’re currently living in marina heights and works as a trauma surgeon. everyone also says they look a lot like lucas bravo. what do you think?

BIOGRAPHY

The Thompson twins were born to self-made millionaire Leonard Thompson. A man who was seemingly absent throughout their childhood. Nevertheless their adolescence wasn’t terrible, for they never wanted for anything -- their parents ensuring they received the best of the best in every aspect of their lives. When it came to the food they ate, to the clothes on their back, the extra-curricular activities and even their education -- privileged was an understatement. And yet the one thing both Matthew and Rebecca longed for was a father figure, something they would never be graced with no matter how hard they tried.

While his twin sister did her best to exceed in everything she did in an attempt to gain their father's attention, Matthew went about it in the complete opposite way. The designated private school class clown, while the male’s grades were satisfactory his attitude was anything but, which often meant he spent hours in detention or subsequently was suspended. But no matter how many times it happened, his father didn’t seem to bat an eyelid, instead all he received was disappointment from his mother, the only constant the twins had. 

While living the life of the 1% from the outside looking in seemed luxurious and exciting, for the twins it was exhausting. Being subject to regular arguments between their parents, with their mother disagreeing with the twins being forced to attend social gatherings and events in which their father all but used them as a tool to gain further support. Because he had the golden businessman image, but to add family man to that was to put him on a pedestal so few managed to reach. A rather ugly lie. Behind the scenes Georgina Thompson was desperately trying to shower her children with enough love to make up for the lack of presence of her husband all the while attempting to shelter them from life in the public eye.

Their lives however, would quickly unravel when their daughters death hit media headlines. The teenage heiress passed away as a result of a overdoes during a party at the age of sixteen. A fatal loss that never would have happened had her best friend and twin brother, not been anywhere but with Rebecca. Not only did it destroy his family, his parents blaming one another for her death, but it destroyed him. For he had lost a part of himself the day she died and he blamed no one but himself.

The decision then to move accross the state and attend the best medical university he could was all but made for him. Rebecca had dreamed of becoming a doctor and she had the grades and smarts to do so. Matthew however, had to work a little harder but with time, determination and the best educational tutors money could offer he eased into maintaining his grades and shifted into the top of his class and before he knew it graduation was in sight. Residency following in quick succession. Years later he continues to practice, having worked for a variety of hospitals, never remaining in one place for too long. More recently he's taken up a position on Marina Island in the hopes of a fresh start and new beginnings.

CONNECTIONS

twin — rebecca thompson

almost maybe — hazal kayacan

ex fiancé —

colleagues —

best friend —

friends —

hookup —

exs —

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

[dhampiravidi]

in--somnium​:

Was Pogue a little nervous? Yeah. Definitely. It’s not like he’d anticipated talking to Jayn’s parents this early on in their relationship- hell, they hadn’t even gone on a real date yet! But he liked her. He really, really, liked her. So… it was better to do it now, he thought, and get the first (and likely awkward) introductions out of the way. He had been honest, after all, when he’d told her that he was serious about her. He supposed it was too soon to think of far off futures with, like, marriage and a family and everything, but he could already imagine asking her to stay when summer came around. Or maybe going to visit her family out west, instead. Hell, at that point, he would probably pack up and spend the whole summer with her back at her home, learning more about her and where she was from, hopefully gaining the favor of her parents, too. It would be nice to venture out, to see something new. And more than anything, he’d like to do so with her.

With all this in mind, he kept his arm around Jayn’s waist as they walked, pressing her gently to his side. As she spoke, he listened, tried to commit as much of what she said to his memory as he could. After all, when the time came to finally, actually, talk to her parents for more than just a few minutes he wanted to be prepared. “If you ever wanna try learning about it again… I’m your man,” He grinned. He’d be more than happy to teach her about cars- anything she wanted to know. And maybe, just maybe, he’d even hold her attention better than her dad had when he’d tried to teach her. Or, ya know, they might just end up distracted. Either way, it seemed like it could be fun.

Pogue was about to ask a question about her mom when she mentioned France and he blinked in surprise. “Wait- go back,” He kept his voice quiet so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You teleported to France?” He hadn’t even known it was possible to teleport that far! But, despite the similarities in some of their powers, they were based in different roots and that meant there were plenty of differences, too. It must have taken a hell of a lot of power to get that far, though. “You’ve gotta tell me about that,” Then he glanced around, realized now probably wasn’t the best time. “Later, though. Sometime when we’re alone. Or with the guys, even. Just… not here,” He found himself wondering if she’d already relayed the story to Caleb. A petty little thought, really, but he’d always had a bit of a jealous streak and maybe the issues in his long-standing relationship with Kate had made him a little more sensitive about it, too. 

Jayn pulled out her phone, though, and he was glad to hear her parents already seemed to like him- that was a good place to start. When she pulled her finger away, he chuckled, then nodded. “Ready.”

Cassia knew that finding a chance to go out wasn’t going to be easy. Caleb was busy pretty much all the time with extra-curriculars. Not that she minded. In fact, she thought it was nice that he was so involved with things. So far, she’d only really joined DnD; but outside of that she often kept herself busy with other hobbies (and with the extra classes she was taking “just for fun”) because she liked to keep busy. She hadn’t said anything to anyone (not even Tyler, because she didn’t want to jinx it), but she was trying out for a local college band whose lead guitarist had… had a falling out with the other guys. She didn’t know if she stood a chance really (and she was sure they weren’t all that interested in letting a girl join their group), but she figured it was worth a shot. After all, she practiced all the time on her dad’s black 1977 Univox Hi-Flier, and she’d absolutely loved playing with her old band back in high school… even if they were probably fairly mediocre at the time. So, yeah- Caleb being involved in so many things wasn’t an issue at all for her, really. She didn’t mind waiting for a date, especially when something like this almost kinda felt like one, anyway. What mattered most to her were those moments they met up between classes, or the “good morning” and “good night” texts, or even phone calls that sometimes kept them both up later than they probably should have. She wasn’t sure how Caleb managed to juggle it all like he did, and she tried to reassure him that she wouldn’t be upset if there were days when he was too busy (or too tired) for more than just a text or two to let her know he was fine. 

To be honest, knowing that Caleb had so much on his plate already, Cass was kind of anticipating that he’d not be able to do the following weekend, either. She wouldn’t be disappointed (or, at least, she’d try not to be), but she was really, really hoping that they could find a chance to go out together. These little outings with everyone else were fun, yeah, but a chance to just… be with each other without the rest of the group sounded really nice. So when he said he could do that weekend, she was excited. “Really?” She would have kissed him if she wouldn’t have gotten her lipstick on him in doing so. “That would be great!” When it got closer to the day, he could just… give her a time and she’d be ready. In fact, she’d probably be ready an hour or two early just because anxiety. But it would be the good kind- if there was such a thing! She wondered if it would be better that her dad was there or if it would be better to just… meet Caleb at the door without him having to come in. Truth be told, she wasn’t worried that her dad would try to intimidate him or anything like that- her dad wasn’t the type. Besides, he already knew a fair bit about Caleb just from what Cassia had told him and he had seemed to like Caleb, already. So if Caleb did meet her dad then, well, it probably wouldn’t be that hard to make a good first impression. She had absolutely no idea that Caleb might have thought that part through, already.

They took another step forward and Cassia turned her head at the sound of a scream, having no clue what had just happened. Someone must have scared the poor kid with their costume, though. Either that or they were just in the middle of a sugar rush… Much like she anticipated Reid might soon be if he kept munching on his candy the way he was.

They were near the front of the line now, and Cass was practically buzzing with excitement. She kept her Jack Skellington plush and her bag of candy pressed to one side and her free hand in Caleb’s. She didn’t know what to expect, but she’d always gotten a kick out of haunted houses. She could also hear Tyler telling Aaron that he hoped it was a little less scary than last year- which made Cass think last year’s must have been fairly intense (something she was more than fine with!)

“We’re up next, guys. Keep close. And try not to scream too loud,” Tyler joked, pointing an accusatory glance towards Reid just to antagonize his friend a little (and also to make Reid well aware that he had caught him chewing on another piece of candy).

Jayn could already tell that she and Pogue were something special--or at least, they were becoming that. They’d started out with a really bad miscommunication that had almost prevented them from becoming friends at all, and now he was about to (unofficially) meet her parents. On top of that, they were always looking forward to learning about each other. She really did look forward to visiting him at the garage where he worked on some day when he wasn’t too busy just so he could geek out and teach her about all the parts he was fixing. He didn’t seem too worried about the fact that she knew next to nothing about cars (it wasn’t like she’d been driving one while in Ipswich). She’d bring lunch and come in something comfy-yet-basic, something she wouldn’t mind getting dirty in case he needed an extra pair of hands. 

