#tagging hometown because I'm petty

[arctic-hands]

Damn. To be in middle school again but with the wisdom, speech skills, and power to advocate for myself that I have now, so that when I'm told I'm just not applying myself in math when I beg for a dyscalculia screening, I can say "bitch I'm excelling at every other class I'm in except gym–which my disabled ass shouldn't even be in in the first place. You've all on multiple occasions said that my writing has brought you to tears, and i can explain a variety of scientific concepts; in particular, anything relating to health and medicine. And do not get me started on my history and social study expertise. Oh, and did i mention I've been reading at a collegiate level since fifth fucking grade? What makes you POSSIBLY think that I randomly chose math to slack off in? Assholes."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Good Fortune pop-up event.

Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin

Prompt: Fortune #7 - A single kind word can keep one warm for years, Mouth & Thirteen | Word Count: 2025 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol Use | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Future Fic, Reconnecting, Old Friends to Lovers, Eddie & Gareth are Best Friends

The lights are bright and the crowd is loud, and he's just a little bit buzzed from the shots before they took the stage, but Eddie is absolutely certain that three rows back, dead center, is Steve Harrington. There's no way it isn't him. Even older, even if Eddie hasn't seen him in years, it's him. It helps that he's standing next to Henderson, for the love of god, and a whole slew of other familiar faces that Eddie mostly hasn't seen in years.

He's sure he's not seeing ghosts. Just old friends that have traveled from all over just to see them here together tonight. 

And that's all Eddie can think about during the whole show. He tries to shake it off, tries to act like it's completely normal to have that many familiar faces in the crowd watching them perform, but it's not. In fact, it had never even crossed his mind when they landed in Indianapolis that this would somehow be a hometown show.

Eddie didn't invite anyone, didn't draw attention to it, because they don't claim Indiana. It's not home, not anymore. Hawkins told them to fuck off, and they've decided to say it right back. Hawkins can't stake a claim on them now. If they didn't want them around back then, if the majority of the town would have preferred to see Eddie dead, well, fuck them. They don't deserve to have them now that they've made a name for themselves.

Maybe that's petty. But Eddie stands by it.

He'll never set foot in that town again. Not for anything, or anyone.

Wayne understood, and washed his hands of Hawkins, too.

So, they kind of avoid Indiana in general, and aren't exactly in contact with the majority of Hawkins these days. 

Sure, Henderson and the other sheepies have made shows here and there all over the country, but going home? To that hell hole? Absolutely not. 

But seeing them all in the crowd, together again, just to see him? Fuck. It does something to Eddie that he can't explain.

After the show, Steve picks Eddie up and hugs him, cracking his back in the process.

Eddie laughs.

Nobody treats Eddie like this anymore, except for Wayne and the other guys in the band, so it's a nice change of pace to know that Steve still sees him as Eddie. Not Eddie Munson, business commodity. 

"How are you man? How's the high life?" Steve asks, and Eddie tosses his head back, laughing. Steve hasn't changed. He's a little dorky, and a lot good dude. 

"Good," Eddie says with a smile, "I'm good. How're you?"

"Good, good. I'm good."

"Still in Hawkins?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods.

Eddie doesn't see how Steve can do it, but of course they didn't try to hang Steve in the town square. Deemed guilty by the court of public opinion before the blood he didn't spill had even dried.

This is Steve Harrington, Eddie's sure he's an upstanding member of society.

"Want to get a drink?" Eddie asks, because he can't in good conscience let Steve disappear that easily. If Steve came all this way, Eddie at least needs to keep him a little bit longer.

Two drinks turn into wandering hands, and when Steve corners him in the hallway of the hotel bar back by the bathroom, Eddie leans into it. Presses against Steve, straddling Steve's thigh, grinding against him. 

"Fuck," Steve says, and that's definitely the idea, as far as Eddie's concerned. They try to keep their hands to themselves until they're in Eddie's hotel room, but then all bets are off, clearly.

Eddie couldn't have dreamed of this, even if he'd been making unattainable wishes.

It's fun, and familiar, even if it's not anything they've ever done together before. 

Eddie needed this. Needed to laugh, and fuck, to just unwind with someone he trusts with his life, not to mention his body.

