#the fact that none of you told me i wrote class instead of level in this even after three hours is a betrayal. how dare. 😤 (jk lol)

[essektheylyss]

Okay but can FCG actually take a level in gunslinger. If any cleric in this show has the energy to go full "I'm a healer, but— [cocks gun]" it is FCG.

[stanleyisworking]

MOE Pt. 6: Department Meetings

As part of the internship program, my duties were not only to conduct lessons, but I was attending department meetings and further training as well.

I will take a step away from writing about the teaching aspect, as my day-to-day routine has now become more or less stable. Sometimes the occasional "Oh no" moment would happen in the classroom - for example, a student threw his guitar on the table and challenged me, but I chose to walk away and carry on delivering the lesson. I have met a few "ringleader" students and my colleagues often whispered to me about them in the staff room, telling me to watch out for a specific student and how to handle them better, but I choose not to box them in a specific category and it was not in my domain to handle disciplinary measures, so often times, I would try to keep a distance as much as possible unless it was disruptive and I had to find out who their form teacher was.

Thankfully, none of that happened! Usually, ignoring their outburst was good enough because according to my research, children often act out if they want you to pay attention to them. I remember I did that a few times in my early years as well. In my opinion, my way has always been to not give them what they are looking for, only when they deserve it and have put in the work.

Onto department meetings!

A close observation during every meeting led me to realize one thing: teachers are human and they genuinely want the best for their students.

Each department from each subject had its meetings to go through students' performance, challenges, guidelines for setting exam papers, what they can do to manage lower-performing classes, etc.

Earlier, my mentor told me "Uh, Stanley... would you be okay to sit in the science department meeting? Music is like... there's only two of us today, so."

I wasn't surprised. I got a rough idea of how music was not deemed as a core subject in the MOE syllabus throughout my time here so far, and my school did not offer O level music, so there weren't much meetings involved.

I spent my time accompanying my mentor wherever she needed me - science meetings were one of them.

The science department had one of the most passionate teachers I had ever seen. They came in super prepared, slides on their laptop, focused on their agenda and asked relevant questions to their colleagues around the table. I felt a bit awkward sitting around that table because they were talking about how to better deliver topics like atoms and I only knew how to tell them about triads.

However, the content they were discussing itself did not matter. It was the lesson delivery that I felt could be applied to any subject. Apparently, a lot of analogies are used in teaching. Explaining difficult concepts using day-to-day scenarios or facts. I took some of these concepts and wrote it in my diary to use in my music lessons in the future.

After the meetings, I grew curious about how the teachers managed student's welfare instead. I had a brief conversation with my mentor regarding this and she mentioned the system now is very aware of mental health, and this school has "care sessions" - during which, form teachers will pick a few students to talk to them one-on-one during the morning assembly period. I asked if I could join these sessions and she said yes.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

[ladyanput]

Ok so this is the third time that I'm sending you an ask tonight. (or is it night time in your country?) I'm being annoying right now but whatever. So I've been cackling about those salt fics you wrote because they are just amazing. I have a request, though it is up to you to write it or not. So, can you write a salt fic where someone got an interview with Ladybug (probably Aurore) and then they ask her why they replaced the old heroes like Rena Rouge, Carapace and etc. and LB is just like I don't work with dumb shits or somethin'. Then there is also a new Black Cat (Probably Luka, Felix, or Damian) because Adrien here is an asshole and this fic is saltier than salt water. Then LB also insults Alya's blog and their school. Those foolish mortals get some lawsuits and the rest is up to you. (This request is probably messed up since it's already midnight here and I can't sleep.)

You're never annoying, I just apologize that it took me so long to get to you. I do hope you don't hold it against me, darling.

A one on one interview with Ladybug was basically unheard of if you weren't the Ladyblog or Nadja Chadwick. Ladybug had made it firm that she wasn't a celebrity, she was a hero. She wasn't there for clout, for attention, for fame or fortune. She just wanted to keep Paris safe.

That's was Aurore admired about her. And why she felt queasy as she sat across from the heroine, who had given her of all people an interview. But she got ahold of herself, taking deep breaths as the cameraman began counting down. And when he hit 'one', she put on her best smile and straightened in her seat.

"Hello Paris! Welcome back to 'Latest Buzz'! I am your lovable host, Aurore Beauréal. Today I am here with a very, very special guest, our very own heroine of Paris; Ladybug!"

Ladybug beamed right at the camera, but gave a shy little wave, giving away the nerves she obviously had.

"Now, Ladybug, I'm so glad you requested to be on the show. You know, I initially thought I had misheard when Estelle told me. Usually you're not big on personal interviews." Aurore gave her full attention to Ladybug, but keeping the bright, friendly smile and perfect posture.

"Well, I tried a few times actually. But when I did, none of them were really great experiences." Ladybug admitted and both girls immediately thought of that disastrous Face-to-Face interview. It left a bitter taste in their mouths. "My issue is that misinformation has been spread around a lot recently. It's made me realize that I need to find more trustworthy sources."

"Ladybug. I vow on my integrity as a host and Estelle's reputation as a journalist that we are people who research facts. We don't ambush our guests, we respect them." She said, placing a hand on her heart. Ladybug saw an honesty in her eyes that she hadn't seen in such a long time. It honestly made her feel.. Respected. "Now, Ladybug.. We both know you have a lot of fans. A lot of admirers. False information can be spread so easily these days, which sources specifically are you telling people to avoid?"

"Well.. With Face-to-Face, I found that I was entirely ambushed in that interview. I wanted to speak about my hero work, but instead Nadja kept trying to needle her way into my personal life. That picture she had shown in largely out of context; when Dark Cupid attacked and Chat Noir was under his spell, it was the only way to get him free."

"Yes, I remember watching that. I'll be honest Ladybug, I felt bad for you." Aurore bit her lip, but smiled a bit when Ladybug nodded. "I mean, Chat Noir wasn't helping either. He seemed to be trying to push this narrative forward that you two are a couple."

"And we're not!" Ladybug burst out before she could stop herself. Everyone in that studio could hear the utter stress and frustration in her voice. "I've begged and begged Chat Noir to stop with the flirting, the 'telling people we're dating', everything! I just wanted him to focus and he couldn't seem to do that!"

"Is that why you replaced him? Because of his slacking off and refusing to take anything seriously?" Aurora sat up an bit straighter, her eyes going wide.

".. Not exactly, no. It was a bunch of issues that eventually piled up and boiled over." Ladybug made some gestures with her hands, trying her hardest to find the words but just letting out a long and pained sigh in the end. "I do enjoy my new partner now. He is more serious, more stable. I know he won't go off and pout if I deny something he wanted. I needed an entirely new team, as a matter of fact."

"Well I am going to say, on behalf of everyone here, that we're glad. We swear on our integrity as journalists that if such rumours were to ever surface again, we will do our proper research." Aurore beamed and many of the staff and crew behind the cameras nodded and gave Ladybug their thumbs up. Honestly, it warmed Ladybug's heart to see such support.

When had been the last time someone had supported her like this? Sure, her parents supported her, but her friends..? Her peers? No, none of them had supported her in a long time.

"Speaking of research, I'd say to stay away from the Ladyblog." It burned to say it but it had to be said. Alya had crossed so many lines it wasn't even forgivable at this point. She had gone too far, had betrayed too many.

"Wait, what?" Aurore nearly jumped out of her seat but quickly composed herself, taking a deep breath. "Pardon me Ladybug, but the Ladyblog has been a vital source of information since the very beginning."

"And I'm not denying that!" Ladybug quickly held up her hands, her eyes desperate now. "But please let me explain. The Ladyblog was amazing in the beginning, but like all things, it started to go astray. It was things like trying so hard to find out my identity. Trying to push that narrative of that whole superhero couple thing.. Ladyblogger Alya Césaire has proven time and time again that she is not trustworthy. I mean, I thought she was my biggest fan. Why does she keep pushing my words aside?"

Many people who watched the interview would agree. If you idolized someone, respected someone, truly looked up to them.. Why would you push aside their words, their wishes to try and push the narrative you're so convinced is true, but isn't there?

"And don't get me started on the whole Lila Rossi craze she seemed to be on now." At Ladybug's mention of Lila Rossi, both Estelle and Aurore had to keep from rolling their eyes. They knew all about the girl.

"You speak as if you are quite frustrated, Ladybug. What an odd reaction to your best friend." Aurore leaned forward a bit in her seat. Everyone else got to the edge of theirs. Ladybug only shook her head, looking utterly defeated.

"That's the thing, she isn't my best friend." It took everything to keep from satin that she hated her, that she had taken away her friends and her life. "The only times she's met Ladybug is when she's been akumatized, which has been around six or seven times at this point. And the other things she's claiming are so outlandish! Saving Jagged Stone's kitten from a airport runway? Clara Nightengale stealing her dance moves? And the Ladyblog just posts it out there, claiming every single story is true. I'm just scared that people are taking this one hundred percent seriously. That's why I had to drop Rena Rouge and Carapace from the team as they believed Lila Rossi over me. They didn't even try to confirm these rumours! And it hurts to think that one day, someone will take Lila's words seriously and get hurt. What if she says it's safe to dip strawberries in bleach? Or tells someone that she found a way to tame some kind of wild animal? Someone would get hurt because they believe her story and try it out for themselves!"

"My goodness, I can definitely see how that is a problem. Misinformation is very easy to spread thanks to the internet, so you being worried is a very relatable thing." Aurore nodded, then tilted her head ever so slightly. "Ladybug, do you know anyone who has taken her word seriously? This is besides the Ladyblog of course."

Ladybug closed her eyes briefly, mentally debating with herself before finally giving in. These things needed to be said.

"Collège François DuPont. Now I wasn't there personally, but I heard about this situation and looked into it. The entire situation was appalling. Apparently a student was found to have cheated, assaulted another student, and commited thievery. But the thing that stuck out is only one person saw her do all of these things; Lila Rossi. No investigation was done, no questioning other students. This student was then expelled immediately. Her teacher and her principal didn't even give her a chance. And from what people have been saying, Miss Rossi's behaviour is actively encouraged in that school. She misses countless days, no, months of school, claiming she's traveling. But when she was supposedly in Achu, doing whatever it was she was claiming with Prince Ali, I was fighting her akuma here in Paris on Heroes Day!"

"I was at school the day that happened. I knew the student that happened to. They're the nicest person in that school! Never a bad thing to say about anyone, always willing to help! I agree with you on how things were handled, it's a level of incompetence that is baffling." Aurore's hands slowly curled into fists as she remembered it all. She slowly shook her head. "The principal, their teacher, their class who backed up Rossi. It must have hurt them so much, made them feel so alone."

"That's why I want people to be more careful with what information they take as fact. It's so important, because stuff like that can lead people to a desperate place. They feel alone, like the entire world is against them. I wouldn't have let the principal and the teacher get away with that gross negligence in their jobs." Ladybug leveled her gaze directly to the camera. "People of Paris, please listen to what I am saying. I am here to be a hero, to protect you from the terror of Hawkmoth and to defeat him. But please, do not be like Principal Damocles, do not be like that teacher and her class at DuPont. Do your research, look up your facts. Do not let a liar lead you to do something dangerous and hurt yourself as well as others. Respect each other, talk and be honest. I swear on my life that I shall do the same. You are the people I swore to protect and I love. I am saying this all to protect you. And I'll hope you'll all forgive me for not protecting you sooner."

...

The interview rocked Paris. Ladybug speaking so openly about her frustrations, about the discrepancies in the Ladyblog and Lila Rossi had many people double checking the sources of everything they learned from that blog.

Alya could barely show her face as she made her way though the school hallways. Her reputation as a journalist had gone down the drain. People had basically started boycotting her blog, harrassing her, or trash talking her on other forums and sites. Even a lot of news outlets picked this up.

What hurt the most from that interview last night was Ladybug's words towards her, both as Rena Rouge and as Alya. Surely the heroine had to be mistaken, she had never beytrayed Ladybug! And that Oblivio incident, it was just to show Chat Noir and Ladybug that they were meant to be together!

Her family was upset with her. No, upset was too tame of a word. They were pissed.

"I can't believe she lied to us.."

"Well what do you expect from someone who keeps harrassing Ladybug?"

Alya flinched when she heard the whispers and rushed into Miss Buster's class. The entire class was there, all seated, all looking utterly miserable. Many of them looked as if they had been crying all night. A lot like she had.

"W-where's Miss Bustier?" Alya asked when she eyed the empty desk. Many of her classmates shot her glares, but didn't say anything about the interview last night. After all, they had no room to talk.

"She and Principal Damocles are with the school board now. We're getting a new teacher." Adrien was the one that spoke up. He looked utterly miserable. So unlike his usual self.

"Lila isn't coming back. She was pulled from school when her mother found out what happened." Alix muttered from her seat, arms crossed and shoulders hunched.

The class went quiet as they all internally contemplated how things had gotten like this. Their eyes focused on the door when it abruptly opened and Marinette came strolling in, carrying a box.

"Good morning everyone!" She said brightly, pretending not to notice the downcast expressions on their faces. She set the box on the teacher's desk before she turned towards them. "Oh? What's wrong everyone?"

".. Did you not watch the interview with Ladybug on 'Latest Buzz'?" Alya stared at Marinette, a bit dumbfounded by her friend's lack of awareness of the situation. She had been expecting Marinette to rush in with support and a fiery vengeance against those who had humiliated her best friend, maybe even a fresh pastry. But instead she was greeted with empty hands and a cheerful hello?

"Oh, well I haven't really had the time to watch much television. I mean, with my transfer papers, needing to plan out my new schedule with all of those new classes. Busy as a bee, that's me!" Marinette just beamed, giving Adrien a playful wink that had his stomach churning.

"Wait, transfering?" It was Rose that spoke up, her large eyes seeming impossibly large now. "Transfer what?"

"To my new school, of course." Marinette giggled and clasped her hands together. "I start on Monday."

"New school?!" Alya was on her feet and rushing towards Marinette. The others quickly followed, crowding around her. "What do you mean new school?! When did you ever say you were going to a new school?"

Marinette blinked, as if stunned, then tilted her head ever so slightly.

"I told you all last week, don't you remember?" Marinette tapped her lower lip, seeming to be wracking her brain before she abruptly snapped her fingers. "Oh! I forgot, you all were deep in conversation with Lila about her upcoming event with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightengale. You know, the one she said she'd be attending with Ladybug, since they're such good friends. Did she ever say how it went?"

All of the students shifted uneasily, suddenly seeming to refuse to meet her face.

Alix murmured something so barely audible, Marinette held a hand to her ear and leaned closer.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Lila was lying to us!" Alix snapped as her cheeks went a flaming red.

"About everything! She never knew Jagged Stone!" Juleka spat out in fury.

"Or Prince Ali!" Rose sniffled.

"And she wasn't friends with Ladybug? They were barely acquaintances!" Alya wailed out as tears welled up in her eyes.

But Marinette hardly reacted the way they were expecting. She just gave them a small smile and nodded.

"Oh, yeah. I know."

Alya sucked in a breath sharply.

"You knew..? But why did you never..?"

"Oh Alya, you silly forgetful thing. I told you the day she returned from her long 'trip', remember? I told you she was lying." Marinette gave Alya a smile that said 'oh you silly thing'. "But you told me that I should really check my sources. And I got tired of trying to bring up any lies, since that was always your response. So I decided to just stop. I mean, since you're such an inspiring, honest journalist you must double and triple check every source you come across and found every story to be true!"

Alya flinched and looked away, feeling the churning feeling in her gut again. No, the Ladyblog had been the only source for the stories. The. Only. One.

"And I'm sure all of you knew what you were doing! I mean, it makes sense; trusting the words of a complete stranger over someone you've known for a while now. Some of you since we were in diapers!" She focused her gaze on Nino and Kim, who had the grace to at least look ashamed.

"Marinette, you really should-" Adrien began, reaching out for the girl, but was cut off by her clapping her hands together.

"But it's alright! I decided that fighting with you all wasn't worth it, so I took Adrien's advice and took the high road! Don't bother exposing Lila, she isn't hurting anyone!" Marinette announced brightly, giving her hands a little wave.

The temperature in the classroom dropped by several degrees.

".. Adrien, she's kidding, right?" Nino glanced over at his friend, his eyes pleading for him to deny it all. But the sight of the blood draining from the model's face and the sweat starting to bead at his forehead told him everything he needed to know. "Dude.."

"How could you?! You knew this entire time and didn't even try to tell me?!" Alya rounded on Adrien, fury in her eyes.

"Now, now, don't get mad at Adrien. I'm sure he knew you all were going to do you research. Besides, it's not like this did anything bad for anyone." Marinette pressed a hand to her cheek, still grinning. "I mean, it's not like you all took her advice without doing any research. You didn't try the things she suggested without actually checking them out to be true, right? No one lost any scholarships or job opportunities. No one's relationships were ruined. No one was hurt."

The nauseous feeling spread to all of the class as the reality of everything caught up with them.

"I'm sure everything will go back to normal, right? I mean, I'm sure that that woman from the education bureau isn't here to fire Damocles and Bustier for their severe neglect in their duties. Expelling me with the most mediocre and shaky proof. Surely that's a school I should feel safe in! That I should be proud to be a part of. But alas, my preparations for my new school are already done, so oh well."

Marinette shrugged and adjusted her purse strap.

"Anyhow, I wish you all luck with the amazing things Lila has helped you to do! I know it must have been worth ignoring me and convincing me I was crazy. With all of the free time I've had, with you guys practically replacing me with Lila in the group, I've had tons of time to spend with my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?!" Alya's eyes went owlishly wide as she gaped at Marinette. "But what about Adrien?!"

"Oh Alya, I fell out of love with Adrien forever ago." Marinette shook her head in an almost patronizing way that had Alya's cheeks burning with embarrassment. They didn't even pay attention to Adrien's noises of surprise. "I mean, you claimed I was jealous of Lila getting close to Adrien, that I should let the jealousy go. And you know what? You were right! So I decided Adrien wasn't worth the stress, the embarrassment.. I mean, I couldn't even talk to him straight. I thought he was the most perfect guy in the world! Goodness, did I learn my lesson!"

She giggled as if she found the entire thing amusing. She then beamed at the class.

"Well, ta-ta! I need to get back home and make sure everything is ready to go. I wish you all the best, I really do!"

They all watched, shellshocked as Marinette breezed out of the classroom like it was nothing. Like she wasn't leaving her friends, her school, her life behind. And they all would wonder exactly how badly they screwed up, if she could walk away do easily, without a care.

Permanent Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @ravennightingaleandavatempus @2sunchild2 @crazylittlemunchkin @bee-wrecker @souleateralicestein @loysydark @kceedraws @realrandomposts @alienjoyful

Salt Taglist: @virgil-is-a-cutie @sidessunnybumblebee @persephonebutkore @18-fandoms-unite-08 @suzen23smith @luciferge @theelventhgod @noirdots @space--butterflies @ghostglaceon @magicalfirebird @goggles-mcgee @chocolate1721 @minightrose @bookcrazybby @cupcakeandkisses @mewwitch @adrestar

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Alright, this entire story has officially been written ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 3067

————————————

Chapter 5: Extra Ordinary

Five years ago, Vanya Hargreeves began writing her autobiography, “Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven”, less than two weeks before her sister’s novel, “One-Sided”, was announced in the papers. Those around who enjoyed her writing were buzzing with excitement, for it was the second book of her trilogy. (Y/N) was thrilled, herself, to be publishing her novel within the next month. Finally sharing her work with the world would have taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders, leaving her with only the weight on her bladder. While working herself nearly to death with her writing, she was with child for the second time, which added to her stress. Thankfully, she had a very supportive husband at the time to assist in anything she requested. It was in those times in which (Y/N) was grateful she decided to make something of herself rather than letting her past as Number Eight define her.

Once “One-Sided” was published, (Y/N) sent two copies out; one to Allison, one to Vanya. She figured her brothers wouldn’t want to read her romantic fantasy as much as her sisters, so she didn’t bother asking. Allison seemed ecstatic for the new addition, but she wasn’t too sure about Vanya, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to send it. If she didn’t want to read it, that was her decision. What she didn’t expect, however, was Vanya’s novel sent to her. After Jada was born, (Y/N) had taken time to read her sister’s autobiography. While Anthony was at work during the day, she’d multitask by reading and taking care of her newborn. She would quietly gasp at certain parts of the book before checking to make sure she hadn’t woken her daughter up. (Y/N) couldn’t believe some of the things her sister dared to put in that book. Some things she wrote were blatantly about (Y/N)’s own insecurities that she had trusted Vanya with knowing. Insecurities about her powers, her capability of being a suitable member of the Umbrella Academy. Vanya had compared it to her own doubts, stating that (Y/N) had no right to complain to her, of all people. Looking back now, (Y/N) could admit that it was a bit selfish to do that to her sister. Regardless, those had been personal and it was unloyal of Vanya to share that with anyone willing to read. Despite this, (Y/N) saw to promote “Extra Ordinary” along with her own work. Someone had to be the bigger person in this situation.