She did not expect him to be that shocked that she’d teleported to France one time. Jayn knew that the Sons’ magic usage got dangerous once they Ascended, but she had also heard plenty of silly stories involving how they’d used their Power to get in trouble as kids and later as teenagers. The boys had teleported out of their clothes, lit bushes on fire, and telekinetically blown up someone’s PB&J. So accidentally going a little too far while she was asleep didn’t seem too crazy a feat to her. “Uh...yeah, I can tell you about that later,” Jayn replied. It was time to focus on the task at hand.

She selected her house phone number, and her father picked up on the second ring as if he’d been ready to do so for the last few minutes. Knowing her parents, they probably had, since she’d told them that she’d be going to a major public event that mostly took place in the evening. Never mind the fact that she was a witch surrounded by other witches. Jayn mentally sighed.

“Hi, Daddy! Can I talk to you and Mommy? Someone wants to meet you?” 

“Yeah, hold on just a minute--” There was some moving around on the other line, then-- “Alright, you’re on speaker.” Jayn made sure to put her cell on speakerphone too, so Pogue could hear what was going on. Her mother said hello, to show that she was there. Her father whispered something in the background, which made his wife snicker. “Is everything okay? Are you having fun?”

“Yes, I told you I’d be fine. The others are in line for the haunted house, so we figured we’d call.”

“We who?” His tone got concerned, and Jayn had to mouth to Pogue, “He does that when he has questions.”

“Me and Pogue. My...boyfriend.” She felt herself blushing. “You know, the guy who fixed the suspension on the Lexus? I sent you a picture of--” Her dad laughed in excitement.

“Oh! The mechanic whiz!” Jayn covered her face in shame. “Hey, Pogue! How are you? How’s school?”

If Caleb could count the number of times that Cassia had made him smile...he could really make a fortune, probably bigger than the one he was already the heir to. He figured he’d make it over to her place to ask her dad for permission to date her sometime next week. Tyler had Cass’s address because they sometimes played D&D at her place, and Pogue would know part of her schedule since he was her partner for Ancient History. With their help, Caleb hoped to secretly meet with Mr. Keller. He wanted to make sure he knew exactly which things his girlfriend liked, disliked, and was curious about. Of course, they’d talked about certain things, like how she’d played guitar in a band, she liked to read, she spoke Spanish, she was interested in anything urban fantasy, etc. Oh, and Caleb was fairly sure that Cassia wasn’t very fond of sweets. She hadn’t taken much of the candy on the night their group had studied together, and most of what was in her Halloween bag wasn’t chocolate.

There was a sudden scream and Caleb instinctively moved so he was shielding Cassia from the rest of the street. That was the one thing that irked him about Halloween and parties in general: some people went wild without considering how their actions might affect others. He hadn’t told Cass yet, but his mother was an alcoholic. Both his parents had drank in front of him at the dinner table when he was a child. However, not long after he’d become a teenager, his parents’ addictions got worse. His father grew addicted to Using, which visibly aged him, and in response, his mother began to drink more heavily. Caleb had learned to cook because they’d dismissed the maid (not wanting to explain why Mr. Danvers was aging so quickly) and he kept finding his mom lying in her room, too out of it to feed him or herself. Save for his night with Pogue, Caleb hardly ever drank. He didn’t want to be responsible for hurting someone just because he was inebriated.

Thankfully, once he looked around, he realized that all was fine--Reid had just accidentally scared the crap out of a little kid. (Not that that was great or anything, Caleb actually felt bad for the kid and their parents, but it was a whole lot better than what could’ve happened in another situation.) Caleb took a deep breath and went back to holding his girlfriend’s hand, hoping she didn’t think his reaction had been too weird. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. He tried to plaster a smile onto his face, even though Cassia had already shown that she could see right through that. “Still gonna keep me safe?” He hoped the joke would lighten up the mood he’d crushed.

Aaron let go of Tyler’s hand as they got up to the entrance, but he was grinning. “Just in case we end up running our way through,” he told his boyfriend. It definitely wasn’t his first Ipswich Halloween, so he knew what to expect in terms of fright level, but not in terms of the details. And Aaron liked a good scary movie, even though he himself was not past screaming (or accidentally losing control of the popcorn bowl). He was just glad to get to do it with Tyler. It was like a weird, muggy, dark Tunnel of Love (not that he was going to admit that). 

It was then that Reid realized he might have a problem. He had a giant (half-filled) bag of candy in his greedy hands and anticipation in his mind. There was no way in Hell that he was missing out on the haunted house...but he also wanted to eat while he could (in other words, without Tyler or Caleb policing his sugar intake). He looked for Pogue and Jayn, who he suddenly noticed weren’t in line, and huffed. Apparently, he had to be all fucking responsible on Halloween. He shoved yet another piece of Fun-Sized chocolate into his mouth, chomped and chewed until he could swallow it, and then prepared himself for the ominous mansion that loomed ahead.

[shinkun]

bloom: part 1/2 (18+)

aizawa shouta | eraserhead x student!reader

[ read part 2 here ] 

word count: 3.4k

genre: alpha/omega, omegaverse, m/f, afab reader, student/teacher, smut with little plot

A late-blooming student finds herself trapped in the school, yearning for someone to ease her unfamiliar, painful urges.

warnings: 18+, smut, oral, fingering, cunnilingus 

notes: Hello, just as a warning, this is my first time in many years posting any written work so I'm pretty rusty and self-conscious about it (please be gentle!) Also - my first time doing any form of a/b/o, so I hope it's okay! 

Aizawa just released something feral in me that made me want to write a lengthy, lusty fiction about him.

This is Part 1 of 2 of this fiction. I wanted to see if there was any reception or interest in this piece before sharing the final part.

All characters are 18+. Reader is a mature student presumably finishing her final semester of school, or attending an extra year.

Anyway, please enjoy!

- - - - -

Aizawa gave a hefty groan, pinching the skin on the bridge of his nose. A nagging stress entered the back of his mind as he proceeded to the opposite side of the door. 

When your classmate had cornered him in his office earlier, wailing about how “Y/N doesn’t want to come out! She said she feels too sick to go to practice!” He already knew what he was in for. 

“Alright, I’ll go see what's wrong…” Aizawa nonchalantly replied, waving the boy away. “Go outside and start without her.” He commanded, not letting him get another word in. The student gave a compliant but nervous nod before exiting the room. 

The professor let out a sigh, perking his ear up to the door. He hesitantly raised his knuckles up to the surface, knocking on it with little force, but enough that it could be heard from the other side. He held his breath for a moment. A sweet, tantalizing scent crept from beneath the barrier between him and his student. 

“Don’t come in!!” Shouted a voice laced with panic in reply to the knock. 

“Don’t worry, it’s me.” Aizawa said, lowering his palm to the handle of the locker room. He didn’t need to speak his name for you to know. He was patient, letting you bask in the silence for a moment. The scent emitting from the room made a couple beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck, but he was able to shake it off. 

“I can’t let you.. see me like this…” Your tone was shaky and barely audible, but he’d caught it. 

“I can help you.” He persisted to push the handle downward. 

The bond you’d grown with your teacher in your three years at UA was strong and trusting. You knew that any advice he was willing to offer you would be right. He was always right. You were happy to have a mentor so willing to sacrifice his time and listen to you when you needed it, and this was no exception. 

Aizawa delicately pushed the door open, only an inch into it before the odor was able to escape, already knocking him back; angelic, rosey scents filling his nostrils. Saliva pooled underneath the back of his tongue as he took the fragrance in. He shut his eyes and let out another soft huff before propping the door open with one foot. He could sense your panic rising as he shuffled forward. 

“...I promise you’ll be okay.” He assured you, his hand curling around the frame. He continued to stay cautious and non-threatening, making sure you had enough time to prepare for his entry. 

“I don’t want you to see me so..” you hesitated, attempting to stiffen a cry building up in your throat, “..weak.” The word rolled off your tongue like it was filth. 

Aizawa entered the room, seemingly unphased by the aura of hormones that was now engulfing him. He gently let the door slide closed behind him, carefully locking it for any students that dared to interrupt them. A small but caring smirk graced his face as he looked before him. 

He saw you curled up in the back corner of the changeroom, sitting on a bench with your knees tucked into your chest. You held the bunched up top to your gym uniform, hugging it to the flushed skin of your torso for safety, your chest covered only by a tightly binding sports bra. You sunk your head down, trying not to make eye contact with the teacher as he proceeded forward. He gingerly perched himself on the bench next to you, leaving a comfortable amount of space, before bending forward to look at you.

“Hey..” His hair curtained around his face as he leaned forward, softly cupping the opposite side of your face in his hand.  He pulled your head over to look at him. The unexpected touch made you squirm, squeezing your eyes closed, but you refused to fight his caress. “You’re the strongest person I know.” His thumb massaged your cheek up and down. Your bottom lip quivered, still attempting to fight the surge of emotions that were coursing through you as you finally met his gaze. Your eyes brimming with tears, making your vision blurry, as you continued to choke them back. It was simple, but his words meant a lot. 