Steve Harrington wanted to have sex with him, as familiar, old friends. Because, yeah, clearly they have some mutual attraction, but that's not unusual. Eddie's been attracted to lots of people over the years, and he's fucked more than he can count. Men, women. They don't mean anything, but tonight Steve crawled in his bed because he likes Eddie as a person, knows him, and trusts that they'll have fun together, not because he's famous. That's a gift. One Eddie hasn't gotten in a really long time.

Eddie rolls onto his back, and opens his thighs. 

"What do you need?" Steve asks, looking up at him with those warm eyes. And it is a need, not just a want. He's right about that.

Everything. He wants everything.

"Your mouth," he says, then, "your cock." He can't decide. 

Steve laughs, then says, "Deal," with a grin.

Eddie throws his arm over his eyes, and then realizes he doesn't want to miss this, he wants to see it all. And he knows that was a great decision, when Steve takes him into his mouth.

Holy shit. Steve Harrington, with his hair falling over his forehead, is sucking his dick, and goddamn well.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie teases, and Steve pulls off just long enough to smile a smile that settles between Eddie's ribs and takes up residence.

Eddie hasn't done this in forever, but he melts into the sheets as Steve fucks his fingers in and out of his body. He's ready. He's so beyond ready for Steve to fuck him.

"Steve, now," Eddie says. 

And Steve nods, and Eddie watches as Steve rolls a condom down his impressive cock. Then he's lining up and pressing inside. A slow, steady slide. He's open, and oh so fucking ready. His cock is hard, laying against his belly, a sign of trust, of pleasure, that he doesn't take for granted.

Steve Harrington won't hurt him. Steve Harrington saved him once, and goddamn, he might be doing it again right now.

Eddie groans. It feels so good. He hasn't trusted anybody to do this for him in a long, long time. But he knows that Steve will take real good care of him. Steve always takes good care of everyone.

And tonight is no different. Steve builds a rhythm, finding all the right places in Eddie's body, in his heart, and when Eddie comes, he laughs. He's gonna chase this particular high for the rest of his life, guaranteed.

It's morning, and the plane leaves in an hour. Flying private does save time, but he's pushing it.

Steve leans over, dressed, ready to go, and kisses him goodbye.

"It was good to see you. Maybe don't wait another dozen years," Steve says, and then with a smile, he's gone.

Another month of shows, nothing out of the ordinary, but it's been so fucking rough. Eddie can't even explain why. Nothing has changed. They've been in the swing of touring for a very long time. But he suddenly feels like he's lost all his mojo. Like he's trying to force a square peg into a round hole.

He's frustrated. Musically, and sexually, if he's honest. Nobody is holding a candle to a night with Steve Harrington, and he wishes he was surprised by that.

"Go."

Eddie jerks his head up, "What?"

Gareth smiles, "You heard me. Go."

"Go where?" Eddie asks, fiddling with the strings of his guitar, just for something to do.

"Go home. To him," Gareth answers, and Eddie knew that's what he meant.

Eddie sits there for a moment longer, and Gareth shoots him a look, "Go." 

He goes.

Their chartered plane is tied up elsewhere, so it takes waiting in an airport for nearly a day, with flight after flight falling through. Holiday travel has the airports busy, and the weather is keeping flights delayed.

He's in a private lounge, so he's not being bothered by anybody, but it's making him nervous, and a little bit crazy. He wonders if he should hit one of the pay phones and call Steve, warn him that he's coming in.

He doesn't. He thinks, no matter how this goes, that Steve will be happy to see him if his reaction after the show is anything to go by.

But he's going home for the first time in over a decade, because he wants to see Steve. Needs to. Because what he felt that night, seeing him again, isn't something he's felt in a very long time.

Steve doesn't seem all that surprised to see him, but he welcomes him with open arms.

"I can't believe I'm back in this town," Eddie says. "How can such a shithole have you in it?"

Steve laughs.

"At least they took down the fucking sign declaring Hawkins the birthplace of Corroded Coffin. Like hell it is."

Steve smiles, a twinkle in his eye.

