#i think it's really quite good on my university for letting middle and high school students do real academic research here

[astriiformes]

I'm part of a program at my university where college students can sign up to serve as mentors for middle and high schoolers doing History Day projects (think historical research projects, with the opportunity to submit them for a big national competition) and had my first morning helping students on a field trip find sources in our library for their research and I just want to say... these kids had such fascinating topics, I am so impressed.

I helped a girl find a bunch of sources on Hedy Lamar, another look for publications on the history of using DNA as evidence in policing and criminal trials, several kids find resources on the impact of nuclear fallout in places like Hiroshima and Chernobyl, a boy find and download PDFs of academic papers on the history of Palestine... every single project sounds like an awesome thing to be researching, and they all picked these topics themselves!

The kids really are alright, and if you're a younger person who follows me with similar interests, I hope you know you rock. I'm so excited to be a part of all this.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Okay.. hear me out the song 'Stick Season' by Noah Kahan... for a fic like her and spence break up and she can't move on from him...

Oh you mean my FAVORITE NOAH KAHAN SONG???

Absolutely girlboss.

It ended up being 3.5k, so please please enjoy!!

(it's a gn! fic btw)

You must have had yourself a change of heart like Halfway through the drive Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right

Everyone in the BAU hated letting Spencer drive. It was a fact of the universe. It wasn’t because he was bad at it, in fact he was quite a good driver. But whenever he would drive, it was constant chatter, constant rambling, and sometimes, it would be in between NPR segments where Spencer would correct someone or pause to discuss interesting facts that he knew. 

So when Spencer offered to drive the team to the hotel across town, no one had the guts to say no. It was some random town in Vermont, in the middle of October, some weird string of murders throwing another small town into disarray. He was in the middle of describing the science behind why certain leaves change into certain colors when his voice died out.

They were at one of two stop lights in town and they were stopped at one of them. Spencer was looking diagonally across at some random coffee shop, and Derek could not, for the life of him, figure out why Spencer was looking over there. 

“Reid? Hello.” 

“It’s her.” 

“Who?” Derek followed his line of sight again and realized what Spencer was looking at, well, who he was looking at. 

You. 

“Oh my god. Isn’t that…” 

Spencer nodded his head. 

“Why is she…” 

Spencer just stared at you. “I don’t know.” 

You were now leaving the coffee shop, cup in hand and small brown bag in the other. Spencer could probably guess what was in both. 

“Green light Reid.” 

The two of them started to move again, but neither of them spoke on the way to the hotel. It was almost unbelievable that they hadn’t seen you in over two years and yet here you were, in some random town that had a serial killer. 

Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face And memories are somethin' even smoking weed does not replace And I am terrified of weather 'cause I see you when it rains Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes

“No no. Lucille. You don’t understand. He was like, nerdy hot. And I fucked up big time.” 

Lucille snorted and handed you the blunt in her hand. “My love, my life. I bet you, he was the problem.”

You scoffed and took a hit. “Yeah right.” 

Lucille raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “You’re not still in love with the guy are you?” 

“When you put it like that it makes me sound pathetic.” 

“Oh girl no, you are, aren't you.” 

You sighed and took another hit—a long inhale this time to compensate. 

“Sweetie, you are WAY too good for him.” 

You laughed. “Mr three PhDs, four Bachelors, and FBI? Yeah. I don’t think so.” 

“Weren’t you Mrs FBI?” 

“That’s Miss FBI to you. Mrs is reserved for happy married stupid people.” You grumbled and closed your eyes. 

“Wow.” 

“Wow What.” 

“He was really the one wasn’t he.” 

You nodded. “I really thought….god I’m so stupid.” You stood up and started pacing along the porch of your house. 

Once you and Spencer had broken up, you needed to get out of there. There had to be somewhere where he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t find you. So you closed your eyes and pointed to a random spot on the map. Then when you realized you pointed to Las Vegas, you sat down and wrote down what you knew about Spencer, then tried to find somewhere that he had the lowest percentage of going. 

And Fairlee seemed like the right place. There was nothing for him out here. 

Except for you. 

But Spencer didn’t feel that way. Not anymore at least.

You had taken up teaching, obtaining your teaching certificate up in Vermont and becoming one of ten teachers in the high school (which supported any child in a half hour radius). 

It wasn’t hunting down serial killers, but it was still fulfilling. 

That’s how you met Lucille. She was another teacher, in need of a roommate, and the rest is history. 

“You’re floating away again.” 

You snapped back to the conversation. “Sorry. Just. Really thought we were going to get married and be with each other and shit but.” 

“But?” 

“He wasn’t ready. You’d think three years knowing one another and being friends, and then another three years of dating would, you know. Add up to something.” 

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Lucille took your hand and squeezed it tightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.” 

“Yeah…maybe, I don’t know.” 

She squeezed it again. “Tonight’s the night Damian invited us all down to the bar to hang out, I know we said no but…might as well get free drinks out of a guy who will never get the hint. Free booze, boost of ego. You’re young, you’re hot.” 

“I see what you’re doing.” You smiled down at her. “But it’s raining and I’m not in the mood to get soaking wet just from walking from the house to the car then the car to the bar….”

“Pleaseeeee.” 

Just as you were about to answer, a pair of headlights turned onto your driveway. 

You’d know those stupid fucking headlights anywhere. 

“Who do we know that drives a black suburban?” 

Lucille shrugged. “I don’t think we know anyone who has one in town, why? Is that what the car is?” 

You nodded, your stomach dropping. 

“Luce. Hide the weed.” 

“Why, it's not Tom and you know he’s over here every—-“

“Now. Luce.” 

She furrowed her brows as the headlights stopped in front of the house. She quickly grabbed everything and went into the house. 

You stood on the porch, in your pajamas pants, and a sweatshirt, hands in the front porch. 

The car turned off and you watched as three figures got out of the car and walked up to the porch, freezing as they looked at you, the rain pouring down on them. 

“Why are you here Hotch?” 

The man was frozen,and he looked over at Emily, who was just as baffled to see you. 

“Y/n?” 

“Why are you here?” You asked again. 

“Why are you here?” 

“This is my home Em.” You stepped back a couple of steps and gestured for them to come up onto the porch so they don’t have to stand in the rain anymore. 

Spencer was silent the whole time, not taking his eyes off of you. 

The three of them moved up the porch and went towards the door, but you blocked them. 

“You need a warrant if you want to enter my house, Hotch. What are you doing here.” 

“We need to speak to Lucille Walkner.” 

“Why.” 

Emily raised her eyebrows, and crossed her arms. She was used to how stubborn you were, but being on the receiving end of it was something she was not a fan of. 

“It’s in regards to the string of murders y/n.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “I can guarantee you that I have been with Lucille every moment of every day for the past two weeks.” 

“We’re not accusing her, we’re just asking—“

You cut Emily off. “Asking her questions. Yeah. I know how this goes. In case you forgot or something. It hasn’t been that long. Why do you need to speak to her.” 

“Because she was the last person seen with the most recent victim.” 

You looked at Spencer for the first time since he got here. “So was I. But somehow you failed to mention that as well. You’re losing your grip, Doctor.” 

The group had never heard your voice so flat, so strict, so full of disdain. It was easy for you to treat him like he was the villain. He felt like one. He was one. 

“Y/n.” 

You broke your staring contest with Spencer and looked over at Hotch. “Get a warrant and come back tomorrow.” 

And with that you walked into your house and locked the door behind you. Feeling a bit more bitter than usual, you turned off the porch light too.

They all stood out there. Dumbfounded. 

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

When the BAU showed up at your door with the proper paperwork the next morning, both you and your roommate were at work, twenty minutes away. 

Your sense of humor still intact since you managed to leave a sticky note for them: 

At work. home by 4.

But that didn’t stop the caped crusaders of the BAU. 

When they showed up at the school to interview you and your roommate, Lucille went first, recounting the night all three of you went out to one of three bars in the town, and then when you offered to drive her home, she insisted on calling her own roommate. When you watched her get into her roommate's car, the both of you went home. 

When you recounted the same exact story, you both were released for the day. 

“Heard you were a pain in the ass yesterday.” 

You stopped in the hallway and turned around, facing Derek Morgan. “What do you want, Agent.” 

“Woah woah what’s with the formalities.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Derek. I’m really not in the mood. I fit the victimology of the asshole on a murder spree, and the team acted like I didn’t fucking know that. I’ve also realized you haven’t connected the fact that all of them are dating or sleeping with the police force.” 

“All? We only knew two of the five—“

“Because half of them don’t want to admit that they’re cheating on their wives, and the other half don’t want to admit they’re dating anyone regardless of marital status. Not a single one of the victims were married.”

Derek just stared at you. “Touchy subject?” 

You closed your eyes. “I still have a gun license Derek. Don’t make me use it.” 

“Too soon?” 

“Yeah Derek. Too soon.” You sighed as he pulled you into a hug. 

“We miss you y’a know. It’s not the same.” 

“I’m sure.” You squeezed him tightly. 

“And I’m serious. We haven’t found anyone nearly as good as you have been.” He whispered, kissing your head. “Your desk is still empty. Hotch won’t let anyone sit there. I think he’s hoping you’d come back. I think we all are.” 

“I can’t even look at him and it’s been two years” you whispered trying not to cry. 

“I know.” He just squeezed you. “I know.” 

“God I just….”

Derek pulled you into an empty classroom the second he felt your body tense up. There was one thing you hated more than crying, and it was crying in public. Once the door to the classroom was closed, he pulled you back into the hug, letting your tears pour down his shoulder.

“God I thought I’d never have to see you people again.” 

Derek chuckled. “Clearly you didn’t read your contract. It’s required that you’re supposed to see me at least seven times a year and if you don’t, I hunt you down.” 

You laughed through your tears and sat down on one of the desks. “You wish.” 

“I do.” 

“Be serious Derek.” 

“I am.” 

You sighed and looked up at him. “Well. Now you know where I am so. Come and visit me I guess.” 

“Oh I plan on it gorgeous.” 

You used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe away some of the tears still clinging to your cheeks. 

“He misses you too.” 

“Derek….”

He knew it ws dangerous territory, but he had to let you know—He needed you to know how it was affecting everyone, even though it’s been two years. “He does.” 

“Why would you tell me that Derek.”  

“You have to–

“Have to what Derek. I don’t wan—that’s a lie. What I would fucking give to be back in DC; back at the FBI. But I can’t do it Derek. I can’t go back.” 

“But–”

“No.” You backed away from him, out of his arms. “I’m not going back.”

“Please.” Derek watched as your back straightened and your eyes hardened. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were just starting to move on. Fuck. He watched as you closed yourself off again. 

“Do you need anything else agent or can I go.” 

“Y/n…”

“Then goodbye Agent Morgan.” 

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever now you still can't call me back

Unexpectedly, but expectedly, the killer was caught. He was some sort of religious nut who had decided that “immoral sinners” be put in your place. 

That was something you did not miss: the misogynistic murderers. 

But the BAU was getting ready to leave. You were grateful that they had come and protected the community you had grown so close to, but the thought of them knowing where you were made you nervous. 

You knew Penelope most likely tracked you from time to time, and you weren’t trying to live completely off the grid/untraceable. But seeing them in person, watching them run around your town, was nerve-wracking. 

Seeing Spencer fucked you up the most though. 

He looked okay; or better than you at least. He was completely and utterly okay, and it bugged the shit out of you. How could he be okay, how could he move on and be happy without you, while you are stuck still trying to locate the remaining pieces of your shattered heart.

To Spencer, you were a wonderful experience. But to you, Spencer was everything. 

The BAU had left, no goodbyes were in order since you had fulfilled your goal of attempting to burn every bridge you had. It was painful, but you just couldn't help it. They reminded you of Spencer. Everything reminded you of Spencer. 

Lucille watched as you slowly transformed back into that lost person from two years ago. Your smile never reached your eyes. You drank just enough to be concerning, but not enough to continuously push the boundaries of alcoholism. Your face was pale. You never laughed or cracked jokes any more. 

All you could do was think of Spencer. Waking up next to him, his arms around your waist. The smell of his apartment, the rides to work, the glances from your desk to his desk. It was all just too painful. 

There were moments where you would pick up your phone and sometimes it felt like the world was against you. Derek posted a picture from some sort of day off, and suddenly you didn’t follow him anymore. Or, if you opened NPR, Doctor Spencer Reid was the headliner in a speaker series at Georgetown in blah blah blah. So you stopped listening to the radio. 

Every since he stepped out of the car in your drive you, you’ve wanted to call him. You’ve wanted to hear him speak to you like he did, to love you like he did. You wanted to call him and hear him apologize and tell you everything was going to be okay and this was all just a big misunderstanding and you were his forever. 

But you had a feeling that if you called, he wouldn’t pick up. 

Oh, that'll have to do My other half was you I hope this pain's just passin' through But I doubt it

One Year Later…

Time flies. Leaves change. Life moves on. 

But suddenly it's back to October and you find yourself in a new town, somewhere completely different. Another fresh start. Maybe this one will stick. 

But then you get a call.  

And it’s from Erin Strauss, offering you your job back, and your hesitation gave her all of the information she wanted to hear. You had three days to make a decision. 

Do you continue to run from place to place, hoping and praying that maybe someday you’d be able to feel like you deserved to be loved again. Hoping that someday someone might actually want to stay. They might want you to stay. 

Do you stay in this new town, and get attached to the people, making new friends, reminding you of the old ones, and hoping that it will be enough to fill the holes in your skin. 

Do you continue to teach. Do you continue to shape minds even though it’s not something you had ever dreamed of doing. Especially when it feels like you’re trying to force your body into loving something it doesn’t. 

Or

Do you go back to the FBI–the BAU.

Do you ignite the flame in your chest and let yourself enjoy the chase. LEt yourself be happy with your job and treasure every moment you get to catch the bad guy. 

Do you accept the job and move back to the desk you belong at, surrounded by your friends. Once again in a building you call home, letting your guard down for the first time in three years. 

Do you let your guard down and talk to Spencer and watch yourself undo all of the progress you had made. Watch as your resolve crumbles and your heart aches and you can;t even breathe around him because it hurts to see him. 

Do you give up and follow him around like some lost puppy and beg for him to take you back so maybe you’ll be able to melt your waxen heart and be happy again. 

You don’t take the job. You never hear from Erin Strauss again. 

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes

Sometimes in your sleep, you can see what your wedding would have looked like. The venue, the florals, your outfits and shoes. Your closest friends and family by your side as you commit your soul to be bound to his. 

But every time you get to the I Do’s, Spencer says yes. 

It hurts because you never even made it that far. 

You didn’t even get an engagement ring. 

All you got were pitiful looks and sympathetic glances while Spencer rambled on about how much he didn’t understand marriage or want children–not that you did, but you would have liked for it to have been a discussion between the two of you. 

You would have liked a lot of things. 

Sometimes, in your dreams, Spencer proposes. 

It never leaves your mind, watching as he publicly declares his love for you. Apparently, that was too much to ask for. 

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do Have to do

The pain of waiting to be loved feels like you’ve but split down the middle, letting yourself melt apart. The skin, no matter how hard you try, can never be stitched back together, and even if you manage to get some back, it scars over, reminding you for the rest of your life how unloveable you feel. 

Maybe you’ll get lucky and someday you can learn to live with never being truly whole again. 

Since Spencer owns half of you, and you will never be whole without him.

Part 2

[sanzaibian]

I look on with pride as I enter the Tokyo University of Arts, the most prestigious art school of the whole country. I studied so hard for the whole past year, and yet I barely made it through the entrance exams… but as the flowers bloom, it is time for me to enter the next step of my life !

I have had an immaculate record : I’ve had good grades throughout middle and high school, I was class representative in most classes in that time, and I already had a portfolio ready ! Really, I was the perfect candidate for the fine arts studies ! I’ll be able to realize my dream of becoming a great architect !

However, as I approach the steps of the Sogakudo Concert Hall where the Entrance Ceremony is supposed to take place, I am suddenly blasted by big plumes of smoke. The smell is all too familiar to me, as I distinctly remember disciplining a students who were smoking in the premises, and although now I’m studying alongside adults, it doesn’t mean spreading smoke without any care for others shouldn’t be grounds for objection. And as I turn to see the origin of the smoke, I am comforted in my decision, as a small group of the most typical of thugs appear in front of me. A small group of Bosozoku, with big obnoxious pompadours on their heads and leather jackets one of them with a cigarette in his mouth and another with hair dyed blonde.