You and him both knew that you had a complicated relationship with your femininity. You saw it as a burden, getting in the way from people taking you seriously. You blocked it out in any way you could, to reflect a more intimidating, headstrong persona. Focusing on close-combat studies and fighting techniques, convincing the staff to let you wear the boy’s uniform, attending all the extra curricular sporting events - the reason you were even here on a weekend to begin with. It wasn’t just a means of coming off as adrogynous though, you genuinely enjoyed these things. 

“How can I be strong if I’m...” You looked away, afraid that admitting you were an Omega out loud would somehow make it worse. You didn’t want to come to terms with it. 

“...C’mere kid.” He removed his hand from your face while straightening up, leaning his back against the wall behind him. His arm raised, placing it on your shoulder to pull you into his chest for a gentle embrace. 

You’d been close to Aizawa before, but never anything like this. Playful jabs here and there, sarcastic shoves in the hallway, there was even that time he had to step in to use his binding cloth to stop you from beating on some punk that made fun of your quirk - but this tender feeling he was sharing was a whole new territory. 

You took it in, allowing some of the pent up tears to escape from your eyes. A quiet sob forced itself out of your throat, your body vibrating with each cry. Aizawa rubbed your back, slowly, carefully, letting you bask in the feelings. The fear that you had reverberated throughout the room was beginning to subside, and he could tell. You laid against the man in silence for a moment, the heavy thumping of his heart lulling your anxieties. You breathed in gradually, putting your sniveling to rest, but as you did, you noticed something off. 

A flush of red emanated from your face as your nose raised slightly gravitating toward Aizawa’s head. A waft of strong musk filled your senses. It was savory, and heavy, and…“Hnghh.”  A breathy sigh escaped your mouth as your hand gripped the fabric of the teacher’s shirt. You had little control over your next movement, stretching forward to nuzzle your face against his neck, taking in as much of the aroma as you could. Now that you’d let your defenses down, Aizawa's dominant atmosphere was beginning to encapsulate you. 

“Whoa there.” He let out a chuckle but continued to let you explore, eventually expecting this kind of reaction to his presence. He gracefully shifted his hand, placing it above your hip, both to keep you stable as you moved, and to give him the pleasure of being able to embrace the smooth, supple flesh. 

“I’m...sorry..” You said, beginning to retreat from him as the realisation of what you were doing began to sink in. “Oh, oh no.. I’m sorry..!” Your heart fluttered as you pulled back to your safe spot on the bench. 

He gave his head a shake and continued to give you your space. “No need to be sorry.” He assured you, scratching the back of his head. His voice was tender and dreamy to your ears, it sent goosebumps down your arms. Suddenly sitting in a lecture just to listen to your teacher’s dark, gritty voice rant about hero politics sounded appealing. Admittedly this brief embrace made the resistance to act on his urges much harder than before, but he persisted. 

Suddenly you let out an aching gasp. You pulled your body toward yourself, your arm reaching around your abdomen as you felt that intense pressure building up inside your gut again, tinges of pain and aching threatening your core. You’d felt this earlier when you had the room to yourself. It made you hot, your breath beginning to pick up as your body reeled in a feverish sweat. You didn’t want him to see you like this and now that your guard was down, it was taking control. 

“Hurt…. it hu..rts..” You managed to spit out. Shouta cocked his head to the side.

“Is this your first time..?” He planted his hand on your back once more, making sure you knew his company was welcoming. All you could do was let out a quick nod. You squeezed your legs together, feeling an intense heat present itself in your center, your gasps becoming more hefty and impossible to contain. 

“Wow, a late bloomer.” Aizawa strategically pondered for a moment, “Well, I should go inform Recovery Girl of how you’r-” 

“..No!” You cut him off before he could finish, a tremble in your voice. “Please, can you...” Embarrassment took over causing your speech to trail off, your arm shakely reaching out and clenching around the sleeve beside his hand. Your desires were continuing to take hold and Aizawa’s scent was becoming more and more irresistible as time went on, “..can you help me?”

The edge of his mouth curled up into a smile, disguising itself behind his shield of dark locks. Just as he’d expected. 

Now, this wasn’t his first time dealing with a student in heat. Although the population of Omegas was on the lower side, there had been a few students in his years of teaching that had to get medicated and sent home for a few days to deal with their inflamed, unpredictable hormones. And professors, especially Alpha professors, were instructed on the responsibility of containing those natural urges and how to offer students help when they were in their most vulnerable state. 

He did genuinely want to help. Seeing your pleas to get rid of this nasty heat made his heart ache and he didn’t want to deny you the option for any outside aid, but he knew you would place trust in him and he was willing to offer it. 

Without answering Aizawa leaned forward. He curled his other hand up behind your head, letting his fingers trail through your hair to embrace your scalp. Immediately a shiver fell down your spine as he bent over you; first planting a kiss on your forehead, then he trailed downward, peppering a couple kisses on your tear-stained cheek. The weight of your head cradled into his hand as he continued, his mouth trailing down the length of your neck, his tongue messaging down the length of your skin. Your breathing increased as you let out a cute whimper, your core pulsated. He then paused just above your shoulder, letting in a deep inhale. Your scent was enchanting, sweet, and made his head spin. He dared to let his teeth graze that special spot, smirked, and then placed one final peck there before abruptly pushing his mouth against yours. You immediately felt a rush of heat rise into your stomach as his lips collided with yours. They were so soft and experienced, but juxtaposed by the rough facial hair that scraped against your chin. 

Even though it was you who’d requested it, you were having a tough time wrapping your head around the order of events that lead you here. Finding it difficult to reciprocate the kiss, he began to ease his tongue inside your mouth. Your eyebrows raised, but eyes remaining sealed shut as the twitching muscle explored your mouth, the roughness of his flesh against yours causing you to feel slick drip between your thighs. 

You pulled your mouth away releasing an overwhelmed heave, a string of saliva still leaving you connected to the man. 

His eyes furrowed, a worrying expression plastered his face making sure you were okay. 

“..I forgot to...breathe.” A rosy tint burned your cheeks before you both let out a small chuckle that eased the tension. He then placed his forehead against yours.

“Keep going..?” At this point he was probably too far gone but he thought he’d at least give you the false sense of reassurance. 

Despite the flustering heat that Aizawa stirred into you from his kisses, the pain in your curve was urging on to the point of becoming unbearable. Your hands trembled but quickly grabbed his chest to pull him back into the embrace. He took this as a ‘yes’ and fell back into the deep kiss, proceeding to cup his hand around your left breast. He kneaded the bosom in his hand before trailing his mouth down your neck once again, this time pulling and suckling at the skin, leaving playful little bites - but not enough to bruise. His hands trailed down to the edge of your bra. You bit down on your lip as he yanked it upward and over your head. 

A nearly inaudible “Wow..” escaped from his mouth as he leaned back to take your figure in, not sure if it was meant for your ears to hear. Your defenseless upper half was paler than usual and coated with a perspiring sheen due to your sickly urges.

“Don’t stare..” You grumbled, refusing to meet his eyes as his hand regained its place against your chest. He was shocked you were able to contain them within the bounds of a thin fabriced sports bra all the time, let alone while they were aching and swelling from your heat. You did a very good job of keeping it that way. 

He smirked once more before lowering his head, taking the erect pink bud between his lips, lapping his tongue over it again and again. You shuddered as he sucked it into his mouth, his opposite hand fondling the other. But no matter how much he kissed and caressed your shivering body, it wasn’t satisfying the heavy hunger sweltering in the pits of your core. “Please..” You whined above his head, frustratingly clenching your fingers into your palms, “Mister Aizawa, please...I can’t wait anymore.” 

Aizawa pulled his mouth away, nuzzling his face between your chest for just a moment before raising back up. 

“Soon.” He simply but firmly stated, pulling his binding cloth above his head and tossing it to the floor, making sure it wouldn’t get in the way. 

He then bent down, wrapping his arm around the calves of your legs and pulling them onto the wide bench. He moved his own leg over the opposite side of the bench so that it was now in between him. 

“Now,”  he looked as you impatiently quivered, trailing his intense stare down your body, “What’s the damage?” You let out an offended huff at his wording, but held your complaints in. You figured any sort of noncompliance would lead you to a one-way trip to the medic. 

Shouta really didn’t need to ask, but your fluster enticed him even more. The bottoms of your navy gym uniform had a dark patch stained through them long before the moment he’d entered, by this point it had traveled down your legs. 

“Looks like we’re gonna have to find you another pair of those, huh?” He reached forward tracing his hands around the edges of the waistband before pulling the sweats down. You shifted as it tickled your sides. He then tossed them to the floor alongside his equipment. 

Your hands reached up to cover your face as his gaze pierced through you. No matter how desperate you were to get some relief, you still couldn’t get past the vulnerability of being sprawled out in front of him like this, let alone, someone actually known for having a deeply intimidating stare. 