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

Nostalgia wasn’t exactly what (Y/N) was overcome with when awaking in her childhood bed. In fact, she’d much rather have opened her eyes to the empty side of her king-sized mattress at home instead. She debated closing her eyes and pretending she had never drifted into consciousness, but sat up when remembering everything Five had told her the day before. If she remembered correctly, there were six remaining days leading up to the end of the world. She had promised Five to assist in preventing the apocalypse, and her drowsiness was not going to hold her back. So, she dragged herself out of bed and began looking for Five. She figured the first place to begin was his bedroom, so she stopped in front of his door and knocked. Hearing rustling on the other side, she asked, “Five, are you decent?”

“Decent enough. You can come in,” He called out, the door opening and (Y/N) stepping inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he fixed his white button up. “I take it you had a difficult time sleeping?”

“What makes you say that?” Her hand slid down her face, sarcasm in her tone. She didn’t need a mirror to know she had bags under her eyes. Five chuckled and moved to his vest and jacket, finishing with dressing himself. As he zipped his duffle bag closed, he glanced out the window.

“You tagging along today?”

“I plan to. I… suppose I have nothing to do.”

“Nothing, huh?” Suspicion hid amongst his words as he picked up his bag. “What is it you decided to do with your life, (Y/N)?” The question was simple, genuine, but the weight of it was suffocating. She really couldn’t go back to her normal, beautiful life after all.

“I… found my mother,” She slowly started out, carefully watching as Five curiously glanced up at her under his dark brows. “I became an author… and a mother.”

Suddenly, Five couldn’t breathe. He had anticipated this conversation, prepared himself for everything (Y/N) had accomplished while he was gone. But nothing could have prepared him for the stab in the heart at the mention of her having children. Children with someone who wasn’t him. It was stupidly selfish, he knew, to expect her to wait for him, to do anything else with her life except for the things he longed to do with her. Past the pain, however, he was happy for her. Something in him knew that (Y/N) would one day make a wonderful mother. She was patient, selfless, caring, and oh, how he wished he could’ve been the one. He didn’t even want to ask about the individual she had trusted enough to raise children with her.

His hesitancy to respond worried (Y/N) and suddenly she wanted to apologize. But for what? Her success, her marriage, her children? She had every right to those and she shouldn’t have to apologize. Her concern washed away when Five raised his brows in acknowledgement, opening the window. “Really? A mother? That’s great, Starlight…” God, that nickname… She thought. Why does everything feel so complicated now? Her feet moved her to follow him out of the window and down the fire escape. She thought it was best to not continue the conversation for now.

“Dammit, where’s Dad’s stuff?” The two heard an irritated groan on their way down. (Y/N) craned her neck to see Klaus digging through the dumpster. “Shut up! I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that priceless box so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…,” Five turned to his brother. “I don’t care.” His useless comment earned an eye roll from (Y/N). Klaus glanced up at the two with a small laugh.

“Hey! You know there are easier ways out of the house, buddy? And bringing little (Y/N) along, too? Whatever could you two be up to?”

“This way of leaving involved the least amount of talking,” Five hopped off the ladder, helping (Y/N) down afterwards. “Or so I thought.”

“Klaus,” The eighth Hargreeves made her way closer to the dumpster. “Is Ben there?”

“Yes, dear, he says hi.” His hand waved in Ben’s supposed direction, (Y/N) softly smiling at her ghost brother. “So, hey, you two need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.” His eyes shifted to Five as he took a drink from his flask.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” The boy falsely smiled.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just- I just misplaced something. That’s all.” He then fell into the trash as (Y/N) joined her traveling companion at his side. After a few seconds, Klaus reappeared with a bagel. “Oh! Found it! Thank god!” (Y/N) nearly gagged as he began to chew on it, muffling a ‘delicious’ in forced content.

“I’m done funding your drug habit.” Five spit out before walking away. She followed him and waved at Klaus, barely listening to him yelling after them as they climbed into a plumbing van.

“Why are we stealing a van?”

“Shush.”

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

Once again, the two teenagers found themselves in front of Meritech Prosthetics. (Y/N) watched as Lance entered the building before sighing. “We’re really gonna sit here and spy on the man?”

“You got a better idea?” Five only kept his stare on him.

“I guess not… What’s the bag for, then?”

Five immediately turned his attention to the duffle bag he brought with them. “Oh, shit,” He muttered before unzipping it. “Hey,” He softly greeted before handing a bottle of alcohol to (Y/N). She blinked once, twice, thrice when he brought out the top half of a bald mannequin and set it between them. “Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) choked. “That’s Delores?! The one you were with for over thirty years?!”

“Well, obviously,” Five frowned before turning back to ‘Delores’. “This is (Y/N), Delores. You know… the one I told you about.”

“You… talk about me to the mannequin? Should I be flattered or weirded out?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Five sighed and turned away. (Y/N) suddenly felt silly for being jealous last night. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned at the boy, who shook his head.

“Talking to Delores. She thinks I’m- Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or… will be made,” His eyes moved up to his human friend. “We just have to wait…”

He’s actually talking to the mannequin, (Y/N) thought as she turned forward, eyes wide. So, that was what the apocalypse had done to him. She felt bad for him now. Initially, her heart warmed at the thought of Five finding someone to love, but knowing that his mind had gone somewhere far away enough for him to turn to a mannequin for comfort…

“So, (Y/N),” He started, his gaze once again trained on the building before them. “Your children… tell me about them.” Truth be told, Five wanted to know how much they had gotten from their mother. Were they just as humorous? Just as passionate? As wonderful? (Y/N) let out a heartfelt laugh as she closed her eyes.

“Where do I even begin? Michael, he’s… so intelligent. He has the highest reading level in his class and they’re thinking of letting him skip the first grade. He’s such a big help at home with his little sister… I swear, he’s a little man. He’s always trying to test my knowledge. Tries to get me to solve his ‘really hard’ math homework problems…,” She chuckled, Five looking at her with an unreadable expression. “And Jada… she’s such a character. No matter how many times I teach her the days of the week, she always gets them wrong… She wakes me up every morning, trying to guess. I say ‘Jada, if yesterday was Wednesday, what is today?’ and she just starts listing off every wrong answer… She’s a performer, too. I enrolled her into dance classes. Oh, it’s her favorite thing to do… And I’ll admit, she’s good at it. Don’t know where she got that from. Definitely not from me or her dad...”

Five tilted his head thoughtfully. “They sound… just like you. They think they know everything,” He joked with a small smile, (Y/N) playfully glaring at him. “Really, though… They sound like great kids… I’d like to meet them one day.”

“Yeah,” She smiled down at her lap. “I’d love for them to meet you… But I need to be an actual adult before I can face them again. Until then… It’s just checking up every once and awhile…”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Five frowned as he sat forward. “I- I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“I know you will,” She breathed and closed her eyes, her world slowly crashing down on her yet again. “Sorry, I need some air.” And with that, Five was in the car alone. Well, save for Delores. Outside, (Y/N) didn’t have much time to really be with her own thoughts before she heard Luther and Klaus’s voices nearing her. Turning to her right, she spotted the two walking side-by-side towards the van. Upon seeing her, Luther raised a hand.

“(Y/N), you need to get back to the Academy. We found something… and Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death.” He gruffly explained, the young girl straightening to attention.

“Wait, what-”

“I can explain at the house, but we need both you and Five there for the family meeting. Is he in there?” He pointed to the vehicle their brother sat in.

“Yeah, but-”

“Great. Be right back.” Luther’s massive body brushed past her to get to Five, Klaus following behind to get in the back. Not waiting a second longer, she followed her junkie brother inside. When she entered the van again, Luther was trying his hardest to fit his body into the passenger seat as Klaus grabbed Delores, smirking at (Y/N) as he began to dance with the mannequin. She only watched him in disinterest. Once Luther was finally in, he turned to Five. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?” Five’s question was answered when Luther turned to Klaus. With everyone’s attention on him, he looked up from Delores and dropped his smile.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He began to caress Delores’s cheek before screaming when Five threw an object at him, Klaus using the mannequin to block. (Y/N) shook her head and moved closer to Five and Luther, the former fuming.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something.”

“Oh, but (Y/N) can be here?”

“Yes! We’re in the middle of something!” Five turned forward as Klaus joined (Y/N) at her side, poking her cheek gently.

“Any luck with your one-eyed man?” He asked her, receiving a head shake. Five sighed and turned to Luther.

“What do you want, Luther?”

Turning his attention away from the conversation between the two, Luther answered Five, “Um… So, Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death. So I need you to come back to the Academy, alright? It’s important.” His request was met with silence for a split second before the time traveller shook his head.

“‘It’s important’. You have no concept of what’s important-”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, holding his sister at his side. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

And that was when (Y/N) tuned out the entire conversation between her family. She left Klaus’s side and pressed her back against the back of Luther’s seat, closing her eyes. She knew Five wasn’t going with Luther and Klaus to the house, and she didn’t need to listen to the bickering that would’ve led to that outcome. Her attention was eventually brought to Klaus swinging the back door open, huffing as he got out. She watched him slam the door closed and make his way towards the store across the street. Not trusting him in the slightest, she sent a clone after Klaus, telling it to “watch over him”. At this point, she was waiting for Luther to leave so her growing headache would subside, but it seemed the man wanted to talk some more.

“What the hell are you up to, Five?”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked, I’m twenty-eight years older than you.” Five tightly smiled before (Y/N) snorted with laughter. The boy rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at her before Luther pulled his attention away.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.”

“You think you’re better than us,” Luther’s words wiped that sarcastic smile right off Five’s face. “You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have… and you know it.” Luther stared at his brother, as the boy slowly inhaled.

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am,” He hissed, Luther only chuckling. “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“Right...”

“Just to get back here and save you all…” Five stared out the window. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed Delores.

“Luther, out.” She ordered, her “big” brother turning to her with an offended look. “Five’s clearly not going with us. No use arguing with him either. So, just go and I’ll catch up-” She was cut off by the sound of a voice whooping in excitement. The three looked across the street to see Klaus running out of the store, arms full of stolen snacks, the clone following close behind.

“Hey, bitches!” He shouted as a cop chased after them, blowing his whistle. The clone turned to the officer and pushed him away with great force as Klaus was nearly hit by a car. Five’s head followed Klaus’s movement.

“I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision…”

After Luther was sent out of the van, (Y/N) took over the passenger seat once again and set Delores down between them, Five quietly thanking her. “So… I’m going with the guys.”

“What? Why are you wasting your time, I thought you wanted to help me?”

“I do, and I will… But I don’t trust Luther to make decisions right now… I mean, if Mom really did have something to do with Dad’s death… Who knows what he’ll do? The least I can do is try to talk him out of it. I promise, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” She softly smiled, gently patting his hand. Five shook his head at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything… I’m the one who owes you.”

“All you owe me is this,” She gently squeezed his hand. “You being here… That’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Now I have it. So, your debt is paid.” She chuckled. Five rested the back of his head against the seat as his eyes searched her face, trying to find anything that should worry him about her. But all he found was her warm smile and eyes that shone with affection. It suddenly felt inappropriate to have Delores around right now.

“Well, then, you should get going… You’ve gotta catch up with those idiots.”

“Alright. Don’t be out here forever, okay?” (Y/N) leaned in and pecked his cheek before getting out of the car and rushing after her brothers. As he watched her speed away, he tried to regulate his breathing, heartbeat increasing.

————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya

[house-of-cakes]

Jamais Vu 

Masterlist || Series Masterlist 

Prev || Next

Chapter 17:  Gimme! Gimme! Gimme

Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 2164

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of slight bullying

Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

I feel so bad posting late that I wrote a bonus chapter 😅 the extra chapter will be out this weekend.

If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊

Tagged list: @inspinkyring @betysotelo18 @kardia-apo-marmelada @casspirit0705 @preciouschimine @therealsugababe  @lucedelsole97 @deolly @lexy9716  @thesweetest-peas @sannsia​

Bright flashing lights…catchy retro theme songs…the loud cheers of victory from teenage boys and girls defeating their opponents – these were the ingredients that made up Y/N’s favourite place in the world. While Namjoon found comfort on the stage, she felt most at home under the glowing neon lights of Reload.

A few years ago, Y/N had found the arcade a by chance after she had “run away” from home. She had just had an argument with her mother about her appearance and after countless moments of nagging and insults she had finally snapped and left home without permission…it was her first act of rebellion.  

Y/N’s mother was fixated on looks and how a “lady” should behave and present themselves. She always claimed that Y/N she be focusing on her physical imagine instead of having her face hidden behind a computer screen. It killed her mother that her youngest child spent all of her free time working in a place she deemed to be so juvenile. Y/N knew this for a fact and if she was being honest it only added to the appeal of working there. The job didn’t pay much nonetheless she loved it just as much as she did the Magic Shop.

A young boy runs through the arcade and finds Y/N sat on top of an air hockey table (a privilege that only she was allowed). Her attention is focused on her phone, trying to keep tabs on her best friends who are working a job without her. It was not very often that she could not attend an appointment however her elderly boss had caught a cold and there was no one else to cover the busy Friday night shift.

“Noona.” The soft whimper of the young boy catches her attention. “What’s wrong, buddy?” She jumps off the table and kneels so that she is eye level with the child “A-an older-r b-boy…” his words are choppy as his small body shakes with sobs “Stole my game.” “That wasn’t very nice of him. Can you point him out so Noona can have a chat with him.” The little boy continues to whimper but with some comforting words of reassurance and 5 free game tokens, she is able to convince him to point in the direction of the most popular first-person shooter game towards the back of the arcade.

“Thank buddy, that was very brave of you. I promise you in 10 minutes the game will be free for you to play.” She wipes the last of his tears and ruffles his hair for good measure “Come find me soon, ok?” The boy sniffling boy nods as Y/N quickly makes her way to the other side of the room.

At the game Y/N stands off to the side of the machine and pauses to analyse the teenage boy and his skill. The teen would get easily flustered each time a surge of villains would rush after his character and he would frequently let out a string of cuss words whenever he missed his mark, he was an amateur and it showed.

Suddenly his life bar at the top right of he screen started flashing, indicating that his game would soon end if he was not careful with his energy. This must have been enough motivation for him to focus better because his kill streak went from 3 to 9 in almost an instance.  A wicked plan formed in Y/N’s head as she he went in for the last shot of the level.

“Hey!” she called out to him causing him to flinch and miss his target. This caused a fatal error as the enemy on screen took the opportunity to shoot his character right in the face. The teen let out a sound of frustration as the screen read ‘Game Over’ in giant letters and request more tokens to continue. Y/N waited for him to insert the coins before making her presence known in front of him.

“You stupid bitch! You made me lose my game.” He grumbled and lift his gun to continue playing. Y/N reached over to the power point behind the game and switched it off.

“Get the fuck out of my arcade.” She spat and point towards the exit “Reload has a strict no bullying policy so don’t think for a second you’re getting a refund on those tokens.” The teen didn’t bother arguing, he has realised his mistake when he figured out who she was and walked away looking rather embarrassed he had been called out in front of everyone on a busy Friday night. He was sure his class mates would all be talking about it come Monday morning.

The screen of the machine flickered back to life as Y/N switched the power back on, she waited to make sure that the unexpected reboot did not affect the game. The download bar reached the end of the bar and loaded the high score screen. She read over the listed and frowned when she got to a name that had been annoying her lately – Nochu.

This Nochu person had climb two positions high on the leader board since the last time she had checked this game and the achievement displeased her. That name was popping up on the leader boards of many games recently and while she did not feel her abilities were being threatened, she was annoyed that she could not put a face to this person.

Hours later back at the Kim residence, the two cousins enjoy the cooling weather on their porch as Jin attempts to tune his guitar by ear.

“The Basement wasn’t closed tonight.” Jungkook states when he scrolls through his Instagram feed and comes across a new post by the club “I never said it was.” Jin pays no attention to his cousin, instead he fiddles with the knobs at the head of guitar and plucks at a string once he believes he’s tightened the key enough. The sound rings out and the pitch is too high. “So why did we go to Reload instead?” Jin repeats the process with the chord again, the pitch is closer to where its supposed to be however the sound is still off. “None of the guys had a battle or a performance tonight.” He explained as he plucked at the string again and again, trying to pin point why it sounded wrong “And Y/N had to work, so we decided to hang with her instead.” “So we went for Y/N?” Jungkook tone was accusatory “No one forced you to tag along.” Jin fired back, he had stopped trying to tune the guitar to face him “She’s always supports the guys at the Basement, sometimes we repay the favour by making an appearance there to help drum up business.” Jungkook scoffed “You told me Reload was popular because she attracts people with her skills…if that’s the case why would she need you guys?” “She doesn’t need us at all.” Jin moved his guitar from his lap and lent it against his seat. He was frustrated with it and this conversation was adding to the stress.  “That’s the thing about having a good relationship with people…you do things to support them, even when they don’t ask.” “Oh yeah? If she’s so good why is she only ranked second on all the high scores.” Jin rolled his eyes at his cousin, he was being petty again and completely missed the point he was trying to make. “Mr S.K?” Jungkook nodded in confirmation.

Jungkook was becoming a regular at Reload and it was evident to him that Mr S.K was clearly the real champion of the joint. The guy had dominated every game of the arcade by holding highest score and while Y/N’s name always sat below his, her score was always miles away from meeting his. To Jungkook this was clearly another instance of Y/N receiving praise and adoration where it was not merited… it was Mr S.K who deserved to celebrated and yet it was Y/N who stole his popularity. If he had to come up with an explanation as to how this occurred, he would bet all his money it was because Y/N was considered to be “beautiful”.

“Mr S.K has held the top for as long as anyone can remember. There’s no mystery to who he is…He’s obviously the owner of the arcade.”  Jin windshield wiper boomed out and filled the stillness of the night as his cousin’s face fell. 

Jungkook pondered on the last few weeks, there was so much background information he didn’t know and for some reason his brain chose to fill in the gaps by somehow hating on Y/N.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car blaring loud music as it sped up and down the street.

“What the fuck is going?!” Jungkook exclaimed as he stood from his seat and made his way to the top of the porch stairs to get a better look at car. “Ah my Angel is home!” Jin jumped up and went to stand next to Jungkook. “Does she always carry on like this? She drives like a dipshit.” “Nah, that’s not even her driving. You see a while back she got caught at the illegal races, her parents made her sell her car as punishment... She must have gotten into a fight with her mother, this is how she always gets back her.”  

The car finally stopped doing laps down the street and pulled up into Y/N’s drive away. The pair watched as Y/N jumped out of the passenger side of the car and wave to the driver as they pulled away from the house. She was still unaware that she was being watched by them

“Hey Brat!” Jin called out, capturing her attention “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not take rides from strangers?”

Jungkook’s breathe hitched at the thought of Y/N allowing herself to be in a car with a stranger, especially someone who drove like a lunatic. He didn’t catch a glimpse of the driver but surely, she wasn’t reckless enough to put herself in such a dangerous situation…was she?

“She did, that’s what make’s it all the better.” Y/N bantered on smugly, Jungkook couldn’t figure out if she was joking or not. “Well it’s past your bed time young lady, you march right on inside and get right to bed.”  Y/N let out a sound of fake indignation and clutch her hand to her check overdramatically. “To think I raced all the way here with a surprise and this is how you treat me? You really are such a punk!” “A surprise?!” Jin’s eyebrows shot up in excitement, the façade dropped immediately. Everyone knew she gave the best surprises. “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” he demanded and waved her over to them. Y/N laughed at his eagerness and rummaged through her bag as she closed the distance between them.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it.” She purposely handed him a grey game cartridge face down so there was some kind of element of surprise to the gift. His eyes widen comically when he turned it over and read the title of the game. “Y/N…is this…??” For the first time in Jungkook’s life he had seen his loud mouth cousin speechless. “Yah! Don’t make a big deal of it.” She tried to brush it off “Consider it an extremely late birthday gift.” “Not a big deal? This is the original Super Mario Bros 3! I played this game every day as a kid then this idiot blew it up somehow.” He nodded his head in Jungkook’s direction who rolled his eyes in response.

The incident happened years ago and he still hadn’t heard the end of it, he pretended like it didn’t bother him but deep down he felt so bad for accidentally destroying something his cousin held so dear to him.

“I’ve been trying to find it ever since! This must have cost you a fortune.” “Like I said…it’s no big deal. I was cleaning out storage at work and found it packed away, we never got round to fixing game console for it so the boss-man was nice enough to let me have it.”

That was a bold-faced lie.

Y/N had known about the sentimental significance this game had to Jin and went in search for it many months before his birthday. She only managed to get the game after she traded a set of mint condition baseball cards, she had acquired as collateral when a client fell through their end of a deal.