“Hey, this is a university campus ! You can’t smoke and loiter like that !” I came in strong, but I was a bit disconcerted when they started laughing. Though it doesn’t matter, guys like them always act tough at first. - Hahaha ! Bro, look at this kouhai (junior) tryin’ to order us around !” Mocked one of them with an enthusiastic tone. - Well, what’s he gonna do, is he gonna call security ?” Added the second, with calmer and more objective tone. - Kouhai,” started saying the one who was smoking, looking at me in the eyes. “d’ya think ya have a right to boss me around ?”

W-wait… kouhai ? They may be older than me, I agree, but are they actually students here ? They’re mocking me, of course, such a prestigious academy would never let in rascals such as them ! It just cannot be !

“W-well… I’m sure that you aren’t allowed to disturb other students like that ! It harms public harmony ! - Public harmony, you say ?” Continues the one who was smoking. “Well, you know where I put your public harmony ? In my ass !”

The other roared of laughter. But I am not this easily fussed.

“Well, no matter what, I’ll report you all for trying to disturb the Tokyo University of Arts Entrance Ceremony by your illegal loitering.” I take my phone out. “You see, I can call the police.” I smile as I hear their laughs falter. - I see you’re already going with the nuclear option…” The smoking guy said, as he puts out his cigarette on a nearby wall. “Fine, we’ll go so you’re happy. - Well, great ! And I hope I won’t see you all again !” I can’t help but smile at my easy victory. A bit too easy, actually… but let’s rejoice rather than fear. - Don’t worry, you won’t see us until you need to meet back up…” The smoking one ends, quite ominously. “If you need to find us, Ryuunosuke will go to The Gigs tomorrow evening. - I hope to see you there.” I hear the calmer voice behind me, before suddenly hearing the click of a lighter.

I look back, and see one of the Bosozoku I saw earlier in the group, a lighter in his hand and a mask on his face.

Funny enough, with this ad behind him he almost looks like a graffiti artist… But no, the main thing is… has he tried to set me on fire !? I take a step back in defense, as he raises his hands as if he was innocent. I look behind me and see that the two others have also put on masks, and are starting to make their way out.

“Goodbye !” Says the one who had a lighter in his hand, likely that ‘Ryuunosuke’ guy, as he follows his… gang.

I stand there, quite confused by the whole altercation. What has actually happened ? Why did everything take on a sinister tone at the end ? Why did they say we would meet again ? Why were there these kind of thugs right besides the Sogakudo Concert Hall ? And... er… why am I not in the Sogakudo Concert Hall ?

Oh no ! I forgot everything due to that ! I hope I’m not late…

As I start making my way to the hall, I hear some weird noise as my foot touched the ground. I looked down, and saw a red cigarette on the ground, that was seemingly lighten up until I stepped on it. Great, these ruffians even littered… though the smell is a bit weird, it doesn’t seem like usual tobacco smell. It could even be said to smell… a bit good, actually ? Well, better than most, it doesn’t actually smell good, but the smell is still weirdly present.

But I don’t have any time to waste. The Entrance Ceremony is going to start any minute, I can’t be late to it !

I mean, I don’t know what I expected from some speech by important people, but this one was especially egregious. They were thanking a bunch of people, and patronizing us, saying we were the “future of Japan”… Thinking about it, it was about the same content as third year of high-school, but at least back then the headmaster had some charisma.

So, a bit disappointed, I make my way to Nezu station, to go back home. I might as well have stayed home, the consequences would have been barely noticeable. Plus, I could have bought a lollipop. I don’t know why, but I’ve got the urge to play with something in my mouth.

As I enter Nezu station, I automatically check the cameras and the personnel, and see that they have a dead space where I can go without my face being recognize. I smile, and take the very path I planned out to jump over the fare. As I do that, I get a rush of adrenaline, and make my way towards the platform, reveling in the danger.

But as I enter the train, I realize what I have done.

What has happened to me ? Why did I even think of entering the station illegally ? I have a metro card, and my parents have bought a full subscription, so it doesn’t even make sense ? God, this is the kind of things that those Bosozoku I sneered at would do… Then why the hell am I replicating this kind of hooligan behavior ?

When I arrive at my station, I scan my fare card, quite bashful, before leaving. I may have entered illegally, I won’t leave illegally. Though I must admit the adrenaline was fun. Even though it pains me to say that.

The remainder of my day is spent sulking in my small student’s apartment, going through lollipop after lollipop I bought at the Kombini after eating lunch. Then, the evening, I prepare my stuff for the beginning of classes tomorrow, hoping that my strange outburst of rebel attitude would be a fluke.

And so I drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, I find myself weirdly void of energy.

Usually, mornings are easy, and I’m ready for a full day of class. But today, things just ain’t it. It’s especially bad since today marks the beginning of classes… At least I had the foresight of preparing my things yesterday evening… Well, no matter. I prepare a bit more rice than usual to get the day really started, hopefully it will be enough to wake up properly.

After eating, I go to the bathroom to prepare myself. I put on my clothes, I brush my teeth, and then I search for… something ? I don’t actually know what, but I know I should be putting something in my hair… Plus, where is my comb ? I need a comb. Why do I need a comb ?

Oh no, oh no, the weird stuff from yesterday are happening again ! It can’t be !

I abandon all that searching and go out to class. This time, I make an actual effort to take the metro the correct way, yet during the whole ride the thrill of bypassing the fair kept on nagging me. And when I entered my first classroom, my troubles didn’t even actually end. I had a hard time concentrating on the teacher, especially on respecting his authority. I only wanted to go out, not to be trapped in here doing boring calculations… But I must admit that the classes that were more focused on design and on drawing, letting me do my own damn thing, were actually fun. I was able to flex my creative muscles in a way I didn’t know I could until now. I almost couldn’t recognize myself !

However, let’s be honest, something very weird is going on with me. And it all started with these Bosozoku.

Oh, yeah, didn’t they say that they would be waiting for me ? At “The Gigs” today evening ? Of course, yeah, what’s going wrong obviously has something to do with them. Otherwise they wouldn’t have insisted on me meeting back up with them…

I sigh. I know I’m the duck carrying its own leek, but it’s the only way to understand whatever has happened to me. And the only way to find a cure.

“The Gigs” was actually quite hard to find, but I found out that they were referring to a concert in the Nippon Budokan. Thankfully, I only had one change to do from the Chiyoda line to arrive here, but the whole ordeal of finding the place after many, many furious google searches proved quite frustrating.

But as I arrived to the door of the Nippon Budokan, as convened stood firm one of the Bosozoku I saw yesterday.

“So you came !” He exclaims, with a mix of amusement and surprise. “If you don’t remember, I’m Kowa Ryuunosuke. And, wouldn’t you know it, I have additional tickets !” While saying that, he waves two pieces of paper. - I don’t care. I want the weird stuff to end.” I answer, resolute, and a bit filter-less, I admit. - You know, Tsutomu and I thought that you wouldn’t show up, that we would have to find you. But no, turns out Hitoshi was correct, you would immediately notice that something was off. - What do you mean notice that something is off. You knew that weird stuff would happen to me ? - You know, the show is gonna start soon. I guarantee you’ll love it. You coming ?”

I am starting to get angry at how he keeps on avoiding my question.

“No, I’m not coming with you. I’m waiting to have an answer and a way to stop whatever you did to me.” I maintain as he sighs in answer. - Look. I can help you, but only if you come with me. I’m going in, and if you don’t follow me, you’ll have to fare for yourself in… whatever you found.”

I blush of embarrassment. I’ve lost at my own game, and now he knows I have nothing he’s interested in.

I guess now I must weigh whether sticking with these rascals is worth it or not. The benefits of not sticking are obvious : I wouldn’t have to associate with Bosozoku, and they wouldn’t be able to pressure me to do anything. But if I don’t, I do risk changing in ways I can’t understand, and may even put in jeopardy my studies in more substantial ways than being with Bosozoku. The choice is actually hard to make…

But then, knowing some people wouldn’t be so bad for such a lonely guy as myself… plus, it looks like it’s a Kishidan concert, it’s not a bad band… And tomorrow, I don’t have any early class… Plus, if we actually become friends, I may be able to actually find a way to reverse the effects of whatever they gave me...

“Eh, you know what, I’ll follow you. ‘Can’t that bad to go to a free concert.” I capitulate. - Welcome, then !”

Kowa gives me one of the concert tickets, smiling, likely happy to have scored a victory. He’s actually somewhat cute, gleeful like that. So I follow him inside, and we take our places, ready to listen to what turns out to be his favorite band.

Well, this was a blast ! I’ve never felt more alive than yesterday evening !

I was full of so much energy, it’s actually quite unbelievable ! I’m usually lethargic when we reach 5PM, 0AM or even 1AM the few times I actually stay up this late. Heh, I’d usually actually feel as lethargic as I’m doing right now, waking up ! But Kowa and I really had a great time. From around the half-point to the end of the concert, we were standing up, dancing our hearts off while Kishidan was giving their all. By the end of the evening, Kowa’s pompadour was ruined and I was thoroughly out of breath, but we agreed that it was worth it. The music was a lot more enjoyable than I remember, even more than I would rate video game music – and that’s quite a feat to remove Dragon Quest from the podium. I’m even finding myself humming the melody this very morning !

After eating breakfast, I find myself again in my bathroom searching for something that I don’t have after having brushed my teeth and washed my face. However, this time when I see the contents of my closet, I feel a bit self-conscious. There really isn’t much that’s actually cool, only uncreative dress shirts, plain jackets, mandatory ties and monochrome T-shirts. Why did I ever think this would even pass as clothing ?

I freeze. This is not me. I never cared about how I look. Only being comfortable and acceptable in society ever came into account when I chose clothing ! Besides, most of the time I only dressed in uniform ! This is something I’ll have to ask Kowa about. It is not the most egregious thing to happen, but it’s yet another step in leaving who I actually am behind. And I’m not keen on that.

Thankfully, Kowa told me that we could meet back up at Ueno station late afternoon, so I can ask him about it. And he also added me on Line, so, in case of emergency I can call him.

But now, class is the priority.

I look around in the train station, unsure of where I’m supposed to go. Although Kowa gave me a place and an hour to meet at, he wasn’t clear on how we would do that. But I’ll be honest, after all the dancing yesterday, we were both quite hammered. Though it really doesn’t help my case, as I was self-conscious the whole day, so I was unable to properly concentrate. Hopefully, he will find a way to help me, it’s barely my second day in the most prestigious academy of arts in the country, and I’m already encountering so many problems !

Suddenly, I receive a notification on my phone. Oh, it’s from Line ! Apparently, I was invited to the group 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) by Kowa… and on there, someone named お鼠様 (Sir Rat) gave instructions, likely addressed to me.

He said :

“上野駅の下にですよ！参加してぞ！(I’m at the bottom of Ueno Station ! Join me !)”

His profile picture is cute, actually, being that of a rat with a cool hairstyle… quite reminiscent of that of the Bosozoku I now hang out with, actually – which should not really come as a surprise, thinking about it.

Back to the point, what did he mean by “at the bottom of Ueno station” ? It’s quite big, and there’s no real “bottom” point…

As I think about it for a while, wandering aimlessly in the meantime, my head starts to ache, and more than ever I crave for something in my mouth… I don’t know what, but something needs to go in. Thankfully, I thought to bring some spare lollipops, but they seem both too big and too small, they only bring temporary relief. That may also be something to talk about to them.

But bottom of the station… bottom of the station… Ha ! Yes, of course, the Metro ! That’s the part of the station that’s the deepest inside the earth !

I rush to there, hoping that Kowa – or more likely whoever that お鼠様 (Sir Rat) is – has not yet left. As I ride down the escalator, I keep my head out for anybody with the Bosozoku style. I wander a bit, not seeing anybody fitting the criteria, when suddenly I notice a service door that wasn’t fully closed.

Now, understand me. Service doors, as the name suggests, are for service employees only. Customers aren’t supposed to go in.

But the setup of this whole thing, and the mere thrill of doing something forbidden proved too enticing, as I find myself striding towards it, and entering. And my braveness… or rather foolishness if my opinion is the matter, is rewarded, as I find a Bosozoku with a big pompadour dyed blonde – though it appears ginger in the dark – standing there, with sunglasses and the attitude of a certified bad boy.

“Hey, so you made it, kouhai ! I was sure you would understand my hints ! You struck me as the smart kind – for better or for worse.” The guy hailed me very enthusiastically, almost making a motion of hugging towards me. - Uh… O-Nezu-sama, I presume ? - Heh, that’s correct ! Though you’d better know me as Soiri Tsutomu, that’s more worldly !” He corrects me, smiling seemingly both of amusement and compassion. - Oh, I-I’m sorry, Soiri…” I keep my head down in a show of humility. I may be breaking the law by being here, but I’m not breaking etiquette at the same time. - Don’t worry, don’t worry ! So, what brings you here ?”

I don’t quite know what to answer to this blunt a question. I expected him to rope me into something else like Kowa did, so while I thought of topics to bring up, I never thought of questions to ask… But as I look down at my clothes which bothered me the whole day, I get an idea. However, I barely open my mouth when Soiri interrupts me :

“Oh, yeah, I agree. That’s absolutely terrible fashion sense that you have here ! We’re gonna have to fix that pronto ! But you’re in luck !” Soiri makes a double biceps pose, pointing with his thumbs to his grubs. “I happen to be the best in fashion inside the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), so you’re in good hands !”

I squint, not understanding how he knew what I was thinking about. Seeing me stunned like that, he opens his mouth ready to speak once again, but this time I do manage to outpace him.

“Well, if you say so, then let’s go !” Better to leave this room earlier than later. It might be thrilling to live in danger, I don’t want to push my luck. - Okay, then follow me !”

As he leaves the service area to go to the subway, I follow him. I do ask him multiple times where we’re going, but he stays silent, telling me that it’s a surprise. We take the Ginza line and step down at Suehirocho station. We walk through a few narrow alleyways until we reach a small shop named Nichiwa.

Smiling, he invites me in, and when I enter, I’m immediately amazed at what that store actually sells. It sells leather clothes. Of all kinds of styles. And I didn’t know how much I needed leather clothes until today.

We bought a lot of clothes there. He also lead me to a few other stores where we bought other actually trendy and cool clothes, that are much better than anything I had in my closet.

As we left our last store, full of clothes in multiple bags, I felt quite tired from all the shopping, but at the same time so excited for this. Never would I ever need to feel self-conscious about what I wear ! So I thanked him :

“Thank you so much, Soiri. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here to help me ! - Don’t worry, I love helping people finding clothes ! I might be at the Tokyo Arts School for music, I could absolutely see myself doing fashion in another universe. - So you do actually study at the Tokyo Arts School ? I thought that you were just hanging out as rascals somewhere you were not supposed to !” I ask, in disbelief, causing him to laugh. - Of course I do ! We all do study here, in the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) ! Well, Hitoshi doesn’t anymore, but it’s only because he graduated last year. - Oh, wow… I would have never thought, looking at how you dressed…” I actually feel quite guilty for stereotyping them like that. Turns out they do belong in the Arts School, I was the one in the wrong. Thinking about it, how many other people did I label as rascals only by looking at their style ? “But you used the name 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), that’s also what the Line group I was invited to is named. Is that actually the name of your group, or is it just a funny thing for the Line group ? - Yup, that’s our name ! Subject to change, of course, like everything, but we really like it. Besides, we’re all really happy to bring you inside the group, so you’ll get a say in changing the name if you want !”

I stop at that.

Did he say that he wants to bring me inside their group ? That’s not what I want, what I want is to find a solution for the weird behaviors I have ! I don’t want to have anything more to do with them than I already have ! Besides, it’s their fault if all of that happens to me. Did they plan on that ? Were they just searching for anyone to add in their group of rascals, and chose to change me so that I fit their wishes ?

“I have no intention of joining your group ! 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) or not, I’m only doing this because you did something weird to me ! Are you actually doing some kind of advanced kidnapping or what ?” I snap.

His turn to look stunned. It seems like he realized he said something wrong and is scrambling to find a way to scavenge it back. Well, let him stew. They brought it onto themselves by toying with me.

“Uh… well…” Mumbles Soiri, before he manages something a bit clearer. “Y-you know, you shouldn’t be saying that to the one who basically bought all of your clothes ! Let me say that it’s not cheap ! - You have no right to say that !” I pounce back. “You’re the one who’s molding me into what you want, of course you’re not buying me clothes out of the kindness of your heart ! You’re doing that to further your nefarious plan !”