He tenderly pulled one of your hands away, taking it in his own. This was the first time you’d really noticed how big his were in comparison, cupping around your delicate digits. He closed his eyes, leaving a few tender kisses inside your palm before deeply inhaling the aroma radiating from your wrist. He let it go and looked back, his palms now resting on your thighs, pushing them apart with a surprising amount of ease. You aligned yourself on the bench, propping your back against the wall. 

Aizawa bowed over your lower half, leaning into the heat pulsating between your legs. He hadn’t even touched you before your heart began to race, your breath trailing close behind. Your anticipation for him made his heart melt but he couldn’t resist dragging this out for as long as he could. He wanted to make your first heat special for you - memorable - even. 

It wasn’t long before Aizawa’s mouth was trailing up the length of your leg. The closer he got, the more unbearably hard it was to not just let his primal instincts take over and ravage your pretty, little entrance with his aching cock. No, Aizawa. He cursed at himself for even thinking that. 

Shouta’s tongue danced up your thigh before hitting the edge of your drenched panties. He left soft little nips with his teeth in your thigh, leaving you breathless, before kissing the fabric. He nudged his nose against the surface of it, prodding your sensitive core before letting his tongue fall down its length, intentionally heaving his hot, eager breath against you. You let out a loud gasp that left you clutching your mouth. He smiled once more before taking the edges of the fabric between his fingers and pulling them down, finally revealing your throbbing, leaking pussy. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” He sighed into you, sharing a few more kisses before sliding his tongue through those tender, pink folds. You cocked your head back gently scooching your hips towards him, your humiliation suddenly masked by your intense lust for the man. 

Aizawa took in all the senses surrounding him. The delightful squeaks you made as he trailed his muscle along your slit, the delicious distinctly omega flavours that drenched his mouth, the way you convulsed and your knees buckled every time he slid his lips or nose against your sensitive, budding clit. He then pulled your legs over his shoulders, giving him more leverage to dive into you.

You reached your hand out as your gasps deepened, he looked up from you inquisitively before reaching his out in return. You laced your fingers between his, yearning for that simple grasp. You held on to it as a form of security, giving soft squeezes to the man every time it was too intense, or a loving stroke of your thumb against his skin when it was just right. 

He narrowed his focus back on you, slowly bringing his other hand to your slit. While his tongue massaged your pulsating pearl, he sank two fingers deep inside your entrance. Unsurprisingly your hole was ready and more than willing to accept them. The amount of slick you’d produced was evident enough. You bit down on your lip and let out a whimper as he now began pumping you with his fingers alongside his mouth, your natural lubricant gliding down his hand.

Earlier you’d tried doing the same, attempting to satisfy your intense craving with masturbation alone, but it was never enough. Nothing felt like enough. But Aizawa’s fingers reached parts that you couldn’t, curling and prodding that sensitive area, hiding toward your stomach.

“God..” Your eyes rolled back as you bucked yourself against him, but you still yearned for more. “S...Sensei..” He could see you getting close, your little hand clenching in his own as he rhythmically persisted, your breaths more shaky and sporadic. “Shou..ta..!!” He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, his cock twitching against his leg from the sound of it. He pulled his hand back and plunged his long fingers even harder and more vigorously, this time including a third. You let out a little shriek while he basically drowned amongst your tiny folds, his fingers driving into you at a steady cadence. He felt as your plush, sensitive walls tightened around his dexterous touch, quivering as you climaxed before him.  

You gulped hard trying to let your mind catch up to your body, releasing a steady pant. 

“That was great, kitten.” He gave your thigh one last kiss before raising up. “...You did so well.”

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hi, it's me again. Sorry that I requested so many stuff from you since my damn imagination won't stop creating all these scenarios haha. May I ask for a Continuation Au of The First Snow of the Season where Ace and Koala ACTUALLY got together? But Sabo and the reader aren't together? Angst # 10 if you could. Thanks and congrats!

Warnings: angst, crying, heart break

Word Count: 1170

So technically speaking, Sabo and the reader aren’t together in the end of The First Snow of the Season, or in the sequel, Warming Up. I mean, I get it, it’s implied that they either got together or would do so soon, but I didn’t actually mean for them to truly be together at that moment. That being said, the sort of prequel ‘I wanna be yours’ is still mostly a thing, Sabo still likes her. 

It had been months since Ace and your sister got together and it honestly made you sick. Watching them be so close wasn’t just sickening to watch either. Each hug, each squeeze, each kiss drove another knife through your heart. Worse yet, you were forced to endure not only every moment of their love, but the number of things about your sister that you were compared to had increased. She had a nice boyfriend now, she had a good relationship now, she could juggle a boyfriend, her work, her studies, and her extra-fucking-curriculars. But it couldn’t end there, the universe couldn’t let your suffering end there, no, of course not. Because now the one friend that had been by your side for years, the one friend that had always been nice to you, never compared you to her, barely saw you. The loneliness started to creep in once more as you wrapped your arms around yourself, quickly leaving the coffee shop. It was still early spring, meaning the weather was still pretty terrible, but you honestly couldn’t care less. It had become sort of a thing for you to go outside in the horrendous weather and walk around. You knew it was probably bad for your health, but what did you care? What did anyone care? You still remembered the biting cold of that day, of sitting out in the snow, for how long you could only guess. You still remembered the feeling of your hot tears running down your frozen cheeks. And you remembered how tired you’d eventually gotten, how your vision faded out. Waking up in the hospital, your mother yelling at you for being so stupid, Koala and Ace entering after your mother had said her peace, already holding hands. You hadn’t been unconscious for long but they were already together. Walking down the street, it didn’t take long for the pouring rain to soak you to the bone, your arms wrapped around yourself less for warmth and more for comfort. How would it feel to have someone else’s arms wrapped around you? To be comforted by another person. 

“Y/n? What’re you doing out here? You’re drenched!” a voice called, Sabo running over to you, umbrella in hand.

“I just… needed to go for a walk.” you muttered, the young man now shielding you both from the rain, though you weren’t sure what the purpose of shielding someone who was already drenched was. 

“In the pouring rain? You’re gonna get sick or something. This is just as bad as when you passed out in the snow. Come on, my apartment’s not far, you need to dry off. Luffy has some old clothes he never wears that should fit you.” Sabo said, leading you towards his apartment. The blond quickly shoved you towards the shower with some of Luffy’s clothes, hoping the warm water would help get your temperature up a little. While you weren’t as cold as the day he found you lying in the snow, you were still cold, too cold for his liking. Not that you knew that he was the one who found you, but that’s not what mattered. What mattered was you not getting sick. It was a short while later, sitting cross legged on the couch, hot coffee mug in hand that you looked sadly at Sabo. He’d asked if you wanted to talk about it, but you honestly weren’t sure.

“You know, my heart hurts when I look at them together.” you stated, looking back down at your mug, not quite sure how else to start. Sabo just nodded in understanding, he knew the feeling all too well, “Part of me keeps hoping that I’ll wake up from a nightmare, but I never do. Each day only hurts more as Ace pulls further away from me. He was the one person who never compared me to her�� I sought advice online… people keep telling me it’ll get easier, but it’s only been getting worse.” you said, still looking at your drink.

“I… believe it or not, I understand. There’s uh, someone I like but they’re… I don’t think they’ll ever like me back. Hell, I’m not entirely sure they even really notice me.” Sabo admitted. Granted, it was partially his fault you didn’t notice him, but that didn’t make the pain go away.

“Someone doesn’t notice you? You mean that’s possible for a pretty boy like you?” you snorted, trying to find something else to focus on.

“They’re… in love with someone else. Someone… someone I can’t touch. Someone, anyone else, and I’d try to shove them aside and make her see me. But it’s not anyone else.” Sabo confessed, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious. 

“And here Ace was, saying that no one could get in your way.” you said, thankful for the distraction. You didn’t want to think about them.

“Usually, he’s right. But there’s… a few instances where I just… there’s nothing I can do.” Sabo said, giving a defeated sigh. You could only nod in understanding, your thoughts finally returning to Ace once the silence settled in. Briefly, you wondered what it would be like to escape. Not just the pain of seeing them together, but everything. Escape from seeing them together, from your mother, from those who compared you to your sister, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way or a place you could go to do so.

“I want to leave.” you stated, not looking up from your drink, your voice sounding loud in the quiet room.

“Oh, uh, well. Your clothes aren’t finished but I suppose-”

“No, I mean I want to leave this city. I want to leave and go somewhere far away where nobody knows me, nobody knows my sister or Ace, somewhere I don’t have to see them all the time, I want to just… leave.” you said, your grip on the mug tightening. Sabo stared at you for a moment before giving another sigh.

“I… know some people.” Sabo started, staring down at his lap. He didn’t want to do this, but neither could he stop himself, “They live in another country entirely. They’ll take you in until you can make it on your own. If you really want to do this… I’ll help you.” Sabo said, trying to hold back his tears. You looked at him in shock, not quite sure what to say.