“Y/NIEEE this is why you’re my angel! Thank you so much.” He pulled her towards him and wrapped her up in a big bear hug. Jungkook felt out of place as he watched Y/N shriek and attempt to struggle out of his grip as he showered her with love…he could help but feel jealous of the fact that she could fix a mistake that he had made so long ago.

[marshmallow-phd]

Nine Little Letters

Genre: College AU, Fake Dating AU, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before AU

Inspired By: This graphic made by @rcse-tvler​

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: Just when you thought life was done shoving you down, it got much, much worse. After finding out that your latest crush was already in a relationship, you did what you always did when emotions ran high: you wrote a letter. Signed and sealed, you put it away with the eight other letters you’d written to past one-sided loves, never to be seen again. That is, until a mix up accidentally sends those letters out to their respective recipients and you find yourself in the middle of one confusing web of love. With fake relationships, insecurities, and revelations swirling around, things are bound to get a little messy.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11

This was the worst kind of humiliation. Standing there on the sidewalk staring open-mouthed at the one person you were excited to see today, you were crumbling into a million pieces. And no one even noticed. That was what made this humiliation so bad; there was no one to witness it. You were breaking and no one cared.

You should have known better, really. This morning was going too well. You had woken up on time, had a delicious, filling breakfast, and had managed to put an outfit together worthy of any Pinterest board. Your confidence was through the roof and you were going to do the one thing in your life you swore you would never do.

You were going to confess to your crush.

Signing up for math tutoring was the last thing you wanted to do. Who in the world wanted to spend their valuable free time learning more about equations and algorithms? But you needed to pass this class. It was the second time you’d taken college algebra and the thought of taking it a third time made you want to crawl under your bed. So, you buckled down and took the walk of shame into the math lab. (Yes, that was an exaggeration. Everyone knows there is no shame in getting help. Didn’t mean you had to like it.) When you got the call from your assigned tutor, you ignored it. You didn’t like talking on the phone to anyone let alone a number you didn’t recognize. No voicemail was left. Then a text came through.

Hi, (y/n)! This Kim Junmyeon! I’ve been assigned as your math tutor. When you get a chance, let me know when you’re free so we can create a schedule that works for you. Have a great day!

You waited an appropriate amount of time before replying. So, an hour and half later, you texted him your schedule and made a plan to meet up in the library the following Thursday. You marked that day on your calendar with exactly zero enthusiasm. In your head, this Kim Junmyeon was the cliché nerd from movies: dorky glasses, snort-like laugh, and clothes that looked better on a grandfather. Oh, boy were you so happy to be wrong.

Sitting down at one of the tables by the large, ceiling high windows, Junmyeon was nothing like you’d imagined. He had a sophisticated aura about him. He dressed nicely, a thin long-sleeved shirt over a patterned button down, the collar laid nicely over the top of the shirt, and was blessed with sharp, handsome features. You knew you were in trouble. But you didn’t care. You sat down at that table eagerly, ready to… learn.

For the past month and a half, you’d met Junmyeon twice a week to go over the lessons and work on the assignments. By some miracle, your grade was actually going up in the class. Somehow you were able to better comprehend the material and secretly fawn over your tutor simultaneously. At this point, you were sort of feigning how much you weren’t understanding to keep the tutoring sessions going. The nice thing about algebra, once you understood the basics, everything else built on top of it.

But today – today you had decided that you were going to step over the line from tutor and student into the realm of perhaps something more.

You liked Junmyeon. You liked his math puns and the way he scrunched his face when he thought hard about something. His lips would pucker whenever he lifted the sheet of paper to check over your work. Each time you met up with him your heart acted like it was in the middle of a NASCAR race and it was determined to win. You had it bad. This wasn’t the first time you’d had a crush like this, but you had set your mind on making this one different. This time, you wouldn’t hold it inside. You were going to be the brave one, the bold one. The fact that birds were tweeting as you rode your bike onto campus should have been a sign that things would only be downhill from there. Unfortunately, like the optimistic idiot, you took it as a positive instead.

After locking your bike up, you headed straight for the courtyard near the pond. Junmyeon had told you that he often spent his mornings there to finish up homework or to read a book (the fact that he read so much was another factor in your liking of him). In your head, he was all alone, flipping through a novel as he leaned against the trunk of a tree, looking like a prince taking a rest in the shade on a warm summer’s day. The water would be glistening in the background as a lovely, lighthearted melody played softly through the air. He would see you approach and smile that wide, brilliant smile. Your heart would skip as you sat down in the grass next to him and poured out your feelings. The daydream turned into a nightmare the second he came into view.

Junmyeon was not alone nor was he sitting under a tree with a book. He was on one of the benches, splayed out on the wooden beams with his head resting in the lap of a very pretty, more his league type of girl. She laughed as Junmyeon told a story. A delicate hand ran through his soft brown hair. Your heart fell to the ground, forming a crater at your feet.

Shoulders slumped and day ruined, you turned and headed for the student union. If today was going to suck like this, then you were going to sprinkle it with an overly sugary coffee drink. Preferably with extra chocolate drizzle. It helped - a little bit.

Your morning classes went by in a blur. You were certain you took notes, but none of the information sank in. Later you would have to transcribe your quick scribbles to a word document to help you study. You would learn the information then. By lunch, you were starting to peel yourself off the sidewalk of humiliation. Especially when the one person you could always rely on joined you for lunch.

“How did it go?”

You remained silent, continuously munching on the sandwich in your hands as your best friend sat down across from you at the small, two-person table near the middle of the cafeteria.

Baekhyun laughed his signature, SpongeBob-like laugh. “That bad, huh? I told you not to do it.”

“Technically, I didn’t do it,” you corrected. “He already has a girlfriend.”

“Ouch.”

You nodded. How could you not see this before? Did he mention having a girlfriend and you just blocked it out? Junmyeon and you talked casually between math problems, about your friends and fun things you liked to do on the weekends. He’d failed to mention one very important detail.

“Well,” Baekhyun reached over and plucked a potato chip off your plate and plopped it in his mouth, “at least you found out before you said something. I told you he wasn’t worth it.”

“Just because he has a girlfriend doesn’t mean he isn’t worth crushing on.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so much help.”

Ignoring your quip, Baekhyun snatched another chip. You smacked his hand, but all that managed to do was break off a few pieces, the crumbs falling to the table. Smiling proudly, Baekhyun popped the half-chip into his mouth. “So, are you just going to go home and write a letter?”

“Are you just going to go home and write a letter?” you mocked with a scrunched face.

Byun Baekhyun had been your best friend since the two of you had met in the first grade. He’d stolen your popsicle that your mother had packed as a special treat for your first full day of school. When he saw you start to cry, he broke off the piece he’d been sucking on and handed the rest back to you. There was a bit of a disagreement on the level of nice-ness that act achieved since it was your popsicle to begin with, but somehow it caused the two of you to be inseparable ever since. Being your best friend meant that he was privy to the more private parts of your life.

Like the letters.

Starting as young as ten years old, you’d developed a bit of a tradition when it came to your crushes. Emotions were hard to process, but you found them easier to work through if you thought about them and translated them into words. Those words would fly across the paper, transferring the feelings that made you both laugh and cry into the graphite that formed them. Not to mention, the act made you feel like the heroine in a rom-com. Certainly it was something that Meg Ryan or Rachel McAdams would do once they realized how they felt about the male lead.

The first letter you ever wrote was during your final year of ballet class. Dancing had been a part of your life since you were three, but a new passion had been discovered so you’d decided to quit after this last cluster of classes. A terrible decision, really. Because right after your mind was already made up, a new boy had joined the class.

Kim Jongin.

He had just moved into town after his father was promoted to a new position and had to transfer to headquarters. You’d never seen him at the park or the grocery store before. He was completely new. And beautiful.

He was blessed golden skin that glistened, shining brighter the longer he danced. And, oh, the way he danced. It was well beyond what anyone else could do. His movements were fluid, water-like, as if the very beat of the music were pulling and manipulating his limbs to convey what the notes had to say. Each move was a word and when he formed them together, they could make you smile or cry. And when he smiled… oh, his smile was like starlight. The kind of brightness that stayed in the sky even as the city lights flickered on. To this day, you’d never found one that could rival it. He was a dream that every composer coveted. So, what was your young heart to do?

Well, the movies told you to confess. But there was no way you could find the courage to do so, especially since you only saw him in class and you couldn’t confess in front of everyone. The only other option was to write it out; to write it out like Jane Austen pouring her heart out for Tom Lefroy.

 Dear Jongin,

I’m not sure how to start this. Do I compliment you on your dancing? It’s nothing like I’ve seen before. Prima Donnas in the Russian Ballet would be jealous of you! But you probably hear that all the time. And about how handsome you are, even under all that hair. I can’t help but watch when you pull it back for class so you can see yourself in the mirror. Why can’t I look like that? I somehow ended up looking like a frizzy wet cat that just climbed out of the tub.

I guess what I’m trying to avoid saying is that… I like you. A lot. I like your laugh and your wide smile. I like how much you love music and how you interpret the melody with your moves. No one can freestyle like you! My heart does a dance of its own whenever I see you. I hope you don’t have anyone that you like, just so I can stand a chance. Would you ever think of me like that? If not, it’s okay. I just needed to tell you. Someday, you’ll be on stage dancing to an audience of thousands and I’ll be right there in the front row, cheering you on! Until then, I hope you always find happiness in what you love.

Love,

(y/n).

 That sentence about watching him on stage made you cringe in hindsight. Cute for a ten-year-old, but a bit stalkerish. Luckily, though, you never gave it to him. You chickened out every time up until the last class. The idea of him opening it and reading right there in front of you was mortifying. So, then, you decided to mail it. The teacher gave you his address after you told her you wanted to invite him to your birthday party (it should be a little worrisome that a teacher was willing to pass on private information like that… perhaps it was because you were a kid). Three times you went to the mailbox to send the letter out and three times you ran back inside to hide it under your mattress.

That was the beginning of your weird little tradition. Though you never sent the letter to Jongin, you felt better having somewhat confessed your feelings and worked through them without the humiliation of actually… doing it. So, the next time you had a crush so overwhelming that you needed to get the feelings out, you wrote a letter. You even went all the way each time to address the envelope, giving the confession a sense of finality. There was no fear in them ever going out. Baekhyun was the only other one in the world who knew of their existence. At the current moment, eight were hidden in a drawer in your vanity. The way your fingers were itching, a ninth one was on the way.

“I might,” you finally replied.

Baekhyun leaned forward eagerly. “Can I read it when you’re done?”

“No!”

He snapped his fingers as he sat back in his chair. “Darn.”

“Why am I even friends with you?”

“Because I’m charming.”

There was no question in his voice. He one-hundred percent believed it. And… to be honest, he did have his moments. But that was all in the past. “Like a plank of wood.”

Shaking his head, Baekhyun rapped his hands on the table before standing up. “Alright, I’m going to class. Have fun with your pencil and imagination.” For emphasis on his stupid remark, he stole one last chip before walking off.

You finished off your sandwich in a bit of a rage. By the time you were finished, your mouth muscles were aching as if you’d spent several hours at the gym and it was jaw day.

You only had one class left for the afternoon. But it was algebra. How were you supposed to concentrate on functions when your sad attempt at getting into a relationship with your tutor failed so epically? Somehow you managed, though, and you packed up at the end of class with a new sort of determination. As you hopped on your bike and rode home, you thought over what you were going to write. You were so lost in your head that you hadn’t notice the car pulling out of your neighbor’s driveway, nearly hitting you before the driver hit their brakes.

“Shoot!”

You back peddled to break. Your heart thumped in your chest. No life memories flashed before your eyes, but you were sure you almost died. Slowly, you moved forward to get out of the way of the car. 

“I’m sorry!” you yelled over your shoulder.

The driver leaned out the window.

Oh, great.

It was your neighbor. Or, at least, your neighbor’s son. Do Kyungsoo. He stared at you with an expression that could be blank but could also be a glare. It was hard to tell with him. Shaking his head, he pulled back inside the car and drove away.

Fighting off embarrassment for the second time this day - albeit this situation was much lower on the scale and it happened a bit more often than you’d like to admit - you put your bike up in the backyard and headed up to your room. Your mother, a literary history professor, and your father, a doctor at the local hospital, were both at work and wouldn’t be home until well after dinner. You were used to it. Besides, you were an adult and you liked being able to decide to have pizza for dinner and not worry about what other people wanted for toppings. Once you put your order in, you sat down at your vanity and got to work.

 Dear Junmyeon,

Has anyone told you how your hair looks in the sunlight? The dark brown hues seem so warm and inviting, like an ebony chair that was warmed by the unfiltered rays. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to run my finger through it. Would the strands be as soft as they look? Would you wear the same smile on your face that you do during our sessions? But I guess I might not be meant to feel them. Today, I intended to tell you how I felt. I woke up with a determination, a goal to say how much I like you to your face. I was so nervous riding my bike to the university, but it was the good kind of nervous; the kind that makes you keep going. It seemed, however, that I was too late. Or maybe I simply never had a chance at all. I’d missed any signs that said you were already someone else’s.

I hope she knows how lucky she is. I hope she makes you laugh and listens to you when you’re having a bad day. Your laugh is like a symphony. Does she tell you how light and lovely it is? Or how infectious it is? When you laugh, I can’t help but laugh along. It’ll be sad not to hear it anymore. Or have our talks filled with random subject changes. But I think I’ll miss your smile most of all. The way it crinkles your eyes yet still lets them shine. The way it spreads across your face and the way your cheeks grow. It is truly a sight to behold. I hope wherever you go, you are always smiling. You always let your light shine even on the cloudiest of days. That’s what’s so special about you and what made me fall for you. Even when I was frustrated or couldn’t understand, you were patient, taking my mind off of the negative and turning me so I could face the positive. That’s a rare kind of person. You are a rare kind of person. Please always be happy, Kim Junmyeon.

Love,

(y/n)

 With a sigh you sat back in your chair. The letter had done its job. Though you were still sad about the way things turned out, you no longer felt defeated. The words you needed to say were now out there without being “out there”. Okay, so he had a girlfriend. Big deal. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were more potential love interests out there that you could find. He was only one and obviously wasn’t the one.

Beginning to smile again, you folded the letter and put it in an envelope. You didn’t have Junmyeon’s address, so you wrote out the address for the math lab. Opening the top drawer of the vanity, you placed the latest addition to your collection under the first envelope. The doorbell rang right as you closed it up again. Oh, thank goodness. Food.

Practically skipping down the steps, you hurried to the front door.

“Hi-” You stopped as soon as you’d opened it. The person waiting on the other side was not the pizza delivery guy - it was Baekhyun. The boxes holding the pizza and cheese sticks you’d order for no one but yourself were in his hands. Over his shoulder, you barely caught sight of the delivery man driving away. “Really?”

“What? I was bored. And hungry.” He flipped open the lid to show you the hot, melted cheese of the appetizer. “Cheese stick?”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside so he could come inside.

Baekhyun had been to your home plenty of times in the past so it was easy for him to make himself at home. He didn’t wait for you before pulling plates out of the cabinet and pouring a drink. He even went as far as getting you glass as well. “Thirsty?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The two of you ate at the kitchen table as your mother had a “no meals in the living room” policy. Small snacks like nuts and popcorn were okay, as long as you didn’t spill any on the couches.

“So… how did the writing go?” Baekhyun asked cheekily between bites.

You shrugged. “Fine. I’m deciding that I’m getting over it.”

Now it was Baekhyun’s turn to roll his eyes. “You always get over them fast.”

“What’s the point of dwelling on the things you can’t change?”

That was always your answer. Yes, the hurt was immediate and painful, but Baekhyun was right, you tended to push it aside rather quickly. That was the whole point of your letters, anyway. Get the feelings out of the way so you could move on. What was the point of clinging on to something like that? You would only end up worse if you stayed in that spot. So, you pushed yourself to move on. And eight times out of nine, it had worked. There was only that one nagging letter that failed to do its job. That particular set of feelings refused to go away even as you looked to other crushes, as you found other boys to like. It was the one you would always wonder about, the one that was completely off limits. The dull ache still crept up every once in a while. If moving on was what you had to do, you would do it. Because you would prefer if you never had to go through something like that ever again.

[nicosbrainrot]

here's something I wrote after talking to @kamiart about rin's fight in round 3 because I am full of love for rin & wanted to write an interaction for them <3

~

Ikuto was watching from the seats with the rest of his classmates. It was the third round of the sports festival and Rin was going up against Taishiro, both students in Sato sensei's class. The fight was a fast paced one, and it seemed like Rin could win it, depending on how much energy she had reserved, she had the advantage seeing that Taishiro couldn't use his quirk on her projectiles. Ikuto watched diligently, knowing that her quirk required moonlight and so she was running on a limited supply. She had faked out her last opponent by pretending to run out of energy, but after two whole fights she might actually be running low. Eventually she threw a kick at her opponent, which he quickly rewound and sent her flying. She wouldn't get up close unless she had to, this meant she was out of energy. The fight now could easily turn in Taishiro's favor but they locked onto each other, caught in a struggle with neither letting up. Suddenly Taishiro said something, not quite audible to the audience, but Ikuto could make out the word "dad," and he could see, even from the stands, something change in Rin's expression.

She said something, low and quiet, before shouting, "At least you have a father to fight for!" Her voice shot through the stadium, and she said something else, though still not quite audible, before shouting again, something about being able to do this on her own, and their surroundings quickly exploded into a bright flash of blinding light, but only for a moment.

Ikuto looked back at the arena after the blinding flash and saw as Rin stood there, staggering, and almost shot up from his seat when her body collapsed to the floor. Taishiro didn't seem to have done any damage, that was the result of her quirk, the result of her energy reserves being completely depleted. He watched as Miss Me quickly rushed into the ring, declaring Taishiro the winner and announcing that he would progress to the next round, as they brought an unconscious Rin off of the field and towards Recovery Girl's office.

After the crowd cheered and fell to a chatter, as it did between every round, Ikuto's thoughts began racing. Many students had been quite roughed up by the end of their fight, but none due to their own quirk. Well, some had overexerted themselves a bit, but they all ended up fine. Ikuto knew the nature of Rin's quirk, that she had an energy reserve that overlapped with her body's own natural calories, which it would cut into when her lunar energy had run out. If it was anything like he was imagining, and she was really on empty when that flash of light happened, she could be in pretty bad shape.

He quickly turned to Hoshizawa, who was sitting next to him on the bench. "I... I'm gonna go check on her, if that's okay."

"Oh yeah, sure." they said, seeming fine to be left on his own.

Ikuto got up out of his seat and headed down in the direction of Recovery Girl's office. He made his way down the hallway and peaked inside the room. Rin was now laying on the bed, still unconscious, Recovery Girl tending to her.

"Uh, excuse me." Ikuto spoke softly, and Recovery Girl turned around to face him. "I'm sorry to intrude, but..."

"You wanted to check on her?" she asked in her cheery tone.

Ikuto just nodded, stepping in from the doorway. He could see that her breathing was shaky, and his brow furrowed just slightly in worry.

"She isn't physically injured, but her body has depleted all its energy, she's overexerted herself. Sadly, I can't do anything to help her besides standard treatment." she told him.

Her quirk allowed her to help a person's body heal at a rapid pace but depleted the person's energy, which was the opposite of what Rin needed right now. He thought for a moment before turning to face the short nurse.

"I could get her something out of the vending machine." he suggested.

She smiled up at him. "Oh, that would be lovely, how sweet." she said, her chipper tone contrasting with Ikuto's monotone voice.

He nodded and quickly turned to leave, walking down the hall to one of the vending machines scattered around the building. He pulled out some money, which he kept loose in his pocket after Aito stole his wallet a few too many times and he got tired of asking for it back. He looked at all the drinks and decided on a bottle of fruit juice, it was sugary but not too processed, and he wasn't sure if she liked soda. He also got her a candy bar, the more she could eat after all this the better. He went back to the nurse's office, quietly walking inside and placing the food and drink on the table beside the bed.

Recovery Girl pulled out a bottle of medication, and Ikuto immediately remembered the bottle he saw near her bed when they were going through everyone's dorm rooms, it was heart medication. He looked over at Rin, who was still asleep on the bed, her breathing choppy. "Her heart, is it..." he started, not looking up from the bedridden girl.

"It's quick and irregular. I have this for her, but I can't give it to her until she wakes up." she said, setting the bottle down on the table.

Ikuto looked over to Recovery Girl. "Would you... like me to try and steady it?" he asked, unsure if she would trust him with that.

She was aware of his quirk, and thought for a moment. "If you're positive you know what you're doing." she said, a bit of hesitation in her voice.

"I do." Ikuto said calmly, and pulled up a chair next to her bed.