He looks away, likely in shame. Or at least I hope so.

“So now, I go back home, and you find a way to reverse that. The clothes you bought are my insurance.” I layer on the guilt.

And on that, I leave for the subway station, but before I’m too far from him, he shouts to me :

“I can’t ! ... Message us when you need to.”

A few days passed, and I haven’t contacted them since. I’m still in their Line group, but I muted them. I only want the hotline just in case something truly beyond my control happens. And to be honest, I’ve had multiple times the urge to call them. I’m growing more and more restless every day, I’m finding myself more and more confused with foreign urges I cannot satisfy, and I’m becoming more and more estranged from myself. By now, I only dress with the clothes Soiri bought me, and the only music I listen to is that of the group I danced to with Kowa.

And so I stand there, in my 7J flat, chewing on the remains of my last lollipop, the corpses of eight more lying on the table, ready to burst at any moment. Nothing feels right, and even the thing I used to do feel wrong, now.

I look at my phone. Must I do it ? … No… I can still resist, prevent them from molding me anymore than they already did… But is it wise ? Look at me, I’m way past my limit, anymore and I may very well land in a mental hospital… Like it or not, everything the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) gave me made my plight easier to bear…

I sigh.

I’ll regret it, I’m sure. But I can’t. Not anymore. I made a valiant try, but this is beyond my powers. In the end, I’m still a normal boy, adult since only a few months ago, barely out of public education. I am not equipped to bear this kind of pain.

“おはよう皆…参加しようか？(Hey everyone… Can we meet up ?” I send, defeated, on the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) chat. - おはよう後輩！もちろんです！龍之介と俺はザ・デック・コーヒーエンドパイに遊ぶ。会合しようぞ！(Hey, kouhai ! Of course ! Ryuunosuke and I are hanging out at The Deck Coffee & Pie. Let’s meet up !)” Answered Soiri, faster than I expected. Was he monitoring his phone or what ? - 渋谷区にだぞ。明治神宮前駅と北参道駅の間に。(It’s in Shibuya district. Between Meiji-jingumae station and Kita-sando station.)” Added Kowa, as he is likely scolding Soiri for not giving me the cafe’s location. - 今来るぞ。(I’m coming.)” I answer succinctly.

Thankfully, Meiji-jingumae station is on the same line as the one I take to go to class, so I quickly hop on the first subway, and make my way to Shibuya. Although, all in all, I do stand defeated, I make my way to Deck Coffee & Pie with determination. I need to find an actual solution… even if it means being roped in to their group. They don’t even seem that bad anymore, that’s to say…

I enter the small cafe, looking around to find Kowa and Soiri. As I go from table to table, having explained to the cashier that I’m joining up with “friends”, I finally notice Kowa seating alone at a table.

“Hey, kouhai ! How are you ?” He hails me.

He looks quite different, actually, when he doesn’t wear a mask ! Plus, his hair is quite immaculate today… did he go to the barber’s ?

“Not that great, I’m… actually surrendering. You can do anything you want with me, I just want my suffering to stop.” I answer truthfully, disregarding whatever actual answer that question should have brought. - You’re over-estimating our amount of agency, you know !” He smiles with compassion, visibly understanding my plight. “We can’t ‘mold’ you like you claim we do, we can only introduce to things you’ll like, you know… - Don’t be kidding me, you’re doing something to me, there’s no other way…”

He sighs, and then takes out of his bag a red cigarette. It looks like the one I’ve seen back when at the Entrance Ceremony, but it’s not a kind I’ve ever seen otherwise. Weirdly, it feels somewhat inviting...

“Now, I don’t smoke. And neither does Tsutomu. Hitoshi does, and he has developed a special brand that, when inhaled, changes someone.” He reveals, while I look at him, horrified. “I don’t know where or how he made them, but he made three of them : I carry one, he carries one, and the third one was used on you. Tsutomu doesn’t get any, because even he knows he will waste it.”

It’s… a lot to digest. So it was an actual intentional ploy to transform me… thanks to what likely is a dangerous drug…

“I didn’t want to use it. But you were annoying, and Hitoshi wanted to test it on you because of that. - It wasn’t a reason ! Yes, I may have been nosy, but it’s not because I’ve done a bad thing that I deserve to be changed to my very core !” I protest, though I now understand that nothing can be done to amend this decision. - And it’s not because a lot of young criminals dress like we do that we need to be driven out.”

I shut up at him exposing my hypocrisy like this. By now, I really regret what I have done… I guess what is happening to me must be retribution for the numerous people I likely wronged by not trying to understand their character.

Suddenly, I hear the voice of Soiri ring from the other side of the room.

“You’re here !”

I looked in the direction of his voice, and noticed him making a weird pose before making his way to us. I cannot help but smile at him doing silly stuff like that, it’s really refreshing seeing someone living his life in full, while on the other hand I lived mine always shying away from having genuine fun.

“You found us, kouhai ! Or I guess I should call you bro, now, huh ?” He takes place next to Kowa, in front of his drink. “You should really use my first name rather than family name. We’re all familiar, here ! - You may also use mine.” Adds Kowa… well, I guess, Ryuunosuke, now. - Uh… hello… Tsutomu.” I meekly answer. - So, whatcha talkin’ about ?” Tsutomu asks. - I decided to reveal to him the truth about the red cigarette. - Oh, so heavy stuff ! I guess you’re ready to fully transition to your new self, huh ?”

I look away, still uneasy about the whole debacle. Ryuunosuke visibly notices that, as he gives the stink eye to Tsutomu, before continuing to explain the situation to me.

“Hitoshi told us that using the cigarette would cause someone to be more like us, and it seems that it was correct, as you liked our music and you’re wearing the clothes Tsutomu bought you. But I don’t know how much more we need to give you before you can be fully alright with your new situation. - There’s really no way to fix that ? To go back to who I really am ?” I ask, little hope remaining. - Not to my knowledge. If you should ask anyone that question, it would be Hitoshi, but he will be opposed to turning you back.”

I sigh.

“So, if you want to know what are my problems right now, well… every morning I find myself looking for some kind of product to put into my hair, but I don’t have any… Is that part of the deal ? - The pomp is included ?” Laughed Tsutomu, before being scolded by Ryuunosuke’s angry look. “Nah, seriously, it’s not hard once you get the hang of it. Like, bro, I could show you right now in this bathroom ! - I…” I start answering, before I’m suddenly cut off. - He needs a haircut.” Interjects Ryuunosuke. “You may try, but I guarantee it will look like your biggest disaster. - Oh yeah, you’re right.”

As they discuss the logistics of hair-cutting, I take out yet another lollipop and put it into my mouth. Although it’s not perfect, it does make me feel more at ease. That red cigarette was weird, it looked bizarrely short, yet also inviting. Is that what I crave to go in my mouth ? No, it cannot be, Ryuunosuke clearly said that both he and Tsutomu don’t smoke, and that the effects make me more like them. Plus, smoking is very bad for the lungs, I don’t want any of that poison in my lungs…

“So we’re goin’, then ?” Suddenly said Tsutomu quite loudly, driving me out of my thoughts. - Uh… yeah ? Yeah, I guess.” I answer, unsure of what I’m agreeing to. Though I guess it’s the famed haircut that is being referred to. - Then let’s gooooo !” He celebrated, once again with much more enthusiasm than needed.

Smiling from his contagious glee, I follow both of the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) guys into a nearby barbershop. They’re visibly regulars in this place, as they present me to the owner who takes me in charge. I’m lead to a seat, where the owner promptly takes care of my hair. He cuts it mostly on the side, though not by much. It seems to mostly be adjustments, more than a complete change of style.

“So, you got roped into going リーゼント (rīzento). How did they do it ?” The barber suddenly asks. - Uh... well can’t I chose to try new things ?” I ask aggressively, not wanting to answer truthfully to his question. - Heh, I’m sorry ! It’s only because you don’t seem to be the kind of guys who would be into that. You may be dressed in leather, but it shows in your face that you’re not the kind of people who would usually do that.”

Quite a shrewd guy, to notice that. And I don’t even think Tsutomu and Ryuunosuke have explained to him the situation, so to deduce that merely from my face is quite impressive.

“Well, the truth is I unexpectedly made friends with them, and their hair made me a bit envious.” I half-lie. I guess I can call them friends, by now. - We agree, a well-maintained pomp is quite impressive ! Though I already tell you, I won’t be able to make one as impressive as theirs with your amount of hair. I’ll actually make one of a different type, an Elephant’s Trunk, if it doesn’t bother you. - Oh, okay. Well, I’m here to learn, so I won’t be picky. - Glad to be in agreement.” He says deferentially, before going on another subject. “But yeah, these two, Kowa and Soiri, they’re really good guys, if you go beyond their edginess. I can understand how you accidentally made friends with them. - Yeah, Ryuunosuke is very considerate, while Tsutomu is always in a good mood. They’re both refreshing in their own way.” I agree with him. - Already on first name basis ! Though they’re quick to ask to use their first name, I only continue using their surname because they’re my clients. - Yes, I guess that makes sense.”

Our discussion continues a while, as the barber starts applying products in my hair. He then combs it in the back in a ducktail, before combing the top into curls that rise to the center, combining in the front to a tube-like shape that is so reminiscent of anime it makes me smile. He then sprays more product, fixes a few details, and tells me a bit how to reproduce this style. He talks about using grease to comb and hairspray to keep it in place, as well as techniques to get the pompadour looking correct.

After a while of discussing, and me buying the necessary products, I go out of the shop with my great hairstyle, and see Ryuunosuke and Tsutomu waiting for me.

“It looks sooo great, kouhai ! I’m glad I took you here !” Exclaims Tsutomu, approaching me in a very familiar fashion. - It suits you a lot.” Agrees Ryuunosuke, nodding at the same time. - If you want any tip, don’t hesitate to ask us ! Once, I had this style, so I know exactly how to make it !”

And there goes Tsutomu rambling about all the hairstyles he’s tried in all his experimenting, and all the styles he may also try out one day. But I fully agree, it really feels like a piece of the puzzle has just been found. It immediately puts me more at ease, and although I know I’m not there yet, I know that now I can breathe.

“You know what ?” Suddenly asks Tsutomu. “You guys have class tomorrow ? - Only the afternoon.” States Ryuunosuke. - Uh… I…” I check my phone to see my agenda, and find it empty for tomorrow. “I don’t, surprisingly. - Well, why not go sleep over at my place ?”

I look at him surprised, not having anticipated this turn of events. It would be great, but… I don’t have any of my things, nor do I have anything to wear, I don’t know whether I need to check stuff at my flat, and…

Fuck ! This makes me stress so much ! I need something in my mouth ! I take out a lollipop in front of the guys, who look at me weirdly. What, haven’t they seen anyone liking sweets ? But yeah, actually, why not. I should take a cue out of Tsutomu and let go. If it’s fun, I should do it. Yeah, that seems way better.

“Seems good.” I answer. - Then we’re all set ! Let’s gooooo !” Celebrated Tsutomu.

It seems Ryuunosuke answered while I was considering. I hope I wasn’t too weird… NO ! Not weird, let’s ban this word from my dictionary !

Tsutomu leads us through streets and subway lines into a small flat, bigger than mine but not by much. However, just looking inside gives a good idea of who he is, as there are loads of colorful posters on the wall, an electric guitar – or bass, I don’t know the difference – and otherwise a lot of untidied clutter. Once inside, we hang out, have long conversations in which I participate eagerly, we dine – if instant ramen can be called a dinner – and all together have good fun.

When night falls, we get the futons out and place them aligned in the center of the tatami floor, with me in the middle – cozy ! Ryuunosuke and Tsutomu both take some kind of cap that looks like a plastic bag that they put around their hair. They urge me to do the same, but I refuse. I don’t want to sleep with a hat on. However, I do undress into my underwear, surprising both of them by my boldness -hey, that’s how I sleep ! – before I enter my futon to sleep.

When I wake up, I notice that the futon to my right is empty. After stretching a bit, I rise up and look around. On the futon to my left, Tsutomu is still sleeping quite deeply, or at least I assume so looking at his weird position. The blinds are half-opened, and looking behind me, I see Ryuunosuke taking his breakfast on the short table.

I go to stand up and sit in front of him. Weirdly enough, there seem to be a white box right next to his miso soup, I wonder what it is about… But as he finishes eating his bread, he hails me, taking on a quiet voice :

“Hey, kouhai. Slept well ? - Yeah, a lot easier than the last few days.” I answer, making him smile. - I’m glad you decided to come back. Even back when we went to see Kishidan I felt you were quite a good guy. - Thank you. I must admit I had my reservations, but you were so nice I couldn’t stay angry for long. Even if I like you better due to that weird cigarette thing. - Yeah.” He grimaces a bit. “I hope at least that you learned to be more considerate with this whole debacle. - I can’t say if I learned it, but… I’m really sorry about what I did to you three back then. No matter how I put it, I was in the wrong, and made you feel unwelcome somewhere you had all rights to be.”

He smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I forgive you. I know you weren’t doing it out of malice, but since you now apologized, I have no reason to hold any grudge. - Thank you very much…”

His smile is so tender, I can’t help but reciprocate it. He may feel quite formal, and not show a lot of emotion apart from the occasional sarcasm, I can feel that he is true to himself. His humility isn’t for show, it’s something I believe he truly is. That’s a quality I hope to possess one day, even if it’s only to stay true to myself and not mire myself in politeness.

“By the way, Hitoshi came here, earlier. I told him that we were staying at Tsutomu’s because he had something he had to drop off to you, but he had to work so he couldn’t stay.”

He gave me the small white box, which opened into a pack of cigarettes. Why did he give that to me ? I… I don’t smoke ! I don’t want to ! It’s useless to me !

“I know you’re not very fussed about getting that. Trust me, I was also skeptical. But don’t you have a craving for something to go in your mouth, sometimes ? - Uh… n-no ! Of course, not !” I lie, because of course it wouldn’t be cigarettes I’m craving for… right ? - You know, I saw you take out a lollipop. You also have a few in your pocket. You can’t lie to me.”

Seeing his uncompromising glare, I sighed. I don’t like to admit it, but he might be correct. Cigarettes might be what I’ve actually been craving for… unfortunately.

“Yeah. Since the beginning. I need something in my mouth. - Well, Hitoshi told me that the fact your change started with the smoke, it made you crave the smell, and that the fact that the contents of the change are based on Hitoshi, who’s quite the smoker, it means that you’re now very likely a smoker.”

I consider the cigarettes, not knowing whether it’s a trick or the actual last piece of the puzzle. I do know that it’s hard to ever come back from smoking, so even if it was a wrong guess, I’d now have a smoking problem. But on the other hand, I do crave for something in my mouth, and nothing has ever seemed as convincing as this… Ryuunosuke opens to me the door to the balcony, and hands me a lighter. I guess he is convinced… I mean, why would he not, the creator of the drug that made me change told him that smoking would be the missing piece ! But I still stand somewhat unconvinced…

… Eh, what did I say before ? That I shouldn’t overthink, and should do things I want to do.

So I take him in his invitation and go to the balcony, putting one of the cigarettes in my mouth. Oh god, it already feels good ! It’s the right size, the right texture, the right resistance… I didn’t want any of those crappy lollipops, I really wanted a cigarette !

Then, I light it up, and take my first drag…

And it’s heavenly ! I’m for the first time since the beginning of my misadventures feeling alright ! Not nervous, not anxious, just fine !

I take other drags, and this feeling of intense pleasure continues. Yes, I confirm, smoking was the missing piece. And it feels so good. This wonderful sensation of everything falling into place into a complete apotheosisis absolutely worth all the dangers and problems it comes with.

Suddenly, there’s some noise inside. I’d look inside, but I don’t want to trouble Tsutomu by stinking his house with smoke odor – even though it smells so good now, I still remember a time when I’d shy away from it.

“Oh, Hitoshi’s here ?” Asks Tsutomu’s groggy voice. “I’d recognize this smell anytime… - No, he came in earlier but he’s not the one smoking.” Answered calmly Ryuunosuke. - Huh ? Eh…” I hear some loud steps, likely Tsutomu trying to find the source of the smell. “Oh, kouhai, what are you doing here ? You’re already up ? - Yup.” I answer casually. “By the way, thanks for all your help, Tsutomu. And sorry for the first time we met. - Well, you’re welcome ! I’m glad we got to meet !” I hear him come closer. “Wait… the smell… is it coming from you !?” He notices, very surprised. - Yeah. I needed a smoke.”