It was a couple of weeks later that you boarded the plane, the only send off being from Sabo. Nobody else knew you were even leaving, they wouldn’t find out until you were long gone, a couple of letters stashed in Sabo’s pocket to deliver once you were well on your way. It had been your last request from him. Despite his pleas, you’d told him you didn’t want any contact with anyone from your past, a completely new start. One that would ultimately prove to be pointless as you found the pain in your heart refusing to subside, no matter how much time passed.

[arrthurpendragon]

My principal called me tonight. Just finished bawling my eyes out.

He was apparently thinking of our conversation and wanted to know how to help. I reiterated what I told him earlier. Then he’s like, but you’ve been this way for a couple years now. I told him I reached out for help and was told I didn’t need any. He said it was because I don’t have “that many” extra curriculars. Some of the big ones I do - teach art all grades, direct choir, direct drama don’t count because they happen during the school day. (I’d like to say that I put in MANY MANY hours planning this stuff outside of school) He said it wouldn’t be fair to take off my plate because he couldn’t give what I have to any other teacher. I told him I’m just in a different place in my life than I was before my brother died. He wanted to know why I haven’t gone to therapy about it. I told him, I’m doing a lot better with it - it takes TIME. He then asked me if I’m doing devotions or talking with pastor. I told him that yes, I’m doing devotions. But he said that isn’t enough that I should be talking with pastor. I already talked with him once after my brother died and it just seemed kinda final. Pastor needs to know what I need “help” with - not just listen to me. He then asked again why I’m not going to therapy. Good grief dude, I know what my triggers are and what is stressing me out. I told you, you said that’s not enough.

So, apparently all the crap I do for school isn’t anything because in parochial schools, it’s just expected that you have to take stuff on. What I’m doing isn’t enough that should be causing me stress because it happens IN SCHOOL.

He said he wanted the Kassandra back from this summer before my brother died when I was offering to help others (because I didn’t have all that stuff going on) and can take stuff off HIM.

I’m getting angry again, just writing this. Praying even harder I get this AZ job.

[sprnklersplashes]

clean

cw for mentions of suicide, self-harm, death, drugs, and also for making out while naked (but not sex)

Seeing an accident happen in Sunnyvale feels unnatural. It’s like seeing a two-headed deer, or a car flying in the sky. Sam can’t even focus on how terrible it is, or hope that nobody was hurt. All she can think is how unnatural it is, to see such a horrible sight in such a near-perfect place.

It’s the price for a curse breaking, she supposes. The scales of fate are even now.

Her shoulders twitch, her feet move to go over and help, as is her instinct, but before she can, Deena’s hand is on her shoulder, a pained gasp escaping her mouth, that turns into a whimper that almost stops Sam’s heart. Again. She turns, her mouth running dry, and finds Deena’s free hand pressed against her stomach. She remembers, sees it in her mind like a movie, even if the picture is hazy. The tunnels. Her hands, Deena’s throat. Deena’s house. A drumstick breaking over her knee. Deena hitting the floor beside her, and her not caring.

“No,” she mutters. “Oh, no.”

“Sam,” Deena whispers. She sounds so tired, so beyond exhausted, yet she’s still strong. Her Deena. She’s always thought she was tough,everyone did, but now she’s learned she’s tougher than the actual Devil himself. “It wasn’t you.” Sam opens her mouth-to protest, to apologise- but Deena shakes her head, the movement making her wince, and that crooked half-grin she loves appears on her face. She always loved that smile, and would love it now if the situation weren’t so dire. “Don’t even try with me.”

She gasps again, her knees buckle, and Sam gently guides her to the ground, one hand around her torso, Deena gripping her other for dear life.

“We can talk about all that later,” she interrupts. She takes Deena’s face and tilts it towards her, trying desperately to remember her first aid training. Her eyes are clear, or clear-ish, but her skin is ashen and pale and her cheek is clammy against her palm. “Right now, we just need to worry about getting you to a hospital.”

For the first time in a long, long time, she feels like luck or fate must be on her side, because no sooner have the words left her mouth than the siren of an ambulance pierces the air, and a miniature fleet of the white vehicles comes into view. They’re all rushing towards the scene of the accident, obviously, but Sam sees into the window of one. A young driver looks through and her eyes double in size when she sees the pair of them, then triple when she sees Deena. What they must look like to her. They’d look a wreck to anyone, even the lowest of the low in Shadyside, but here in Sunnyvale, where not even the grass grows out of place, she’d wager they’re a scary sight.

Thankfully, this one ambulance pulls up beside them, and the driver calls something into the radio as she jumps out and runs their way. Sam would feel guilty for taking someone else’s help, but as she looks across the road, her guilt eases, for this anyway. There are three ambulances at the scene of the crash, and a siren signalling another’s approach. The lack of emergencies these past 30 years has clearly made them unsure of what to do in this case, and when folks don’t know what to do, they do everything.

“Are you two okay?” 

“She’s hurt,” Sam replies. “Please, please, help her, she’s hurt.” The paramedic runs to Deena’s side, and Sam watches her cringe as she moves her hand away. Sam takes a deep breath and hopes that the lack of practice for Sunnyvale’s medical staff doesn’t have any other consequences. Deena rests her head on her shoulder, and panic flares up in her for a moment before she sees her eyes are still open. Will she ever stop panicking? She’s been doing scared almost her whole life.

“Okay, sweetie,” the paramedic said. “The good news is, it’s not too deep and you got here in time.” The girl gives Deena what is meant to be a supportive smile and shakes her shoulder slightly, keeping her from slipping away. “And we’ll have to get you checked out at the hospital, but I don’t think anything’s ruptured in there okay?”

“Okay,” she pants.

“Good girl. Now, we’re going to get you into the ambulance okay?” She looks over at Sam, seriousness creeping into her face like clouds across a blue sky. “Can you help carry her?” She nods, her grip already tightening. She doesn’t say that she’ll carry her forever if she has to. It doesn’t feel fair to dump that on this poor unsuspecting girl. “Okay, great. On three, right hon? One… two… three.”

Sam hates hospitals. Hospitals mean grandpa forgot to take his heart medication again and it’s her last chance to say goodbye. It means another person was beaten up behind the school, or drank too much at a party, or popped all those pills she can’t name. It means someone has thrown themselves off the bridge because it was the only way out of Shadyside. It means she just watched her boyfriend get stabbed through the heart and is now running from an undead murder, brandishing a knife meant for her.

She hates hospitals, and this is no exception. Even if the news is good.

Deena sits on the bed, her skin as white as the sheets she rests on, her shirt rolled up to show the new scar that graces her abdomen. Right in the side, just above her hip. The doctor found specs of wood in it. Tiny splinters buried in the skin.

“Well, she’s incredibly fortunate,” the doctor says. He talks about her like she isn’t here, and on the one hand that annoys Sam, because it’s almost certainly linked to that ‘Shadysiders are subhuman’ bullshit. The curse may be broken, but assholes are assholes, and a prejudiced town is even harder to get rid of than blood magic. But on the other hand, Deena’s on so much pain medication she might as well not be here. Her eyes are clouded, but not from shock, and she alternates between running her fingers along her new scars and tracing patterns on the back of Sam’s hand. “Like she said, nothing was ruptured, although I’d say you got here in the nick of time. Good thing she patched herself up.”

Deena’s makeshift bandage sits on the table behind her, little more than a bloodstained cloth. Sam can’t bring herself to look at it.

“But I have to ask, Samantha,” he says. She avoids his eyes deliberately, keeping them trained on Deena and her scars. “What happened?”

She considers lying, because she’s too tired and how would she ever explain? How could she explain the hell they’ve been through in the past day? Who would believe her if she did?

She could lie, and maybe she should, but she doesn’t. Because this whole horrible, ugly story began with lies, and continued with them. They lied and lied, and this town was built upon it while Shadyside was ruined by it. It’s over, and she’s making sure it stays over.

“Nick Goode.” She says the words through gritted teeth, against a raw throat. The Doctor shakes his head, as if he misheard her. And Deena frowns, clarity beginning to come to her, silently asking what she’s doing. Sam just takes her hand, a whisper of a smile on her face. This must be what taking revenge feels like. Damn, it feels good.

“What happened to her was Nick Goode.”

Deena is discharged from hospital within a few hours. In that time, Sam gets a few things done. First off, she tells the lady at the front desk to put it under her mother’s insurance. Second, she waits until Deena falls asleep, a combination of her own body and the meds, and slips out to the payphone outside. She slides a quarter in and calls Josh, tells him that Deena’s okay, that she’s with her, that she’s in the hospital, and that she’s going to be okay. She rattles them off like they’re facts for a school presentation and doesn’t breathe until she’s finished, sagging against the wall of the booth. On the other line, Josh absorbs what she said and she said, her nails scratching against her wrist. She expects a colourful array of curse words, or for him to hang up on her without a word. She’d hardly blame him.

“And are you okay?” is what he says instead.