He sat down and placed his hand on her inner wrist. He could feel the irregularity in her pulse, and as he activated his quirk he could almost feel the pressure her heart was under. It wasn't unlike that of someone who was malnourished, the strain that puts on your heart. In fact, it was in that moment that Ikuto realized how thin she was, that she was underweight. His worry grew, because that only made the results of overexerting herself worse and far more dangerous. He made a mental note to check in on her eating if given the chance. However, right now he needed to focus, it wasn't difficult to slow her heart rate but steadying it took more concentration. He brought her heart rate down to a normal level, and kept it consistent. If he let go it would return to it's staggered pace, so he just sat there for a while, hand gently resting on her arm.

There was a television in the room silently playing footage of the current round, and Ikuto watched as the quiet battle took place on screen, taking note of any interesting strategies he saw. More and more times passed, and quite a few rounds came and went, but he was in no rush to leave.

After about an hour, Rin shifted slightly. Ikuto resisted his instinctual urge to pull away, not wanting to cause a jolt in her heart rate, and instead gradually let go of his quirk's hold on her, allowing her heart to return to it's irregular pace slowly. Recovery Girl quickly walked over and picked up the bottle of medication as Rin slowly woke up, and Ikuto let his hand fall down to his lap, getting a strange feeling from being disconnected after an hour sitting there holding pace for her.

Recovery Girl set her hand on Rin's shoulder as she slowly sat up, very groggy, holding a hand to her head. She blinked a few times, still exhausted, trying to reorient herself and remember what exactly happened before passing out. Recovery Girl handed her a glass of water and her medicine, which she took with a quiet "thank you" before turning to see Ikuto sitting near the bed.

His shoulders suddenly tensed up as he realized that she may think it's weird of him to have been here this whole time, seeing that they don't know each other very well, but tried his best not to let his worry show and looked up at her with as soft an expression as he could manage.

Rin's face showed a bit of surprise at the sight of someone in the room with her besides the nurse who she had seen just hours earlier. It took them both a moment of awkward silence before Ikuto finally spoke.

"How are you feeling? Are you alright?" he asked, a bit of worry in his voice.

"I... Yeah, I'm alright." she said. She felt exhausted but she wasn't horrible.

"You should eat something." he stated, reaching for the drink and candy bar to hand them to her. "Or uh, drink something... or I could get you something else, but you need something in your system after all that."

It was a bit strange to have this usually very quiet and reserved boy suddenly fussing over making sure she ate. She hesitantly reached out and took the now lukewarm drink and candy bar out of his hands.

"Th-thank you." she said quietly, not really looking him in the eyes.

She looked down at the candy bar in her hands for a moment before slowly unwrapping it and taking a bite. Ikuto just sat there, looking up at the match on the screen, but not really paying much attention to it, he just didn't want to stare at her while she ate.

When she finished the candy bar she realized just how hungry she actually was and silently wished she had another one as she opened the bottle of juice Ikuto had bought her and took a sip.

"I couldn't hear much of what you said during the match but..." he started, before turning to face her. "It was something about family, wasn't it?"

She slowly brought the bottle down from her mouth and swallowed nervously, remembering what exactly had triggered the outburst that landed her in this hospital bed. "Yeah... it was." she said, and for a moment Ikuto thought that was all she would say about it before she looked up at him and asked, "What is your family like, Maekawa-san?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise at the question, and he looked away for a moment to think. "I have a little brother." he said, not looking up from the floor. "He's a bit of a handful, really playful and likes to cause trouble, but he's a sweet kid." She could see a small smile on his face as he spoke.

"You sound like you care for him very much." she said softly, and he did, she could hear it in the way he spoke.

"I... I do." he said, looking as if he had just realized something. "I have to admit, I miss him since moving into the dorms."

There was a moment of silence, though not quite awkward, before she asked, "Y-your parents, what about them?" and there was curiosity in her voice.

He looked up at her, something in his expression that she couldn't quite place, and he hesitated before speaking. "They..." he started, before turning away from her again, looking back at the floor.

"They both have very different ways of showing that they care. My dad has... high expectations. He always says I can do better, wants me to be the best I can. And my mom, she thinks I'm more capable than I really am... and I don't want her to realize she's wrong." He looked back up at her and saw a strange expression on her face, and worried he had said something wrong. "Ah, I shouldn't be complaining. I love my family, they're not bad, I just..." He looked down for a moment before looking back up to meet Rin's gaze. "I don't want to let them down, you know?"

Rin looked him in the eyes for a moment before staring down at her hands, still holding the juice bottle she'd barely drank out of. "No... I don't know, actually." She hesitated for a moment. "I've... never had a family to disappoint."

Ikuto stiffened a bit, surprised, and his head tilted slightly to one side, questioningly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and slight concern at what she had said.

She took this as a request to elaborate. "I... I grew up in a-an orphanage... and I never got adopted, s-so I don't have a family... and I don't think I ever will." she said in a soft voice, a hint of sadness, but mostly just a reluctant acceptance.

He let out a small sigh as he processed this, eyes not leaving Rin's tired but serious face, looking at her and suddenly realizing something. "You mean... you've done all this on your own?" he asked her, his voice slightly more gentle than usual.

Now it was Rin's turn to look confused. "W-what do you mean?" she asked.

"All of this, getting to UA, training to become a hero, you did all that... alone?" he asked, head leaning forward slightly, eyes looking up at her with a soft gaze, as if he were asking if she was okay.

"I..." she started, looking down at her hands for a moment. "I guess so..." She had never really stopped to think about it, everything that had gotten her to this point in her life. She tried to not look back.

Ikuto sat back in his seat and looked off to the side, thinking to himself. He had a great deal of respect for all of his classmates, but to get here without the support of a family was quite a feat, and he hadn't realized before just how driven Rin was. Despite her very quiet and somewhat sad demeanor, it was clear that she worked very hard to get here and was determined to achieve her goals.

Ikuto looked up at her, realizing he was lost in thought for a moment, and finally spoke. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Tsukikage-san. It's... truly admirable that you've gotten here on your own." he told her.

Rin looked over at him, surprised at the praise. "I-it's really nothing." she said, and she really didn't see it as much, it was just what she had to do, and she still had so far to go.

"But it isn't." he stated, surprised that she would say something like that. "You've done a lot, it's important to acknowledge the progress you've made."

She stared at him, thinking about his words carefully. He was right, she had done a lot, gone through so much hardship, all on her own, but it all seemed so small compared to what the future might hold for her. After all this, she wondered if she could make it the rest of the way.

He saw something shift in her expression as she looked at him. He could see worry on her face, as if she had been trying not to think about all of this and he had suddenly pulled it out of her. "I'm sorry, I- I'm sure it's been hard, but... you aren't alone anymore, you know." he started, desperately trying to comfort her but feeling very unsure of what to say. "We- if you ever need anything, anything at all, you can tell me... and I'll try my very best to help." He spoke to her with genuine care in his voice, and she knew he meant his words.

"I-" she started, but couldn't get anything out. She was touched by his kindness, but something felt bittersweet about it. She would be hesitant to reach out to her classmates for anything, but just knowing that she could, with at least one of them, was comforting. She almost felt tears stinging her eyes but held them back. She had wanted for so long to have a family, to feel loved and as though she belonged somewhere, to feel wanted. Yet here she was, after losing the third round foolishly, one of her classmates sitting by her side, worried about her. It had been so long since anyone was worried about her.

She turned away from him, almost ashamed that she didn't know what to say to him. "P-please don't worry about me, I'm fine, r-really." she muttered.

"I know." he said, causing her to look up at him in surprise. "You've made it this far, I know you're capable, but... my offer still stands." His voice softened at that last bit.

He said this so matter-of-factly, it almost puzzled her. She didn't need help, didn't want to be a burden, but... he seemed so sincere. Could this just be pity? No, she didn't hear any pity in his voice, in fact he spoke as if he were talking about something so simple. At that moment she didn't know what to feel or think.

"Do you not like the juice?" he asked, snapping her out of her spiralling thoughts before she even realized she hadn't responded. "You haven't drank much of it, I can get you something else."

"Oh…" She looked down at the bottle still in her hands. "N-no it's fine… thank you, though." she said softly. 

Ikuto just let out a quiet "hm" as he leaned back, not really believing her but figuring it's best to just let it be. The two of them sat in silence for a while, another match on the television coming to a close as Rin slowly sipped her juice.

After a while Ikuto finally cleared his throat and began to stand up. "I uh, should probably let you rest, and get back to the stands." He turned to her once he was standing. "Unless you would like me to stay."

"N-no, it's alright." she said before hesitating for a moment. "Th-thank you for coming to check on me… You really didn't have to." 

"Of course." he said, almost surprised that she would thank him. "I hope you recover quickly… Oh, I almost forgot." he said, quickly pulling out his phone. "I can give you my number, if you'd like, just in case."

She nodded, taking out her own phone, and the two exchanged information. 

"There." he said, handing her phone back to her after writing his contact info in it. "If you need anything, you can let me know. Or just…" His demeanor shifted slightly, seeming a bit more timid. "If you wanted to hang out… I don't know."

"I'd like that." Rin said with a warm smile, and she could see his shoulders relax as she said that.

Ikuto couldn't help but smile softly at her. "I'll hopefully see you soon then. Take care of yourself, okay?" 

"I… I will." she responded, and Ikuto then turned to leave.

"Also," he said, stopping in the doorway. "You can call me Ikuto, if you'd like."

"Okay, Ikuto-san." she said softly with a smile, and she could see a small smile on his lips as well as he nodded politely before turning and walking out the door.

[viastro]

neither interested nor afraid | choi seungcheol

ミ★ synopsis: in which your bad boy boyfriend is jealous of anime characters and likes to enter your house through your bedroom window rather than use the front door like a normal person. [requested by @kinokinokino-kino​]

ミ★ genre: badboy!seungcheol, fluff, humor

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 1,461

ミ★ pairings: seungcheol x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi! this isn’t exactly what you requested and it also took me a while to finally write it and i’d like to apologize for that! i’ve been really busy and spent a lot of my free time dedicating it to finishing you were beautiful. other than that, i find this oneshot rather cute so i hope you like it!! i hope this makes up for my really angst seungcheol oneshot i wrote a couple weeks ago eeEEKK

“You know, you should really knock Cheol.” You say to your boyfriend, who is happily playing with your cat on your bedroom floor. He glances up at you and rolls his eyes, looking back down towards Chewy and petting him. 

“Knocking’s for losers. Why knock when I can just enter through your window?” Opening your mouth to respond as to why that’s a bad idea, you shut it when you realize it’s just going to go in one ear and out the other. Chewy paws at the tattoo on your boyfriend’s wrist, asking for more pets behind the ear. “Awe, aren’t you just the cutest?”

You quickly throw on a sweatshirt, stepping out of your room and walking to the kitchen to make a snack. You’re hungry after having forgotten to pack a lunch at school, but when you got home you went straight to bed to take your daily nap. You only woke up to the sound of a thud, and you had opened your eyes to find Seungcheol standing by your window in all his glory. He gave you a smile, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before devoting his attention to Chewy. 

Seungcheol always comes two hours after school ends because he has detention. He didn’t used to attend, but when you told him that not going would lead to him not graduating, he literally ate his asshole and began going again. 

“Detention? Baby, do you really think I go to those?”

“Uhh Cheollie, you do realize that if you don’t go to your detentions then you won’t be able to graduate high school. Right?”

“WHAT?!”

You also mentioned to him that getting detention all the time won’t look good on his college resume, but he just closed his eyes when he heard that. Having already decided that it’s more fun to show up to class late with a fresh new bruise on his face each day, as well as giving his teachers attitude. Yes, your boyfriend is the infamous bad boy of the school that girls either swoon for or cower from.

There was no in-between.

Until he met you.

Seungcheol loosens his tie, cursing to himself about the bruise that’s forming on the corner of his mouth. He chuckles after a second, remembering how he got payback for that first punch thrown. He opens the door to the classroom, glancing up with a grin only to pause when he lays eyes on you at the front of the room. 

Seungcheol hasn’t seen you before at this school, and he definitely would’ve remembered a pretty face like your own. Your hair is tucked behind your ear, displaying your nice side profile. Your school uniform is much more neat and properly worn, a stark contrast to his loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt. He looks back up at your face only to be surprised.

You’re staring back at the unnamed guy, taking in his overall messy appearance. His hair looks like someone’s been grabbing it, and there’s a cut on the corner of his lip accompanied with a forming bruise. Seungcheol looks into your eyes, trying to make out what emotion is shown in them, only for you to turn your head away, uninterested. 

“Choi Seungcheol, late like usual hm?” Seungcheol doesn’t respond to the teacher, instead finding himself intrigued by you. A smirk forms on his face as he walks over to his seat, making sure to stare at you as he passes by. This, you choose to ignore, proving his efforts to be futile. Once he sits down, now a lot more interested than before, the teacher asks you to introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m yln yn. It’s nice to meet you all.” You greet the class, giving a small smile afterwards. The class mutters an unenthusiastic ‘hello’ before your teacher motions for you to sit beside the boy who walked into the classroom late. You nod your head, walking over and sitting down at the desk beside him. Seungcheol grins, turning himself around in his seat to stare at you. 

You look at him after a minute of feeling his eyes on you, returning his eye contact. You raise an eyebrow at him, and Seungcheol finds himself growing more intrigued by the minute. “Do you need something?” 

“No, just interested in the pretty new girl.” You blink at him boredly, before turning away and pulling out your journal from your bag. Seungcheol faces the front once he realizes what’s so different about you.

you’re neither interested nor afraid of him. 

and he loves that.

You grew to be interested in Seungcheol after a month of him pestering you to go on a date with him and you finally agreeing. It was a strange day for the high school to say the least, almost no one thought the two of you would end up together. They most definitely didn’t think that Seungcheol’s grades would go up either after he started dating you, but they did in fact go from D’s to A’s and B’s. 

he still doesn’t like wearing his uniform properly, and he also doesn’t understand the concept of showing up to class on time. 

but baby steps yn, baby steps. Maybe in uni he’ll be better.

“Are you cooking baby?” Seungcheol asks as he walks into the kitchen, bending down and wrapping his arms around your waist while you try and look for something to eat in the pantry. “Mmm, I don’t think I’ll be cooking anything for my snack. I’m trying to see if there’s a granola bar in here or something.” 

You let out a small aha once you find the chocolate chip granola bars, reaching up on your tiptoes to try and grab the box from the top shelf. Seungcheol chuckles at you, grabbing it for you with ease. You take four out, before stepping out of your boyfriend’s grasp to go sit on the couch. 

“Not so fast.” Seungcheol mutters after he places the box back on the shelf. He reaches out and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him easily with a smile on his face. 

“I wanted to go watch anime and eat on the couch.” You say, letting out a giggle when he places a kiss to your temple. He lets go and trails after you towards the living room. You settle down comfortably on the sofa, putting on crunchyroll on the TV. Seungcheol sits down beside you, running his hands through your hair as you automatically rest your head on his lap. Turning on free! you both quietly eat your granola bars as you watch the swimming anime.

“See! They basically broke into his house by walking in through the door and you didn’t comment on it, but when I enter your home through your window it’s suddenly illegal-”

“Because one is an anime, and the other is real life.”

“Or because you simp over these pixels more than me.”

“That’s also valid.” Seungcheol squeezes your waist at the comment, eliciting a giggle from you and a slap to his hand. He grins, finding his heart warm at the sight of you comfortably laying on his lap. 

“I love you.” You glance up at your bad boy boyfriend, a smile etching itself onto your face as you take in his soft appearance. His black hair is fluffy, a bit messy per usual. There’s no new bruise on his face, and he’s changed into a pair of sweats and a white shirt. 

People may see him as the “bad boy” of the school, as do you. However, you’re blessed with seeing this side of Seungcheol no one else can see. The boy who breaks into your house by sneaking in through your window, just to make sure you’ve eaten your dinner. The one who coos at your cat and likes his hair to be played with as he falls asleep. The one who likes to bend down to your level and wrap his arms around your waist from behind, wanting to be close to you always. 

“I love you too.” You whisper, reaching up and resting your hand on his cheek. He turns his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Now smiling, you turn back towards the anime, Seungcheol’s hand rubbing small circles on your back. 

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon playfully arguing over the fact that you put on free! claiming you wanted to watch it for the plot. When in reality, you just wanted to see the pretty boys wearing no shirts. 

“It’s for the plot I swear! It’s really good Cheollie.”

“Yeah, yeah. The plot. You just wanted to see half naked pretty boys.”

“Okay. Maybe that too.”

“God damn it.”

[xxtraord1nary]

𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝐿𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!mc (Charlotte West)

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Pretty angsty I guess.

Summary: When a lonely soul decides to spend her morning on a beach she is unpleasantly surprised to find that she isn’t alone and a lot has changed except her feelings.

Warnings: None

Taglist: @katkart122 @missmiimiie @maurine07 @custaroonie @romewritingshop @lucas-rennells @omgfheishot @schnitzelbutterfingers @openheartfanfics

A dreamy sea has a rhythmic pulse to it unmatched by any other part of nature. It forges its own sounds and kindles its own symphony as the waves crawl gently to the shore. Maybe that’s why she admired the Aruban beach so much or maybe it was the isolation of it all. Something she’d come to be so accustomed to. Her loneliness is like standing in the middle of a bustling city, watching people rush by without feeling like you're even remotely connected to them.

No, it's not the same as being alone; being alone is more a state of physical being than it is a state of soul and emotion. You're surrounded by all these people who never seem to truly understand you and who seem like they will never understand the fears and deepest thoughts that tug at your heart. It's not that they don't care about you or truly try to help you -- it's simply that feeling that they will never understand you, no matter how much you explain. It's that craving for love and connection beyond the surface level. Loneliness leads you to feel like you're literally watching the world go by, not part of anything in particular.

Being physically alone though on the beach was nothing new she had to say, but much to her displeasure she wasn’t alone. She spotted a figure in the distance much closer to the shore bare feet in the sand because washed by the gentle waters inching closer. The figure was tall and held a domineering stance and rigid posture she couldn’t shake.

He stood with his face up toward the sun as if taking in the rays of shine and simply basking in its warmth like a bath. He donned white shorts and a plain light blue short sleeved shirt just regular beach attire she shrugged off. He ran his hand through his tussle of chocolate brown curls and visibly breathed deeply taking in the silence quiet and free from disturbance but loud enough to be calming all the same.

It wasn’t until he turned around and they locked eyes from her sitting position did her grow wide and her posture go rigid did she realize this was no mere man or stranger on the beach at all. It was him. Her one that got away. The man that used to make her heart skip a beat with just a simple touch or look, the love of her life. The one that got away. After all this time he was still a part of her. She could still feel the way she beats nearly out of her chest at his mere presence and there’s a certain ache that still makes her feel like she is still in love with him.

For years he’d been the last thing on her mind before she went to sleep the reason for the teardrops on her pillow. Why even after all this time she hadn’t been able to get over him even after deciding to let him go which was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. She tried to get rid of them, the memories, yet she still cannot, because those memories are so ebullient and hard to forget. They're still in her heart's chamber.

She wanted him to know so much, that she loved him. Still she did, her feelings were never a joke and that everytime she told him “I love you” way back when it came from the bottom of her heart. The moment she told him that his embrace made her feel so much comfortable and forget all her problems in life, yes she was honest with that. She was so honest for all the feelings she harbored deep inside. She cherished the moments shared and wouldn’t ever forget how she felt every time she was with him and all she’d put them through.

She wanted to go to him. Her heart told her to run into his arms and rekindle what they had once had but body stayed situated and stuck in place as she continued to stare at the once love of her life and the man she couldn’t ever seem to get over. That she still held a flame larger than life for. He sent a gentle smile but his eyes told a different story of love, so much love. But her happiness died disgustingly hard when realized he hadn’t seen her at all. Instead his attention had been directed behind her where his eyes alighted unfathomably bright at the sight of a woman and a small girl with a little brown dog.

The woman was absolutely stunning. She truly was what women paid to look like, if perfection didn’t exist she was an exception truthfully. Her tanned brown skin could’ve been glowing in the bright sun and beautiful features were highlighted stunningly by the carefree smile alighted on her face. As she held the smallest girl who took after her seeming to be mother exponentially. The girl held their mother’s golden brown complexion and dark curly hair but those eyes; they were unmistakably blue. A bright blue that resembled those indigo blues she knew all too well.

They were Ethan’s and the woman’s children. Her thoughts were only confirmed when the little girl wrestled her way out of her mother’s arms, raising a laugh from the woman as she ran into her fathers arms with the puppy trailing behind her. She hadn’t ever seen him look so happy and at peace. But when the woman made her way to him and hugged him from behind the way his face lit up was foreign to him; even in their time together she’d never made him look like that with just a simple hug.

He wasted no time in bringing her into his embrace and kissing her deeply, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and being borderline affectionate. There was no doubt in her mind that Ethan Ramsey, a man who had no time for marriage or family loved the woman that donned a heavy diamond ring on her finger as he held it up and kissed each knuckle tenderly earning a moan of discontent from the little girls. It was adorable really they looked like a picture perfect family. What you’d see in movies really. Hell they even had a small dog with them that she hadn’t noticed till now.