He shuffles his way to the balcony, so I can see his very confused face. It’s fun to see him look like that.

“Wait, since when do you smoke ? - Since right now. - Uh… okay… and where are the cigarettes from ? - From… er, sorry, I don’t know his surname. From Hitoshi. - Oh, it explains all.”

It’s funny to hear him being shut up like that, he usually doesn’t ever stop talking ! But it might be the fact that it’s early morning, I myself am still quite drowsy. I finish peacefully my smoke while I hear Tsutomu preparing his breakfast in the back. He also asks what I like to eat, and I tell him I prefer rice.

Once everything is cooked up, and my cigarette was extinguished, I took place at the table, and conversations once again spring up. This time, I feel so much more at ease, I think I finally found what clicked for me. I look at them both. I’m glad to have found them, even if it meant losing myself in the process, because I’m sure the new me is infinitely better than the old.

“Thank you both for being here for me.” I suddenly thank them. “It… really meant a lot, even if I was confrontational back then.”

They smile at me.

“Don’t worry about it ! We’re bros, now !” Answers Tsutomu. - Yes, and friends are for life.” Acquiesces Ryuunosuke.

One day, you may be wandering the streets of Tokyo, and find people dressed in a 70 year-old style coming from the United States. That day, you may be meeting the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), a small group of four artistic people who like to draw, paint, sing and play. Even though I would have never had imagined even holding a conversation with them, circumstances made me join them, and I couldn’t be happier. Life is too bleak when you can’t share it with friends.

And if you ever find yourself lonely in that part of town…

… just know that two red cigarettes still stand unused.

================================================

If I had one nickle for each time I write a story set in Japan and it devolves into a 6000+ words odyssey that involves tons of research, I’d have two nickles, which is not a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Just so you know : the Bōsōzoku (��走族) were youth biker gangs from the 80s who were known for public disorder and otherwise gang violence, and took inspiration from American greasers for their style. Today, there’s not a lot of them left and they aren’t seen as a danger anymore, but their style was captured in pop culture, and is one of the go-to style for youth delinquents in anime (cf. Yusuke Urameshi and Kazuma Kuwabara in Yū Yū Hakusho and the whole of Jojo’s Adventure’s cast, really). This style has also found its way in Chinese pop culture, though the original reference is fully lost over there.

Hope you found this interesting ! ^^

[nangel]

Paparazzi, prologue

✍︎ word count | 2038 words

✈︎ missing out on parts? | series

Madeleine -spoken madlen- Daniela Sinclair was the IT girl, the it girl. at least everyone called her an it girl. Everyone either wanted to be her or with her. Everyone knew her and everyone would recognise her. Nobody would ever mess with her.

It was about 7 a.m and the sun was shining through the window of mine and my best friend Olga’s bedroom.

“You’re up already?” my mom asked grinning. “Yeah…” i said already sitting on the bed since I was already up. “I’m surprised you’re already up…usually you are such a…late riser” my mom said sitting to me on the bed. “Yeah…I had a bad headache in the middle of the night probably from night-out with Maureen and Annabelle” i said running my hand through my chocolate brown hair to move it to the side. “Yeah you guys were kinda tipsy” she said grinning. “Yeah we fucked up” i said laughing a little. “A good way to celebrate your last day here” she said laughing. “Oh had to remind me on that huh?” i asked and my mom laughed. “By the way your suitcase is in the bathroom…just in case you look for it” she said grinning while walking to the door. “Yeah I’m gonna pack later” i said rubbing my eyes and my mom nodded. “Good, I’ll bring you breakfast” my mom, Lorelai said grinning from ear to ear with me giving her a nod before standing up walking to the balcony door to open it and let some fresh air get in.

My mom’s name was Lorelai, Lorelai Fischer, before she married my dad Oliver Sinclair. I always liked to compare my mom to Lorelai Gilmore because they had the same name and my mom is basically living, laughing and loving her and she raised me quite the same way, sometimes it even surprises me that she didn’t give me the name-Rory-. My mom went to fashion school when she was younger and studied fashion, she also worked a little bit as a model which was quite a bonus for me. Today she is still doing fashion and clothes and is quite successful with her boutique. My dad has his own business and in working for his own company but mostly at home tho he sometimes is in his office. Me for my part…I always dreamed of becoming a model one day but that dream never really became reality UNTIL I saw this….

“Mom…I have everything” i said annoyed. “I think you forgot your headphones you know those big ones” she said handing me my totebag. “Mom! I put them into the suitcase” i said annoyed. “Yeah misses Sinclair…we’re gonna take good care of her as always” Ashley promised smirking. “Oh I hope so” she said laughing. “Mama we need to go” i said a little rushed. “Alright girls…call me when you’re in Berlin” my mom said smiling as I hugged her a last time before me and Annabelle went to our flight.

I was glad that we finally were back in our apartment and the first thing I did was taking a nap cause I had a huge headache.

“Fuck” i cursed as I ran up the stairs to get as fast as possible into university. Olga, Annabelle and Maureen running right behind us. “We’re gonna be so fucking late” i said as we ran up those stairs

It was our first year well…it’s going to an end, we are right on the end of May. For starters - we were running late because we all slept way too long so we had a hard time catching psychology class. In the end we made it into class without any complications.

“Hey Dani…” someone whispered while I took notes of Miss Diaz tutoring, I looked over just to see Christopher looking over at me leaning right over his desk which was in the same row. “What?” i asked with a smile. “You’ve got a pen?” he asked grinning which made me shake my head before I gave him a pen. “There you go” i said throwing it over to him. “You’re the best” he said smirking. “I know, Ares” i said playfully.

Why ares? Because he looked almost exactly like Ares out of the movie never have I ever and I liked to remind him of that.

After class we were sitting outside talking to our friends. University was way better than high school and all that shit, people were smarter, mostly more mature and there was less fakeness and drama, well…there was a lot of drama but I didn’t really care. I was fucking popular, well me and my best friend’s were, we were the upper-east-side of Berlin or the Plastics as Ares liked to call us because Mean Girls was my favourite movie since I was six years old. Which brings me back to Ares. Ares was a typical playboy and had with that name a lot of girls, for the record A LOT girls but me and him are friends since we started University Besides all the other people I got along with -seniors, sophomores and freshmen- there were only four people I dearly trusted.

“What the fuck” i whispered as I held a letter in my hand, why it was special to the 10 other letters and magazines? Because it was sent from my model agency. “Holy shit” i whispered as I immediately walked up to the seventh floor, the last one where me and Olga lived. I immediately ripped it open and read through it. I couldn’t believe my eyes, i had sent some portfolios to fashion companies all around the world cause I wanted to go international. It was an offer to walk and work for Chanel, besides that it was my favourite brand it was a letter about how they liked my portfolio and that they want to work with me, at the end of the letter stood written a little surprise, my star by Carolin, my manager. Of course I immediately gave her a call where she told me that she had the contract in her office and I should come by at time to sign it so I could immediately get into it. Tho it was my dream there were some consequences I had to face for example I needed to be ready to travel around and be available all time practically and work in other towns for longer, also there were things about my health and body depending the job.

I called Maureen and Annabelle while sitting in the subway They were happy for me and everything and wanted me to sign those papers immediately which made me happy too but on the other side kinda sad too. I decided to put it to the side for a moment to walk into the grocery store to get the groceries. “You want to cook what? Tarte Tatin? Are you insane?” i asked Olga over the phone. “Whatever…I’ll get it, have fun” i said throwing my phone into my tote bag grabbing two different types of dessert apples thinking about which one I should get.

“I’d take those…they are way better for Tarte Tatin” a deep voice with an french accent said to me. “Huh?” i asked surprised turning to him. “The apples…I couldn’t help but hear the conversation and I know Tarte Tatin and I also saw you so I thought you maybe needed some help” he said with a friendly but still deep voice. “Oh right…well thank you…I was struggling a little” i said chuckling a little. “No problem…it’s a good dish by the way” he said smiling while I grabbed six of those apples. “Yeah right…I like it too but I stopped cooking it” i said smiling. “I’m sorry for overhearing the conversation” he said with a smile that made me shaky my head with a chuckle. “Oh don’t worry…it’s fine” i said smiling at him. He looked at me for some seconds before shaking his head and speaking up. “I’m Charles by the way” he said holding out his hand which made me chuckle. “I’m Madeleine, nice to meet you” i said smiling, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too” he said as we let go again. “I need to go now but thanks for your help” i said with a charming smile. “You’re welcome” he shouted back with me walking to the cash register.

“Kinda sweet actually” Mauren said smiling while we sat in a bar. “I don’t know…he was just…being nice, that’s all” i said casually. “He was flirting” she said. “No he wasn’t, niceness is not flirting” i said smiling. “Why didn’t you ask for his number?” she asked smirking. “Oh god, Riri…stop it, he’s just a stranger” i said laughing. “Oh god…you’re so boring” she said as we drank our drinks.

It was after uni on a Friday and we were all laying outdoor pool and tanning. The guy Olga was out last night was trying to impress her which annoyed her. “God he’s so annoying” she said annoyed. “Why did you even bring him with you?” maureen asked clearly annoyed. “After last night when I wanted to go home he just wrapped hus arm around me and asked what we are going to do tomorrow and I actually wanted to leave, just leave but he didn’t let me so I gave up and told him about today and he asked me if he could come with us” Olga explained. “And you couldn’t have said no sorry I’m with my girls today or by the way I don’t want you to be in my life from now on?” Maureen asked and I laughed. “Nooo” Olga said frustrated. “I don’t know how long I can take this” Maureen groaned. “Oh god…it’s so stupid” i said and laughed. “Right” Olga said annoyed turning her head to the side. “Let’s just put him to the side for some hours” Maureen said and I just smirked. From afar we saw Annabelle walk up to us in more than just a happy mood. “What happened to her?” i asked immediately into the round and Maureen shrugged her shoulder while Olga was narrowing her eyes. “Girls. Girls. Girls!” Annabelle shouted excited. “What?” we asked monotonous. “I got the hottest shit for us” she said sitting down on the grass next to my towel as I sat up. “Sorry but I don’t get it” i said confused. “I bought us tickets for the formula one race in hold on tight…Monaco!” she said extremely excited and happy. “No way” Olga said sitting up taking off her sunglasses. “Holy shit” Maureen shouted excited. “Oh my god…how did you get those?” i asked her smiling. “I ordered the last four and since we all kinda are into formula one…or the drivers I thought what a great thing if we four would go there. So…are you coming with me” she asked smirking excited. “I’d love to” I said smiling. I can’t believe this…it’s gonna be great” Maureen said excited. “Yeah I can’t wait to see the drivers” Olga said smirking. “Really guys?” she asked excited. “Yeah” I said and she hugged us. “It’s gonna be so great” she said grinning from ear to ear. “I’m kinda really looking forward to see everything of f1 and those things it’s all over tiktok” i said excited. “I’m looking forward to get to know the drivers” Olga said smirking and we laughed. “Those are great new, Belle…I’m sooo excited” Maureen said grinning. “It’s gonna be the hottest shit” Annabelle said smirking and we felt terribly excited.

I wasn’t really into cars or races neither Formula one but my friends were into it especially Annabelle and Maureen so Olga and I got really bombed with their content and now that we are having this chance I’m pretty excited to see all of that and to have a lot of fun with my girls, I just know it’s gonna be a great time.

“Let’s fucking do this, girls” i said excited.

Next part

[luveline]

I'm sorry to send you such a loaded question, but as a young adult, how do you stay motivated and... I don't know, do the things you have to do? Ever since I left high school, I've felt that it's hard to commit to anything, especially the things I have to commit to in order to have a future, because everything seems so monotonous and uninteresting and stressful to me; because I feel like I'm not capable of doing anything, of being competent.

Anyways, I love your blog. Your writings are one of the few things that make me happy on the worst days xx

that’s okay! I’m gonna try and answer you clearly !! cw for suicide mention

So first I want to say that I’m really sorry you feel this way! It’s quite a heart ache to feel uninspired or uninterested, or worse to feel like you’re not capable of doing things everyone else is doing. You deserve to wake up and feel happy and confident in yourself and your abilities! And I want to say I’m sorry in advance if this is not quite the answer you’re asking me for!

so, when I was around 18/19 (and well beyond those years, but this was when I was very done and defeated and, you know, crying myself sick every night if I wasn’t just laying in bed) I was in university, but I didn’t finish the year at campus, and I had to go home. I’m not sure if this is something I should be saying because it’s so personal but I just want to sort of be honest with you cos I don’t want you to think you’re alone in that feeling. But anyways I had to go home, I was really lonely and I just felt like I couldn’t do what everyone else was doing, like there was something wrong with me. I couldn’t cope with the kitchen, I couldn’t use the bathroom there, I didn’t know how to turn the heating on, couldn’t talk to people, couldn’t navigate the bus by myself, and I felt so pathetically stupid, I had such low self esteem for myself that I felt like I should kill myself just because I was so useless —I didn’t WANT to understand these things. I just didn’t want to do anything. And the reason I’m mentioning it is because while I don’t think it’s okay to assume these things of you, I want to emphasise that there can be a common link between feeling like you aren’t capable and a mental health issue! Of course, you can feel quite useless without that though, so not telling you that that’s definitely what you have going on but more wanting to say that if you think it might be useful, you can have a look at mental health issues and perhaps see if you’re relating to them. But beyond that, hopefully on the way to answering your question, is how I managed to feel more capable and how I now find motivation to do things I have to do.

I sort of had to do a reset, or a sabbatical! I’ve always been an upset person unfortunately, and I had a long few months where I didn’t do anything at all. I’m really, really fortunate that my mother let me stay at home while this was happening however reluctant she was, I can’t imagine really what I would’ve done or what could’ve happened to me if she didn’t let me stay there. I always thought about how she could’ve just turned me out and she probably wanted to, because for months I stayed in bed. I didn’t talk to anybody, deleted all my social media, and I stewed in how much I hated myself for not being any good at anything. I felt soooo stupid and so alone, and I probably cried myself to sleep every night wondering about my life and if I’d ever have the motivation to go on. There are still times now where I am intensely upset and unsure about things and what I’m capable of, but the difference between then and now, and the reason for my motivation I think, was that I was able to foster a need for something? I’m really so sorry if this sounds like total total nonsense, but I needed something. I wanted so badly for someone to “save me” from my not being able to do things, I spent a lot of time thinking about that. Like, how I could be saved. And then I strung out the middle man without realising I was doing it! It is very hard to go from having no motivation and no sense of self ability to then being confident, but I do think you can do it! I needed someone to get me a job and I ended up doing it myself, I needed someone to be gentle with me when I was sad so I started speaking to myself with a more kind inner voice and seeing myself as someone who didn’t need to be perfect to be good.

There was lots of bits of advice I tried to take on. Not all of it is kind to myself, some of it is though!! Like, for example, there’s a sort of parody of it now that says “I think you’re thinking about yourself too much” but one of the ways I stopped hating myself and instead started to believe I could do things and achieve was by thinking about the level of self obsession I was feeling to constantly think of myself. And I promise I’m not trying to say something hurtful to you, I absolutely don’t believe you’re self obsessed, but you’re also not incapable!! In a slightly more annoying take on your feelings, why can’t you do it if everyone else can? You absolutely can! I personally believe sweetheart that you can do everything I can, but you need more support, or you need to be fostered with some love. You are not incapable, you are not incompetent, you are a smart, kind, and important person. There is nobody else like you on the entire planet and I’m better for it that you’re here.