“Um… yeah,” she says. “Heart still beating. Lungs still breathing. And um…. I’m me.” She shrugs and rakes a hand through her hair. “It’s gone. It’s over.”

“Yeah.” He sounds so happy, so triumphant, and she can feel his smile even if he’s all the way over in Shadyside. “It’s over.”

Once those two words had broken her heart, spat at her by Deena in an angry, bitter wave, a final goodbye from the best thing in her life. Now they keep her heart beating, a promise that the darkness that ruined so many lives is gone now. Forever.

Having Deena Johnson in her house also feels unnatural. Like seeing a lion wandering around the mall. She looks so out of place here and well, so does Sam. Because this house, and everything in it, it’s all fake. It was all part of her and her mom’s so-called New Life, out of Shadyside. A Better Life, with a better school and better jobs and better extra-curriculars and better people. Better friends, her mom had said out loud. Better influences, she had said with her face. It was going to be better, safer, happier. Her mom believed it, and for the briefest period of time, she believed it too. Thought that the big house and the red cheer uniform would fix all of her problems.

She was never meant to be in this house, she realises. That’s why it didn’t feel right to her, even when all her things were moved in here. She was always meant to be in Shadyside, not because of the curse not letting her escape. But because of Deena. Wherever Deena is, that’s where she’s meant to be.

“God I need a shower,” Deena announces, her voice half-shaking with laughter. It’s also rusty and hoarse, from screaming and overuse and who knows what else. She holds out her arms, a shaky smile on her face. Her face is streaked with red, her hands caked in dirt, her nails rimmed with grey. Sam looks down and finds her own hands looking similar. Her clothes stick to her body, almost feeling like a second, grimy skin. Her body has been put through everything it can be put through, her bones feel so weary and fragile she fears she could break if she moves too suddenly. It’ll take weeks, months, years to fix herself, if she ever can. But a wash might be a good start.

“Me too,” she says, and she takes Deena’s hand and leads her upstairs.

They shower together, it’s decided with just a glance. Sam isn’t comfortable letting Deena out of her sight for longer than two minutes. It might be over, but they can’t be sure. They don’t know what could be sitting in the darkness, behind the corners, on the other side of doors. If the past days have taught them anything, it’s that nothing is certain. Nothing is set in stone. The curse wasn’t, in the end, but peace isn’t guaranteed either.

So Deena follows her into the little ensuite bathroom, letting out a low whistle as she enters.

“Fancy,” she says. “Like one of those little hotel bathrooms.”

“It’s not that fancy,” she mutters. But it is. Because of Goode. Her house, like everyone else’s in Sunnyvale, is built on the blood of those victims. This house was built some time in the 1920s, according to the realtor. 

Billy Barker. He was 1922.

The pretty house isn’t quite so pretty in this light.

“Hey.” Deena’s hand is on her shoulder, her hair tickling her cheek. Her other arm wraps around her waist and pulls her closer, and it’s only then Sam realises she’s taken her shirt off. Deena rests her chin on her shoulder and she feels, rather than sees, the coy grin on her face. “You need some help?”

She lets Deena pull her shirt off her body, her fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. In return, her hands slowly undo the button on the waistband of Deena’s jeans and pull them off her legs as she pulls her shoes off with considerably less grace. In other circumstances, the sight of Deena in her underwear would send her mind straight to the gutter, and she’d take her to the bed rather than the shower. But her mind has been invaded and pulled apart and literally brought back from the dead. So she just pulls Deena’s underwear off her, leads her into the shower, and lets the hot water run off them both.

She hadn’t realised how cold she was until the water hits her, a yelp escaping her body as it does so. It burns her skin, turning it from white to red. Deena’s eyes widen, and her hand reaches up to turn it off, but she just shakes her head, her hand grasping Deena’s. The water might be hot, but she can feel it. It’s the first thing, other than Deena, that she can feel since she first heard her name be whispered in Deena’s room, and so she embraces it. Deena doesn’t question it, an understanding in her eyes without anything being said.

Sam’s eyes roam over her girlfriend’s body, but it doesn’t bring the rush of heat to her cheeks it normally would. Instead all she can focus on is the dirt and dust smeared across her skin, followed by trails of blood. It almost forms a barrier around her body, save for the pristine bandage on her side. Without thinking, her hand reaches out and her fingertips graze the fabric, her touch gentle over the wound.

“You’ll get it wet,” she whispers.

“It’s okay. The doctor gave me a couple more just in case.” Sam nods, but doesn’t look away from it until Deena lifts her chin, making her eyes meet hers. “It’s okay,” she says, more forcefully this time.

“Okay.” She looks at Deena again before lifting a bottle down from the shelf and squeezing  a generous amount onto the palm of her hand, a gentle orange fragrance filling the air between them. “Here.” She rubs her hand over Deena’s shoulder before running it down her side, and watches as the dirt of the past few days begins to strip away. She keeps going, her hand moving across her stomach, over her hip, along her chest, bending down to get her legs. She keeps looking up at Deena, searching for a sign to stop, but she doesn’t get one. She only gets a soft, contented smile, and so she keeps going. She only applies pressure where she needs to, where stubborn bits of dirt refuse to come off. She gets them, and watches with satisfaction as it peels away, revealing the brown skin beneath. She lifts Deena’s hand and turns it over, her fingers pusing between Deena’s, her thumb rubbing at her girlfriend’s wrist until it’s clean again. She takes the chance to press a kiss to the skin, the gesture quick and simple. She smells faintly of oranges and overwhelmingly like her, like the jackets Deena used to hang around her shoulders.

Excitement curls her toes when she thinks about the possibility of wearing that jacket again.

“Here,” Deena says. “Turn around.” Sam does as instructed, and then feels Deena’s hands on her skin; her fingers running down her spine and back up before she pushes her hair off her shoulder and scrubs at the back of her neck, on her shoulders. She hadn’t realised how dirty she was, nor how much she needed this. Not just the wash. Deena’s hands on her body. Not fighting or begging or holding her back. Gentle. Careful. Handling her like she’s something precious, rather than pushing her away. How much she needed to care for Deena too, after everything. To embrace her rather than claw at her neck, not stopping until it snapped. It wasn’t her, Deena said, but she now knows exactly how it feels to have her hands wrapped around Deena’s throat.

She closes her eyes and pretends the water running down her face is from the shower.

“Babe.” Deena’s hands are on her hips, rubbing in slow, small circles. “You okay?” Sam exhales slowly. She doesn’t answer because the word ‘okay’ seems to have lost all meaning now. ‘Okay’ now just means ‘alive’. Not perfect, not sane, maybe not safe, but alive. She doesn’t answer, instead turns around in Deena’s arms. She reaches up to caress her cheek, wiping away the grime as she does so. She still looks the same, despite everything they’ve been through. Wrecked and exhausted and broken, but still her. Still Deena. Still perfect.

“I love you,” she says. Deena smiles, and opens her mouth to say something else, but her lips touch hers before she can. The kiss is desperate, hungry, making up for so many lost months and driven by raw need for both of them. Teeth tug on her bottom lip, a small moan escapes the back of Deena’s throat. Sam tilts her head as her hand comes up the back of Deena’s neck, tangling in her hair. It all comes crashing down, the past days hitting her like a waterfall; everything she did, everything they lost, everything Deena risked, and it just makes her kiss her harder. Like she’ll die if she doesn’t feel her touch again. Their bare legs tangle until they’re only standing up through luck and will power, their hips pressed against each other’s like jigsaw pieces.

“I love you too,” Deena replies when they come up for air. “Here, let me do your hair.”

She turns around as Deena’s fingers comb through her hair, shaking out the knots and the God-knows-what-else. A shiver runs up Sam’s back as she works, and she doesn’t need to turn around to see the teasing smile on her girlfriend’s face. 

“We should do this more often,” she says. It almost slips out without thought. “You. Me. Showering.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Deena replies. She feels the water on her head, followed by Deena’s fingers running through the now-clean strands. “Will you do me?”

She obliges, of course. She delicately works the shampoo through her curls, pausing to ask if she’s hurting her. Deena chuckles warmly and assures her she’s doing fine. Her fingers catch on knots and she undoes them gently, and she rubs and rubs until the blood matting her hair is gone, leaving only soft, glossy curls behind.

While she works, Deena lifts her hand and writes in the steam on the door. She writes an S and a D, and a cross between them. She draws a heart, big enough to capture their two initials. Sam laughs, really laughs, and it feels both wonderful and alien.

“That is so middle school,” she says.

“I think we’ve earned a little middle school,” she replies. She turns around in her arms, the water soaking her newly-cleaned hair. She leans in, slowly, and begins the kiss tentatively, as if it’s their first. Sam responds in kind, too tired to go any further.