It had finally hit her, she had to move on. She needed to let go of all that held her back: her love for a man who’d absolutely moved on, after all he was her first love. The very first love that she had experienced in her whole life. It felt melancholic for she had lost him. Maybe they were meant to spend the good times together, it’s just fate took its turn, she was able to hurt him and he did too and well she guessed that was inevitable. Then they parted ways and new beginnings came their way, you chose her over what a naive girl thought was forever kind of love. But it’s okay because she’ll get used to it. She promised herself and hopefully soon it’ll be without bitterness or anger.

Her therapist had told her some time ago before she left for the medical conference in Aruba that when she needed to get something out and she wasn’t available to try and write it out, in a letter of sorts. So she did just that and she wrote a goodbye later her lost love would never receive and not for him but for her. So she swiftly left the beach as undetected as when she arrived and made her way back inside the resort and found a pen and paper in her hotel room and got to writing. She wrote till her hand cramped and her tears stained the paper.

Dearest Ethan,

I wish you happiness love, even if that happiness doesn't include me anymore. It's just that I have to accept the fact that I was no longer a part of you and you of me. Thank you for everything. If I would be given a chance to get back from where we started I will still have that small talk with you in the hallway about her physics class we had together. I will still choose to fall in love with you because you're the best thing ever happened to me, maybe our bittersweet love story has ended after I’d hurt you the way I did. I thought the grass was greener on the other side and I was wrong but I found out all too late. But the last thing that I want to say is in another life I would be your girl so I don't have to say you were the one that got away. And I’m sorry not only to you but to myself...and Tobias.

Love,

Someone you used to know

As she sealed the letter she closed a chapter to her life that wouldn’t ever be opened again. And somehow she moved on. Ethan belonged to the beautiful with the brown skin and curly hair and somehow someway Suparna had to be okay with that. She wasn’t thinking when she sent the letter via bell boy to his room she only asked that it be deliverers to Dr. Ethan Ramsey and lied saying it regarded information about the medical conference he’d been invited to. And with that she went to her bed and fell into a restful sleep dreaming of what could’ve been.

————————————————————————————————

After an eventful day at the beach which was great until Charisma decided to put sand in Jenner’s fur. The act prompted the family to make their way back to the suite and give the girl and the pup a good bath before dinner which was much harder than it looked. Jenner was absolutely refusing and kept shaking his wet little sandy body as often as he could making the largest mess he possibly could. He had given up on chasing the three year old who’d decided that baths weren’t her thing and decided she’d rather run naked throughout the hotel room. Finally he’d washed and dried Jenner and put him in the dog bed with some toys to keep him busy. His love thankfully relieved him of his daddy duties and got Charisma ready for bed. A knock on the door interrupted his short reprieve that involved what he needed most at the moment a glass of scotch.

He answered the door and was met with a bellhop delivering him a letter that he took suspiciously wishing the boy a good night. He wasted no time in opening the letter and reading its contents that quite confused him. His thought process was soon interrupted by a warm hug from the love of his life as she placed her chin on his chest.

“Who’s it from?” She gently inquired. He only shook his head and shrugged in response. “No one important.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah I’m alright.” And with that he took his wife’s hand and couldn’t help but to admire the diamond ring that was just made for her and kissed her ring finger tenderly as he and Charlotte made their way to their daughters room to read her at least three stories before she finally turned in only to have her come in their bed later. But they wouldn’t have it any other way.

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (5/10)

James And The Diesel Engine

1978

When 46 040 had declared that she would become friends with James, nobody in the sheds had really believed it.

James was vain, occasionally pompous, and immensely suspicious of diesel traction. It was a minor miracle that Bear and BoCo had been accepted by him, and Gordon speculated that it was due to the fact that neither engine was in a role that would displace the red engine.

040 on the other wheel, was in direct competition with him - right down to her shiny red paint. The big diesel had been eager to prove her worth, and had gladly accepted any work that the Fat Controller had given her. This meant that for most of the past year, there had been two red mixed traffic engines on Sodor.

Naturally, James was quite upset by this - he felt that he was being supplanted instead of supported, and tried valiantly to make 040 go away.

Unfortunately for James, 040 was determined to make a friend out of him, and treated him and everyone else with an almost impenetrable level of charm and good cheer that soon ingratiated herself with the other engines.

“She is of good stock.” Gordon said when she came up in discussion.

“A hard worker” was Duck’s assessment.

“Aye, if more diesels were like ‘er, the other railway would work a treat!” This from Douglas - high praise considering his well established and totally understandable dislike of diesels.

When he first met 040, he’d growled at her to ‘stay away’, and after a moment’s reflection, she’d apologized.

“What MPD were you at?” She’d asked after he’d growled at her.

“Glasgow - Eastfield.” He’d replied after a confused moment.

“Yeah, that figures.” She sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry, by the way. They only had enough of the “I hate steam engine” bits for the 45s, so us 46s and 44s never quite understood why everyone was so eager to replace you. Well, everyone except Spamcan, but he’s an arse to everyone.”

“Aye?” Douglas was very surprised.

“Of course. We tried to make them be nice - they certainly didn’t need to be so vicious about it - but once they know you care - well, it’s said that you can smell weakness in someone’s exhaust, so we weren’t treated much better than you were.”

“I... had no idea. Do they truly do that? There’s no’ even unity amongst diesels?”

“Not a whit. At least, not in the Midlands. Don’t worry though - they’re getting what’s coming to them. All three of us Peak classes are ‘non-standard’ now, so they’ll see what it’s like to be on the wrong side of progress soon enough.” Her tone was not light, but neither was it overly dark. She clearly had private opinions on the subject that she wanted to keep private. 

Douglas stared at the big diesel with newfound respect.

James soon found himself in the minority of opinions about 040. His resolve began to waver when she would cheerfully keep her composure even in the midst of a heated argument.

“You’re wrong and I can prove it!”

“How?”

“You haven’t got a boiler! You wouldn’t understand what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Ah! That’s where you’re wrong my steam-powered friend! I do have a boiler - for steam heating! I know exactly what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Cinders and Ashes you are impossible! Why are you so cheerful?!”

“I like arguing with you Jamie, it’s fun!”

“Jamie??!”

-----

One morning, the Fat Controller arrived in the sheds with some important news:

“The Thin Clergyman and his son will be visiting the island once again!” He declared cheerfully.

The engines were surprised. “I thought that he had retired from writing?” Gordon said.

“He has,” explained the Fat Controller. “But his son has decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and will be writing books of his own.”

Most of the engines were excited, but 040 was decidedly not. As soon as the Fat Controller left, her face fell into an uncharacteristic scowl. “I am not appearing in those fucking books.” She said menacingly.

This was arguably more surprising than the news of the Thin Clergyman’s arrival.

“Whyever not?” Asked Henry, who was quite pleased to have stories written about him.

“None of you know this,” She grimaced. “But the only more damaging thing than those books was the fucking Beeching Report! When he wrote about that 08 that tried to cause trouble for Duck, he might as well have thrown a bomb into every yard in the country! Everyone was either saying that we diesels were evil masterminds or that steam engines were idiotic dupes! There was zero civility between engines! Friendships ended! Lives were ruined! Locomotives were scrapped over this! I wasn’t even built then and I still have been forced to deal with it!”

She laughed at the jaw-dropped stares of the other engines. None of them had been on the mainland at that time, and they had no idea of the trouble that had gone on.

“And then there’s one-nine-nine! That nincompoop has gotten every one of us Peaks called a Spamcan! And that’s impressive considering there’s three different classes of us! I didn’t even know what Spam was before that book!”

Silence fell over the sheds for a good while.

“I had no idea...” Gordon eventually said in a small voice.

“I know.” 040 said as she slowly regained her cheery demeanor. “And that’s okay. But I really do not want to be in the books.”

“What’s this about books?” James had been out on an early stopper train, and had missed everything.

“Oh nothing Jamie, do you want to have an argument?”

“No! and stop calling me that!”

“Great! So I think we are actually having an argument right now, but what’s your take on it...?”

-----

The Thin Clergyman arrived onboard Gordon’s express, and was given a warm welcome by the Fat Controller at Tidmouth. Fortunately for 040, Gordon had been able to pass the word on with an earlier train, and she was able to flee the station before the author arrived.

The next week of her life was not unlike a scene from the Benny Hill Show - wherever 040 went, the Thin Clergyman and his son followed.

She ran a parcels train to Barrow - the Thin Clergyman was waiting on the next platform,

She hid behind the Works, only to find his Son riding on Skarloey’s footplate,

At Haltraugh she tried to hide behind Duck - with exactly as much success as one would expect,

The two men starting interviewing engines in the shed, and she was forced to hide amongst the coaches in the yard,

Thomas’ driver unexpectedly fell ill at Tidmouth, and she leapt at the chance to take his train - despite being longer than Annie and Clarabel put together! She made it as far as Elsbridge before curious trainspotters began flocking to take her picture, and she beat a hasty retreat to the main line just before the Clergyman arrived,

The engines at the Kirk Ronan branch were quite annoyed when she tried to squeeze into their shed - she was so big that the door wouldn’t shut!

Planned track work meant that one of the Ballahoo tunnels was closed, and she bluffed her way onto the work train so she could sleep in it. This was an effective hiding spot, until she told Henry, who laughed so loudly that the Thin Clergyman heard the entire story from across the yard,

She even tried sleeping in the electric branch sheds at Peel Godred, but was not only glared at by the very antisocial locomotives who lived there, but also had to hide from both the Thin Clergyman and His Son when they came to see the Culdee Fell Railway.

Finally, there was nowhere left to run - she had managed to find all of these hiding spots while still doing her jobs, but today she was the ‘relief’ engine at Knapford, which meant that she had to sit in the yard all day in case another engine failed.

In full view of the station building.

At midday,  James bustled in with a load of vans for Thomas’ branch line.

“What are you so anxious about?” He asked 040 with a mixture of scorn and surprise. The annoying red diesel was looking positively frantic as her eyes scanned the station building. It was most unlike her.

“Jamie! Hide me!” She hissed as James’ driver uncoupled the vans.

“What?”

“Hide me! Quickly!”

“Why?”

“The Clergyman! He’s right there in the station!”

James looked over, and sure enough, the Thin Clergyman and his son were sitting down to lunch in the station café. “Why?”

“Because he might write something about me!” 040 was frantic.

James was baffled, but remembered Gordon mentioning something about some engines not wanting to be written about. He’d assumed that Edward was just being introverted again, but perhaps there was more to it than that...

He was tempted to do the exact opposite - to blow his whistle, attract attention, and pay back the loudmouth diesel for all of her arguments and nicknames, but when he looked back at her, he realized that 040 was frightened of the Thin Clergyman.

James was many things, but sadistic wasn’t one of them, and he ran around his train and shunted the vans so that 040 was almost entirely obscured from sight.

“Thank you!” She whispered as he backed away.

“Keep it dark,”  He hissed back. “I have a reputation to uphold. And I’ll try and draw his attention to me so he doesn’t go looking for you.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you.” She said with a small smile. “You always are the centre of attention!”

James smiled back as he backed into the yard proper, doing his best to make as much noise as he could until he came to a stop at the far end of the yard - as far away from 040 as possible.

His plan worked flawlessly. The Clergyman and his son had been so engrossed in their meal that they hadn’t noticed that any engine was there at all, and quickly made their way across the yard.

Unlike 040, James was always pleased to have someone write about him, and spent the better part of an hour answering the Clergyman’s questions.

“There was one other thing I wanted to know, James.” The Clergyman’s son said after a while. “We’ve been told that there’s a new diesel on the Island, but we can’t seem to find him anywhere!”

“Her.” James corrected before he could stop himself.

“Her?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes. She’s a girl, and she’s quite shy.”

“Really?” The Clergyman said as he scribbled in his notebook. “Can you tell me about her? Or where she is?”

“I don’t want to talk about anyone behind their back...” James said, knowing exactly how often he did just that. “But I saw her going to the works a few hours ago. You might be able to find her there and ask her yourself.”

This pleased the Clergyman and his Son, and they immediately set off in their hire car for the works. James waited until they had vanished from sight before he called out: “They’re gone!”

“Thank God!” 040 shouted from across the yard.

“Don’t thank him! Thank me!” James called back.

“Thank you James! Really, I owe you one now.” James couldn’t see the diesel, but he could somehow tell that she was smiling.

----

040′s luck finally ran out on the last day of the Clergyman’s trip. She was rostered to pull the night express, and didn’t realize that the Thin Clergyman was going to be on board. She almost jumped off the rails when she saw him climbing the stairs to the platform, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he entered the train, and her face fell when she realized that he was merely putting away his luggage before he got out of the train and walked up to her.

“Hello there! I haven’t seen you before!” He said jovially while admiring her paint and stripes.

“I’m new.” She said, trying to keep her tone somewhat polite. The ugly anger rising in the pit of her engine block was making that a very hard thing to do.

“I can see that - you have been quite hard to find!”

“Have I?”

“Very much so, but nevermind that. I was wondering if you would be willing to let myself and my son write about you? You see, we write books abou-”

“I know what your books are about.”

“Oh you do?” The Thin Clergyman said, not missing the sudden undertone in the diesel’s voice.

“Oh yes. And I’m not even talking about Spamcan.” She smiled viciously as the Thin Clergyman winced at that reference.

“Yes, well-”

“I’m not done. I'm talking about the other book you wrote. About the 08? The one that got more than a few engines killed?”

“What?” The author recoiled at the now-undisguised venom in 040′s voice.

“Of course you don’t know. You don’t care about diesels, just your precious steam engines.” She glared at him with undisguised malice. “Do me a favor - take that notebook and go fuck yourself with it - I will never be in one of your books.”

As she said that, the signal dropped, and the guard - who couldn’t see the Clergyman due to a porter’s trolley in the way - blew his whistle.

040 set off immediately, leaving the Thin Clergyman standing on the platform, taking his baggage with her.

-

When the Clergyman’s son started publishing his books several years later, 040 was nowhere to be seen in any of them.

[angelsswirl]

Petrichor

Four

Notes: The story's not over yet....

Content Warning⚠️: mild smut

...

"You loved what you loved because you loved it."

It's been weeks. Weeks of you falling deeper and deeper into this mess you somehow forced yourself into.

Weeks of getting to know Rosé. Weeks of getting to know Jisoo. Weeks of getting to know Lia, for that matter.

Weeks of being sucked into a cycle of never-ending uncertainty.

And sure you knew plenty about them at this point. The little stuff, the medium stuff, but maybe not the big stuff.

If someone had asked you weeks ago if you had wanted to be in a serious relationship, mated to an alpha for the foreseeable future, you would have told them 'No. Absolutely not. I'm not ready.' But now, that's changed. And you're not exactly sure why.

In addition to suddenly wanting to be someone's omega, your heats had magically increased, in frequency and intensity. They were somehow bulldozing their way through your normal dosage of suppressants.

It was why you currently found yourself in the waiting room of your doctor's office.

Though, as you waited to be called back by the nurse, that was not the pertinent thought weighing down on you. Instead, it was 'Did Jisoo or Rosé want a serious relationship with you as well? Did they want you to be their mate?'

The million-dollar question.

You had no real way of knowing. It definitely seemed like it on both their parts, but outright asking was out of the question.

Jisoo had a daughter, a daughter who will inevitably one day realize that you look nothing like her. She'll long for the care of her biological mother, and then Jisoo will leave you so their family is complete.

A logical conclusion.

Rosé has an ex, an ex that, granted, you're not supposed to know about (Yeri is very talkative when drunk), but an ex nonetheless. It's only fair that Rosé realizes that she has unfinished business with said ex while you're pregnant with her pups, and leaves you for the ex.

Another logical conclusion.

And where does all of that leave you?

Alone.

The nurse calling your name lightly soothed you out of your musing, saving you from answering your own question with even more ugly scenarios.

"Y/N L/N? You can go on back." The nurse, an omega herself, smiled reassuringly as she gestured for you to follow her.

She lead you to an examination room after weighing you in the hallway. After a few preliminary questions that you had to answer every time you visited, the nurse left you to wait.

Seven minutes later there's a knock on the door and a creaking of the hinges.

Dr. Ramona Davis, another omega woman, smiled softly as she flipped through your mildly thin file.

Despite you being a patient at this particular practice since you started having heats, you had never really had any serious isssues.

It wasn't uncommon for an Omega Specialist to be an alpha, but they probably saw way less patients. It made more sense for an omega to be seeing a doctor who would understand what they were going through on a medical and a personal level.

Dr. Davis placed the file on the counter in the room before squirting some hand sanitizer on, rubbing it in, then shaking your hand.

"Hello Y/N, what brings you in today? I haven't had to see you in a year." The concern on the woman's fair features was genuine. You took great appreciation in that. You hated Doctor's offices and the almost motherly nature of the omega doctor assuaged your anxiety greatly.

"Um, yeah. Recently, my heats have been coming way more frequently than normal and they're very intense. My suppressants are barely putting a dent in them."

"Oh, that is concerning. You rarely come to me for heat problems." The doctor's eyebrows furrowed.

Dr. Davis did a quick check of your breathing, then ears and nose.

The omega doctor sat back on her rolling stool with a sigh, "Are your heat symptoms normal? Anything really out of the ordinary?"

A blush settled over your cheeks. You thought for a second, other than being more intense you didn't think that your symptoms have been out of the ordinary really, "I don't think so. The normal overheating, bones aching so bad I can't move, loss of appetite, and really bad night terrors, but I think that has more to do with the fact that this is my first year living by myself in the center of New York City. Yeah, all of that but dialed up by, like, 10." You mused, you shrugged your shoulders in the end as if to say 'Y'know, the usual.'

Ramona stared at you blankly for a solid three minutes before speaking again, "Y/N. None of that is normal. I have half a mind to call your mom and tell her what you just told me. The only thing stopping me is doctor-patient confidentiality."

You pouted, your mother didn't need to know any of this. She was dealing with her own things. It's the very reason you hadn't mentioned this to either of your parents. Also, you hadn't really known that anything was wrong. You really just came here to get a higher dosage of suppressants.

Dr. Davis rubbed a hand down her face, "How long have your heats been like this?"

"Since I started having them, but they didn't get really bad until like six weeks ago give or take."

Ramona nodded, "You said this was the first time you're living fully by yourself. How long has it been since you lived with an alpha?"

"Uh, not since being home with my dad. I'm 24 and I moved out at 18, so, six years ago." You frowned. You desperately needed to find out where the professional was going with this. 

Ramona thought for a second. She had a hunch, of what part of the problem was. She can't really do anything about the "normal" heat symptoms but she does have a cure that should dial back the frequency and intensity, she just had a sneaking suspicion that you would absolutely hate it. Because if you didn't hate the idea, then the problem would be fixed already.

But first, a couple more questions, "When was the last time you were knotted?"

"Like three years ago?"

Dr. Davis surmises that you must have impeccable self-control and she's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"Okay, last question before I let you in on my thought process. Have you been in close proximity to any unmated alphas lately? Like not just standing behind one in a line or sitting next to one in class, I mean actually spending time with any."

"Yeah...two." You were starting to pick up the pieces, and no, you did not like where this is going.

"Ah, the final piece of the puzzle," Ramona wrote some notes down on your file, "Alright. So here's what I think is going on, you haven't been in the presence of an alpha for at least three years.  And all of a sudden you're surrounded by two. Probably encountering many more pheromones than you had in the past three years combined.  It doesn't help that those alphas are readily available and your omega is very aware of this. Your heats are out of wack because, one, it sounds like you've just been chugging through them like nothing is wrong, not taking a knot or anything even remotely useful, and two, because of these new alphas. It's almost like your teasing your omega and she's fighting back. Triggering random and intense heats to trick you into mating with one of them."

You stared back at her absolutely horrified, "I'm trying to kill myself?"

"That's not what I said."

"That's what it sounded like. Anyway, how do I get it to stop? I'm sure you know this isn't very fun."

"I can imagine. There's really one way that can help..."

"Stop stalling, Doc."

"You're going to have to take one of their knots. I know, I know. Stop looking at me like that. It's the only way. Once you do that, your omega will calm down and you can go back to your life. Look, it doesn't even have to be one of theirs. You're going to do that and I'm going to write you a prescription for some muscle relaxers but your suppressants are staying the same."

You looked like you wanted to puke at the thought of doing that with anyone else other than Jisoo or Rosé.

"Okay, it has to be one of theirs."

You still looked a bit apprehensive. 

Ramona sighed, it looked like she was going to have to pretend to be her wife today. Her wife was a psychologist who worked down the hall.

"What's got you so hesitant, Y/N?"

You sighed and your shoulders slumped, "I don't want to have to choose between them. I like them both. A lot."

"Who said you have to choose? You might eventually when you're ready to mate, but for now, you don't have to worry about that."