I apologise profusely if I’m projecting too much on you, I’m not trying to say you must feel exactly as I did years ago, but I think your ask really is important and I really want to give you an answer to your question because I know I felt exactly the same at some point. Working toward a future self I didn’t even like or believe in was boring. Nothing in me wanted to work hard or study or continue because I didn’t look forward to achievement.

sorry this is all so long! Hopefully this last bit is the actual advice you might be able to use. Beyond that wisdom about trying not to dedicate too much time to thinking of myself, there are lots of “rules” I tend to live by, in order to just keep going forward. For starters, you deserve to have fun. You deserve good food, nice clothes (not showy though you deserve those too, but nice sturdy clothing), a warm safe house, and you need to work for it! We defo deserve to work less for things but I keep going and trying to better myself because I know I need to do this in order to be comfortable. This will sound out of left field, because the focus of the book is not strictly motivation, but there’s a graphic novel called my lesbian experience with loneliness by Nagata Kabi that has stuck with me because she has this same sort of view as to feeling like she’s stuck in monotony, and there’s one bit in particular where she talks about doing things for yourself you might not do, I.e making sure you have underwear and socks that are clean and whole. I grew up poor and I’m not super rich now either, but since I read that, one of my priorities is having whole and clean underwear, and that did help me find the motivation to work or to study. We need to function in a way to maintain good standards for ourselves, and even if you have boxes of clean socks, there might be something in your life you can think about working toward! I throw away underwear or any clothes that don’t fit me right, and I don’t feel guilty about it when I would’ve before because I know that feeling well dressed is good for your heart. Does that make sense? To give yourself a good standard of life, you have to keep going. As well as that, another way I stay motivated to go on which I’ve talked about before maybe (not that I expect you to have read this) is my writing. I’m motivated sometimes to do things I have to if only because I need free time to think deeply about the things I want to think about. Also I love writing more than pretty much anything, even if most writers will look at what I’m doing and laugh or wonder why I’d dedicate so much time to some things in particular, because I love it. If I can make sure my rent is paid every month, that’s a promise I have a room to sit in every night where I can write whatever story I want! Another motivation is my ability to give bits of myself? It sounds ridiculous because I don’t genuinely believe I’m giving myself to people but to try and be a positive part of someone life is a good place to start if you feel purposeless. My relationships with my sisters are a tether for me and I’ve tried so hard and so much to make these relationships count, as well as with long distance friends, and recently ish I got back into contact with friends I couldn’t maintain relationships with when I was feeling down, and now my life feels very changed. I don’t live solely for myself, (though it’s okay if you do, because its hard and sometimes a lot of pressure to live for and around others) so that gives my life more purpose, and gives me more reason to do things I have to do. I also desperately enjoy this blog !!

I’m genuinely so sorry if this is all useless. I’ve been typing this answer since like 1:05 and it’s much later now, but it’s because it’s hard to describe to you the things that give motivation, because I know deep down how impossible it feels when you have none. I don’t expect you to read this and think aw jade you’ve solved it I’m fine now actually, I just hope that one thing in here can lend you an idea as to what to do next. If you’re struggling to go on, there are lots of options available to you in the UK such as the SHOUT text line for stress, depression, and eating disorders. They’re free to text and anonymous! I don’t think there’s one answer to giving yourself purpose, it is a very hard life and I don’t blame you for feeling incapable or bored or worried or anything you’re feeling, but I do for sure know you can do this, because I can do it, if that makes sense. Like I bet we’re extremely different people on account of uniqueness but also bet we have so many similarities!! And I certainly don’t mind guessing that you’re a loving, caring, person who deserves to feel more fulfilled. It’s my recommendation that you try to understand why you’re not feeling your best right now, that you talk to someone if you can, that you have some faith in yourself, and that you treat yourself with the same love and patience as you would any other person experiencing burnout! again I’m so so sorry if this is all rubbish. I’m forcing myself to stop now. So sorry if it doesn’t make sense or if half of this is completely unrelated to what you’re asking. I love you and I hope you feel better, genuinely truly ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[redfurrycat]

🤠🎓🏫🐓High School & College/University Fic Recs🐓🏫🎓🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

High School

Ao3 Authors: Broke_Traveler, Callsignsmax, KatofKanals, Orphan_account, Nightwrite24, ReformedTsundere, Sreshaw, Tearsricochets.

College/University

Ao3 Authors: BlankPapyrus, Chase_acow, Cryinginthebronco, Glowpink, Hangmanbradshaw, Haridwar, Hypnagogicpunisher, Imafriendlydalek, LulaluzHazel, Miraculousmultifan, Monkiedude, Nighttimedawn, Nightwrite24, Orphan_account, Pocketsizedsatan, ReformedTsundere, Renai_chan, Soisserieux, SunMonTue, Tearsricochets, Trinipedia.

> Educational Occupations > Childhood Friends-Sweethearts

You Make Me Live by Renai_chan {E} (C/U)

Once upon a time, Jake met Rooster. Eight years later, he's a freshman at the US Naval Academy, and Bradley Bradshaw comes back into his life. Except, they've both grown up, and with growth, paths diverge.

I think I could use some more (of you) by nighttimedawn {T} (C/U)

“I feel like y’all have been having a secret affair behind my back,” Jake said from behind them. “I take back my earlier worry that you wouldn’t get along.” Letting go of Bradley, Nat said, “Awww, Jakey. Are you feeling left out?” “He’s worried because he knows we’d make a hot couple,” Bradley joked, picking up his bag from where it had fallen on the floor. Without looking at Nat, he hit the high five she held out her hand for. Jake groaned and began to walk towards the exit. “How the fuck am I third-wheeling in my own relationships?” Or how Jake and Bradley meet on a college tour and spend the next five years figuring it out (and fucking it up).

Draw Me Verse by BlankPapyrus {E} (C/U)

Draw Me

As an engineering major, Bradley Bradshaw had no idea why he needed an art credit, but Professor Bates' Introduction to Life Drawing course had been the only one with slots available that fit into his schedule. He also didn't expect Jake Seresin to be this week's model.

Athletes and Mathletes

Jake hasn't seen Bradley since they hooked up. He's used to getting what he wants, and Bradshaw is not good for his ego or his temper. Luckily, they're both at Reuben's birthday party.

Study Buddy

At their regular study session, Bradley and Jake wind up being the only ones left. Naturally, they wind up in bed together.

Megaphone Serenade by ReformedTsundere {G} (HS)

Jake knew about Bradley Bradshaw. Bob was friends with him; they shared a choir class, and Bradley helped with some jazz performances if they were down a keys player. But he’d never really noticed the other boy before. The second Bradley ran his fingers over the ivories with an easy grin, leaning back and relaxed, Jake was transfixed.

no one quite like you (you push all my buttons down) by glowpink {T} (C/U)

Bradley’s first day of law school is a wash out in more ways than one. First, he gets soaked on the way to class. Then, he's late. And finally (quite literally) runs into his ex-something in the middle of the law building.

come hell or high water by orphan_account {G} (HS) (C/U)

Bradley Bradshaw, determined to live up to his father's legacy, enlists in the Navy right out of high school, leaving his best friend, who is also probably the love of his life, home with his godfather to finish out high school. He definitely isn't worried about Jake at all. Jake is definitely fine. He definitely isn't worried about that thing that happened at the airport that they never actually spoke about. And he definitely isn't worried about these feelings in his chest that keep threatening to spill out of him. Everything will be fine, right? Or, how Bradley falls in love, finds a home, and remembers how to be happy again.

number neighborhood by miraculousmultifan {T} (C/U)

754-XXX-2324 created a group chat 754-XXX-2324 added 754-XXX-2323, 754-XXX-2325, 754-XXX-2326, and 9 more 754-XXX-2324 named the group number neighborhood [12:36 p.m.] number neighborhood 754-XXX-2324: howdy neighbors! 754-XXX-2327: who the fuck are you *** Jake, bored out of his mind one day, decides to add a bunch of numbers into a group chat and see what happens. It went about as well as he expected.

Baby You Look Good by soisserieux {_} (C/U)

He finds his name and desk number and heads in the direction of his seat, only to stop short when he sees the guy in the other chair.  The guy is sitting there comfortably, with all of his shit unpacked, like he’s been there for a while. He’s got this old-looking Hawaiian print shirt on, and this mustache that looks like it came straight out of a trashy porno. And the worst part is, Jake can’t tear his eyes away. It’s like everything else happening in the lab suddenly came to a screeching halt, and he can’t do anything but stare at this guy.  The spell is finally broken when the guy looks up at him. “Do you need something? Or…” Jake regains his composure and plasters a well-practiced cocky smile on his face. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need you to help me pass this damn class… Partner.” It’s kind of dumb and Jake almost wishes he didn’t say it, but it’s too late to take it back now. He’s stuck with it, just like he’s stuck with this guy as his lab partner. Fate has spoken.  One of the guy’s eyebrows shoots up. “You’re my lab partner?” Jake sets his stuff down and sits down in the open chair, sidling up next to his new partner. “Lucky for you.”

Springsteen by sreshaw {M} (HS)

Bradley Bradshaw has to pick up and move from San Diego, California, with his not-dad Pete "Maverick" Mitchell to Corpus Christi, Texas. He's not upset about it, but he doesn't expect to fall hard for a boy he meets there.

hey wouldn't you know (i'd get hooked on a guy with green diamond eyes) by tearsricochets {T}

I was cool with hangin around (now i got plans bigger than this town) (HS)

He doesn't mean to just stop mid-sentence, but really he doesn’t have any control of it. The one player he hadn’t caught the name of, Han, has just turned around. He’s mid laugh as he walks towards a huge blue cooler set up next to someone’s truck, and he’s probably the most beautiful person Bradley’s ever seen.   He’s got blonde hair that looks like it was styled when he’d first got here, but a few too many runs of the hand through it have knocked a few pieces onto his forehead. He’s wearing a simple gray colored henley under the letterman, paired with jeans that fit perfectly in all the right places and an honest-to-God pair of worn looking cowboy boots.  The smile that’s still on his face is only spurring on Bradley’s struggle. It lights up his entire face, the light of the fire making his already tan skin even more of a perfect golden.  He watches as the angel incarnate walks back to the others. Then, almost in slow motion, uses his now free hand to pick up the black cowboy hat that is hanging on the back of his chair.  Good god, that should be illegal. OR: the summer they meet, fall in love, and have to figure out what to do with it.

let the moonshine through (kissing you like yesterday) (C/U)

Fuck. His heart stops. His dreams, because he’s here. He’s here in Bradley’s immediate eyeline and reach. He’s positively radiant. Glowing. The golden sun spills in through the window and washes him in hues not unlike those of a fire ages ago. His hair is still the same golden blond Bradley remembers it as, once again a halo on his perfect head. He’s filled out much more than he was when they were teenagers. His short sleeve shirt, that reads Langwood Fire, looks sinfully tight on his biceps. His nightmares, because he looks happy. Happy like he doesn't regret for one second leaving Bradley behind. Bradley wants to laugh. Bradley wants to cry. More than anything, he wants to hug him. Wants to call him Angel and have Jake smile that little smile he only does when Bradley calls him that. Wants him to kiss him like it’s nothing and they’re still who they used to be. But they’re not, and the look on Jake’s face is enough to make him remember that forever. OR: the one in which it's the summer they meet again.

sereshaw student/teacher 'verse by callsignsmax (HS)

a first time for everything {E}

Mr. Seresin is his new physics teacher, he’s twenty six at the most. With how he looks Bradley would be shocked at anything more. He’s from texas, obvious from his accent and the obnoxious Texas Rangers banner he has pinned on the cork board next to his desk.

I see right through you {E}

“Nothing’s fair, Mr. Seresin,” He hiccups, throat sore and scratchy from suppressing his sobs. “Why don’t my friends support me and you being together?”

NSFW alphabet with Mr. Seresin and Bradley {E}

Learn the ins and outs of Mr. Seresin and Bradley's sex life, including the struggles of true love in a teacher/student relationship.

I’d wait forever for you {M}

“Red,” he manages to choke out, even though Mr. Seresin had already stopped. His hands were off of Bradley the second the younger froze up. “Stop, please.”

I'll Be Home for Christmas (And I'll be Making it Your Problem) by ReformedTsundere {T} (C/U)

Javy is scrolling past their local college's "Personals" page, seeing if they can find students they know enough to make harmless jokes at, when an apparent ad stops them both. Rent-A-Boyfriend Need someone to take home for the holidays? Not looking forward to being sat around the table and made to play nice? I'm a 26-year-old Navy brat with more piercings, tattoos, and trauma than sense. Polisci and Engineering double major who is running on caffeine (but can make it seem like I've got a drug problem). I ride a motorcycle for fun, have what can only be described as a "pornstache," and am unapologetically queer. I can and will, without trying, make any conservative parent wish they'd never picked up the phone to make you come home and have a blast doing it.

we met in the winter (and we fell in love) by haridwar {T} (C/U)

Watson Wildhearts by KatofKanals {E} (HS)

16 year old Bradley Bradhsaw is new to Watson, Texas in the summer of 2000 and he is downright miserable—he hates the whole town and all the people in it. That includes Jake Seresin, the star quarterback and rich boy at the top of the social pyramid. Eventually, though, Bradley starts to wonder if maybe there’s more to Watson and Jake Seresin than he saw at first glance. Maybe there’s something special there after all.

Midnight at the Shoreline by monkiedude {T} (C/U)

Jake likes to plan their beach week. Bradley messes it up.

get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down by cryinginthebronco {G} (C/U)

get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down The sun begins its descent towards the horizon, and the day is slowly coming to an end, giving everyone a long-awaited relief from the unrelenting heat. The excited chatter of tourists spending their summer in a small picturesque town died down not long ago, with everyone leaving the beach and making their way to the hotel rooms and oceanside rentals. For a few minutes, the waves of the nearby ocean hum calmly, finally undisturbed by the screaming children and their admonishing parents. But eventually, the lazy swoosh of the ocean is drowned by a different kind of noise. or jake, bradley, and one summer night

Learning to Fly by Broke_Traveler {M} (HS)

Can one phone call or school year change everything?

You're the beginning and the end of every chapter - Sunday by trinipedia {T} (C/U)

Bradley, a rebellious guy from California, is shipped off to a strict Texas military school by his godfather after one too many pranks. He will find more than he expected, and he'll come to realize that leaving might not be as easy as he thought.

Legacy by chase_acow {M} (C/U)

Bradley was a man in a dress, and he looked cute. Pledging the same Fraternity as his dad was his plan since childhood, he just needed to find a big brother who didn't mind having the oldest freshman ever. Anyone would do, but Jake Seresin, the worst lab partner ever, had his own plans.

5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. by Pocketsizedsatan {_} (C/U)

5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. Fraternity AU

cuz you know I love the players and you love the game by hangmanbradshaw {E} (C/U)

Jake's the star quarterback, Bradley's the star baseball captain. They both like playing games, turns out they want the same prize. Or Bradley dresses as a cheerleader for the team and Jake hates him (except that he totally doesn't)

Oh, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for by nightwrite24 {G} (C/U)

Five times Bradley and Jake encountered each other under decidedly unusual circumstances, and the one time one of them decided to finally do something about it.

these small towns by nightwrite24 {M} (HS)

Bradley's moved to Texas from California. Jake's got a lot of expectations riding on him that don't leave room for the type of romance he really wants. Bradley has no idea he's such an overthinker. After a great night together, Jake's fallen into a full-blown crush and does his best to panic his way out of it. It does not work.

When September Ends by imafriendlydalek {E} (C/U)

Bradley had only applied to colleges other than the Academy to appease his mom, who insisted that it was important to have safety schools. He never thought he would need a backup. And yet here he is, at Cornell University. His dreams of going to the Academy have been thoroughly dashed, his mother is buried across the country next to his father, and his parking spot has just been stolen by some asshole with Texas license plates.

It's not who you know by SunMonTue {M} (C/U)

Low-angst Nepo!Baby Bradley and his four years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

red river rivalry by hypnagogicpunisher {M} (C/U)

He’s heard the buzz about the new 4-star on the Texas team. It piques his interest. Oklahoma had been dominating the last few years of the rivalry, but betting odds were hot against the Sooners going into the game week, partially because of this Seresin kid. A true freshman, with his kind of stats, was a rarity. Bradley wonders just a bit what his passing stats would look like with him, who seemingly has fucking magnets for hands and the ability to stretch for a pass like he’s made of rubber. -- He can feel the frustration snaking through his body, settling with a numbness in his fingertips. At 2nd and 10, his pass is tipped and ruled incomplete. He can hear a jeer from the sideline, and he fucking knows it’s Seresin.

Serendipity by LulaluzHazel {E} (C/U)

During his second year at university, Bradley found himself with no room or a place to live. Venting to his co-worker, a handsome customer overheard his problems and offered him a sweet deal: to stay at his flat in exchange for looking out for his cat. But why did his new landlord have to be a naval aviator of all things? Couldn't he just be a regular rich kid?

Second time lucky... by SunMonTue {T} (C/U)

College AU featuring Bradshaw!Twins Bradford and Bradley, a Jake Seresin with a crush, and a long-suffering Javy Machado.

[densi-mber]

Behind the Scenes

A/N: This idea was inspired by the Ted Lasso episode “No Weddings and a Funeral”. Particularly the element with key events happening on the same day.