"Come with me," Steve says, and Eddie follows him out the back door and towards a little shed. He can't imagine what Steve needs to show him out here, but after Vecna, and all the shit that happened in the Upside Down, if Steve Harrington says jump, Eddie will only ask how high.

The shed has three padlocks, and Eddie is suddenly scared he's gonna be a headline. He doesn't really know Steve Harrington anymore. He could be a serial killer. 

He laughs to himself.

"It's not a serial killer shed," Steve says, as if he can read his mind.

"I didn't think that," Eddie says.

He totally thought that.

Steve unlocks the last padlock and swings open the door.

Eddie's stunned. 

There's at least a dozen road signs, all proclaiming Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Eddie laughs, cackles, honestly.

"You didn't?" he asks, and Steve grins.

"I absolutely did. Every last one. They finally stopped putting them back up. They blamed the kids wanting them for souvenirs, not the middle school phys ed teacher stealing them because I knew how much you'd hate them."

Eddie loves him more than he's ever loved anyone, he's pretty sure. He can't believe Steve did this for them, he wasn't even in contact with any of them. 

"How did you know…?" Eddie trails off, not sure how to word it.

"That you'd hate it?" Steve asks.

And Eddie nods.

"You never came home, and for good reason. They didn't deserve to say you were theirs. You were always ours, though. We're really proud of you."

Eddie barrels into him, hugging him tight, "Thanks, Steve."

"It was nothing," he says, and then he grins, "Robin helped."

"Hell yeah, Buckley did."

Ten Years Later

"It was go," Eddie says in the interview chair that he's been in for hours. Press junkets are the fucking worst. 

"Go?" the interviewer asks.

Eddie nods, "You asked for the kindest word I've ever been told. Go."

"Do you want to elaborate?" she asks, trying to probe.

"Not really," he says, but offers a smile, and she returns it.

It's his secret. His and Gareth's, he supposes, but it changed the whole trajectory of his life. Warming up all the coldness that he hadn't even realized he was feeling until Steve Harrington waltzed back into his life.

Gareth told him to go, set him free, trusting that he'd return back to the band better than he left it.

He did.

With Steve, he's better. Happier. Their music has only gotten better with Eddie settled into his own skin, his own love. He has a home, even if god-fucking-forbid, it's in Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Once word got out, they put up another sign.

Eddie stole it. The very last sign Hawkins ever tried to put up.

They arrested him, and he smiled for his mugshot.

Eventually the charges were dropped. They were far too embarrassed to actually try him for stealing his own sign, unwilling to put him on the stand to ask him why.

He'd love to tell him.

So, Hawkins has left him alone, and he's made peace that he may never forgive and forget, but Steve's whole life is here, and that means Eddie's gonna be here, too.

They let him keep the sign. It's in the shed with the other thirteen.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: I'm always such a sucker for Eddie making peace with Hawkins stories. They probably don't deserve it, but he does.

[arctic-hands]

Oh my high school would have absolutely believed this. My sophomore year, a very strict dress code went out two weeks before school started, when most kids had already bought their new clothes, with rules saying things like no stripes, plaid, patterns, mixed colors of any kind. All clothes must be solid color with no decoration of any kind. I was "lucky" to have been in summer school that year so I got advanced notice before I did my clothes shopping, and the experience was entirely frustrating (more than usual, seeing as I was a "tomboy"– i.e. trans–and clothes shopping with my grandmother who desperately wanted me to dress in feminine clothing like I did when I was eight), because my grandmother kept holding up clothes that were seemingly innocuous, like a blue shirt with slightly darker blue sleeves, and I had to keep telling her it would get me in trouble, and she didn't believe me and just thought I was being difficult.

Anyway, come to the start of the year where there was a one day "grace period" where it would be pointed out to students why their clothes were in violation but they wouldn't get in trouble the first day, as long as they wear appropriate clothes after. I must emphasize that most of the kids–in a public school with a sixty percent poverty rate–had already bought their clothes and couldn't afford to get new ones, especially within a day.

