#the mid-exam doodles are real

[alphazed]

When Javert hears ‘Jean Valjean’ getting mentioned in conversation

[lunar-wandering]

Performance

for @skellebonez (sorry this is a week late!! happy belated birthday!!)

note: this is set during s1, since s1 lasts a lot longer in the Phantom Thief AU. (most likely this'd be after Impossible Delivery but before Skeleton Key, and also be before Red Son finds out about who the Phantom Thieves are).

Word Count: 1.3k

Read on Ao3

Glancing at the crowd around him, pulling his hood tighter to better cover his face as he did so, Wukong decided that he definitely regretted choosing to become a phantom thief.

Well. Not like he was one yet. According to MK, he still had a long way to go with his training, as well as something along the lines of a "phantom thief entrance exam", which the kid had only mentioned briefly but still sounded absolutely awful. But, he supposed the kid was right- he’d only been learning the methods of Phantom Thievery for a month and a half- he hadn’t even stolen anything yet, so… MK was probably definitely in the right with him not being quite ready. 

He wasn't even here to steal anything tonight, either (probably a good thing, considering this crowd). No, he was just here to watch the kid's performance.

And it was obvious that many others had the same idea in mind, considering the amount of people, as well as television crews that had set themselves up on the street. 

("Televised?" Wukong had asked, confusion in his voice, "Why would anyone want to televise, nevertheless watch, a heist?"

MK had just rolled his eyes at him.

"A show is still a show, even if it's a heist." He'd said, turning back to doodling in his heist-planning notebook. “And people love a good show.”) 

Wukong let out a sigh, shifting slightly to the left to avoid being bumped into by someone passing by. If it weren’t for the fact that the kid had specifically asked for him to be here in the crowd- something about this specific demonstration working better if he saw it in person, he would be at home, watching this through his tv, instead of here, in the middle of a giant crowd of strangers. 

“Five more minutes until heist time…” Someone to the right of him muttered, and Wukong imperciptively stiffened. 

He turned to the side and- yep. That- even though his hair was currently glamoured to black- 

That was definitely Red Son standing only a few inches away from him. 

Wukong shrunk back, trying his best to wrap his hoodie around himself even tighter. With a crowd like this, it was best to avoid any kind of fight with the Demon Bull Family right now… He hadn’t been noticed yet, but, seriously, what was Red Son of all people even doing here? 

That question was answered a mere few seconds later, as an explosion of confetti and golden smoke appeared above the crowd, the resulting excited screams enough to make even Wukong’s ears ring. His hands over his ears, he risked glancing back at Red Son again, …finding that the fire demon looked just as excited as every other fan in the crowd. 

Ah. Well, at the very least it was reassuring that there wasn’t going to be a demon attack in the middle of this heist. 

The excited screams switched to gasps of awe, and Wukong looked up to see what, exactly, had rendered the excited crowd speechless. 

MK was standing in mid-air. 

Wukong blinked, his golden vision activating sub-consciously as the people around him started to murmur again. One of the TV helicopters drew nearer to MK, likely in order to film him better, and Wukong just barely caught the sound of Red Son saying something along the lines of “doing such a thing without real magic- I have no idea how that’s possible, that’s incredible” before people started to cheer as MK took a step forward. 

Followed by another. 

The kid literally almost looked like he was walking on thin air. 

One of the usual detectives (one that tended to be present at ‘Golden Monkey’s heists, Wukong hadn’t bothered to learn the names of any of the regulars yet) must’ve gone up to the top of one of the neighboring buildings, because the next thing Wukong knew, someone was yelling about how there weren’t any wires connected to the buildings. 

The cheering got louder at that, but Wukong rolled his eyes. Of course there weren’t any wires on the buildings, couldn’t people see- 

Wukong blinked, remembering the golden tint at the corners of his vision. 

Oh. 

Right. 

Golden eyes. Of course the crowd around him couldn’t see what he saw. 

…Should… should he tell them? 

Wukong glanced at the amazed crowd around him, considering. Some people in the crowd were simply looking up with wonder, while others, like Red Son, seemed to have passed wonder and instead had their heads slightly tilted, clearly trying to puzzle out just how MK was pulling off such a feat. 

Well… surely it wouldn’t cause any harm, right- 

A hand settled itself over his mouth before he could even begin to open it, and Wukong stiffened, a chill running down his spine. Someone was behind him. It was only through sheer force of will that he didn’t grab their wrist and flip them over his shoulder and cause a scene- 

“C’mon now.” The whisper in his ear made Wukong shudder- “We wouldn’t want to ruin the performance, now would we? Some mysteries are meant to remain mysteries.” 