"What if I am ready to mate?" You mumbled.

"Then yeah, you might have a problem on your hands."

You threw your hands up in the air exasperated, "I don't even know if they would even want to have sex with me."

Ramona rolled her eyes at that, "Okay, here's what you're going to do. I'm going to sit here, and you're going call both of them and ask." 

You began to protest, "Ah. No. You're going to do it. I can tell you've been putting this off and it's starting to nag at you. You're a 24-year-old unmated omega. There is absolutely no reason you should be doubting your sex appeal."

"Fine," You grumbled. Your hands shook as you picked up your phone and tapped on your recents. They were both coincidently the last people you had talked to. Rosé being the latest, as you were confirming plans for later that day.

Rosé answered on the second ring, "Hey, Babe. What's up?"

You blushed at the pet name, you sighed before deciding to just rip it off like a bandaid, "Do you want to have sex with me?"

There's a clattering and then a curse on the other end. A second later Rosé started speaking again, "I'm sorry, I dropped my phone. Yes. The answer is yes." You hung up without another word. A heavy blush encompassing your harsh scowl at Ramona.

It seemed like Jisoo answered the phone before you even pressed the call button, "Kim Crematorium. You kill 'em, we grill 'em. How may I help you?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that's not funny?"

"...Until I believe you."

"Anyway. Do you want to have sex with me?"

It sounded like Jisoo started to hyperventilate.

"I very do a lot."

"What?"

"Yes. The answer is yes."

You hung up and glared at the doctor, "Happy?"

"Are you?" 

You had never felt a boost of confidence such as the verbal reassurance of alphas being sexually attracted to you, but Ramona didn't need to know that.

"So, now you know they want to. The next step is to do it." Dr. Davis patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. 

You nodded resolutely. The next step is to do it. 

Dr. Davis handed you the prescription for the muscle relaxers and ushered you out the door.

~•~

You arrived at Rosé's penthouse with a renewed sense of determination.

You were let into the fancy apartment building and then into the penthouse fairly easily. You assumed Rosé had prepared whoever needed to be prepared for your arrival.

Rosé, over lunch one day, had finally let slip her actual job description. You had only shrugged more or less. You weren't stupid. You don't wear custom Armani suits and pay for your Starbucks with a black credit card without being the CEO of something.

Rosé seemed forever grateful you hadn't made a big deal about it.

As soon as you laid eyes on Rosé your core clenched. The alpha was only wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, and yet for some reason, you still got weak in the knees. 

Rosé greeted you with a peck on the cheek and a happy smile, "How was your day?"

You blinked, "Interesting. How was yours?"

"Boring at first. It's my first day off in months and I didn't know what to do with myself. Then I got an interesting phone call from an interesting person asking an interesting question. So I'd say my day was interesting as well."

Rosé led them deeper into the penthouse, which you later will realize is only the first floor.

"Yeah, sorry if I caught you off guard with that?" You looked down and blushed. A go to move of yours.

Rosé shrugged, "It's fine. I admired the forwardness...So, I was originally going to cook for you, but then at the very last second, I remembered I can't cook. But I can drink wine. And I'm very good at buying it too, so I figured we could have an impromptu wine tasting." Rosé gestured into her kitchen where a bunch of glasses filled with different pigments of wine had been set up.

"You just want to see me drunk." You tapped Rosé playfully on the arm.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any ulterior motives."

You made it three glasses in before you practically jumped Rosé. In your defense, your mini-heat was still simmering under the surface.

Your lips smashed together in a desperate ruse for you to get closer to Rosé. Rosé's hands on your hips and your hands in her hair. You released your grip on the taller woman's hair, you reached down to your shirt. Gripping at the hem and yanking it overhead.

Rosé blinked slowly, "Are you sure?" She asked, even as your hands traveled to the belt buckle on her jeans. 

You captured Rosé's lips again in a quick, searing kiss, "What about any of this says unsure to you?"

That's all Rosé needs to continue.

It's not really evident how you two got into Rosé's room and subsequently her bed. Both of you had sort of partially blacked out.

Save for her underwear, Rosé was completely naked as she nipped at your neck. You mewled and whined, your hips rolling up into Rosé's thigh.

"You're so wet." Rosé practically growled into your ear. She can easily tell by the amount collecting on her thigh every time you bucked your hips.

"Alpha, need you inside of me."

Rosé is all too happy to oblige. She kicked off her boxers quickly, then leaned over toward her bedside table. She rummaged around in the drawer without looking. You were completely naked under her, her eyes were bit preoccupied.

It took about 20 more seconds for the alpha to locate what she had been looking for. 

"Safety first," Rosé exclaimed as she held up the condom. You rolled your eyes, a bit too far gone to care about safety at the moment. This all seemed like a waste of precious time to you.

It felt like ages before Rosé was finally inside of you. You couldn't help but clench just about as soon as she had entered.

The relief you felt was almost instantaneous. That feeling of finally being filled almost pushed you over the edge right then and there.

Rosé rocked her hips back lightly. Allowing you to adjust.

You did so quickly apparently. Your hips rocking up into Rosé once again.

"Chae, harder."

Rosé grunted and obliged. Her hips slamming into the you harder than before. You were about as tight as Rosé had imagined you would be, and that was serving to make this that much more difficult.

She'd be damned if she didn't even last ten minutes. How embarrassing would that be?

"Fuck." You moaned breathily. You felt like you were floating. The coil in your stomach tightening in time with the curling of your toes.

"You're so gorgeous." Rosé whispered into your shoulder. She nipped at the skin there, trying to abate her need to bite your mating gland.

You're not listening. You can feel Rosé's knot beginning to form, and your main goal is to get it inside of you. So, you relaxed as much as you could and wrapped your legs around Rosé's waist. Pulling her closer.

You both released almost identical moans.

"God, you're trying to kill me." Rosé grunted just as her knot popped into you.

It took just about all her willpower not to latch onto your neck.

Your back arched as you fell over the edge. Your breathy moans becoming a bit more high pitched.

Rosé groaned as she released into the condom.

As you both came down you began to giggle.

Rosé scowled, "What are you laughing at?"

"Oh, calm down. I'm laughing because I normally pride my self on having great self control. I demonstrated quite the opposite just then."

"Hey, we all need to let go every once in a while." Rosé shrugged and shifted you to a more comfortable position.

You gasped as you felt the knot tug a bit. You would be tied together for a bit longer.

You sighed happily, then snuggled closer into Rosé.

Within seconds, you're out like a light.

~•~

You woke to your phone vibrating precariously next to your head.

In the night, you and Rosé had since shifted. No longer tied. Your back was pressed into Rosé's front, with her arm slung across your waist.

You answered your phone without looking at caller id.

"Hello?"

"Hey. You weren't sleep were you?" You frowned at the tone of Jisoo's voice. She sounded exhausted and maybe even a little upset.

"No. Why? What's up?"

Jisoo huffed a bit before sighing, "Do you mind coming over here and watching Lia for a bit. She's not feeling well and I need to go pick up some medicine for her. I know it's late-"

"I'll be right over, Jisoo."

"Thanks."

It's surprisingly easy for you to slip out from under Rosé. Tiptoe out of the room, locate your clothes, then head out the apartment. All without waking her.

~•~

You're at Jisoo's in record time. You smoothed out your wrinkled shirt before knocking on the door lightly.

It doesn't occur to you that Jisoo is most definitely going to smell Rosé on you until Jisoo opens the door and looks at you like that.

Part sad, part angry, part prooven right?

Her jaw is clenched and she won't look you in the eyes. Instead she looked right past you into the hallway. You wanted to say something. Apologize maybe. Deal out excuses. You're not sure. Jisoo beat you to it anyway.

"...Thank you. I didn't want to bring her with me at risk of her getting sicker. And everyone else was busy. Or Asleep." Jisoo looked a bit resigned. Like she expected this and it was what it was.

She brushed passed you easily, then hurrried down to her car. She might punch her dashboard out of anger and jealousy, but it's the middle of the night. No one is there to confirm or deny that part.

You took a deep breath. You didn't like that look Jisoo gave you. It made you feel gross, guilty, and quite frankly, sick to your stomach.

You don't have time to wallow, because you can hear Lia whimpering through the baby monitor placed on the coffee table.

You walked into the toddler's room to find Lia balancing over the ledge of crib. Clearly in the middle of an escape.

"Hi, Li. Do you mind if I help you?"

Lia huffed before reaching for you. You scooped the child into your arms easily. Lia cuddled herself into your neck.

"Thank you for letting me help. You give the best hugs."

The toddler lifted her head from your shoulder, "Better than mama?"

You chuckled lightly, "Yes, better hugs than your mom."

Lia laid her head back as you walked back to the livingroom. You sat down on the sofa as you waited for Jisoo to get back.

"Don't feel good." Lia mumbled tiredly into your neck.

"I know you don't. That's why your mom went to go get some medicine for you. You know, I think you hit the mom jackpot with that one."

Lia shrugged and yawned. It's only about three seconds later that the toddler passes out.

You just continued to rub the girl's back.

~•~

Jisoo came back to see Lia passed out on your chest, and you passed out on the couch.

She begrudgingly took a pic of the admittedly adorable sight.

She eventually decided to post the picture to her Instagram. Jealousy only partially driving that decision.

Jisoo pocketed her phone and stood in the door way for a few more seconds. Lia looked very content to stay where she was, so Jisoo let her.

She sighed, "I'm working on it, kid. I just wish I knew what I was up against."

~•~

You woke up without the crick in your neck you thought you would. You soon realized it was because you were in a bed and not on the couch you had vaguely remembered falling asleep on.

You hobbled out of the bed. You peered into Lia's room to find her sleeping soundly in the crib.

You then padded into the living room next. The tv was on but it didn't seem obvious that it was being watched.

"Morning." You jumped clear out of your skin.

You turned around to the voice. Jisoo was standing at the kitchen island, sipping on a cup of coffee. Jisoo looked like she had gotten exactly zero hours of sleep that night. Her face was blank and she was wearing the same thing she had left in.

"Morning... How'd I get into your bed?"

"I carried you there. You looked uncomfortable." Jisoo's face remained blank. Her eyes pointed in the direction of the television.

"Where did you sleep?"

"I didn't."

"Chu."

"Thanks for watching Lia again." Jisoo's jaw clenched and her leg bounced on the linoleum, "I'll see you later."

You wrapped your arms around yourself. You nodded as you headed for the front door.

"Tell Lia I'll see her next week?"

Jisoo only hummed.

You took a shakey breath as you left the apartment. You left the building with arms still wrapped around yourself.

Somehow, this felt more like the walk of shame then leaving Rosé's had.

You pulled out your phone and dialed a familiar number.

"What's up?"

"Can we meet up, I really need to talk."

"Of course. You know where to meet me. Give me ten minutes."

You breathed a watery sigh of relief, "Thank you."

[captain-aralias]

“Fuck the Mage” – a look at the politics of Carry On’s most and least popular characters

I’ve written this not to try and make anyone feel bad about liking Baz, or Fiona, or Natasha, or any of Baz’s family (I like Baz and Baz’s family). I haven’t even written it to try and make it OK to like the Mage, or to stop it being OK not to like him. (It’s OK to not like him – he’s a bad guy.)

But we’re coming up to another general election. Today is actually the day of the Conservative party manifesto launch! And I said I would write this to @basic-banshee, who I like and admire, and who was right to say Baz is a Tory earlier in the week. 

It feels like the right time.  

I should also say now that I don’t closely follow politics. This isn’t my specialist subject. I’m just British and I live with a hardcore socialist. 

I also think I said all of these things in The Mage’s Heir already, so if you want you can read that instead. It has vampire sex too, which this doesn’t.

(Keep reading will take you to an essay that is almost five thousand words long. So strap in.)

---

"One will come to end us; and one will bring his fall” - the narrative drive of the Chosen One story

It is a truth universally acknowledged that ‘Carry On’ is based on ‘Harry Potter’. More than that, though, it’s specifically a challenge to the kind of book that Potter is – in which a hero is chosen and fulfils his destiny defeating the big bad. It purposefully subverts the expectations of readers familiar with that sort of story.

That means that, where the villain in ‘Harry Potter’ is a racial supremacist who is obviously and actively evil, the supposed big-bad villain in ‘Carry On’ doesn’t really exist. The Humdrum is just an echo of Simon, who by the end of the book identifies himself as the villain as well as the hero. This is a neat twist on the format. It isn’t supposed to be an argument that all heroes are actually the causes of their own destruction, although you could read it that way.

The real villain is the Mage. Who in classic Dumbledore fashion left Simon to be raised in horrible conditions and never gave him enough information to make his own choices. He also murders Ebb, locks Baz in a coffin in inhumane conditions, and let vampires into Watford – an event that directly or indirectly led to the death of Natasha Grimm-Pitch.

This is again a twist on the format. The Mage fills the role of the wise mentor and we find out as early as ‘Fangirl’ that he’s Simon’s father. Even though there’s a strong movement that argues that Dumbledore is a manipulative dick who used to date a Nazi, I don’t think anyone would call him the villain of Potter. He’s still far more good than bad and he’s still absolutely necessary in helping Harry work out how to defeat Voldemort.

That’s why the Mage has to be the villain – it’s because you wouldn’t expect it of the person in his narrative role or with his political views. (I’d guess it’s not supposed to be a statement about all wise mentors, though it could be. Or even all socialist reformers.) It’s also because the kinds of things that Dumbledore did to Harry are worse when viewed through the more personal lens of YA romance, rather than the more traditional school-story fantasy of Potter.  

Fandom is essentially united in its absolute condemnation of the Mage as a character.

He’s almost always written as an abusive father in fic. (This is particularly noticeable for me in non-magic AUs where he often physically and mentally hurts Simon outside of the fantasy genre where sending a child to take on a dragon is loosely acceptable.)

Penny tells us that he’s sexist (although Agatha – who also doesn’t like the Mage – points out that it’s possible the Mage just hates everyone). Penny tells us that anyone can call themselves the ‘Great Reformer’ and she’s right. The Mage’s Men are actively equated to Nazis through their raids, which is backed up by other familiar emotive language like ‘banned books, banned phrases’.

But the thing is, the Mage really was a great reformer. And Baz’s family really were a bunch of privileged, self-centred assholes who deserved not to be in charge, no matter how much we like them. We don’t talk about it much, beyond how Malcolm’s (very standardly conservative) homophobia affects Baz on a personal level, because the emotions of the story lead us down a different path.

Baz is the romantic hero, Natasha Pitch is his dead and wronged mother, and the Mage is the villain. Not because he’s a Nazi (he isn’t). Not even because he killed Ebb or imprisoned Baz.

It’s primarily because, unlike Natasha, he isn’t a good parent.

Which is fine. It makes sense for all the reasons above, and the Mage is a bad parent

But the problem with ‘Carry On’ being an inversion of the tropes of traditional narratives is that we end up with a canon that (even though it’s full of POC characters and gay characters and disabled characters) almost asks us to be OK with the politics of Baz’s family and class, because we like Baz and we don’t like the Mage.  

And they’re not really OK.

“Not one of ours” – the Old Families as Conservatives

I’ll talk more about the Mage later, but he exists as a reaction to the Pitches, so let’s talk about their political leanings first. Specifically, I’m going to talk about Loyalty, The Other, Vampires, and Taxes.

Ban wrote a nice and also brief description of what Conservatives/Tories are to start you off, if you didn’t read it. Later an anon (sorry if this was you!) said that Rainbow would never have really meant for Baz to be read as a Tory. 

But I’m pretty sure she did and I respect how much she didn’t shy away from it.

In fact, the only way I can imagine Baz and his family not voting Conservative/Tory is if they just didn’t vote at all, because they thought Normal politics were unimportant. Which is also a highly privileged position to take as it assumes that none of them will ever need to take advantage of Normal public services and that it’s no concern of theirs what happens to everyone else in the country i.e. this is the one situation where not voting Tory is actually the most Tory thing you could ever do. 

1. Loyalty

Now obviously Baz’s family do care – passionately – about the people they care about. This is one of their most appealing characteristics as characters. It’s very likeable and understandable. Rainbow has suggested Baz is a Hufflepuff. Hardworking – and (this is the key) loyal. I see it, although I think he would have turned out very differently if he’d been told from the age of eleven that this is who he was, rather than being essentially told he was a Slytherin. But that’s a detour.

The problem with being loyal is that there are people you aren’t loyal to, and you can see this clearly in the Pitches. The people they love must be protected, even at the expense of everyone else. Its barely a choice. Although the Pitches would never betray each other, they’re famous betrayers.

I adore Fiona, she’s one of my favourite characters. But she is also – as Rainbow stated recently – ‘a dangerous lunatic’. She is hardly bothered when the specific action that she insights Baz (a child) to take against Simon (a child who hasn’t done anything to her) causes Philippa Stainton (another child who really hasn’t done anything to her) to be permanently disabled.

Baz is almost unable to comment on how this event makes him feel even in his POV - probably because he’s loyal and he doesn’t want to criticise Fiona. Although we know it causes him to stop trying to kill Simon, so I’d guess that it troubled him, even if it didn’t trouble Fiona. (We’ll come back to Baz as part of his family later.)

2. The Other

If Natasha were still in charge of Watford, Trixie wouldn’t be allowed to attend. Gareth wouldn’t be allowed to attend. Simon wouldn’t be allowed to attend. The Minotaur worked on the grounds, since ‘creatures weren’t allowed on the staff’ (which is horrifically racist language, even if it’s true.)

Oddly, Simon is able to voice this within the text (probably because he’s been hanging around with the Mage so much), although his opinion is disregarded because it sounds naïve and because even he tell us that he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“I still don’t think it’s a war,” Agatha insists. “It’s just politics, just like in the Normal world. The Mage has power, and the Old Families want it back. They’ll bitch and moan and cut deals and throw parties---” “It’s not just politics.” Simon leans towards her, pointing. “It’s right and wrong.” Agatha rolls her eyes. “But that’s what the other side says, too.” … “It’s not just politics,” he says again. “It’s right. And wrong. It’s our lives. If the Old Families had their way, I wouldn’t even be here. They wouldn’t have let me into Watford.” “But that wasn’t personal, Simon,” Agatha says. “It’s because you’re a Normal.”

Firstly – it probably was personal, let’s face it. But secondly – even if it wasn’t personal-personal, it’s still an example of a prejudice that echoes the distain people like the Malfoys have for ‘Mudbloods’. Just because Simon could be the first Normal to gain magic, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be allowed to join Watford. The Mage shouldn’t have to give him a title and a sword just to get him in.  

Simon’s right, even if he doesn’t mean it this way. Politics affects people’s lives.

“Ask Natasha Grimm-Pitch about suicide rates among low-magicians,” the Mage tells Mitali Bunce – who is right that killing people isn’t the answer, but also not nearly as progressive as she thinks she is. “Ask your Coven what they’re doing to fight pixie sticks and every other magickal disease that doesn’t affect their own sons and daughters.

3. Vampires as a specific example of the Other

Natasha and the Old Families were in charge when Nicodemus Petty joined the vampires. It wasn’t the Mage who struck Nicodemus’s name from the book and pulled out his fangs. Which we’re told is fine, actually, because it’s against Mage Law. Even though the idea of this happening to Baz is horrific and unthinkable, and even though we have no evidence that Nicky ever killed anyone. Just that he wasn’t human.

If you’ve read ‘The Mage’s Heir’ you’ll know I think Nicky is a very interesting character to bring into this space. He’s powerful and he’s innovative, inventing spells Baz has never heard of even after he has his magic taken away from him. He’s like the Mage, and like the Mage (who is from Wales, which is traditionally a very poor area of the UK), he’s clearly from a low-class family. The accent that both he and Ebb have is East-End London, which means they’re poor. Even though they’re powerful magicians and therefore theoretically as valid as the Pitches in the Pitch-world order.

Yes, he chose to become a vampire and Baz didn’t but partly he’s punished for being poor and trying to become more powerful in a way that the Pitches don’t understand. He wasn’t necessarily going to kill anyone.

Are vampires even bad?

Because Baz isn’t bad – or not just because he’s a vampire, anyway. We see Simon wrestling with this in ‘Wayward Son’ and he struggles because of his personal hatred for Lamb.

Even (and perhaps especially) under the Mage, the World of Mages just uniformly accepts that a whole group is evil. I think ‘Wayward Son’ begins to trouble this, even as Lamb betrays Baz and vampires are the enemy. But we find Baz actually thinking: “I’m not used to thinking of vampires as fellow victims.”

What he means is that he’s not used to thinking of them as people.

It’s completely appalling to keep Baz in a coffin – I’m sure we all agree with that. If it was another vampire, would the Old Families and the rest of the World of Mages feel the same way, or would they think that was a proportionate response?

When we talk about the death of Natasha Pitch we talk about the Humdrum having killed her, or the Mage having killed her. The vampires are presented as a random instrument of death (which if they had been taken over the Humdrum they would have been), rather than people who were paid by the Mage to do something.