Come second day, where my high school suspended over two hundred students for dress code violations, some as small as having a tiny embroidered logo on your otherwise plain polo shirt, or having a jeans back pocket that had diagonal stitching going across it. I saw one kid walking out of school with a suspension slip wearing the exact same blue shirt with slightly darker sleeves that my grandmother tried to buy for me. Kids lost their scholarships after being suspended. The news got involved. Parents and suspended students picketed the school for the duration of the suspensions (I wanna say a week, maybe two). It was so bad the state launched an investigation and I think the school was fined (this was fifteen years ago so I don't remember all the details of what was going on with the admin side of things). It was awful and ridiculous.

And the school's rational for all of this? They truly believed, with all of their abundance of critical thinking skills, that drug deals were being conducted based on the pattern of shirts kids were wearing. That plaid meant they were looking for/selling cocaine, that a floral print meant marijuana, that this pattern meant that drug, and so on. They were completely convinced that all of us students were either looking for drugs or selling them, and they were willing to disrupt everyone's education, ruin scholarships (in many, many cases, the only way students in a very poor public school could have gone to college), be fined by the state, and have the administration blasted by not only the Indiana news media but by nearby Ohio too, than stop for a moment to consider that it's very unlikely that ninety-nine percent of the student body were dealing in drugs.

The kicker? The students that were actually known or suspected to be drug dealers started (jokingly, fueled by the irritation we were real feeling) spreading the rumors that the admins were the ones doing drugs themselves, because it was completely outlandish to think a floral print shirt meant any kind of drug use.

The school never apologized for this, even after the state investigation. The rules stayed in place for as long as I was in high school, which meant every year there were always freshmen being suspended because they didn't understand the very strict rules.

the brightly coloured skinny jeans that Teens wore in the late '00s and early '10s were meant to denote where you stood in gang hierarchy. salmon was the highest rank and meant you had killed someone.

I think the funniest part of this is that, if you'd floated this idea at the time, at least some parents would have believed you.

[romaniangothic]

oc profile

thank u @vronism for the tag ^^ gonna tag @takeoutnight @ranishoo @spud1234556 @saevus-brutalis @gothgaycowboy

if u did ur v i might as well do mine cus if i don't write down my thoughts ill just forget em 💀

tws for mentions of suicide/overdosing/selfharm/child abuse

General

Name: Axel V. Graves (yes, the V stands for something. no, he won't tell)

Alias(es): grim reaper (unwillingly), ax or axe, smartass/idiot/asshole etc etc (by both johnny and kerry lmao)

Gender: nonbinary trans man (he/they)

Age: 47 as of 2077

Birthdate: 10th june 2030

Place of birth: Night City

Hometown: Night City. he can't stay away from this place

Spoken languages: native in english but also knows enough japanese to hold somewhat of a conversation. some russian he picked from his dad, too

Sexual preference: gay (possibly demisexual? he only realizes it now 💀)

Occupation: petty thief (2046-2053), backstage tech dude? idk (2053-2055) merc but mostly a hitman (2056-2075), guitarist for some indie band (Atlanta, 2075-2077) merc again (2077-2078), idk, maybe he'll go back to doing music stuff. maybe with kerry this time 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (2078-??????)

Appearance

Eye colour: used to have brown eyes but he has mods in them now. he now has all black scleras with yellow irises and slit pupils (basically just freaky cat eyes)

Hair colour: naturally black. he's greying in 2077 but he dyes it so you wouldn't really know

Height: 6'4 / 193 cm

Scars: bunch of sh scars that were mostly covered by either chrome or tattoos. some he either got in brawls or when he was a dumbass teen

Favourite

Colour: mostly darker colors (reds and stuff maybe?)

Hair colour: just his natural one, he never really had others. (definitely doesn't like his white hair but he does think it looks hot on a certain someone)

Song: black holes (solid ground) by the blue stones (not really a favorite song, just the song i associate with him the most. he has a whole playlist actually)

Food: he's not really picky but he does have a thing for sweets (is that technically food? no)

Drink: just inject coffee straight into his veins, that'd be fine

Have They…

Passed university: never even finished middle school

Gotten pregnant: no, and he'd rather keep it that away so he definitely had surgery/mods for it as soon as he could (or whatever they do in the future)

Kissed a boy: too many

Kissed a girl: once or twice when he was a teen

Gotten tattoos: a whole bunch of em (i'm designing them rn and weeping)