Wukong knew that voice. 

He whirled around, knocking the hand off of him, shifting to be ready to fight, but- 

There was nothing behind him but shadows. 

Wukong kept staring, half expecting a certain someone to jump back out at him at any second- 

A sudden increase in the cheering distracted him, and he turned back around to see what part of the heist he had missed. 

MK was no longer walking in mid-air, instead now standing on one of the museum’s balconies, waving at the crowd. A group of detectives entered through the building’s door, and MK briefly glanced down at them, before giving a two-fingered salute to the crowd and backflipping into the museum through the window. 

Abruptly, the large electronic advertisement screens on the buildings in the area switched to show a live-feed of the inside of the museum. 

The following ten minutes show-cased MK pulling off an increasingly difficult series of acrobatic tricks to avoid capture- ones that made Wukong raise an eyebrow, knowing for a fact that MK was not that good at dodging during training. Maybe it was something about mentality? Being better at dodging when in ‘phantom thief mode’ than when out of it? He should probably bring it up at their next training session for sure. 

On another note, Red Son certainly seemed to be enjoying the performance. Wukong kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, just in case something changed and he decided to try something, but every time Red Son appeared to be completely enamoured with what was occurring on the television screens. 

…Did MK know about Red Son attending his heists? By all likelihood, he probably did, the kid tended to not miss a single detail when it came to heists after all, but… 

…Maybe he should bring that up at their next training session as well. 

In the end, the heist ended almost as abruptly as it had begun. 

MK had run back out to the balcony, leapt onto the railing, and held out his prize- an emerald hair comb, above his head, for the whole crowd to see. The cheering became almost ten times louder, and man, Wukong mentally made a note to himself to wear earplugs to the next heist like this, because this was torture on his sensitive ears. 

MK shifted, and there was a bright flash of light- 

In the next second, MK was gone. 

The show very obviously over, the crowd slowly started dispersing. As Wukong moved with the flow of the crowd, he walked past Red Son, who was on his phone- 

And was setting a picture of ‘Golden Monkey’s triumphant smirk as he held up the hair comb as his phone’s background. 

Did he… did he not know that that was MK? 

Wukong looked away. Yeah, no, he wasn’t going to be touching that can of worms with a ten-foot pole. 

[im-kino853]

hi if youre doing fanon swap can i request arctic fox scar ...... your art is veryy good and munchable btw 👍💥

yes.... yes you can... sorry for the very late response, that's on me..💀 my bad for my hiatus tho,, school is making me insane ❗ 3 upcoming mid exams in a week!? woohoo ❕ I wish rest was real ! basically school is making me busy as hell, i commonly have the time to draw on paper during classes but i plan on making a tiny digital doodle,,, i have the time to draw digitally rn so im going for it 🔥

here is the bbg (lowkey speedrunned)

this challenge makes me realize that i am not a big fan of drawing fox hybrids, but he looks silly ❗😋 worth it...

i also had previous sketches, the hybrid sketch was like the 5th attempt or smth it was suprisingly hard for me !?!?!? at some point i just gave up and literally draw arctic fox with scar's scars...

tbh despite not being a fan of drawing hybrids i had a goodtime drawing thsi hope u enjoy the snowy fox scar

[residentdormouse]

Unrelenting Use of ‘U’ Words

Unimpressed with what I uncovered, I was unaware that my usage of uncommon words was utterly underwhelming. Undoubtedly unlimited access to unique language and I’m left feeling unworthy of this undertaking. Yet undaunted and unbroken, ultimately I will upload more unusual variations with utmost urgency.

(Sorry short intro today. Maybe it's all the Ides of March posts, maybe I need some more sleep, maybe I just want to watch capitalism burn, but I’m just a little bubble of rage today and want to stab things. My useful focus is shot.)

My Words: Ultimate, Unless, Undo/Undone, Up, Union/Unite

Your Words: Vent, View, Vivid, Verify, Vanish (if these aren't readily available, I think we’re at replace with ‘v’ word of choice status.)

Normal Note - this is an OPEN TAG - if it would bring any enjoyment at all to partake in this absurdity, please consider yourself tagged and ‘@’ me.