The way the situation is presented to us in the Record, by Natasha herself, and by popular memory is that monsters broke into the nursery and would have killed Baz and Natasha if she hadn’t responded as she did.

However, Nicky says to Baz: “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he meant for your mum to die – but I don’t think he minded much. Made everything a lot easier.”

So it’s at least worth contemplating a reality where this is what happened:

The Mage paid vampires to break into Watford and cause a disturbance. He didn’t think anyone would die.

One of the vampires bit Baz but didn’t intend to either kill or Turn him, which we know is now a possibility but which nobody in the World of Mages had ever bothered to find out.

Even if the vampires did intend to Turn Baz, it could easily be a political statement – an opportunity to show that even a Pitch could be a vampire and that the World of Mages might like to reappraise its choices.

When Natasha arrived, she saw her son being threatened, acted on her prejudices and didn’t ask questions. She murdered a large group of people who had broken into her school, but who otherwise hadn’t necessarily done anything wrong.

I don’t say this is what happened, just that it’s a possibility. 

Even if these vampires are evil and this was a terrorist attack (a phrase I’m using deliberately) the fact that presumably most of the others aren’t evil is still relevant. We barely scratch the surface of what this means for the World of Mages even in ‘Wayward Son’. 

One of the things I think that’s most interesting about the Mage’s rise to power is that he does using the same hateful speech that the Old Families use, just exclusively directed against the Dark Creatures, rather than all creatures and low-powered magicians. It probably made it easier for him to gain support because these are views that everyone holds, but it’s completely at odds with his whole stated reason for being in charge.

Definitely not ideal. We do deserve better.

4. Taxes

Baz also tells us that his family are against the idea of taxation, which the Mage has introduced largely to benefit people who aren’t like Baz.

‘Taxes to cover all the Mage’s initiatives; most notably to pay for every faun bastard and centaur cousin, and every pathetic excuse for a magician in the Realm to attend Watford. The World of Mages never had taxes before. Taxes were for Normals, we had standards instead.’

I’m writing this post in November 2019, about a week after the Labour manifesto has dropped. It has this to say about taxes:

Universal public services, collectively provided through general taxation and free at the point of use for all, are how we guarantee the right to a good life. Public services do more than make sure everyone has the basics. They create shared experiences and strengthen social bonds. They make our lives richer and more fulfilling. A decade of Tory cuts has pushed our public services to breaking point. Labour offers real change – we will make Britain’s public services the best and most extensive in the world. We will pay for this by creating a fairer taxation system, asking for a little more from those with the broadest shoulders, and making sure that everyone pays what they owe. We will reverse some of the Tories’ cuts to corporation tax while keeping rates lower than in 2010. We’ll ask those who earn more than £80,000 a year to pay a little more income tax, while freezing National Insurance and income tax rates for everyone else. We will end the unfairness that sees income from wealth taxed at lower rates than income from work. VAT is a regressive tax that hits the poorest hardest and we guarantee no increases in VAT.

The Conservatives have launched a rival site called https://www.labourmanifesto.co.uk/ It has this to say about taxes:

“Hardworking taxpayers would have to pay an extra £2,400 each year in tax on average to cover Jeremy Corbyn’s reckless spending.”

The language of the Conservative party is about how higher taxes will negatively affect you the voter, rather than benefit the whole country. It’s also about tradition and how brilliant it is.

We Will Put You First Getting Brexit done. Investing in our public services and infrastructure. Supporting workers and families. Strengthening the Union. Unleashing Britain’s potential. The future is there for us to grasp. Not a future in which we endlessly refight the battles of Brexit and the Scottish independence referendum, or in which Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell – propped up by Nicola Sturgeon – lead a Government which rejects everything that has made the UK great.

I’m not saying traditions aren’t important (unless they’re bad traditions – like imperialism, which made the UK great, for sure), but they’re definitely less important than helping large groups of people through public service. Also Brexit sucks and is incredibly bad for the economy the Tories claim is so important to them.

If you aren’t from the UK (as I’d assume most readers aren’t), it may not be so cripplingly obvious that Baz’s family are rich therefore Conservative. But they’re also conservative – and therefore Conservative.

“a Tory vampire” – Baz’s own politics

Baz is a version of Draco Malfoy, who calls Hermione a ‘Mudblood’ and supports Umbridge and then Voldemort, although he later regrets it.

I haven’t really read any Harry/Draco (I was in Wolfstar), but I’m guessing that a lot of the fic builds on the fact that Draco cries in a bathroom, is unable to go through with murdering Dumbledore and Harry, and that his family ultimately decide to leave the Final Battle rather than support Voldemort. I’d guess that we argue that he was young and stupid, didn’t understand the full impact of what he was doing until it was too late, and then had to stay with the Death Eaters because he was afraid for his life and the lives of his family.

Baz, I am arguing, comes from a similar upbringing and has similar beliefs, even if he never got to the murdering Mudbloods stage. (He’s given an out in a way by never being in power when we see him.)

I’d also argue – because I really like Baz and I don’t want him to be ‘racist and speciest’ – that his actions and beliefs are, like Draco’s, massively affected by situational factors outside of his control. And that he, too, was young and stupid. I find it almost impossible that he could arrive at Watford with any other ideology – and I say this as an ex-Remus/Sirius shipper, who clearly found it totally reasonable that Sirius would hate his family and side immediately with a bunch of do-gooding Gryffindors.

The key there, though, is that Sirius hates his family; whereas Baz and Draco love their families and are (see above) incredibly loyal to them. One of the reason it’s easy for me to sit here and say ‘voting Conservative isn’t a thing I would ever do’ is that my family are hardcore ‘Not Conservative’ voters. If I ultimately decided I didn’t agree with them, I could do that, but I started out thinking they were probably right. This is the case with Baz and Draco – they have further to go than someone like Penny who was raised by Mitali and still tells Shepard that imagining being a Normal is like imagining being a frog.

I think Baz is a more sympathetic character than Draco Malfoy by a long way, but Draco has a strong justification for being more evil in that Voldemort will literally murder him if he doesn’t perform hateful actions. Baz merely worries that the Mage will “drive his whole family out of magic” if he doesn’t fight Simon, which is a bit of a weak argument when you think about it.

What has the Mage actually done? He’s forced the Old Families off the Coven – of course he did. They would have voted against his reforms. He’s raided their houses for dark objects that they do actually have. He doesn’t let them meet in large groups – which is an edict that they’re clearly ignoring given that the Club (so Tory) exists and also that the Old Families do actually have a Consortium that meets to try and work out how to seize power through potentially illegal means. 

Are these actions designed to win the love of the Old Families? Of course not. Could there have been better, less repressive strategies? Yes, absolutely.

But how empty are Baz’s coffers really? They still have at least two massive houses that we know about. They’re not exactly on the streets.

All that aside though, Baz does have a very good reason for acting the way he does, much better than Malfoy. His entire life that has been warped around his mother’s death.

The fact that she’s dead, and that she died in (arguably) heroic circumstances, makes it very difficult for Baz to think of her as anything other than completely perfect and right about everything. Even when he thinks about how she’d probably kill him for being a vampire, even though he knows that he’s never hurt anyone and therefore does not deserve to die, even then he still thinks that she must be right and that he is a monster who deserves to die. Fiona has exactly the same reaction.

Because he thinks his mother was perfect and because everyone around him tells him what a good headmistress she was (and because the Mage is presumably very bad at this part of his job), he also has to regret the fact that she isn’t in charge of the school anymore. Education is important to him.

And the timing of Natasha’s death is also specifically and strongly linked to the loss of power, and the two are inextricably bound together. If Baz is to love and honour his mother, to regret her loss, he must also regret the loss of the things that she stood for.

Now the Mage isn’t in power anymore, and Baz’s mother is at peace, he probably can start to think differently about the way the society is structured.

I believe that ‘Wayward Son’ – in which I don’t think Baz thinks a single racist thing, and instead queries the idea of going to America given the ‘current political climate’ – shows that he’s already starting to consider his view on the world differently.

Part of this is because of who he is personally. He’s gay – and of course he’s a vampire, both of which wouldn’t normally be acceptable to his family. (Although you can be gay and a powerful Conservative, of course. It’s much less unacceptable than being poor.) (Incidentally, I know you didn’t ask, but I don’t think the Mage would care if Simon was gay. He’s a liberal. He’d want to be OK with it, even if he wasn’t. But he’d care that Simon was dating a Tory and would definitely try and forbid it.)

Baz has more reason than any other Pitch to reassess his family’s politics, because they negatively affect him personally.

The trick will be to see if he can look outwards from himself, and care about things that don’t help him at all. Which I think he can.  

“He’s still more good than bad, I think” – the Mage and his poor decisions

OK, here we go. The most controversial part.

So, the Mage is the villain and is also a bad guy who left Simon in a home, tortured Baz, killed people, and incited hate against vampires. As I said right at the beginning, I’m not going to argue that you should forgive or even like him because ultimately I can’t if eighth year plays out as it does in canon.

But Lucy tells us that we shouldn’t take him as a straight-forward villain and if we’re willing to give the Pitches the benefit of the doubt over some things, I think we should at least give it a try for the Mage.

Here’s what I’ve got.

1. The political situation at the start of ‘Carry On’

In a story where the Mage was the hero, the book would have finished where he got into power. We’ve defeated the evil oppressive empire and now it’s a chance for reforms, hurrah! Everything will probably be good.

What we actually find at the beginning of Simon’s eighth year is that the Mage has been fighting the Old Families solidly for the last twelve years. They’ve resisted absolutely everything he’s tried to do, and far from being powerless now they’re not in charge, they’re actively and effectively using extreme wealth to obstruct the process of normal government:

“Half of Wales has stopped tithing. The Pitches are paying three members of the Coven to stay away from meetings, so we don’t have quorum. And there have been skirmishes up and down the road to London all summer long.” “Skirmishes?” “Traps, tussles. Tests – they’re all tests, Simon. You know the Old Families would seize the reins if they thought for a moment I was distracted. They’d roll back everything we’ve accomplished.” “Do they think they can fight the Humdrum without us?” “I think they’re so shortsighted,” he says, looking over at me “that they don’t care.”

Now, obviously, this is the Mage’s viewpoint on what is happening and so can’t be trusted in terms of the Old Families motivations. We also can’t ask them because we only hear from Baz (and once, briefly, from Fiona) who has his own view of the world which is coloured massively by his relationship with Simon and his mother.

Shockingly Simon again said it best: “That’s the problem with all the Pitches and their allies – it’s impossible to tell when they’re up to something and when they’re just being people.”

I sort of expect that the Mage is right, though, based on everything I know and feel about the Old Families. The Humdrum hasn’t directly affected them – or it doesn’t until the hole in Hampshire – meanwhile the Mage “will drive them out of magic.” (Will he though? Or will taxing people who earn over £80k a year not actually affect their lifestyle all that much?) 

To be fair, I think the Mage probably thinks that the Old Families are the greater threat as well - they were the threat that he summoned the Greatest Mage to fight – although it’s the threat of the Humdrum that drives him to try and take Ebb’s magic.

I’m not saying that if they cooperated the Mage would have been able to work out what to do about the Humdrum, but their refusal to acknowledge that fighting the threat is important is probably infuriating.

2. He’s alone, overworked, and doesn’t trust anyone

The Mage has the two most important jobs in the World of Mages. It’s strongly implied that these were held by separate people before he took them both. And the reason he took them both is that I doubt he thought anyone else could be trusted, because until he became a political figure, only one person had ever treated him as anything other than a complete lunatic. After that, he gets people like Premal and the Mage’s Men (and Simon and Lucy) who obsessively and unquestioningly follow him, which also can’t be good for him.

He probably wasn’t very old when he worked out how to summon the Greatest Mage, probably 22-23. He doesn’t go to university and took power before he was 30, well before most Normal politicians. (Natasha, obviously, also wasn’t very old, so take that as you will.)

He’s doing two incredibly difficult jobs at a time when there’s a world-level threat (that admittedly he caused, but by accident) as well as a constant political threat. Of course he’s shit at both of them. Of course he didn’t think he could take care of a child on his own while this was happening.

He doesn’t have Dumbledore’s excuse of ‘Old Magic’ keeping Simon safe during the holidays, but I think he probably thinks it’s for the best and doesn’t see many other options when he’s so time-poor himself.

He doesn’t have any friends and never has done, because he’s never valued the personal over the global. He doesn’t have time for friends and family; finds it impossible to forgive the lightest of slights, like Mitali valuing tradition as well as wanting change; and even if he did have time for friends and found someone to be friends with, he wouldn’t be willing to spend time enjoying himself while what he perceived to be injustice was going on. People have headcanon-ed Simon as autistic before; if he is, it’s not impossible he got it from his father.

By the time we see him in ‘Carry On’, I assume the Mage is exhausted and angry and making the worst decisions of his life in an attempt to try and stop the Humdrum from destroying the world.

That doesn’t justify any of them, but I think it puts them into perspective. And for me – it means he is redeemable in an AU if you avert Baz’s kidnapping, which is unforgiveable even if you assume he didn’t know how the numpties would treat him.  

It doesn’t mean he will have been a better father to Simon, though. Simon will still have had to have grown up scared and hungry and alone, for the greater good.

So it depends what you think makes a villain.

The end:

This essay was a lot longer than I thought it was going to be. It took me some time to write, and presumably longer for you to read than you might have expected, so thank you for getting to this point.  

I think that’s probably all I have to say right now. Please read ‘The Mage’s Heir’ and ‘Keep Calm’, if you found this interesting. I’m also turning over a thing in my head where Natasha is still alive, which will almost certainly be a lot gentler than this, because I barely talk here about the good things about Natasha and the Pitches of which there are many. But which will show a lot of the above playing out – like Penny’s roommate just won’t be Trixie anymore.

I hope ‘Any Way the Wind Blows’ has something to say about politics that isn’t just tied to the Mage!

I think it’ll be easier to tell what’s really going on without him being there.

And please, if you live in the UK - even if you want to vote Conservative - register to vote before the 26th of November. 

But also - consider not voting Conservative. 

[selohtun20]

Coffee and kidnappings

Villain!Mic, based off of @hey-hamlet’s Wicked Coffee AU

Word count: 1777

Izuku thinks that maybe he should be more unsettled. It’s not everyday that you finally figure out that, yes, the facial hair thing is not, in fact, a coincidence, and yes, the barista at you and your teacher’s favorite coffee shop is, in fact, a villain. A pretty infamous one at that, seeing as how he’s known to deafen opponents permanently and also flirt with Eraserhead when they fight. Present Mic, the voice villain, and Yamada Hizashi, the barista who Izuku knows weirdly well by now. He’s been designated coffee guy for all of 1-A for a while now, and he knows their orders by heart, carrying them carefully back to campus so he doesn’t spill anything. Yamada (it’s easier to think of them as two people, rather than one) always perks up when he comes in, already starting on his inevitably gigantic order. Izuku usually orders ahead, but comes a little earlier to chat with Yamada if there’s no one around. He also does it to take notes, quickly typed on his phone for future reference and to be put into his analysis notebooks.

Normally, none of this would really matter. The moment Izuku finally made the connection in his brain, he should’ve turned around, walked out from the coffee shop, and ran back to Aizawa as fast as he could. But there’s a problem, which boils down to this: Aizawa actually likes Yamada. Izuku, who can’t mind his own business at the best of times, and certainly not now, figures that friendships maybe don’t come easy to his teacher, given that he almost always looks half-dead and ready to kill anyone at a moment’s notice if they get between him and coffee. He also knows that Yamada doodles little cats and paw prints on his teacher’s cup, and even if he thinks he can hide them, Izuku can see Aizawa smile at his cup when he sees it. (Aizawa’s order is the only one that changes. Yamada makes him something new almost every week, and it’s always sickeningly sweet.) Izuku, honestly and truly, would feel bad about turning Yamada in, or at least exposing his secret. He’s relatively sure Yamada wouldn’t hurt him. Then again, Izuku has a habit (a bad one, considering where his aspirations lie) of always thinking the best of people when at all possible.

He’s beginning to regret not saying anything when he gets kidnapped. There’s a bag over his head, his hands are tied, and he would probably be having a gigantic panic attack if it weren’t for the fact that he can recognize Yamada’s voice. He’s also pretty sure that Yamada kidnapped him as an excuse to see Eraserhead, which, hey, Izuku understands that he’s a pretty convenient target, but still. He’s a little annoyed that he’ll probably miss class if he doesn’t get free, like, right now. But there’s not much he can do at the moment, and he doesn’t feel like testing his theory that Yamada won’t hurt him, so he resigns himself to his fate.

~

Kidnapping a kid wasn’t exactly high on Mic’s priority list, sure, but it was very convenient. He was at the coffee shop, surprisingly easy to grab and tie up, and he’s in Eraserhead’s class, so really, he can’t be blamed for his actions. It’s just- well, he hasn’t seen Eraser for a week now, and he’s only seen Aizawa once. He misses him, as much as he doesn’t really want to admit it, so kidnapping Midoriya makes sense on that level. Plus, they haven’t spent any substantial time together, so it’s as good an excuse as any to write up a ransom note, email it with a disposable email to Eraser, and wait.

Mic wasn’t counting on the fact that, apparently, Midoriya doesn’t fear death. He expected the kid to be scared, to fight back, to scream or do- something, at least. Instead, he just sort of sits there, and when Mic takes the bag off his head, the kid smiles at him, bright and it’s almost blinding. “Hi there Mr. Yamada!” “I- wait, what?” Mic blinks several times in shock. “The facial hair is a dead giveaway. Also, did you kidnap me to see Eraser, or…?” “Uh, well, yes? I wasn’t expecting you to figure out it was me, but uh, I wrote your teacher a ransom note, hopefully he’ll look at his emails soon…” Midoriya cocks his head, frowns for a second, then smiles again. “Well, why don’t I call him? It’s much faster than waiting for him to find a note!” Mic can’t do much else but nod, and he unties the kid (he can take a kid, no problem. Probably.) before grabbing Midoriya’s phone and throwing it to him. The kid catches it on instinct, and quickly pulls up his teacher’s contact while Mic has a personal crisis in the background. Before Eraser can pick up, Mic asks if the kid wants something to eat. He did kidnap him during lunch break, after all.

~

Aizawa knew something was wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It prickled under his skin, an uncomfortable sensation that left him on edge. It was lunch break, and normally he’d be asleep right now. But the dread pooling in his gut wouldn’t let him, and he resigned himself to worry until he figured out what was really wrong. Before he could gather himself up to go grade, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. An email. From someone he’d never heard of, with the subject being “ransom note: Hi Eraser!!!!!”. Great.

The note itself is clearly from Present Mic, seeing as how it uses far too many exclamation points to be written by any rational human being. It’s also a little unclear as to what, exactly, he’s demanding, other than the fact that he only wants Aizawa to come in, no one else. Before he can read into it much further, his cellphone rings. He answers on instinct. “Hello?” “Hi sensei! I got kidnapped by Mr- ah, I mean Present Mic! He’s making lunch for me!” “He’s what? Where are you, problem child?” Aizawa starts to panic, because, yes, Midoryia sounds fine, but there's also the possibility that Mic is threatening him, and while Present Mic doesn't usually hurt kids, this is one of Aizawa's kids. He doesn't hate Mic, not really, but he wouldn't hesitate to strangle the man if there's a hair out of place on the problem child's head when he gets there. “He’s making me lunch! And, I’m not sure sensei! Hold on- '' There's a rustling sound, and Aizawa can hear Midoriya ask something, and Mic’s answer in return. “We’re at a warehouse in the dock district! And-“ Aizawa hears Mic’s voice again in the background. “Oh yeah, he told me to tell you not to bring anyone else, or he’ll make me deaf!” “Did he drug you? Why are you so calm? I’ll be there as soon as I can, just-“ “I don’t think he drugged me? I’ll see you soon sensei!” With that, the problem child hangs up the phone, leaving Aizawa to sprint towards the main campus gates.

~

“You’re a pretty good cook, Mr. Yamada!” “Thanks kid! Hopefully Eraser will show up soon too!” Izuku grins, taking another bite. They finish their lunches, both talking at rapid speeds about anything and everything, until Izuku feels his phone vibrate. “Oh! He’s here! I’ll make us tea!” With that, he busies himself with a kettle, getting out cups. As they wait for the water to boil, the door gets kicked in, and Aizawa sprints in, ready to fight. “Hi sensei! I’m making tea!” He waves at his teacher, grabbing tea bags and generally keeping his hands busy. While neither adult is looking, he pulls his phone out and sends a Snap to Shinsou, and manages to get one of his teacher and the villain, and adds it to his story. His phone is buzzing like crazy with texts, and he carefully silences it, just as the kettle whistles. He pours the water into the cups, and brings two over to the small table set up in the warehouse. (He’s not entirely sure how all this stuff got in here. He’s betting it might be a secret base for Present Mic, seeing as how there appears to be food and Izuku is pretty sure there was a first aid kit somewhere, but he’s not entirely sure yet-) “You’re mumbling, problem child.” “Oh. W-whoops. Anyway, Mic! You wanna tell sensei why you kidnapped me?” Izuku sets the cups down, and goes back to the counter to drink his own tea, snickering to himself as he gets ready to record.