Been in love: yep (derogatory)

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: he doesn't believe in sleep

Are They…

A virgin: nope and that's all i'm saying on nsfw stuff 💀. man's a bigger whore than johnny, im sure of it

A cuddler: only sometimes. he's pretty touch averse

A kisser: yeah but mostly on knuckles/cheeks/neck places like that. likes giving more than receiving tbh

Scared easily: can't afford to be in his line of business. there Are certain things that'll get to him tho 👁

Jealous easily: if there's enough communication, no

In love: yes, much to his dismay

Single: yes and no. he complicates things with both kerry and johnny for absolutely no reason 🤧

Random Questions (TW: Self harm/suicide mention)

Have they harmed themselves: yes and he still does. he'd rather not talk about it

Thought of suicide: all his life (he gets better i promise)

Attempted suicide: definitely more than once. first one was probably at 12 or something like that. latest one was around 2077-2078

Wanted to kill someone: yes and has. will do it again most likely

Have/had a job: way too many to count tbh

Have any fears: people he cares about getting hurt because of him. sharp knife-like objects as well

Family

Sibling(s): he was an only child

Parent(s): i never thought about naming them even though they're big parts of the reason axel is the way he is today 💀 his mom that died of a drug overdose when he was pretty young and his piece of shit dad that he killed at 13

Children: absolutely not. he's too scared of becoming like his dad

Significant other: kerry (affectionate) and johnny (derogatory)

Pet(s): Nibbles the cat my beloved (he wanted to call the cat johnny but human johnny didn't appreciate it too much)

[kaoru-takaida]

LONG Character Survey: Tius Mason

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Tius Mason

NICKNAME: N/A

AGE: 25

BIRTHDAY: 20th Sun of the First Astral Moon (January 20th)

ETHNIC GROUP: Miqo'te (Seeker of the Sun)

NATIONALITY: Eorzean

LANGUAGE(S): Eorzean

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: ?

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Taken

CLASS: All Rounder

• Specializes in defensive and illusion arts

• Also skilled Paladin, and studying healing arts

HOMETOWN / AREA: NA

CURRENT HOMETOWN/ AREA: Mor Dhona

PROFESSION: Scion

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: White, silver/black

EYES: Blue

NOSE: Sharp

FACE: Pointed

LIPS: Full and plump

COMPLEXION: Natural

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Various battle scars and burns

TATTOOS: Regular Miqo markings (blue and bkack)

HEIGHT: 5'9"

WEIGHT: 140 lbs

BUILD: Toned, fit, athletic

FEATURES: Beauty mark left corner of his mouth, and cat feet *new* scar on right cheek,

ALLERGIES: N/A

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Usually tussled and with a stray bit of hair sticking out and fluffed upward in the back or pulled back in a messy ponytail/bun

USUAL FACE LOOK: No makeup, clean, tired at times

USUAL CLOTHING: Usually short to no sleeves, a few necklaces and something "to show off my nice abs and arms. Because they deserve it. ;3"

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Closed spaces, bugs that crawl, heights, losing loved ones, being weak, captivity

ASPIRATION(S): To support Kaoru and his sister and someday have a family

POSITIVE TRAITS: Energetic, strong willed, straight forward, funny, caring, no nonsense, calculating, stealthy, confident

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Gets jealous easily, blunt, stubborn, acts on emotions, no hesitation to start arguments, cocky at times

ZODIAC: Capricorn

TEMPERAMENT: Hyper comic relief

SOUL TYPE(S): Rogue, Jack of all trades

ANIMALS: White Lion

VICE HABIT(S): Squats, lounging, fishing, sparring

FAITH: The Twelve

GHOSTS?: I guess

AFTERLIFE?: maybe

REINCARNATION?: Probably

ALIENS?: Dude, there are other worlds that we know of. So duh.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: What the what?

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Um...

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: I think you should leave the political questions for Alphinaud...

EDUCATION LEVEL: Basic education, extensive training in illusionary and defensive arts, some training with Arenvald as a Paladin, *new* minimal training in healing arts

FAMILY.