Ultimate:

Another burst of expletives came out as his hands went to his head. He took a few more paces to ponder information before he came to his next question. “Is he going to be okay?!”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you know anything?!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he had gone too far. The various calls of his name in reprimand, Hayden being one of them, only solidified this fact to him. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay. I just… Can I see him? Or can you check and… let me know?”

The vulnerability was a new side to Harold that Hayden was not used to. Ultimately that was the goal, for him to just open up. Let somebody in before he burst. It may have come a bit late, but it was nice to see the progress, even if it was in the worst circumstances. Steph also picked up on the change, and her tension relented a bit.

“Yeah. Yeah of course. I don’t know what’s going on back there though, so… No freaking out, okay?” A finger was pointed at him, with as severe a look as she could manage. It wasn’t severe.

Unless:

If Max wouldn’t have seen it with her own eyes, she may have called bullshit on it all. Anybody could practice strategy. Anticipate attacks.

Not everybody could write out next Friday’s exam answers hidden inside doodles along the margins of their notebooks.

And maybe that was were the real issue lay.

Max fought, struggled, persevered. Her training took over every aspect of her life. When she came to the school, she was taken in with comforting arms. The poor broken girl that had nowhere else to go. Their pity fueled her along. Spite pushed her further. Nowhere else to go her ass; this is where she belonged. And she’d show them all.

Della drifted through it. From the start, she was here. Hell, she probably couldn’t even remember what home even was before joining the Bright Futures program. If she did, she certainly wasn’t telling anybody else about it. She wasn’t telling anything for that matter; girl was a mystery herself. There was no push, no fight to prove her place.

Unless there was a test, you wouldn’t find her in class. Unless she was called upon, you wouldn’t find her in meetings.

Mid conversation, her eyes would glaze over and off she went. Were you telling her something important? It didn’t matter, she already knew what she needed to and truly didn’t care. She just sat under the trees, off in her own daydreams, letting life answer everything for her while she worked on her art.

That was their star pupil. Valedictorian.

Undo/Undone:

(I typed ‘Undo’ in Spiral and saw 6. Okay. All six were ‘rundown’. Fail. Diving has two, so dealers choice between smut and spoilers. More comfortable with slight spoilers.)

"Rayna put a banishing spell on her. Very nasty blood magic. One that isn't going to be undone any time soon. If ever. She can't come back here. The longer she's here, the more her blood will rise in temperature until it cooks her from the inside out. I only have rudimentary knowledge of this type of thing, so you'll want to confer with Hayden for anything specific, but…"

"So there's nothing we can do?!"

Again Gwen worked as a middle man, and her agitation about that was beginning to show. Quinn at least had more patience in his replies.

"Even if we knew how to get her back, I wouldn't know where to even begin on reversing what was done. We'd be killing her without solving that problem first. Best we leave now. Run to live another day, as it were. You'll be of no help if Rayna finds you first. Or those things."

Up:

(Holy shit - feel my shame - there are 1,301 instances of ‘Up’... my words suck… Used this one for the added ‘unnaturally upward’ alliteration to make up for it.)

“You’re being a fuckhead, and you know it.”

“Language.”

“Is English. Give me some time, and I'll tell you to fuck off in any language. Look, I know sign too.”

Holding up her middle finger, she forced a defiant smile on her face, ignoring the dread as his eyes flashed red and he closed the gap between them. “I admire the spunk.”

Placing a hand on her chin, he directed her attention solely to him, thumb running across her bottom lip. White hot anger burned inside of her, and she clung to it like a life preserver; it was all she had standing between herself and the chill he imposed.

Continuing its movement, his hand ran down along her neck, stopping right above her chest. She barely had enough time to recognise the unnaturally upward smile now displayed on his button before she flew backwards, back hitting where the door should have been. Wood splintered apart around her as she crashed to the ground, and the sound of boot heels against the hardwood floor punctuated the tension with each step.

Trying to scurry back to her feet before he closed the gap proved difficult as her head screamed at her for the excess movements. Pain radiated from her temples while Flagg took a look around, eyeing up the papers on her desk, fingers dragging along the spines of her books, even picking one up as he walked by.

Union/Unite:

(A few ‘re’unions, but none as is, and only one Unite.)

Stu also looked very pleased with the result, but Glen didn't seem sold as sat next to her, “It’s a good first step. Long way to go.”

Shrugging, Stu wrapped his arm around Fran to pull her closer. “Aw, c'mon, Glen. Could use the support right now, y'know.”

“You’ll be fine, East Texas, but looks like it's about that time…” With a nod of his head, Glen directed their attention to Nick, who was walking their way, Larry in tow.