***

April 3, 2001

“Miss Blye, you have some of the highest grades I’ve seen in my career,” Susan Walters, Kensi’s academic advisor told her. “It’s really quite impressive. Especially considering the…hardships you’ve dealt with.”

Kensi studied her intertwined fingers, still uncomfortable with the allusion to her past. Few people knew about her father’s death, her years spent homeless, and she preferred to keep it that way.

“Thank you, Ma’am. The support I’ve received from the university and staff has certainly helped,” Kensi replied diplomatically. She didn’t mention that while in high school she’d worked a nearly full-time job to get by while attending high school or that she’d forged various documents when she needed parental approval.

“That’s good to hear. Speaking of which, I understand that you are interested in pursuing a military career.”

“My father was in the military, but I’ve actually considered the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.” Susan Walters tilted her head, and Kensi tacked on. “It’s a federal agency that handles the investigation of military cases and other national cases that go beyond other agencies’ scope of practice.”

“I see,” Susan Walters said, nodding. Kensi had hoped to get a few semesters under her belt before mentioning that particular aspiration. When she’d brought it up with her high school advisor, the woman had pushed her to consider more “likely” careers.

“I know it’s unusual,” Kensi hurried to explain, a fault of hers under pressure. “But I’ve always wanted to help people and this still allows me to support the military.” She didn’t dare mention her ulterior motives for choosing NCIS.

“Actually, I have heard of the agency in the past. I think it’s a wonderful ambition,” Susan told Kensi, much to her surprise. “Particularly because I received contact from a privately funded scholarship looking to support your education.”

“Oh. May I ask what the scholarship is called?” Kensi asked. She already had merit-based scholarships and awards that covered most of her tuition, room, and board. The rest was subsidized by loans and her work-study position.

“It’s one of many from the LH Legacy Foundation. The founders look to support students pursuing a service career such as in the military or law enforcement.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.” And Kensi had applied for just about every scholarship she could.

“It’s quite a private scholarship,” Susan explained shortly. She pulled Kensi’s file to the middle of her desk. “Anyway, beginning this semester, you will be eligible for this scholarship and continue to be eligible for as long as your GPA remains at 3.8 or higher and pursue your current path.”

Kensi walked out of her appointment 20 minutes later stunned. With this new scholarship, she could quit her job and not take out anymore loans.

It was life changing.

***

April 3, 2001

“So, Marty, where do we stand with your applications for law school?”

“Yeah, about that, Mr. Strum,” Deeks responded, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve filled out a couple, but—”

“I’m sure you know that most deadlines are approaching quickly. If you want to be accepted for the year following your graduation, you really do need to apply now,” the man sitting across from Deeks explained.

Deeks didn’t think Strum had ever fully understood him. Unlike the previous advisors, at lest he seemed to want Deeks to succeed.

“Yeah, no, I realize that.” Deeks tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’d love to apply, but it’s the financial aspect. I don’t have the money for the application fees, let alone if I actually get accepted into any of the programs. I’m barely scraping by as it is.”

It was a humiliating revelation, and one that he’d put off as long as possible. Sure, the university knew he was a scholarship kid, without family contribution, but they didn’t know the true extent of his situation. They definitely didn’t know about his late nights spent stripping—and he fervently hoped no one ever would.

“Oh, well you should have told me sooner,” Strum said. “There are waivers you and funds you can apply for specifically for this situation. In fact, we have an entire fund just for that purpose. And, then when the time comes we can look into grants and scholarships for law school.”

Frowning, Deeks processed the information for a few moments, then regarded Strum suspiciously. “Graduate level students typically don’t qualify for scholarships,” he pointed out. “Not unless it’s in a field that pays for its future employees to finish. So, what would I have to do?”

“Nothing, Marty.” Strum paused a beneath. “Except continue to demonstrate the same spectacular level of work and enthusiasm for the legal profession as you always have.”

It sounded too easy, which worried Deeks. In his experience, this kind of thing never came without catches.

Yet, he was pretty desperate. Just enough to sigh, and accept the offer.

“Thank you, sir. What do I need to fill out.”

Smiling, Strum passed him a document with the heading LH Endowment Fund at the top. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

***

A/N: I realize this doesn’t quite fit into some of the canon events for Kensi and Deeks’ first encounters with Hetty. However, it’s made pretty clear they were on her radar far before they actually knew it. So, if this contradicts anything canon, well, the show writers did it often enough that I should get a pass.

Also, this is not really condoning Hetty’s actions, just demonstrating that she was manipulating events with all the team for years.

[gmmtv-bl-tournament-but-evil]

ooh, the subject of first bls is interesting. i started in bl dramas officially with cherry magic. i started in thai bl when someone made me watch fish upon the sky. then i watched kinnporsche the series. complete tonal whiplash but I’ve been a bl manga enthusiast for a long time now, so it wasn’t too out there, let’s just say that.

id say futs was probably not the best beginning for me as a person who is not much into strong comedy over romance, and it was quite flawed, but it DID get me into the gmmtv style of shows and i loved pondphuwin so, it overall wasn’t that bad. kpts afterward was a rollercoaster and got me very intrigued with what else there was. then i went to not me, and had a complete blast. (funnily, though, tol afterward is what actually got me obsessed with thai bl) i think something simple but suited to their tastes in dynamic or trope and then something more crazy as the first two would be a good fit for most people? it got me accustomed to the feel of thai bl and then got me really pumped for more.

i know someone who got into thai bl through bad buddy (great, solid choice, i think! though it isn’t one of my ultimate favorites). i made my best friend sit through all of bmf with me and now I’m making them watch cherry magic (they like the cuter, silly shows, so I’ll probably try to get them more into those) but yeah, i agree with you that it’s best to get people hooked on something suited to them.

We have a very similar past in how we started getting into BL! I also used to read Yaoi manga when I was in middle school (way too early, I know) and continued all throughout high school and most of university. At the time, I was almost exclusively reading BL rather than watching it (anime is another conversation entirely) but there is one significant exception: Doushitemo Furetakunai. All in all, I was consuming exclusively Japanese BL at the time and then suddenly stopped altogether mostly 'cause life.

KinnPorsche was the one that pulled me back in completely out of the blue when I randomly had it show up on my dashboard and the rest is history. I also watched Not Me and ToL shortly after that along with some much older shows. I went into it with kind of a researcher mindset. Since I was already used to the Japanese style of BL, Thai shows were kind of a culture shock which I was determined to work through. I'm now consuming Thai, South Korean, Taiwanese, Japanese, and - a little less frequently - BL from Hong Kong and the Philippines almost indiscriminately. Japan still holds a special spot in my heart in that regard, though.

Bad Buddy is also a great BL for a first-timer, I agree. And yes, it's just so fucking awesome when you get the right recommendation to the right person!!!

[thiefbird]

Top 5 books!

Okay so. Gonna cheat just a lil and give my top 5 books OR series(and my fave book in each series)

In no particular order:

1) The Aubrey-Maturin Series

This should shock no one who follows my tumblr: I have talked about little else for the last five months. These characters invade almost my every waking thought; the few thoughts that aren't about them are about related subjects like Temeraire or Hornblower. Patrick O'Brian's writing style has permanently changed my own. I think probably my favourite book in the series is HMS Surprise. Patrick O'Brian has gotten fully into the swing of things, he knows his characters inside and out. Diana is there. And unlike some of my other favourites, the story in Surprise is self contained - as opposed to Desolation Island/Fortune of War/Surgeon's Mate, which are all the same arc.

2) Dragonriders of Pern

I read these books way, way too young (they are not in any way meant for an eight year old) and they changed my neurochemistry. Dragonriders of Pern is why I loved Eragon, and why I love Temeraire. There is a more age-appropriate series, the Harper Hall books, but that's not all that I read. I think my favourite book in the series is probably Dragon's Dawn, which is the book that explains the sci-fi connection to what starts off as feeling purely fantasy. It does such a good job of explaining how we get to where the series ends up in the first books, and also confirms the Anne McCaffery super-universe is alive and well(if you read any of her sci-fi series, there are always little references to show that they're all in the same universe, though they may be centuries or millennia apart). Do not give these books to your eight year old. Maybe not even your twelve year old. Sixteen is probably good.

3) Septimus Heap

For all you people who want to introduce your kids/your sibling's kids/your friend's kids to reading, but don't know what to recommend to little kids who like fantasy now that Terfwizardry is a no go, let me introduce the better Special Boy Learns Magic Books! Septimus Heap is the seventh son of a seventh son, but he doesn't know that at first. These books have a fascinating magic system that actually makes sense, an entirely separate from real life setting, and actually healthy family relationships! I don't have a specific favourite book, but even though they're very much aimed at younger kids, I reread them recently and they hold up! They're cute and sweet and heartwarming and also the cover art is excellent. If you have kids age 5-12 in your life and you want them to enjoy books, but don't want to recommend Percy Jackson for the billionth time? Give them Septimus Heap! (Or Gregor the Overlander, my personal favourite Suzanne Collins series; it might actually be more depressing as an adult than The Hunger Games, and it is written for late elementary/middle school kids. Give your kids a really weird but good experience and opportunity to talk about the horrors of both war and capitalism, all surrounded by giant rats and bats and cockroaches who are your friends.)

4) Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre

Are these the same series? Not really, but they are in my heart; the Brontë's books in my mind are so intertwined that they can share a space. Its what they would have wanted probably. I am a miserable Gothic bitch at heart. Highschool Birb read these books pretty much on repeat, with occasional breaks for Jane Austen or Mary Shelley. In terms of a favourite, my heart lands just a little on the side of Wuthering Heights; I am a sucker for parallels and inescapable fates.

5) Madeleine L'Engle (cheating again)

There's quite a bit of JV/YA fic on this list; I think there are some brilliant books that are ignored because they were written specifically for children, and anything by Madeleine L'Engle is absolutely included in that list. A Wrinkle In Time, and the rest of the books about the Murry-O'Keefe's(The Kairos series), are the reason high school Birb bought three nonfiction but not textbook books on string theory, and another textbook. They are almost entirely the reason I have a grasp on Christianity - Madeleine L'Engle's particular flavour of faith is a beautiful thing, and she ties it so perfectly into an intensely sci-fi and scientific series. Her more slice of life series, the Chronos series, is definitively but obscurely tied into the more sci-fi Kairos, in ways that are wonderful to think about. As a high schooler, and even after coming out as trans, both Meg Murry and Vickie Austin really spoke to me, but I think my favourite book of all of them is A Swiftly Tilting Planet. There is something heartbreakingly hopeful in all of L'Engle's writing, but especially in the scenes of the Murry's waiting at home, together, hoping that they'll see the morning, and then doing so.

[potatotalksculture]

More thoughts on Disco Elysium

[SPOILERS for Disco Elysium ahead.]

I’ve been dubbed the “pretentious wanker” for internalizing the though about a art gallery with a name similar to some chocolate bar out of Charlie’s Chocolate Factory. I was hoping for something absurd or maybe written in an imaginary language. What I got is a (quite accurate) critique of the modern, high class art world. Like in Velvet Buzzsaw. Or the latest season of You, if you’re feeling pretentious.

And also my “Actual Art Degree” consists of colorful invectives. Nothing is good enough for the Art Cop. He criticizes everything. Everything is mediocre for him. Why is he like that? Is he part of the milieu at the Art Centre? Or was he never allowed to enter and that made him bitter?

I learn the philosophy presented in Disco Elysium as I go. At the beginning you wake up as a dude who knows nothing. He’s literally and metaphorically NAKED. You, the player, know as much about the character, the identity, the story, the cloths and the surrounding of this protagonist as much as he would know himself. Isn’t this a perfect starting point for an RPG?

I know nothing about RPGs. I never played any kind of pen and paper, nor did I engage in similar games that include creating an identity for your character and sticking to it. In theatre, at work, I prefer the logistics and managing over imagining stories and creating meanings. Communication is hard enough as it is. No need to over complicate it by including made up stories and character traits in it.

This are two reasons why Disco Elysium was perfect for me. (I have finished playing the game as I’m writing this post. The origin of this post is a draft I’ve written sometime while still playing.) I DIDNT HAD A CLUE HOW TO PLAY THIS KIND OF GAME. I was as lost as the protagonist.

As I moved through the world, interacted with figures and objects, I was learning the philosophy implemented into this game. Without looking into the fandom.com wiki, I think about communism and capitalism. There’s also moralism. And some form of neoliberalism, I think. Somewhere around the first or second in-game day I got the task to Rebuild the Communism. Me? The guy, who assumes he’s a detective but is not completely sure and who just some hours ago has found his second shoe? Sure, comrade! Let’s go! But wait! Now I also have some moralist pants on and… we’ll, get points for saying this or that.

The points system was the first thing that made me think more about the representation of the four different school of though within the dialogues. Capitalism is about making money, having money and seeing people though their monetary value on the market. Neoliberalism is about wanting the state to leave the people alone. Moralism is about being somewhere in the middle and trying to keep everyone calm. Communism is about sharing everything and eating the rich. Easy! Or is it?

As I was progressing, I kept losing track of the thoughts. I felt really drawn to the whole rebuilding communism concept, as a strong anti-capitalist myself, this school of though was closest to my own believes. But as soon as it was about violence and killing, I took a step back. This was not in sync with me. And since that’s how I’ve chosen to play the game, I started choosing the less violent, more non-descript dialogue options. This has brought me onto the Moralintern though. This got me thinking:

In real life, when your looking for a moral compass, it’s hard to a stick to one principle. Cuz usually the universal definition of the chosen philosophy is not completely in harmony with your personal believes. So more often that you’d like to you are confronted with some personal inconsistency. And with every consistency you learn something about yourself. The most of it being: You are not black and white. And so is the world you live in. Inconsistency is part of the reality. Evolving is part of being a human.

(Interestingly enough, when you interact with the books about Dick Mullen often enough, you enable a new perspective on the world. A black and white perspective, which proposes an insightful contrast between the real world and the fiction. You are not a fictional detective with all the evidence in front of you. And you also contradict yourself.)

And also: no philosophy within the game is only good or only bad, or rather explicitly positively or negatively coded. There’s the “lucky” racist that was supposed to grant wishes. There’s the brutality and bloodthirsty of communism which was supposed to be about sharing. There the brutality of the humanistic Dolores Dei, who was trying to do some people not human.

[jelly-as-in-grape-concord]

48 + 50!