FATHER: Ebinger Mason= adoptive (deceased)

MOTHER: Nanci Heartilind= adoptive (deceased)

SIBLINGS: A'mandi Heartilind (alive)

EXTENDED FAMILY: Scions of the Seventh Dawn

NAME MEANING(S): NA

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?:  N/A

FAVORITES.

BOOK:

MOVIE PLAY:

5 SONGS:

• "Deeper" by Valerie Broussard, Lindsey Sterling

• "Darkside" by Alan Walker

• "Silver Lining" by Hurts

• "Alligator Sky" Owl City

• "Lights" by BTS

DEITY: Azeyma, Nymeia

HOLIDAY: Little Lady's Day

MONTH: January/ First Astral Moon

SEASON: Spring

PLACE: Costa Del Sol

WEATHER: Bright and sunny, warm with cool breeze, clear

SOUND: Waves crashing in the beach, gentle wind, chocobo carriage

SCENT(S): Spice, ocean smells

TASTE(S): Sea salt ice cream, dango, cafe de Leche

FEEL(S): Cotton, soft leather sofa, warm cuddles, cat paw pads

ANIMAL(S): chocobo

NUMBER: 3

COLORS: Light blue, grey, white, black

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Athletic, fast learner, has many tricks up his sleeve, can detect lies without fail, master of illusionary defense

BAD AT: Controlling his feelings, cleaning, minding his own business

TURN ONS: Smart, can enjoy little things and let loose, laughs at his jokes, nice, compassionate, selfless

TURN OFFS: Selfishness, ignorance, pettiness, laziness

HOBBIES: Training, fishing, exploring, playing

TROPES: Sexy comic relief

AESTHETIC TAGS: Pastel blues with white or black, outdoor fitness, ocean skies

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): Nada

ALT FC(S): Nope

OLDER FC(S): Nunka

YOUNGER  FC(S): <sigh>

VOICE CLAIM(S): Bryce Papenbrook voices him?

GENDERBENT FC(S): Pffft.

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

• I guess Tius would fit perfectly in an action comedy. With a but of mystery.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

• Tius would definitely be into epic trailer music covers.

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

• I wanted to create a character like Chat Noir from Miraculous Ladybug but for my own.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

• At first I had planned on making a fanfic featuring him and another person as the main characters, but he eventually was put on the back burner til I needed a romantic interest for Kaoru in the main narrative. He's essentially a catboi who is the culmination of what I find attractive in FFXIV paired with the voice and attitude of Chat Noir from Miraculous Ladybug.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

• That I don't really have much of a feel for him 100% yet. He's still in the creation process and has been developing as I go, much like my main Kaoru has.

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

• I guess the sarcasm. And the humor. The jokes he uses generally are all my own comedic tastes. So I guess I'm secretly a funny person.

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

• I think Tius and I would be great friends.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

- Kaoru Takaida: His loving girlfriend

- Hope Gallant: His girlfriend's best friend (@louderthanthedj)

- Alphinaud Leveilleur: Always had a rivalry with for Kaoru's attention which they eventually worked out

- G'raha Tia as The Crystal Exarch: Immediately suspected his feelings for Kaoru and saw past the lies he spun, still a sore topic

- Thancred Waters: Thancred was always a mentor to Tius and teaches him everything he wants to learn

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?

• I basically wanted Kaoru to have a romantic interest in her adventures with @louderthanthedj and he became such a great character

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

A couple of days since I work a crap ton and my internet is poopy.

[arctic-hands]

My high school DID suspend hundreds of students the second day of school over ridiculous dress code violations. The new dress code rules only went out two weeks before school started, so everyone had already bought their clothes, and at the time sixty percent of the school was below poverty lines so we couldn't afford to buy new clothes on a whim. We weren't allowed to wear stripes or floral patterns or plaid or any kind of non-solid color shirt, for the stupidest reason: our school board was convinced that students were using different pattern shirts to coordinate drug deals. (Meanwhile, the kids who were the actual drug dealers were like "what the fuck? No we aren't".)