Soon, they’ll realise they can’t stay in the shower forever, and they’ll get out and dry off. Sam will hand Deena a sweatshirt and her cheeks will turn pink. Soon they will fall asleep on Sam’s bed, still on top of the covers, their exhaustion finally catching up with them. Deena will wake first, images of Sarah Fier tangled in her mind, so much she needs to say to this girl who lost so much. Then Deena will fall back asleep, and then Sam will wake, a scream caught in her throat. Deena will hold her, and whisper that she’s here, that she’s okay. Deena will doze off, and wake with Kate’s name on her lips this time, and this time Sam will hold her until the tears stop. Eventually they’ll pick a video, something easy they liked in middle school, and watch it on the TV in Sam’s room, bodies pressed together, Deena’s head on Sam’s shoulder, two shaking hands joined atop the covers. Sam’s mother will come in, and bawk at the sight of Deena, and Deena’s chin will raise triumphantly. And Sam will fall in love all over again.

But that’s for later, and for now they just kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

support me on ko-fi

[thecarrcwheir]

IN CHARACTER

Character name: Amycus Carrow

Birthday: May 27th, 1956. Geminis sun, Sagittarius moon & Geminis rising 

Blood Status: pureblood

Gender & Pronouns: male, he/him

Occupation: Heir, entrepreneur, owner of The emerald night club

Sided with: Death Eaters

Faceclaim: Theo James

ABOUT THE CHARACTER

SCHOOL

School: Hogwarts

House: Slytherin.

Extra curricular: Duelling club, Slytherin Beater.

BIO

GROWING UP

Ah, to be the male heir of a respected pureblood family. Amycus Carrow came to this world first and first he would remain for everything. His father’s pride and joy, the one who would carry on with the family legacy. Anything Amycus wanted, he got it; all he had to do was ask for it… or take it if people got fussy. 

Amycus grew up believing that he was more important than he actually was, his father made sure to inflate his ego and sweet talk him about him being the heir. At first it was all a game, funny even, but as he grew up, he noticed how different the treatment was for him than for his sister, who was as much of a Carrow as he was.  He was the male heir, yes, but deep down he always thought that his sister was the superior twin, even if his father couldn’t see that.

As any wealthy pureblood child, Amycus received nothing but the best tutors. Did he enjoy it? Well, no, not really. He would much rather be outside playing quidditch. But that didn’t stop him from learning everything he needed to know and what was expected of him. 

The first time he heard the word betrothal, Amycus was seven and he thought it was an annoying word because he couldn’t pronounce it correctly. However, that was also when he first realized that it wasn’t all great, that being an heir also came with responsibilities that he didn’t ask for.

As a child, he wasn’t the most pleasant one, but he never gave it too much of a thought; he had his sister and he didn’t need anyone else. His connection with Alecto is a strong one. He could validate every single myth being said about twins. He and Alecto don’t need words to communicate, just one look. Amycus could tell so many things about his sister’s mood with just glancing at her. No woman would ever be as important to him as his sister and that is something he made his peace with from a very young age.

START OF THE WAR

tw: drugs

As expected, he was sorted into Slytherin. School was fun, he got to meet new people, organize the best parties, play quidditch and knock some righteous Gryffindors from their brooms during matches. He was a King and life was good. Academically speaking… well, Amycus wasn’t necessarily the smartest person out there, but he was resourceful and there was always some nerd willing to make some extra galleons. That is how Amycus passed most of his classes. Naturally, when it came to exams, he would study enough to get a decent grade and that was just it.

However, the real change came during his fifth year. With the OWLs, the pressure was on and he needed more than studying to pass, he needed a shit ton of luck. So Amycus being Amycus, got that luck in liquid form. That was his entrance door to the world of drugs.

As the years progressed, everything in his life intensified: from the war harboring outside (not that he had any doubts on where he stood), the school pressure, and his father pressure to be the Heir he was expected to be. Amycus wasn’t used to having people demanding things from him, he was the one that did the demands; and pressure never suited him right. That he had to get married, that he needed to have kids, that he needed to have good grades in order to get a good job. As if Amycus ever wanted to work, please. With the years that pressure turned into aggression and unpredictable behavior, but he was smart enough to keep it under that charming facade of his when necessary. 

There was so much violence within him that he became a great weapon for the Dark Lord. Some people do therapy, others do yoga, but Amycus Carrow joined the Death Eaters in hopes to get the green light to release all that anger inside of him.

PRESENT TIME

Amycus didn’t get any fancy job at the Ministry, he would rather drown himself in the depths of the Black Lake than work in an office filled with mediocre people. Instead Amycus did what he did best: he spent his father’s money on parties. At first he attended said parties, but later he began to organize them and they were so unbelievably successful that he decided to open his own nightclub. It seems that he wasn’t as useless as he thought he was.

At the moment, he’s still dodging the whole betrothal thing since he has no desire to get married yet, but he knows his time is limited. In the meantime, he focuses on his job for the Dark Lord as well as his nightclub. The Emerald is his safe heaven and is as exotic and fun as any event organized by Amycus. Each night is unique, from air acrobats to unicorns, no one knows what to expect each night.

He’s also tending to some of his father’s businesses and he’s doing better than expected. None of that really appeals to him, but that's where the big money comes from and he’s smart enough to know that he has to keep it coming. He occasionally likes to invest in different businesses and he may or may not run some not so legal gambling houses.

CONNECTIONS

Future fiancée

Secret guilty pleasure: a muggleborn/order member he grew fond of throughout his life and is willing to protect.

Friends with benefits

HEADCANONS

tw: drugs

Amycus is bisexual, he’s an hedonistic being and does not care about labels.

He often consumes drugs.

His nightclub is his favorite place to be. In there, there are no taboos nor judgment and while it’s a very exclusive place, it’s not impossible to get in.

In spite of not wanting to get married, Amycus is a family man and he would do anything to protect his own.

Alecto is the single most important person in his life. He would do absolutely anything and everything for his sister.

[straycat-writes]

I'm not sure if you write for AUs, but a reader in the same high school as the BSD characters would be fun! Maybe some S/O headcanons for Aku, Atsu, Dazai and Chuuya?

[This was so much fun to write :D]

Highschool AU

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke:

Theatre kid, but also the dark and mysterious loner.

He acts like he doesn’t care much about anything, least of all academics, but he actually works quite hard.

Repeatedly gets into trouble with authority, but since he’s fairly gifted at nearly everything, they let it slide  

Refuses to believe that, though, because he holds himself to stupidly high standards. What’s the point of just being good at something? He has to be the best.

If you’re interested in him, you’re going to have to be the one to broach the subject, because there’s no way in hell he’d ever do it, even if he reciprocates.

When him and his s/o first start dating, people give them weird looks in the hallways. The resident mysterious loner? In a relationship? It’s the talk everywhere for quite a while.

You would have to walk him a little through the motions of being in a relationship. Suggest date ideas, drag him to a movie, stay up late texting him, and wouldn’t be long before he picks up and starts reciprocating these gestures.

He’s a little clueless, but he means well, please be patient with my dark floofy babey

He’s too intimidating for anyone else to approach him, anyway, but even so, he treats his s/o like they’re the only person that matters in the world.

Atsushi Nakajima:

Probably the most normal of them all xD

Teachers adore him, classmates look up to him, and his friends love him beyond measure. He’s just so sweet that you can’t help but like him.

Very helpful. Will agree to crash tutor you the night before exam if you ask him to.

Probably on the track team too.

His friends mean a lot to him, and he’s very amicable to everyone in general. The kind of person to invite you to his cafeteria table if he sees you sitting alone.

Gifted at athletics as well as academics, but gets flustered and politely denies if somebody praises him for it.

It’s not effortless, though. He works very hard for everything he has achieved.

Will crush on you from afar for months on end before his friends finally get fed up and physically push him to you.

“E-eh? I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to bump into you like that. I just…I wanted…uhhh wouldyouliketoogooutwithmesometime!?”

Is over the moon when you say yes, and even more so when the two of you progress into a relationship.

The sweetest boyfriend ever. If you tell him you’ve had a bad day, he will turn up outside your door with chocolates and cozy up to watch some sappy feel-good movie to make you feel better.

He is nice, but that doesn’t mean he will ever tolerate anyone talking shit about you or your relationship with him. Do not test him.

Dazai Osamu:

Resident popular bastard. You cannot convince me otherwise.

Also double-times as the class clown sometimes. Being constantly sleep-deprived and having no self-preservation instincts definitely proves helpful for that.

Verrry popular with the ladies, but doesn’t stick with one for too long.

Also gets into trouble with authority a lot, but manages to smooth-talk his way out of it.

Plus, he’s so effortlessly gifted at everything he tries that it makes him kind of indispensable. Academics, sports, art, music, extra-curriculars, you name it, this dude has got it nailed. The school cannot afford to put him in too much trouble.

However, just because he’s a prodigy doesn’t mean he actually cares much about any of it. The only things Dazai cares about is amusing himself enough so that he doesn’t kill himself for one more day.

Has a secret affinity for classic literature and poetry, but hates the teacher.