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

no one in either story is textbook "perfect cinnamon roll" but sasha ramirez and gigi (gianna crane (shes from cannibalistic pigeons, the project partner i mentioned)) are close contenders. Sasha is a nice person, but not like the pure and innocent variety yk? gigi on the other hand, does start out in cannibalistic pigeons as like 100% cinnamon roll but eventually unfurls completely as the forest begins to call her into it. kinda like how you unfurl an actual cinnamon roll, the sugar and cinnamon and sweetness is still there, it is fundamentally still a cinnamon roll, however it is now a strip of what it once was. or something like that idk the metaphor got away from me

50. Give me the good ol’ OC talk here. Talk about anything you want

uhhhhhhh this is really long so

the gloam started out as bnha fanfiction LMAO

from the basic idea i had written in my notes: "Izuku is accidentally taken to a different universe where the prototypes exist (yu takeyama=uraraka, that version of bakugou that was blunt about everything, other weirdly designed people like kaminari and toruu). The world is kinda in an apocalypse state thats overrun by creatures called aberrants. there’s “heroes” but they’re treated like pest control than celebrities (people still did hero gimmicks for the fun of it)

he ultimately made friends with the other versions. he was forced back home after katsuki was killed by aberrant and yu wanted revenge

when he wakes up back in the regular mha world, aberrants start entering the world and hes the only one who knows how to deal with them"

which in short: alternate universes or whatever. the reason why i abandoned this idea though was because it sorta molded izuku and several other characters into something that they werent. so i saw a post that was like something about fanfics turning characters into basically OCs and i was like. wait a minute. I CAN DO THAT

and so:

the first original idea used to be about 7 teens going on a big camping trip after graduating from high school. the main couple (sylvia + guy i forget the name of) get into an arguement, its super awkward so theyre all like ok ig lets just go home, so sylvia goes in the car with isaac and sasha and in this version, theyre not rlly besties, just people who are friends with each others friends kinda deal yk. but BOOM on the way back they get into a car accident. Sasha and sylvia r badly injured and cant get out, so isaac goes to get help but gets replaced by another person(same as happens in the gloam 4.0 (yeag there is a 3.0 im gettin there)). the rest of the group catches up, get out of the car, and get eaten by a monster. then the whole plot after that was that sylvia and sasha wanted to find isaac as the replacement admits that on the other side of the forest, theres an alternate universe that they could travel to find him. i have no idea what was so supposed to happen after so i scratched the idea.

gloam 3.0 was something similar, adding in the spiciness that the inside of the forest WAS the alternate universe and everyone in it was fighting for their lives. and also sylvia got a gun. what!!! then i scrapped it because i still had no idea how it would be ending or how the story would start because i kinda hated the car accident thing. i could never imagine it quite right.

then theres the gloam 4.0, where you BECOME this alternate version of urself by becoming a sick monster. and also i aged up the main three because i dont know how to write teenagers. im hardly one myself sometimes but i have hanged around both middle aged and old people for my entire life.

i did keep the original ig crossing a threshhold into an alternate universe thing as a seperate idea (anti-glory) but its not something im thinking or working on

(theres a lot more detail that i coul write here but im currently typing this in a moving vehicle and very sleepy)

[themomsandthecity]

I'm Making Sure My Latina Teen Prioritizes Her Mental Health Ahead of Senior Year

I've been mentally preparing for this moment since my daughter was born: the day she would leave the nest and venture out on her own. But there was nothing to prepare me for how quickly this time would arrive. It feels like we fast-forwarded through her childhood, and in the blink of an eye, she's now 17 and enjoying the summer before her senior year of high school. I've always prioritized discussing mental health with my daughter. I introduced practices like journaling, affirmations, and meditation early on - only the latter never really quite stuck, but two out of three isn't bad. But still, senior year is a uniquely stressful time. It's when you're on the cusp between childhood and adulthood, when life decisions are at the forefront. To be sure, it's an exciting time, but also a very scary one filled with confusion, anxiety, and pressure to get things right. Related: Visiting the Dominican Republic as an Adult Helped Me Understand My Father's Sacrifices To add to the stress, we also survived a global pandemic. Like many parents of Latine teens, I witnessed my daughter's mental health suffer during the nearly two years she attended online school. Basically, her entire middle school years were completed through virtual classes. This took a huge toll on her, and she wasn't alone. In 2020, Latinos For Education surveyed Latino families from three states about the ways COVID-19 affected their children, and mental health was a top concern. Not only did these families report witnessing a decline in their teens' mental health like I did, but they too noticed a loss of socialization among their children. It was important for us to prioritize therapy for her, and she started online therapy as a freshman. It gave me a sense of peace and relief that my teen had an objective party to whom she could express her thoughts, ideas, and the challenges she faced. I felt good knowing she had an outlet who was not Mom, someone she could work with to make sure her mental health was in good shape. Therapy is something consistent in her life now, and without giving too many details, she's expressed that she's learned a lot of coping skills and confidence-building techniques, especially when it pertains to her communication with me. As her mom, I also work on being a better listener so I can support her more than just offering unsolicited motherly advice. Physical activity also plays a role in keeping her mentally healthy. As a child, we enjoyed evening walks after dinner. It was a beautiful time when we just talked about whatever came up. As she got older, her interest in our evening walks waned, but her desire to be physically active continued. She works out at the gym during the summer because it offers free admission to high schoolers, something she discovered on her own. This summer, she begins her third semester of college courses while also working part-time at an ice cream shop and preparing to enter her last year of high school. She's expressed how stressful yet exciting this time in her life has been; she has watched as her older friends have entered college, and she's well aware that she is next in line. I offer my support by asking questions about what she envisions her life to be and how she thinks she could get there. If her answer is that she doesn't know, I let her know that that's OK too, and that at 17, knowing everything is nearly impossible. In fact, even as an adult you learn new things. Before September, we're planning to sit down and write a goals list for her senior year. We've done this nearly every school year, and we'll hang the list on the fridge or somewhere visible so that it's a reminder all year long. Even if she doesn't reach every goal on the list, it's likely that she already took the first steps to getting there, and that's just as important. As we explore different colleges and universities, I support her in what she is looking for in a… https://www.popsugar.com/family/supporting-latina-teen-prioritizing-mental-health-49377102?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[storiesoflilies]

school bus love

synopsis: he wasn’t the kind of boy who was noticed first, but when she finally saw him, the world made just a little bit more sense.

pairing: teen!toji fushiguro x teen!f!reader

warnings: none.

a/n: hello my lovelies! here’s a little piece of lily lore, and just a smidgen of my heart sprinkled into it too. this is based on the very first time i laid eyes on my boyfriend when we were young and seventeen <3 if anybody wants a continuation of this, do let me know :) enjoy xo

part 2

how strange it was to leave behind everything you had ever known for your whole life, all in pursuit of the future you wanted for yourself.

the tips of her fingers were ice-cold, with nail beds dipped in a light blue hue, and puffs of her breath came out in whispy swirls. there was no sun in the sky, only grey clouds promising sleet and snow, near slips on the icy asphalt. she stared down the road, shoving her hands into her blazer pockets, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. she thought of home, knowing it most certainly wouldn’t be this cold there.

her bus buddy was standing beside her, careful not to lean against the wet stone wall behind them, while she typed frantically on her phone. the younger kids around them chattered away without a care in the world, still viewing the cold world around them through rose-tinted glasses, their zest for life seeming invincible.

she thought about how it didn’t seem all that long ago that she was just like them, only on the other side of the world.

“hey, by the way, my friend says she’s going to join us today,” her buddy announced, flicking her hair over her shoulder with an air of nonchalance. “she gets on at the next stop.”

“sure, yeah,” she replied, not really knowing what else she could say, and acutely aware that her opinion held quite little value.

this was a whole new world to her, a completely different way of life than before. she wasn’t used to having to learn all to navigate through the intricate social rules that came with enrolling in a school where students had known each other since they were toddlers. it was hard, and so very isolating. she didn’t like how subdued she had become and clung desperately to the hope that things would get better.

her bus buddy carried herself with her chin stuck in the air, clearly relishing in how much she didn’t know about anything at all, and was more than happy to share and gossip. she told her about who was in each friend group, where they all liked to drink in secret at the weekends, and who was dating who. menial things too, like how they had somehow earned the right to sit at the back of the bus simply because they were older, and how sitting anywhere else would garner harsh stares, as if she’d grown two heads.

not that any of it really mattered to her. she was just living on a big floating rock amidst the stars and inky black expanse of the universe, and was only here to finish her high school education and move onto bigger and brighter things.

hopefully.

as if on cue, the headlights of the bus shone through the misty air, coming to a screeching halt at the bus stop. she breathed out a sigh of relief, taking her hands out of her pocket and blowing hot air into them, rubbing them together in anticipation.

“fuck, fuck, c’mon let’s get on quick and get good spots,” her friend ushered, clearly impatient. “c’mon, before all the boys get here.”

they pushed through the throng of kids clambering onto the bus, and she felt a stab of guilt, although she was grateful to be getting out of the cold. her bus buddy ostentatiously plonked herself right onto a comfy spot in the back corner, and she slowly took the seat opposite to her.

“you think the boys are going to say anything?” she asked, slightly nervous, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of a confrontation.

her friend snorted. “who gives a shit if they do?”

heat rose to the back of her neck, and she rubbed it shyly, placing her backpack onto the floor between her legs. her friend was already texting again on her phone, paying her no attention, and she busied herself with trying to fish for her earbuds, and perhaps an old memory hidden somewhere in her pockets.

soon enough, she heard the familiar sounds of the boys whooping and boisterous voices approaching the end of the bus, and she shrank further into the safety of her crevice.

“hey hey hey! the fuck’s goin on here?” droned the familiar voice of satoro gojo, who was looking at them both with a disgusted crinkle of his perfect nose.

“shut up, gojo,” her friend spat back, sitting up straighter in her seat, glaring daggers at satoru that dared him to try and say anything else. “we were here first.”

satoru seemed to concede, albeit quite obviously begrudgingly. “whatever,” he mumbled, then returned to talking about whatever the rest of them were conversing about before.

the rest of the boys clambered into the seats, with satoro and suguru geto beside each other to the far left of them, with kento nanami sliding politely onto the seat beside her, quietly apologizing for brushing his leg against hers.

and then.

he sat down across from her, right beside her friend.

he, a boy with gorgeous dark hair and even more beautiful green eyes, immediately put his feet up in the tiny sliver of space between her and nanami. he who was big and broad, just exactly her type, and deliciously handsome. she was almost shell-shocked. had she ever seen this boy before in the two months she’d been here? something inside her told her that she had, but this had to be the first time she was really seeing him.

he glanced at her before immediately putting his headphones over his ears, tuning out the sound of the bus engine rumbling and sputtering.

she bit her lip and mirrored him, ignoring that familiar boom! badum! boom! of her heart.

the world flashed with a shade of rosy pink promises.

the universe smirked at her.

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[crossfire-essays-collected]

From Crossfire #3, July 1984

This month, I would like to talk to you about 1957 Thunderbird convertibles.

But not yet. First, I’d like to talk about the incredible similarities between the strong, handsome Jay “Crossfire” Endicott and his author. The incredible part is that there aren’t nearly enough of them.

Writers, some say, always write about themselves; it matters not whether their hero is a pilot, a clown, a vampire, the President, Yertle the Turtle or even a heroine… they’re really writing about themselves. And, of course, we’ve all encountered some writers for whom that’s true — writers who, whether they’re writing fiction or discussing the state of the world, are never quite able to get off the subject of Themselves. I can think of one who couldn’t write about Somebody Else if you pointed a howitzer at his vitals.

I don’t do that; write about myself, I mean. Maybe I should but I don’t… as readers of DNAgents can probably attest. There are five widely disparate characters in that book-six, perstates Witin the, woudht behere now, d havetong since been carted off to a room with Goodyear stencilled on the walls. I used to write the Road Runner comic book and I never, in all those years, got the urge to go zooming across the desert going, “Beep beep!”

Well, maybe once. But not often.

Oh, Jay and I have our similarities: Two that I can think of. One is that he has a very strong sense of Right and Wrong and he gets rightfully steamed when he sees someone Big and/or Wrong picking on someone Little and/or Right. He believes that Justice Always Triumphs. I’d like to think Ihave the same trait but, then, who doesn’t? The other similarity, I’ll get to.

Our differences are immense. I don’t look anything like him, for one. Some of you may have read a book that Mr. Spiegle and I did for DC called BLACKHAWK-the book of which the DC Publicity Department was heard to remark, “Oh, really? Do we publish that?” Certain of my friends — I’m not going to mention any names, Richard Howell and Alan Brennert — insist that, from issue to issue, Dan subtly altered the likeness of the title character to look more and more like the author.

And maybe he did; I wouldn’t put it past Dan. But I do know I look nothing like the good-looking Mr. Endicott.

I’m not athletic, either. I may not be the worst physical specimen in this world but I’m certainly in the bottom two. Talk about clumsy: You ever see anyone trip over latitude and longitude lines?

Back when I went to University High School (rah), I set but one record in the Physical Education department and, I’m told, it stands to this day. I became the first student ever to have a perfect attendance record and still flunk Gym.

This was not as easy to do as one might think. The first day of class, Mr. Kampmann said that excessive absenteeism was the only reason he ever failed anyone. Be there every day and you’ll get at least a C. I reminded him of that the day he gave me an F, despite my showing up as regularly as ringworm in the Shower Room.

“Well,” he said. “For you, we’ll change the rule.”

I didn’t know what to do. I mean, how do you cram for Push-Ups? Finally, I had an idea. There was a problem with the scoreboard on the football field: It never did anything even remotely resembling the commands given it by the control box. Push the button to light up Second Down and the opposing team was suddenly awarded five touchdowns and an extra point. Once, in the middle of a crucial championship football game, the scoreboard suddenly decided it was baseball season and it began throwing Home Runs and Errors and Balks up there.

My scheme was brilliant, considering it was my scheme. I convinced the Phys. Ed. department to let me fix the scoreboard in lieu of taking Gym. But don’t think it was easy. For one thing, I knew about as much about repairing scoreboards as DC knows about publicizing war comics. And the bigger problem was that, my third day on the job, I accidentally fixed the damn thing—a fluke Ihad to keep hidden until I graduated, two and a half years later. It meant ripping all the wires out about three dozen times but I never went back to Gym Class.

If you want a look at the fruits of my handiwork — and at University High in general, God knows why — just turn on HBO any hour of the night or day and catch a Rock Hudson film they run incessantly called “Pretty Maids All in a Row.” Remember how I told you in #1 that, in Hollywood, everyone wants to get into the movies? Well, this includes buildings, too. Uni Hi — which made its screen debut in a Patty Duke film called “Billie” — served as Location for the film in which Mr. Hudson played a guidance counselor at a school populated by gorgeous female nymphomaniacs. The film was written by Gene “Star Trek” Roddenberry and, considering the girls l went to school with, it must surely rank as Gene’s greatest contribution to the world of science-fiction.)

What I’m getting at is that Endicott’s an athlete and I am anything but. Still, we have that one other similarity and now’s when I get to talk about 1957 Thunderbird convertibles. You’ll note that Mr. Endicott drives one. So does Mr. Evanier and I’ll tell you why…

A car buff, I’m not. I am not the mechanical type, as proven by the time I tried to look at my engine by peeking through the ignition keyhole. But when I was five, the classic ‘57 T-Bird made its debut and, by the time I was six, they were everywhere. They were going for just shy of three grand-which, today, would almost buy you two hub caps and the ash tray. I used to admire them, everywhere I went.

One day, my Uncle Aaron said to six-year-old-me, “Tell you what, Mark. When you’re eighteen, I’ll buy you a Thunderbird!”

Now I should point out, my Uncle Aaron had no intention whatsoever of buying me a car. He was just saying this to promote a little fawning gratitude from his nephew and I responded in kind. I gushed over my Uncle Aaron who was going to buy me a Thunderbird in just twelve years and he enjoyed the fawning, confident that I would forget all about it in a few months.

But Uncle Aaron was wrong. The kid had the memory of an elephant. Every week or two, I’d remind him of his pledge and every time, he’d grab his face in his hands and in semi-mock anguish go, “Oh, no! I’m going to have to buy him a Thunderbird! He’d make weeping sounds but he never said he was going to renege so I went on reminding him-not constantly but often enough. Finally, when I was about eleven, Uncle Aaron took the coward’s way out and died. Even at that age, I had the good taste never to bring up the subject of my T-Bird with his widow, my Aunt Dot.

As I grew older and ultimately went the Buick route, I sometimes toyed with the notion of buying a ’57 T-Bird. Then I checked the going rates of them and hurriedly stopped toying. You think old comic books go up in value, take a gander at T-Bird prices—and they aren’t even sealed in Mylar Snugs. I finally put the whole notion out of my mind.

Now, here’s where the story gets interesting. You were probably wondering when it would.

Many years ago, I was invited to a Hollywood-type party filled to overflowing with folks from the TV business. I was supposed to meet my date there and, when I arrived alone, I found myself waiting for the valet auto-parker to come claim my Buick and back it up the hill at 85 MPH to a too-small parking spot. Ahead of me was a sleek, shiny, fire-engine red 1957 Thunderbird convertible. Its license plate said DIAN P and out of it stepped one of the most beautiful women on this or any other planet. But I wasn’t really looking at her. I was looking at the car. If you saw this woman, you’d know how sick I really was. In fact, you can see this woman: Turn on “The Price is Right” any morning. Her name is Dian and she’s one of the models who hustle prizes on and off stage.

I found this out because, once I got inside the party, I immediately inquired about as to who she was. Armed with information from mutual friends, I stepped gingerly over to her and attempted to strike up a conversation about her car. I wanted to know if she’d sell it and I was just about to offer several of my surviving relatives in barter when she gave me an icy “Oh, excuse me, I see someone else I have to talk to” and she was gone. I later realized that she had thought I was trying to pick her up… which I might have attempted, had I not been so infatuated with what she was driving.

You’d understand if you saw this car. Matter of fact, you can see this car and how many other articles have you read with visual aids you can refer to on your very own TV? A year or so later, Dian married a TV producer and he “borrowed” the car from her to use on a series he was producing. The red T-Bird in question is the one driven by Robert Urich on the “Vegas” TV show so, if you catch one of the reruns, you’ll see the car after which I lusted so.