Even without the formal announcement of an ad hoc committee yet, it was agreed that presenting themselves as a united group in the eyes of the community would be advisable, and Larry seemed on board as well. The idea was for a subliminal connection to help make a formal transition easier down the road. It had been Glen’s idea, of course, although he again made his disdain with 'appointments from above' very clear. While Nick might have seen his involvement here as a resolution, possibly Stu and Fran as well, Hayden saw it for the concession it was. This discussion was not over.

“Well, here goes nothin',” Stu stepped over to the edge of the pavilion to address the group.

[realm-of-rosie]

✎ Quietly, Discreetly, I Love You | Haikyuu

↠ Bokuto, Tsukishima, Suna, Asahi × Reader

↠ Fluff | Scenarios

↠ Before You Read:

fluff fluff fluff, self indulgent and all the works.

↠ Rules for Requesting | Masterlist

bokuto loves loudly in words and actions. it isnt often that he sits down quietly when he sees you cheering for him from the sidelines during a match, and it certainly isn't often that he doesn't run to you when he sees you in hallways and yards, so people ask just how can bokuto koutaro quietly?

and you tell them it's in the way your eyes meet for the first time after any amout of time spent away from each other. it's in the excited glint in his eyes and the wide smile that nearly splits his face in half the first time he notices you and catches your eye and in how he pauses mid-sentence with anyone to just...stare at you with all the adoration in the world that it's hard for either of you look away.

tsukishima is a silent lover through and through. he loops his finger through your belt loops or he slips his hand around your waist and into your pocket so he can lead you along through the large crowd of students in your path and smiles a small smile when you wave from the other side of the room.

he silently pats your head and wordlessly gives you his jacket and he also lets you pick the music playlist in the car. he will skip one after the other except your favorite song, teasing you about your music taste but silently bopping his head or drumming his fingers to the beat of your favorite song.

suna pushes you away playfully when hug him for too long, not because he hates it, but because he isnt sure how to deal with the butterflies swarming in his stomach. he hum mhmm, when you remind him you love him because it's taking everything in him not to burst out into song as a reply to your declarations.

he has a derpy picture of you as his lockscreen that he laughs at, but you also catch him staring fondly at the gorgeous picture of you that he has as his phone screen when he opens it to send aran a picture of the twins fighting. tease him about it and he'll deny it, but he'll do so with a smile as he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss your lips, murmuring, "why would i gush over a picture when i have the real thing right in front of me?"

asahi gets nervous quite often, especially around you. this results in him not really knowing how to express the things he feels for you, no matter how tightly you've held his hand in yours, or how many times you kiss him or how long you've been with him, there's an ever-present fear of making a mistake, even if you tell him that that's alright.

so he carries a notepad in his pocket and writes down every little detail you tell him. he doodles you and him and flowers and butterflies in the notepad to leave next to your coffee, before you have an exam, on your locker. he writes you poems, because pretty words always just express the things he feels.

[aylinaliens]

One invisible gold thread (tied me to you) — Chapter 1

Fandom: 2Gether

Pairings: Earn/Pear, Pear/Air, Sarawat/Tine, Ohm/Fong

Summary: Soulmate did not always equate to romance, most spend their lives together as platonically. That is exactly what Earn thought would happen with Pear—but as they spent more time together in person, Earn struggles to calm the raging storm of emotions in her heart. Soon enough, Earn finds herself drawn in like a moth to a flame, Pear’s soft bubblegum pink cardigan and bright eyes serving as balm to her soul. At first, Earn just denies what she feels inside, claiming that the only reason her throat closed up when she was in the proximity of the soft-spoken medical student was because of indigestion. As Earn spends more time with her soulmate, she begins to struggle with understanding the intricacies of her own sexuality, but realization never actually dawns on her until she finds out someone was actively pursuing Pear. That was when Earn starts to come to turns with her feelings...but it was too late now. Right?

Word Count: 1779

Notes: in honor of 2gether the movie being announced i have decided to finally post this because let’s be honest...gmmtv is going to clown on us earnpear shippers again. i typically hate love triangles but dear uranus has made me realize that wlw!love triangles are God Tier so thus this fic was born. hope you like tropes because !! this fic will have it all. soulmates? roommates? fake dating? mutual pining? friends to lovers? unrequited love? bed sharing? friends with benefits? it’s what these sapphics deserve

Read the first chapter on Ao3 or down below!