I saw a kid who was wearing a solid blue shirt with sightly darker blue sleeves with a suspension form. A girl was suspended for having diagonal stitching over her jeans back pockets. Kids who got nice polo shirts were suspended for having the little logo on the chest. I managed to avoid getting suspensions because I was in summer school that year and got the dress code notification early, and even then while shopping for clothes my grandmother would hold up something innoccuous and get snippy when I told her it was a dress code violation.

Even the teachers thought it was over the top and tried their best not to report anyone, but the admins were going room-to-room with their hands full of suspension papers.

Anyway it was a huge mess, the news got involved, students who were suspended lost their scholarships, there were protests by the suspended students and their parents that nearly turned into a riot, and the school (I don't remember if it was just the high school or the whole town school system) was heavily penalized and fined because of the ridiculousness and bad press.

(I don't know if it's still up on YouTube, but the most notable news station that covered it was WHIO from Dayton, Ohio. It was Richmond (Indiana) High School and I want to say it was in twenty ten.)

If I was a mom and my teenage daughter got dress coded at school.... I would pick THE messiest fight with her principal. If a grown man said that my teenage daughter's clothes were distracting? I would be so fucking pissed. That man would never breathe near my child again

[arctic-hands]

Picture it: sophomore American history. The year is two thousand and eight. The teacher is known for passing out jolly ranchers, one per student per day, when a kid does a good job. One day, she wants us to list every state in the country. Kids start listing them off in unison, mostly alphabetically, but falter around the I states (this is in Indiana, mind). Except one triumphant voice lingers as every other voice trails off in doubt and consternation. This voice flawlessly recites every state in these United States* as the class and teacher stare in awe, and at the very end the resounding voice makes mention of Puerto Rico and Guam as territories. The teacher wordlessly hands over two jolly ranchers.

A new day. List the presidents. Nobody knows beyond Washington, Lincoln, FDR, JFK, Clinton, George W. Bush–the incumbent finishing up his final term in a few months. Except. One voice–just as triumphant–recites every president, in order, even making mention of Grover Cleveland's non-consecutive second term. Everyone–teacher and student alike–stares again, this time almost in horror. The voice, embarrassed and blushing at the stares this time, finishes the forty-three chronologically, and this time as the teacher hands over another two jolly ranchers she overcomes her shock to ask "How did you know that??"

At which the body that contains the voice shrugs sheepishly, pops a blue raspberry in their mouth, and makes a vague "I 'unno" sound–unwilling to admit that the Fifty Nifty song they sang with their class in a third grade recital had permanently seared itself into their brain, as did the Nickelodeon presidents song that aired during the Oh Four election between Bush and Kerry

*I realized after while at dinner that evening when I told my parents about it that I had completely skipped Pennsylvania and Rhode Island, but the listing was so smooth and confident that no one noticed. I never made that mistake again regardless

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The galling thing about being forced to drop out by the school itself was that even with all the school I missed being out sick, I was a damn good test taker, and in the No Child Left Behind Years that meant I was funding the school, but for some reason that was lesser priority than the attendance record

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I can neither read the words "amino acids" nor watch "All Good Things..." without remembering being in my eighth grade science class during an open book trivia competition, and the final question was "what are the building blocks of life?" at which point I smiled, closed my science book while everyone else was frantically rifling thru theirs, calmly raised my hand, and confidently said "amino acids", which gave me enough points to win, and the whole class (all whom refused to partner with me for the game, leaving me to compete alone) to scream about how I cheated somehow by not having to search the book for it, all of which made the cheesequake blizzard my teacher bought me as my prize all the more sweeter 😋

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I think I knew Indiana–even my liberal enclave of a hometown–was a completely lost cause way back in like two thousand and six, when I did an eighth grade report trying to bring attention to the Darfur genocide, which at that point was three years into it's seventeen year ordeal (officially. It's starting back up after the civil war in Khartoum), and had already killed thousands, and left tens of thousands in refugee and IDP camps. Things I spoke about, pictures I showed, stories from refugees that I spread to them. I was thirteen.

And when I when I made mention of how some Darfuri rebels had attacked Sudanese government installations at the start of the conflict, one boy interrupted me and said "So they attacked the government. They deserve it then." Which led to almost the entire class nodding and chiming in with the same as I stood by the PowerPoint projector in shock.