Doesn’t pay attention in class and never studies for any of the exams but still manages to ace every single one of them, somehow.

The kind of person to throw paper balls at the teacher during class because he’s bored.

Gets along with most people, but has a small, intimate circle of friends he really cares about.

When he first starts dating you, most people don’t even bat an eye, because this is Dazai Osamu. He has a new girl hanging off his arm every week, let’s see how long this one lasts. Which is why they’re so surprised when it has been months and he’s still so hopelessly, head over heels in love with you.

Being taken does not decrease the amount of female attention he gets, and although he still revels in it and has fun making you jealous sometimes, at the end of the day, he only really has eyes for you.

“I have a plan, belladonna. Let’s commit double-suicide in front of everyone on our graduation day!”

Nakahara Chuuya:

Quite popular with everyone, and why wouldn’t he be? He’s beautiful, rich, and throws the best and wildest parties.

He is rich, but not arrogant. You might think he’s a jock, but that’s not actually true either. He is extremely good at sports and athletics, but refuses to actually join any of the teams.

Quite serious about his academics. He has got his eye on all of the ivy league colleges.

He’s actually very smart, but that gets overlooked in lieu of all his other qualities.

Scores fairly good in almost everything, but his best subject is physics. He is a literal genius at that.

Will reluctantly agree if you ask him to tutor you.

He doesn’t actively start fights, but he never backs down from one either. You have to be an absolute idiot to provoke him, because he is strong and will not hesitate to break your face and hand your ass back to you.

Is the crush of almost all the girls in his year, plus some more.

Who can blame them, though? Have you seen him??

Is ridiculously good at playing the guitar, but hardly anyone knows about that.

Not actually that much into dating, but the first time he lays eyes on you, he’s dumbstruck. You have him completely whipped, and you haven’t even talked to him yet.

He will muddle through his head for days on end, trying to come up with the best way to ask you out. He wants to be very suave and gentlemanly and completely sweep you off your feet.

Ends up a nervous mess when he actually tries.

“So, uhm, would you – uh – would you maybe go out with me sometime?”

Cue his sigh of relief when you reply with, “I’d love to.”

He’s gruff and intimidating with everyone else, but very sweet with you. Will even watch cheesy romance movies with you if you pester him enough.

Flowers bouquets and sneaking you out at midnight for bike rides

You are sure to incite the rage and animosity of many girls if you do start to date him. Not to worry, though. He would defend you against any and everyone, because you are the one he cares about, not any of them.

[codenamesazanka]

IMO Any intent of My Hero Academia being a story about *school* and cute students and friendship between classmates was thrown out the window, defenestration style, left to land crumpled and dead on the ground for the vultures to pick at, about 50 chapters in.

So it turns out a story about societal guardians tasked with protecting civilians and the structure of the lives they live in the world they are in... are better told if the main characters aren't holed up in an ivory tower, detached from the conditions of the outside world - especially from the streets where crime occurs.

Presumptuous of me, but My Hero *Academia* was simply not the story Horikoshi-sensei wanted to tell once he realized this series was finally going to make it, finally his big break after two previous canceled series that didn't even make it to 40 chapters. He was playing it safe: the more detailed history of the world that revealed the rules and contradictions of the society the characters lived in wasn't told until Chapter 59. I think he already had a bunch of details working in the background - the deceptive label of 'Villain', Shigaraki Tomura's backstory, the mechanic of quirks - but he held off revealing anything just in case this series flopped as well.

But when offered the opportunity to worldbuild and expand major ideas and incorporate beloved elements from previous series, Horikoshi-sensei took it. UA High School became just one part of the world and story, then got less and less significant as the plot went on.

The current issues the story is facing: the coming apocalypse, as a possible result from a centuries-old secret battle against evil that would decide the fate of the world; the meaning of Heroism and the function of Heroes, as well as the supposed opposite concepts in the Villains; Quirk society in general.

Kinda hard to fit school elements of homework and exams and student extra-curricular activities in and have it hold the same weight. Hard to keep track of 30 (and more) students in addition to the adults in addition to the Villains in addition to minor characters that are relevant to the plot. (Well-- it's possible, see lots of American TV shows about your 'regular kid going to school while fighting demons/ghosts/evil on the side' but here, imo, the scale of events is too big and involves too many people) When was the last time Deku had a significant character-developing, plot-forwarding conversation with Iida. Unless school turned into a military base and tactical headquarters where they plan their next moves in the war and any facade of the kids being students and not soldiers gets drop, there's no point in the 'academia'.

[heartofasoldier]

♛ BIOGRAPHY ♛

ALIAS: Valerie Zoya Varma

AGE: 26

BIRTHDATE: November 1st

GROUP: Werewolf

FACECLAIM: Anya Chalotra

♛ HISTORY ♛

Chaos incarnate were but two words uttered frequently throughout the years that followed her birth and as sure as the sky was blue, Valerie would one day live up to such a title. The youngest of seven, she was born into a large family that prided themselves on their rich ancestorial connections to the island they called home. The youngest daughter rarely wanted for anything and growing up surrounded by not only her direct family but that extension of the pack, she very quickly came to learn and discover the fundamental importance of family. With their historical lineage having been instilled into each child at a young age, Valerie was no stranger to the ancestral revenge that coursed through her own blood. If she had it her way, the entirety of the Akyildiz bloodline would have been wiped clean from the earth -- but even that wouldn’t have been enough to make up for those ancestor that lost their life at the hands of a power-hungry witch centuries prior. Free-spirited as the wind and unrelenting as the baring sea, Val feared little when the day finally arrived and flesh between her shoulder blades finally bore the mark of shrivasta signaling the transformation that was to come. The pain was as excruciating as her siblings had explained, but it was equally invigorating because at long last she was no longer the little maanav, she was completely and irrevocably one of the pack. 

The youngest Varma didn’t seem to have any trouble making friends throughout her high-school years, her vibrant, curious nature in hand with her quick witted remarks, something she picked up off her brother Rhian, meant she slipped right in. Effortlessly maintaining above average grades and diving into as many extra-curricular activities, it was evident from a young age that Valerie held a bright future ahead of her. If that was what she wanted of course. The brunette however, had other plans and a career did not fall into those plans. Unlike the eldest of her siblings ambition for power and responsibility had never been something Val had wanted for, she cared little for either and instead turned her attention to life outside of the pack. While her family would always be at the heart of her decisions, she longed to understand the world away from the little island that would always be home. Which was why when she made the decision to run away from home at the young age of seventeen, not long after her initial transformation, it came as no surprise to the family and truthfully may have even lessened the stress levels of her parents without hurricane Val on their radar. While she maintained contact with them initially, that contact diminished as days turned to months and months to years. Family was eternally important but there was little that could be properly expressed on the end of a phone line. The one person that she did hold close however, was her older brother Rhian -- the one she had always looked up to. He too had gone about paving his own path, free of the constrains of responsibility and leadership. A kindred spirit, her brother remained her connection to the pack and home she once new. 

Throughout the years that followed Valerie explored the greater states, hitchhiking her way across them, working odd jobs for money when she needed and more often than not sleeping wherever she could find shelter. A vagabond at heart, there was something to be said for wanting for nothing but the open road and the wind in her hair. It was all she had longed for and more, not knowing exactly where she would end up but taking that chance that came with each turn anyway. Never staying in one town for too long was simply how the woman chose to live her life, breezing in and out as quickly as she had arrived. Alas after a time Val grew tired of living dollar to dollar and jumped at the opportunity of a real job in a small town Texas. At least until she had enough to sustain herself on whatever road she ended up on next. Working as a bartender was not exactly the best way of making bank but there was something alluring about dealing in secrets as the drinks continued to flow making for loose lips and the longer she stayed, the longer she came to enjoy the quaint town and familiar faces that came and went. One in particular was that of a nurse, that came to her aid after she awoke from an altercation with a hunter that came a little too close for comfort and resulted in the youngest Varma being bedridden for the weeks that followed. The woman had no idea what exactly she had stumbled upon and yet she had chosen to help Valerie all the same, checking in on her each day and over time weaseling her way past the vagabonds hardened walls. She was a true friend, something the lone wolf had needed more than she was willing to admit.

Months later Valerie found herself moving in with her best friend, the idea of leaving the town that had began as nothing but a blip in the road had unexpectedly simulated something akin to a home. But just like her presence in the towns prior had been fleeting, such a feeling would all too soon be dismantled when the light to her chaos was slaughtered. It was a classic case of wrong place wrong time. Still, the death of her friend awoke the thunderous rage that remained entrapped within her flesh and bone and without any such time to think over the consequences of her actions, Valerie hunted down the three men behind the murder and took her time tearing them apart before going on what could only be described as a vengeful rampage. What she hadn’t known however, was that all three men had been federal officers and she had now landed herself on the elusive most wanted list. Left with no choice but to flee, the youngest Varma found herself making the trip home to the island and family she had long since left behind. What would await her however, was not what she could have ever anticipated.