+

Curiously, Earn lifted her arm and brought it closer to her face so she could examine it. Sarawat obviously understood what was happening, also recently finding his soulmate, so he just leaned back in his seat, sipping on his drink, and quietly observing the own messages on his forearm.

After nearly seven minutes of waiting Pear was done and it was...definitely not doodle of a cat. No, it was something else.

“Oh god. Did she draw a penis?”

Sarawat choked on his drink in surprise. “What?” He gaped. “What did you just say?”

“I said my soulmate just drew an anatomically correct penis on my arm.”

A familiar fluttering sensation cursed through Earn’s body, signaling another message has appeared. She was mid conversation with Sarawat in the process of telling him what time their gig for tomorrow was but never got to.

Full of excitement and butterflies Earn quickly yanked her sleeve up—it’s been thirty six hours since her soulmate last sent a message. It was normal for Pear to disappear for days on end so Earn was used to the delayed reply.

As she glanced down at her forearm she expected to see a reply to the conversation she asked a few days ago but instead it was a drawing.

Once again no big deal—Pear was artistic. She had always sent doodles to Earn.

However, this drawing was not simply just of animals or flowers. She couldn’t exactly tell what it was right now because Pear was still drawing it.

Curiously, Earn lifted her arm and brought it closer to her face so she could examine it. Sarawat obviously understood what was happening, also recently finding his soulmate, so he just leaned back in his seat, sipping on his drink, and quietly observing the own messages on his forearm.

After nearly seven minutes of waiting Pear was done and it was...definitely not doodle of a cat. No, it was something else.

“Oh god. Did she draw a penis?”

Sarawat choked on his drink in surprise. “What?” He gasped. “What did you just say?”

“I said my soulmate just drew an anatomically correct penis on my arm.”

Sarawat looked shocked and positively scandalized but he was not the only one. Earn was just as confused. She held her arm up for him to see and after a few seconds of studying it he came to the same conclusion.

“She drew an anatomically correct penis on your arm. With labels. Why did she send you an anatomically correct penis on your arm?”

Earn lifted her shoulder up in a shrug, leaning down to rummage through her bag to find a pen. Once she did she yanked the cap off and scribbled a quick message.

um...is there like context or a reason that you drew that?

She waited awhile for a reply, staring intently down at her arm for any new piece of ink. It did not matter how long she waited it never came. At least a reply to that question never came. As she studied her arm for what seem like forever the conversation with Sarawat died away.

He knew she was far too preoccupied with with waiting for a message to appear. He was probably the only one in the band who could truly understand what Earn was feeling since he was the only one who had recently discovered his soulmate mark.

Tine was terrible, if not more so, at replying in a timely matter. Sometimes Tine would wait hours just to answer back with a single letter, either forgetting to reply or simply not noticing it.

So Earn waited. Minute after minute. Nothing. Just as she was about to give up that familiar fluttering sensation came back, making her heart soar.

But it was not a reply to Earn’s question. No. It wasn’t even a word.

It was just a smaller anatomically correct penis that was colored in instead of labeling.

Earn pursed her lips in bewilderment but decided that she obviously would not get a reply any time soon.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, shrugging once more. “I really don’t know.”

The first Earn noticed her soulmate mark she was seventeen. She had gym during school today so in between classes she hoped in the shower for a quick rinse off. She didn’t notice any ink nor did she feel abnormal as she scrubbed the dirt and sweat away.

It was afterwards, when she was towel drying her body and trying to slip back on her uniform that she saw pink ink near her wrist.

Confusion coursed through her as she brought her arm toward the light for a better look. She didn’t remember writing anything on her arms.

At first Earn didn’t quite understood what it said due to how faint it was but the longer she stared the more she could understand it.

Mitochondria is the powerhouse cell.

She was shocked, that was sure, but she didn’t have time to think too critically about it because the bell signifying her next class was about to begin snapped her out of it.

Earn forgot about that day in the shower for a few weeks. She knew that soulmates and soul marks were real but it never registered to Earn that was what it was. She didn’t have a soulmate. No way did she have a soulmate. Earn just...forgot that she wrote that. Yeah. That is exactly what happened.

It wasn’t until she was laying in bed one day, laptop perched on her lap as she hummed along to her favorite band, that the memory of that day came flooding back.

A stinging sensation started at the base of her spine and slowly traveled up until her fingertips were tingling and her her throat was constricting. Soon enough the sensation had made its way all over he body, from her fingertips to her toes Earn felt it.