Like was I a perfect, perfectly "woke" teenager? Fuck no. I did and said things as a teenager and even as a younger adult that make me want to turn my skin inside out in shame. But did I at thirteen years old also still have a few ounces of compassion in me, enough to know that an entire population of people shouldn't been genocided because of the actions of a few, however right or wrong those actions may have been? Yes.

I couldn't get out of that shithole state fast enough

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I'm just remembering a jackass classmate I had at my first-thru-eighth grade knockoff of a Montessori school. The one who in eighth grade demanded--red in the face--why I didn't drop out already after being out sick again for two weeks, as if my health and education were any of his business

Anyway, he was always going on about what proud Sicilians he and his family were, but then in seventh grade geography we were looking at a map of Europe and he threw a fit demanding to know why Sicily wasn't labeled, and I had to be the one to break it to him that Sicily was part of the country of Italy and had been for over a century by that point. He was close to tears.

Also he had been looking at Corsica

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Actually that anecdote in my notes needs to be mentioned here given the rampant book and history banning sweeping America.

If I hadn't independently read a book about the Holocaust at age nine, I would have believed my dumbass fourth grade teacher when she tried teaching the class that hitler died in World War One, that World War Two was solely about Pearl Harbor, and no mention of the Holocaust at all. That's what my classmates and I would have learned and internalized because we had been conditioned to believe what our teachers said unquestioningly. God only knows what we would have done with that (lack of) information. At the very least, we would have all been proven to be fools in high school, and we very well could have ended up Holocaust deniers.

But because I, on my own at nine years old, read a book about the Holocaust–something no doubt the book banners/burners believe to be "too inappropriate" for (white, gentile) nine-year-olds to read–I was able to challenge that unquestionable "lesson", and was able to back it up when my teacher tried to say I was completely wrong and just being difficult.

Was my teacher just an incompetent who had no business being in education? Had she been taught the exact same thing but lacked the capacity to question critically, and didn't belong in education? Or was she intentionally twisting a lesson to further her own agenda, and had no business being in education? She certainly had the capacity to be cruel. She zeroed in on me immediately after that, and sent me home crying many, many times. Even other kids were commenting how she had it in for me, specifically.

Conservativism in these days believes and teaches that children should not question authority. Conservatism these days believes that books about history, social sciences, the world at large are inappropriate for children to learn. Surely anyone can see how this will lead to incompetent teaching at best and active, malicious, twisting of the historical truth and truth of the community and world.

It's a cliché, but books really are a ticket to new ways of thinking, of broadening your mind, and of accepting those whose stories differ from yours. And that's why books are so dangerous to conservatives, because if I hadn't read a book about the Holocaust at age nine, I would have believed that authority without question

This isn't an attempt at a flex I swear and I recognize people can have different learning experience and still be intelligent even if they don't/can't read, but given my abysmal education growing up I have to wonder what would have happened to my brain if I wasn't such a voracious reader as a kid

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Shout out to JJ, a kid in my eighth grade class whom I shared a class with since first grade, who after I returned from another stint of being sick (about two weeks this time) got in my face and angrily demanded why I hadn't just dropped out already. Like, red in the face angry. It was bizarre.

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Shout-out to my bitchy high school nurse whose only offered solution to my complaints about my stomachaches was to hand me a peppermint, but then couldn't conceive that student with Crohn's disease would have frequent stomachaches and told me she wasn't giving me any more because I was just faking it for the candy

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Every time I remember a childhood memory I feel the irresistible urge to call out my entire hometown

So thank you, everyone who participated in the very long-running gag in middle school of standing right by my left year and screaming as loud as you can, thank you for making me partially deaf in that ear for a while in eighth grade

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I grew up attending a knock-off Montessori from first to eighth grade that billed itself as an advanced and alternative method school that would allow kids grow at their own pace (ha! says the disabled kid) but in freshman world history both I and a girl from said knock-off Montessori didn't know the answer to something and my teacher flat out asked if we were from that school and gleefully said in front of the entire class that every student he's had from my school was at least a year behind everyone else, so you can understand why I'm flustered about my education

Regular public school has a bad reputation but goddamn did Discovery fuck us all over