~

“GUYS! HE’S OKAY, SENSEI IS THERE!” The entire class 1-A crowds around Ochako, and she holds the phone so more people can see. It’s a video of Aizawa and Present Mic, drinking tea. The camera shakes a little, and the class can hear Izuku giggling softly. “Let me get this straight: you kidnapped one of my students, left me a ransom note, THREATENED TO DEAFEN HIM, because you wanted to see me?” Aizawa sounds furious, but it's hard to tell from a video, and Izuku is recording so Ochako doubts he's hurt. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so awful Eraser!” Present Mic puts a hand to his chest, sounding offended. "Did you drug him? Why is he so calm?” Aizawa’s voice is sharp, and Ochako can’t really see his face too well, but she’s sure he’s glaring at the villain. I didn’t, I swear! I would never drug a kid!” “You’d just kidnap one?” “I- well, yes. But I didn’t drug him, so that’s one point towards me!” Aizawa puts his head in his hands, shaking it softly, and Izuku giggles more. “Why aren’t you afraid, kid?” “He’s right, problem child. He did kidnap you.” Izuku giggles even more, much to the adults’ surprise. “Bold of you to assume I feel fear, sensei! Can I go back to U.A. now? I don’t want to miss class.” At his nonchalant voice, Bakugou bursts out laughing, cackling like a madman. Iida looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack, and Shinsou is blinking at the video like he can’t believe what he’s really seeing. The rest of the class is caught between worry for their classmate and holding in their laughter, partially at Izuku’s comment and partially at Bakugou’s laughter, which is hilarious in and of itself. “Oh wait, before we go, can we get a selfie together Mic?" “... you know what, sure kid. I don’t think this day could get much weirder.”

[littlemeowyoons]

Bonded

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff(lots of them), a drop of angst, Single Dad! AU, College! AU, Introvert! Yoongi, Tutor! Y/n

Word Count:1.8k

Synopsis: Yoongi found a basket left in front of his dorm room one day, and turns out it was his daughter, left alone crying. Puzzled and scared was an understatement. When his 4 semesters roommate Jimin left for his hometown, he was left with the last straw of help, turning to his physics tutor a.k.a friend-that-I-only-know-name-but-have-no-interest-in-knowing-more; you.

Series: Masterlist l Part 1 I Part 3

                                    Pt.2-It’s a girl, dumbass

                                                 °•. ✿ .•°

It took a while for you to realize but as soon as the bottle ran out of milk, you were taken aback by the sleeping figure in your arm. You smiled softly as you take in the infant’s features, starting from its’s soft baby hairs to those closed eyes and lastly to the little pair of soft faint pink lips. Even in sleep, the peaceful feature of the infant enhanced the mint polka dot clothes she wears.

“Your back must’ve hurt, I’ll help put her back into her basket.”, Yoongi reached out his hands but you take a small step backwards.

“Ah no no it’s okay, I wanna hold her a little bit longer.”

Yoongi nod, turning his head away and scratched the back of his neck. Now what?

“I don’t want to put her down, but that doesn’t mean I want to stand all day.”, you laughed softly.

“Oh right, come sit at the sofa.”

As both of you sit down, the room fell into a deep silence again, only accompanied by soft breathings and Yoongi’s thumping heartbeat (he wish you didn’t inch closer, you’ll hear it for sure). Why is he so nervous again? Yeah yeah, his physics tutor is here, coming back after what Yoongi assumed wouldn’t and she’s holding his child. His!

“Are you gonna keep her?”

“Firstly I dunno it’s even a girl”

“Seriously Yoongi? Her clothes say it all.”

“Okay okay I don’t major in children like you.”

“It’s actually early childhood education you moron. But knowing her gender by her clothes is actually basic in life!”

“There’s unisex clothing”, Yoongi defended.

“She’s wearing a dress!”, You half yelled half-whispered and glanced downward to make sure the infant in your hand didn’t wake up from the commotion, but soon you heaved a sigh as the baby snuggled close to you, seeking warmth. That’s when it hits you that the room temperature could still be cold to the baby as their skin is still too thin.

“Hey, hand me a blanket or something. I think I saw one in the bag, the green one.”

Yoongi stand up and reached for the bag, which you left on the kitchen counter. He rummaged through it while walking back to you.

“And second, I actually don’t know if I could keep her”

He didn’t get a response, so he lifts up his head, to see you frowning on the sofa, face edged with worries while staring at his daughter. A sudden wave of warmth wash over him, but he quickly refocus on the task beforehand, his hand still rummage through the bag.

“It’s actually a towel.”

Yoongi showed you the green material in his hand, which truly, is a towel.

“It’s too small, won’t cover her feet though.”, your eyes travel upward to Yoongi’s body and stare maybe a bit too long for Yoongi’s liking.

He cleared his throat and speaks again, “Now what?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?!”

The baby in your hand stirred a little, whining before falling back to sleep. Once you were sure she was in dreamland again, you shoot a death glare to Yoongi.

“Sorry, but you, you want me to, take, take off my clothes?”

“The first layer, Yoongi. Your shirt is big enough to wrap her wholly.”

“O-oh”, Yoongi quickly wiggled himself out of his grey checkered print button-up shirt leaving him in his black plain shirt, and hands it to you.

“Spread it open, then put it here”, you patted a spot beside you on the sofa and Yoongi complied.

Once the shirt is layed on the sofa, you carefully put down the baby in the middle of the material, careful not to wake her up from her deep slumber. Suddenly, you froze midway and turn to him, wide eyes.

“Please say this is clean.”

Yoongi scoffed, “I just did laundry. If you come here two days ago I would've a different answer.”

“Sorry, its just...baby are sensitives to this kind of thing, we should be careful.” You then take the right side of the shirt before pulling it to the left side, slipping it under the baby’s small figure, working the same on the left side. Yoongi watched in silence as her daughter soon turned into a small bundle of burrito in his shirt, he nearly teared off, his eyes are watery just by the sight of it.

“You order a 32 weeks old smol size of burrito, sir?”, you reached out Yoongi’s daughter to him, hoping that he take it but Yoongi didn’t get the message though.

“How do you know she’s 32 weeks?”

“I assumed, infant isn’t supposed to open their eyes before reaching 26 weeks old. Since she did, that means her eyes are fully developed so she must be older. Judging from her cry, her voice is clear so that means older than 28 weeks. So yeah, 32 weeks.”

“Wow… you aren’t lying when you said kids are your passion.”, Yoongi comment quietly.

“I learnt about this Yoongi, even if you ask other students in my course, they’ll have the same answer as mine”, you retracted your hand, keeping the baby close to you.

“I’m gonna try you know”

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t know if I could keep her, I have, dare I say negative experience in this child-raising thing. But that doesn’t stop me from trying, she’s my child, by blood and I’ll keep her for my whole life.”

“Okay, sounds good enough to me”, you smiled, “Now come sit, or are you planning on standing forever?”

Yoongi slowly stride over, sitting beside you and smiled at his daughter. That’s when a question spring into your mind.

“What’s her name?”

“I dunno? It doesn’t say in the card.”

“Well, what do you want to name her then?”

“Me?”

“Yeah you, she’s your child, by blood and all”

Yoongi pondered on it for a moment before breaking out a small smile, eyes on his daughter.

“Inara…Min Inara”

“What does that mean? That doesn’t sound korean”

“It’s Arabic which means Light, the light of my life.”

“That’s…awfully sweet, I need to do a health checkup to find out if I got a diabetes hearing that.”

“What?”

“You know diabetes, the excessive glucose in blood? Cause your words just now is extremely sweet and sweetness could be associated with glucose which could cause diabetes so…”

“You know, when you explain it, you sound so much dumber than you already are.”

“Excuse me, I didn’t get a freaking five for my physics test like seriously…five? The hell did you do?”

“I wrote my name, stand up and submit the test.”

Your mouth dropped open, it was your first time asking the reason how he got a freaking five, and to be honest, you did not expect this level of unbothered. But at the same time, you shouldn’t be, he’s the great so talked Min Yoongi. Heart of stone, unemotional, hard to crack, but as someone who had been tutoring him for less than a year now, you could prove none of those gossips were true. Yoongi is…well, Yoongi. He’s unique in his own way, emits his own vibe and talk what he wants to say, not what people wants to hear. That was what you secretly admire about Min Yoongi, he shines in his own galaxy and one time, you wanted to be in his orbit though if you told him you were sure he’s gonna judge you silently, like all those sharp comeback and dagger stares.

“If I knew you were that helpless I would’ve said no.”

“Would you?”

Right, would you? You even goes all the way from the other side of the campus to the boys dormitories, almost trip at the stairs, run to girls dormitories to meet Kim Woyeon to ask her for some formulae powder because she once got pregnant and have a son for a while, you figured she would still have some left, then run back to Yoongi’s dorm to feed his daughter. You did so much already in the span of two hours, would you reject his offer way back in the past? You weren’t sure but sudden fear filled your thoughts. Why did you become so selfless when it comes to Yoongi? Why were you so submissive? No, it was an act of kindness to a friend. Min Yoongi is a friend. You were sure of it, but it scares you that you need to chant it over and over in your head as if you were convincing the fact to yourself.

“You could’ve save all the hustle and ask Namjoon instead. He’s one of the alphas too”

Yoongi snorted and lean back on the sofa, shaking his head in strong disagreement.

“You think I don’t? But I quit after like, two weeks or something.”

“Why?”

“Imagine going out to hang with your friends only to be held from sitting until you explain the definition of Newton’s first law, or solve a physics pop quiz right on the spot”, Yoongi grunt and closed his eyes. He seems traumatized by it.

“That hard?”

“You don’t know Kim Namjoon well enough, you think you do, but the truth is you don’t. You never been his student and I swear I hated going out more than before. I’m even scared to cross path with him during class hour. He’s a good guy, but without all his books and papers, yeah.”

You need to agree to the last part, that one is true.

“Different from you, you were hard, but not that extreme, I could tolerate you enough.”

“Oh really? I’m grateful to he-“

Yoongi cut in your words, “But I do consider cutting ties on the first day after your said gel pen is better than ball pen.”

You take advantage of his lack of self guard to hit him square on his upper arm, to which he grunted in response.

“How can you hold a baby and still hit me that hard?”

“I have two hands Yoongi.”

“Oh Y/n look”

You hold back whatever comeback you wanted to throw straight to his face about how gel pen is better, you almost pull out a 50 slides of presentation to support your words, but all of that was held back when you were met with a pair of the most beautiful eyes you ever seen. Those wide eyes shows that she had been listening to both you and Yoongi’s conversation for a long time. Meh, not that she’ll remember anyway, her memory storage part in her brain isn’t fully developed yet. Oh, you remembered that she’s staring at a stranger so you, for real this time hold out Inara to Yoongi, if he still didn’t take her, you swear you’ll throw the baby right at his face. Okay, no that was an extreme hyperbole.

“I…don’t know if I can hold her. I, I don’t know how.”

“It’s okay, I’ll guide. Right, so hold out your hand like this”

You tried to transfer the baby in your arms into Yoongi’s but she cried as soon as she’s halfway there. Yoongi retracted away, you could see how stress he look.

“Hey relax, okay? Baby can sense when you’re uncomfortable. Just take a deep breath”

Yoongi look deeply at you and inhale.

“And out. In, and out”

After seeing Yoongi calmed down a bit, you step closer, you socks covered feet meet his bare one.

“Okay so, an infant’s head is the heaviest part of their body because the head developed first in the womb other than other organs which develops at a slower rate, so support her head.”

Inara is safely transferred to Yoongi, his hand is under her head.

“Good, now this hand-“, you take Yoongi’s other hand that is supporting Inara’s waist awkwardly, “-hold here”, you drag it to hold Inara’s bottom as you speak.

“Bring her close to your chest, baby feels calm when they hear your heartbeat. Try it.”

Yoongi pull Inara closer to him, her head rested sideways on his chest and as that, Inara who had been wiggling around stopped.

“Is she dead? I killed her!”

“No Yoongi”, you let out a scoff along with a small laugh, “She’s relaxed. Look, you’re bonding. How does it feel?”

“It feels…calming”, you could swear you catch a faint smile appeared on Yoongi’s lips.

“Yeah, holding your child is a healing process, and actually a chance to get closer.”

“You must have got an ‘A+’ for this in your class.”

“Actually,”, you tucked in a stray strand of hair to the back of your ears, “I only learn this theoretically. I practice this umm, out of class hour.”

“Where?”

“At umm, at my place.”, you nervously fidget with your fingers.

“Your neighbourhood got a lot of kids?”

“You bet, tons of them, variety of age even.”

“Wow, I think you’re, you’re an incredible person, Y/n, just wanna put it out there.”

“Thanks Yoongi, and I think you need a tissue now.”

“Huh why-“

“Inara just barfed on your shirt.”, you giggled.

“Awh Inara! It was a black shirt!”

“Hold up, I’ll help.”

Yoongi watched you rushed into the kitchen to grab some paper towel in pure awe. Maybe, just maybe, receiving Inara out of nowhere is a blessing in disguise.

[thesethingsofours]

Parents are the Worst.

I recently began listening to Nice White Parents, a new podcast hosted by self-confessed nice white parent, Channa Joffe-Walt. It’s produced by the people in and around Serial, This American Life, S-Town and The New York Times. If you are familiar with those titles, you’ll know what to expect – in-depth, considered analysis of a heretofore, under-exposed social issue, executed with an East Coast progressive liberal stride; a pleasingly audible, irreverent gait and the swagger of emotional intelligence and self-aware humility. Through research, interviews and attaching herself to the Brooklyn School of International Studies for several years, Joffe-Walt tells the story of the New York Public school system and its apparent failure to meaningfully integrate itself since Brown v Board of Education made racial segregation illegal over 65 years ago.

In episode 2, Joffe-Walt tracks down and interviews some nice white parents from around the time the school opened in 1963. These people had written letters encouraging the school board to erect the school building closer to their own neighbourhood (and consequently further away from the darker-skinned families it was more likely to serve). They expressively emphasised their wishes to send their kids there and virtuously aid the process of integration, which they believed to be morally imperative.

But apparently, none of these letter writers subsequently sent their kids to that school. It remained, as anticipated, a predominantly non-white school. Laid alongside the tense machinations of the contemporary school’s invasion by a large new cohort of white parents and their issue, Joffe-Walt’s hypothesis is that white parents have always held liberal aims, and the clout to impose them, but do so with little consideration for their non-white counterparts or any real commitment to seeing through the incumbent practicalities. From the outset, this natural conclusion is persistently hinted at, not least from the podcast’s deliberately provocative title. Perhaps, on an individual level, this hypothesis contains some truth.

However, as the story extends, the blame gains weight and the theory mutates into a generalised accusation. Responsibility for the mediocre state of New York’s (and by implication, America’s) public schools is explicitly laid at the pale feet of white parents. It's an exposition of what is often described as “White Guilt” and its corresponding effort at contrition (i.e. the guilt felt from the inherited sin of one’s ancestors’ oppression of non-white people, primarily through slavery). While White Guilt might have its conceptual uses for a few people to come to terms with idea of race (although even there I am sceptical), its value as a wider social narrative is deeply unconvincing, and potentially damaging. Nice White Parents does a good job showing why.

In the podcast, anecdotal evidence is drastically extrapolated to justify White Guilt. Unless backed up by unequivocal data, it is inherently flawed to base so much on interviews with a handful of people in their 80s about a letter they wrote in the 60s, and (in episode 3) a now middle-aged woman about her perception of school when she was 13. Equally so is to use the example of a single New York school to imply that nice white parents are universally responsible for all the failings of American public schooling. A quick empirical comparison with countries unburdened by America’s racial psychosis would almost certainly reveal this argument to be fundamentally false. I hazard to suggest that Joffe-Walt set out, either consciously or subconsciously, to prove the theory of Nice White Parents, and has therefore fallen into the trap of verification bias.  

Of course, the truth is likely to be far simpler – green, cheddar, dead presidents and moolah (which middle-aged white people in American disproportionately possess). Better schools arrive from broad, deep and perpetual community investment – from good, affordable housing and well-paying jobs to well-paid teachers and decent facilities. That means higher taxes on the wealthy and better provincial management. If a completely non-white school district received $50 billion to invest in their community with educational improvement as its ultimate goal (that or the abolition of private schools), I suspect the idea of nice white parents would quickly evaporate.

It is plainly a damaging distraction to focus on the role of supposed-predisposed-racism of well-meaning, middle-class people, who simply want the best possible education for their children. Instead, the message for the “hereby accused” should be to use their numerical majority and voting power to advocate for systems that would reduce inequality, regardless of race. In this respect, it strikes me that wealth is a sacrosanct subject in America, something that one can never apologise for having too much of. Quite the opposite – the culture is built on celebrating those who hoard capital. Is it possible that Americans are taught never to apologise for having money, so those who see something wrong develop other issues, such as race, for which they can atone?

More deeply, the podcast reveals how the White Guilt narrative is in ideological conflict with the very wrong it is supposedly trying to right. Taken to its conclusion, it inevitably reinforces the idea that white people are innately superior, and race is the primary determining factor for success in American life. In the context of the podcast, it is applied to suggest that New York public schools are destined to fail their students unless white kids and their parents get involved. It is gloriously ironic that condemning the influence of white parents on public schools serves to reinforce the supposed inferiority of non-white participants in the education system… because of their lack of whiteness. At the end of episode 3, Jaffe-Walt lays this out:

Nice white parents shape public schools even in our absence, because public schools are maniacally loyal to white families even when that loyalty is rarely returned back to the public schools. Just the very idea of us, the threat of our displeasure, warps the whole system. So “separate” is still not equal because the power sits with white parents no matter where we are in the system. I think the only way you equalise schools is by recognising this fact and trying wherever possible to suppress the power of white parents. Since no one is forcing us to give up power we white parents are going to have to do it voluntarily, which, yeah how's that going to happen? That's next time on Nice White Parents…

(Consider replacing every mention of “white” in this excerpt with “affluent”. Would that not feel infinitely more true?)

In fairness, the honourable, “anti-racist” intention is clear – in order to defeat “white supremacy” white people need to accept their inherited and systemic superiority and eliminate it. Sadly, any idea centred around race – whether malicious or well-intentioned – is bound to collapse under even the slightest pressure. To be truly anti-racist is to recognise that race itself doesn’t exist (other than as an abstract concept that, having infected people’s perceptions after four centuries of concerted, localised propaganda, must be eradicated). Race has no basis in science or nature; it cannot be quantified in any reasonable, measurable way. Simply, it is a lie; invented to excuse the exploitation of others for the purposes of wealth-generation. To base one’s actions on it in any way is to take a leap of faith into a void with no landing. Race is a malignant, empty God; belief in which is destined to lead to malignant, empty behaviour. “Racism” and “Anti-Racism” (as it is currently understood) are therefore both empty, malignant religions, practiced in service of a non-existent deity.

Notably, there are still two episodes to go (released August 13th and 20th). Either might serve to recover some balance. But by episode 3, the stage is not only set for this conclusion to be drawn, but the 1st Grade nativity is in its final scene and the wise men are long since gone.

All that said, if you let the incessant racialization of all things drift past you rather than choking on it, as plain entertainment – storytelling rather than journalism – it’s still an engaging listen; well-constructed and convincingly told. Furthermore, on a non-racial level (if you can somehow listen beyond it), the podcast does have some value, since it reminds me of something I have long half-joked about – that parents (of all stripes) are the worst.

Aside from the obvious, complex Freudian reasons, on a socio-political level, when a choice arises between a laudable, achievable change and putting one’s own children at a perceived disadvantage in order to effect it, a parent will choose its child’s advantage almost every time. No matter their colour, few parents will sacrifice their own child’s prospects – even minutely – to advance the hypothetical children of someone else, or society more widely. Parents are company directors whose primary obligation is to their miniature, genetically-derivative shareholders – they’ll only vote for large-scale change if it is net-profitable or government-imposed.

And of course, parents should pay their kids the maximum dividend. Who else will? A parent is legally and morally obliged to do the best for the young life they are charged with defending. And therein lies the joke. Parents are the worst only because they are ubiquitous. They created you, me and everyone else. We all had them, and most people end up being one. It is therefore less of a criticism than an inevitable, evolutionary truth – just one we should probably be more honest and upfront about. Unknowingly, underneath (and in some ways, because of) its misguided, exhausting racial handwringing, Nice White Parents just about makes this point.

Listen to Nice White Parents here or wherever you get your podcasts.