We now jump a few more years to a phone call from a woman lovelier than the blonde lady; lovelier even than the red T-Bird. The woman is Sharman DiVono, noted author of TV shows and books and comic books and even articles for automotive publications. It was while engaged in the last of these pursuits that Sharman met a man who had a ’57 T-Bird for sale. It was baby blue. It was fully-restored. It was on consignment from a “Celebrity Owner.” And it was very expensive. “You told me once that you wanted one,” she said. “You’ll never find a better one than this.” Sharman is invariably right about such matters so I didn’t even question that I would ever find a better T-Bird. It was Now or Never. Was I going to sink all that dough into a T-Bird or never own one for the balance of my life?

I called my shrewd accountant, C.P.A. Sharkey —the same man who plunged all my savings into a chain of Big Man’s Shops in Tokyo. He fiddled with his calculator, muttered something about partial financing and informed me that I could swing the deal IF, somehow, I could quickly raise eight thousand bucks in cash.

I got off the phone with him, mulling over that rather significantly-sized IF there. Eight thousand dollars? Didn’t seem likely…

Just then, the phone rang. It was my father calling in his official capacity of Executor of the estate of my Aunt Dot. She had died a few months earlier and now my father said, “We just finished figuring everything out and Aunt Dot left you a little over eight thousand dollars.”

So Uncle Aaron had bought me my Thunderbird, after all.

I had to get it. A coincidence like that, you don’t ignore. l am now the proud owner of a ’57 T-Bird whose one and only previous owner was Anthony Perkins. The fact that it belonged to the star of “Psycho” has had no appreciable effect on me except that, every time I sit in it, I get this uncontrollable urge to dress up as my mother. Last week’s National Enquirer had one of its famous must-read articles on how stars lost their virginity and it claims that Mr. Perkins lost his, in his car around 1962 to Victoria Principal. If the Enquirer is, by some chance, correct on this, I should probably put a commemorative plaque on my dashboard or something.

Anyway, since I enjoy my T-Bird, I figured it was the least I could do for Jay Endicott to give him one. And maybe C.P.A Sharkey can figure out some way that this makes the upkeep on it deductible. The thing drinks leaded premium gas which, out here, is obtainable only at Union-76 stations. It gets about eighty yards to the gallon which means that, when I fill up at one 76 station, I have just enough mileage to get me to the next 76 station. Still, it’s worth it… if only for this reason…

Yes, there’s more to this story. A few months ago, I had a meeting over at CBS… a whopping four blocks from my house. Usually I’d walk but I was running late so I drove the T-Bird over. The guard let me park it in the executive parking lot and I was just getting out when I heard a voice say, “Hey, great T-Bird.”

I turned and there she was: Dian from “The Price is Right.” She didn’t remember me; matter of fact, she didn’t even look at me. She was staring at the car. “I used to have one of these, she said. “But my Ex got it in the divorce. You want to sell it?”

In my iciest tone of voice, I said, “Excuse me. I see someone else I have to talk to,” whereupon I strolled off to my meeting, leaving her there to gaze longingly at the car.

Like I said, Justice Always Triumphs.

                                         — Mark Evanier

[calespsychoticbubble]

An opportunity

A few weeks ago, one of my community group leaders approached me and asked if I would be interested in taking her place. She has been in discussions with our campus pastor and some other leaders and she said she felt like she was being called to lead another group that was more focused on women, not young adults. She is a bit older, but our group loves having her as a leader because of her gentle demeanor and vulnerability. I wasn't shocked that she was looking to lead a different group since our leaders had been rather quiet over the summer, but I was a little shocked that she approached me.

I used to lead back home, and I led for many years throughout middle school, high school, and university. In those years, I had a variety of experiences as a leader and I don't think I was able to conclude my time there very well. I left my leadership position with relief after the tough last two years due to various politics and drama that had occurred. I didn't have very much faith in church leadership and I didn't trust my peers to fulfill their responsibilities. I think even in my last year as a leader I wondered if I should have led at all, if I was meant to be in that position to begin with, and that it was a good thing that I was leaving.

I guess I still have those questions to this day. Was I supposed to lead at that time? Did God have a different plan for me that I missed? I want to say that God was calling me to be faithful at that time, to serve my peers even though I felt like I wasn't doing a good job or I felt like I couldn't work with the other leaders. Our pastor at the time didn't really have any other leaders lined up and I didn't want to quit halfway or give up without the next steps planned out. So, to say that I had a good opinion of leading at the end of my time there would be a lie.

In the past four years, I've moved churches, gone back to in-person services, found a church community I wanted to invest in, started serving again and attending community group in 2022, and now I'm here. My time at this church has helped me to heal and understand my experience back home and to have trust in fellowship again.

(I will say that my faith and trust in church leadership has not been fully restored. I found that I have developed a habit of avoiding pastors if I can and when I do talk to them that I still feel guarded. That's something I have noticed and I'm trying not to let it prevent me from meeting the pastors at my church, but it's a work in progress.)

I have grown to love my community group and I have taken on tasks here and there. I've hosted a couple times, brought snacks and drinks, led discussion, and planned a couple events. Both of my leaders are quite busy with work and life, so I try to help out when I can. I was actually quite happy with how things are since I didn't have to officially take on a leadership role but I could still help out when I could.

The idea of leading a community group did come up with me and my SO a few months ago, but we didn't pursue it deeply at the time. So perhaps this offer was in response to that? I wasn't sure what to say when she asked me if I was interested, so I took a couple weeks to think about it. In those weeks, our pastor asked to talk to me and asked my SO to join us and asked if the two of us would take on a leadership role in our community group to gradually replace both of our leaders.

We took time to think about it and pray about it and over dinner we discussed our thoughts. Neither of us had any concerns about leading together, which was a good sign. Both of us are pretty busy, but it seems feasible and it is something we thought about doing before. As we transition into those roles, I am a little nervous about how my previous experience will manifest itself in my thoughts and my actions. Will I really be able to lead again? I will likely share these thoughts with my SO as time goes on so that we can support each other and pray together.

While I am nervous, I am also kind of excited to see how God will transform me again. He already did so much to change my perspective on church and community groups, I wonder how He will address my history in leadership.

[missywritesfor7]

🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺

Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?

Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 24: What If ||

Jimin and I stayed connected to each other through the night. The love we made became the most fulfilling moment I’ve ever experienced in my life. I love him, and he loves me, and we shared those beautiful feelings together.

We were so deep in each other that we forgot it was Sunday. We woke up early this Monday morning to the sound of Jimin’s alarm going off. He’s holding me from behind in big spoon position and I let out a small whine when he pulls away to shut his alarm off. We’re both still naked from last night and I really have no desire to move or do anything right now.

“I forgot what day it was,” Jimin whispers in my ear as he returns his hold around me. “We should probably get up so we can get to class.”

“I don’t wanna,” I grumble.

“I know, babe,” he says kissing my shoulder. “We have to though.”

“Says who?” I pout. I’d miss every class from here on if it meant I got to stay wrapped in his embrace like this.

“Come on,” he laughs giving my shoulder another peck and rolling himself off the bed.

I continue laying in the bed watching him make his way to the bathroom to wash up. I know I should go to class, I have a roll of film needing to be developed and I know if I don’t show up Tae is going to be all over me asking why. Still, I can’t pull myself off the bed. All I can manage to do is stare at the ceiling and continue replaying last night in my head.

It all feels like a dream, a steamy lovely dream. The feelings we shared in the most intimate way, I’ll never forget any of it. I’ll never forget how gentle he was with every move he made. How loved and cared for I felt every time his lips found mine. Class is the absolute last thing on my mind.

A few minutes later Jimin emerges from the bathroom dressed and ready to go. I still haven’t moved.

“You’re going to be late,” he says pulling me up by my arm. “You still have to go home to get your stuff.”

I let out a deep grumble and finally give in to his persistence. I don’t have much time but that isn’t quite enough to make me move faster. He helps me find my clothes that were thrown across the room and once I’m dressed he takes me to my place so I can wash up and get my things.

I’m not incredibly late to class, but late enough to trigger a few looks when I step into class in the middle of my professor speaking. I quickly take my seat next to Tae who’s looking at me with a raised brow. No doubt he’s got many questions to throw at me about what happened after he dropped me off.

Once our professor is done speaking, we’re all set free to develop our photos in the lab. During the entire time Tae is trying to get me to tell him about yesterday and explain why I’m late today. I’m not even sure where to begin, but I’m not going to detail the entire evening with our classmates all around.

When we finish developing we look over our film to see how our pictures came out. As usual Tae’s photos are amazing. He’s not only great behind the camera, but he looks flawless in front of the camera as well.

As much as I hate looking at photos of myself, especially in this case where I was broken down and sad, they still came out looking pretty good. Tae was right that there’s some beauty in the sadness of the photos. It’s hard to believe they were taken just yesterday. I’m satisfied with the way they came out but I don’t want to get my hopes up since I’ve already been crushed by this class way too much.

After class Tae drags me to his apartment so I can detail everything that happened yesterday. He grabs a couple of drinks from the fridge and gets comfortable on the couch next to me with an expectant look on his face.

“So what happened yesterday?” Tae asks eagerly. “What did you say to him? What did he say to you? Did you two make up? Why were you late to class?”

“Calm down,” I say. “I just did what you said. I opened my mouth and let whatever I felt fly out.”

“And?”

“And we talked, and cried, and…” I pause a moment having a sudden flash back of our love making and the way he made me feel the entire night.

“And??” Tae asks leaning forward.

“And…we made up.”

“You made up? That’s it? How? What did he say?”

“Yeah, we made up. That’s pretty much it. I apologized to him and he apologized to me. I told him I loved him and he said the same. Then we made lo- we made up.”

“YOU MADE LOVE?!”

“Don’t shout it to the entire city!!”

“MINA!! Oh my GOD!!”

“Will you shut up!!”

“So that’s why you were late to class?! Holy shit how long were you two going?!”

“No that’s not why I was late to class! I mean not exactly. We weren’t doing it all night!”

“Then what were you doing this morning?”

“Considering skipping class,” I say rolling my eyes wishing I had done just that.

“You should have,” he chuckles. “I would’ve.”

“I really wanted to. I’d still be in his bed right now if he didn’t drag me to class.”

“I can’t believe how hooked you are!” He says amused.

“Shut up.”

Tae continues teasing me until Jimin is out of class and texts me asking where I am. I almost forgot he drove me to school today and would be looking to take me back home. I tell him Tae kidnapped me and he can come rescue me at any time.

It’s funny how I was feeling so down and depressed about my last assignment. I felt like a failure and didn’t want to be around anyone. I felt pressured and smothered when Jimin tried to cheer me up. I was sinking so deep that I wanted to push him away, and I did. But the moment I did I regretted it immensely. In that moment, whether I knew it or not, it was clear that how I felt about him held greater weight than anything else in my life.

I’m still upset about my project. I still feel like a failure and that I let myself down because I should have done better. Those feelings unfortunately don’t go away overnight. However, it’s becoming clear to me that I have to do better about how I let that effect me.

When Jimin told me it hurts him more when I beat myself up, that broke something in me. I had become so used to dealing with these things alone that it never occurred to me that I could be hurting anyone else. The purpose of me shutting myself off from everyone is so that I don’t hurt anyone with my own bullshit problems. It never used to be an issue, but then I fell in love.

We talk more when he picks me up from Tae’s and takes me home. We said a lot yesterday, but we both know we needed to say more. We both know we need to do better about communicating our feelings to each other. We also have to realize that we can’t fix everything, nor is it a requirement to do so.

This conversation was much needed and it was relieving to finally get everything out that had been on my chest. We understand each other’s wants and needs a bit better now and vow to do better going forward. I know nothing changes instantly, but I’m happy that we’re going in the right direction.

After we got all of our feelings out I let him take a look at the film I developed today. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to show him since I’m a little embarrassed revealing photos of myself when I was in a lot of emotional pain.

“Baby, you don’t have to hide that part of yourself from me,” he says stroking my cheek. “It wouldn’t change the way I feel about you.”

I don’t know if he got his silver tongue from watching so many dramas, but it never fails to make me swoon. Without another thought I hand him my binder forgetting every reason why I was reluctant to show him in the first place.

“These are…” he pauses looking over each photo. “You’re so beautiful. Something about the way you look is heartbreaking, but so gorgeous.”

“You’re just saying that,” I say blushing. “My eyes are all puffy and red. I look a complete wreck.”

“Even if you are a wreck, you’re a beautiful wreck.”

“If you say anything else I may melt into a puddle,” I giggle.

“Maybe that’s my goal,” he smiles. He sets my binder to the side and pulls me into his arms.

How is he even real? How is any of this real? How can he say the sweetest things then follow up with the softest kisses? My dreams are nothing when I have him in reality. I guess this is love.

The next day Jimin has an appointment after class with his doctor. Every time he goes he hopes that he’ll finally be cleared to dance again. It’s only been 4 months since his surgery so no matter how hard he works, he can’t rush time. Still, he keeps hoping. Although I���m not at the doctor with him, I can imagine him poking his lip out hoping his calico cat eyes will somehow convince the doctor to let him dance.

Sure enough he comes to my place after his appointment and airs his frustrations out after being told yet again that he’s not ready. I wish there was something I could do to help ease his sorrows, but when it comes to this nothing will satiate him other than being on stage again.

“I’m so sick of this!” He huffs laying across my bed and staring at the ceiling. “I feel fine! I should be able to dance already.”

“I know you feel fine, but you still need to listen to the doctor.” I turn from my desk where I’d been studying for one of my classes before he came over. “If you rush it you could hurt yourself again and make things worse. Not being able to dance for now is better than not being able to dance ever again.”

He lets out a groan that lets me know his frustration is building. He doesn’t get angry much, but when he does it’s usually out of pure frustration. It’s always hard to know if I’ll get pouty and silent angry Jimin or fiery sassy angry Jimin. One I find adorable and the other is an eye rolling smart ass. He never takes his frustration out on me which I honestly find to be an amazing show of self control. However I still prefer adorable silent angry Jimin if I had to choose.

I turn back to my studying and leave him to continue groaning and sighing on the bed. It doesn’t take long before his frustration turns to small whimpers for attention. I turn back around and sure enough he’s in full pout looking at me to comfort him with cuddles.

“Ok my big baby,” I tease leaving my work and joining him on the bed.

“Don’t come over here if you’re going to be like that,” he playfully huffs.

“Fine.” I roll over to get off the bed but he grabs me and pulls me back to him.

“No, come back,” he pouts.

“You’re so spoiled,” I chuckle running my fingers through his hair, the one thing that always puts him at ease.

“You’re the one spoiling me,” he smiles.

“Maybe I should stop.”

“Why?”

“Just so I can see how cute you are when you pout for attention.”

He scrunches his nose at me then unleashes an adorable giggle. He knows he’s adorable even when he’s not trying to be. I’m always filled with warm and fuzziness just looking at him.

But then there’s also the feeling of ecstasy I know he can bring me that turns that warm and fuzzy feeling into fire and desire. I’m not exactly sure of sex etiquette, if that’s even a thing, but at times I find myself wanting to jump all over him without giving him a second to think. I think about the many ways I want to give myself to him again and again.

There’s such a deeper feeling of satisfaction when the person giving me pleasure is someone I love. Someone I’ve quickly grown to love very much. I feel the chill in parts of my body that have never felt that before just from the thought of him loving me back.

Each day I find myself wondering how things would be if we had gotten this close back in high school. He’s still very much the same person he was back then. The sweet kid in class who you could always go to if you needed to borrow a pencil or paper. The shining star who was always a bit too embarrassed to flaunt it. He always aced his classes just as well as he aced dancing.

What if I had talked to him just a little longer after class? I could have carried one of our many conversations in class a bit longer if I had walked out with him when the bell rang instead of running off to the band hall. We always talked in class, I can’t help but think of how many missed opportunities there were.

I always sat near him when we had a class together. He had always been easy to talk to and wasn’t as chaotic as many of our other classmates so he was a safe person to be around. If we had free time he would always play card games with me until class was over.

Still our conversations never went too far beyond typical small talk. I’d praise his dancing or congratulate him on another competition win. He’d congratulate me anytime the band accomplished something. We would talk about various shows or whatever song was popular at the time, but that was it. I could have taken it further and asked him more about himself. His hobbies outside of dancing, if such a life existed for him, or what dreams he had.

Would we be here if I had done that? Would we be 7 years in love, or would it have ended long before now? I know there’s no point in wondering what if now, yet I can’t help it. His love is a love I wish I had my entire life.