It didn’t hurt, quite the opposite, but it was enough to pause what she was doing.

Then the stinging feeling evaporated into thin air. It was like it never happened. Instead it was replaced by something akin to butterflies but vastly more intense.

A half done math equation appeared near her elbow. A math equation Earn never even learned.

A few beats of silence passed before more ink appeared. It was of a cartoon bunny holding up a sign that that had a phrase on it: Susu Pear!

Earn could no longer pretend like she forgot about writing on her arm. No. This was a soulmate mark.

She practically threw off her laptop off and hastily scrambled out of bed to her desk to grab a pen. Once she found one she tore off the cap and scribbled out a word, feeling as if her heart would leap out of her chest.

hello?

Earn waited for a reply what seemed like years but in reality it was only half a minute.

...hello?

Oh god. Oh my god. She had a soulmate.

None of her friends of family got their soulmate marks yet so she was utterly confused on what to do next. She could search the web for answers but she was scared that her soulmate would disappear.

cute bunny drawing. is your name pear?

The reply was almost instantaneously, showing up before Earn even finished her own message.

thank you! yes, my name is pear. what’s your name?

Before Earn could reply again Pear wrote something else back, just below her previous message.

you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to! i know that some people ignore their soulmate marks.

Butterflies erupted in Earn’s stomach once again but this time it was not because of the ink. Soulmate. Pear just confirmed it. There was no backing out of it now.

my name is earn and...i don’t want to ignore this. unless...you want to?

no! i don’t want to ignore this. i want to um, get to know you. can we do that?

of course. what do you want to know?

everything.

That’s exactly what Earn did, she told Pear everything. Not that night but over the next few years they essentially bared their souls to each other in every sense of the word. Sometimes they would write whole entire essays to each other, forced to erase the earlier conversations or come up with new creative places to write. Sometimes they would send doodles back in forth.

After a few months of talking when the two settled into a comfortable routine, somehow becoming each others biggest supporters. Before every exam, Pear would send Earn the same little cartoon bunny cartoon drawing. Every time the message on the poster was different.

susu earn!

you can do it.

good luck!

earn! you got this!

i'm always rooting for you!

you got this, babe!

Sometimes the messages were so cheesy that Earn felt color flood her cheeks and often never replied because she didn’t know what to say. She would feign innocence when this happened, claiming she was just so nervous about her exam that she forgot to reply.

It was ridiculous—she was so tongue tied and bashful over the same messages you would find on motivational stickers. If anyone else drew these things Earn would think it was dumb but because it was from Pear she thought it utterly adorable.

Earn in return took up to expanding Pear’s musical knowledge and interests. She would use her arms to write down random bits of lyrics she thought of instead of on paper. Pear always took care to never erase those lyrics until Earn gave her the green light.

However, most of the time they just talked. About anything. About nothing. After a few years went by of this Earn grew fond of the soulmate she knew virtually everything yet nothing about.

Unlike most people who got soulmate marks she dated. It was nothing serious, it never was, but she got to experience many different firsts.

Pear, on the other hand, apparently never dated—before or after the soulmate mark appeared—swearing she was far too busy with trying to get into college and than medical school to date. Besides, she wrote one day, I have you. That’s enough.

Messages like that always left Earn melting into a puddle of goo. The thing with soulmates is that they didn’t exactly have to be romantic. Hundreds of thousands of soulmates got their mark but decided to just stay platonic. That’s exactly what Earn thought would happen to them.

It’s not as if she never thought about them in a romantic sense, Earn did more than she cared to admit, but she would always quickly shake out of when she realized that it would never between them too like that.

It has been almost four years and neither of them has asked to meet yet. Surely if they wanted to meet each other they could of. At the start they found out that they only lived three hours apart. After they began college, Earn and Pear found out that they were even closer to each other.

Yet they always managed to skirt around that topic. It would happen one day or it never will Earn wrote one day either way let's just stay like this while we wait for that day to come.

[snowstories]

Cracks in Concrete

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100

Wordcount: 4285

Warnings: a panic attack, general mental health issues, canon-typical use of cults (albeit it with minor implications that the Psycho Helmet Cult had more negative influences on its users than portrayed in canon). 

Summary: Character study/character development fic of Mezato, and how she grows up after the Divine Tree Arc. 

Notes: Mezato has ADHD in this fic, because I’m ADHD and I love her. 

///

Mezato woke up in the middle of the street, and around her, a crowd of people did the same. They blinked, stumbled, clutched their head as they looked around in confusion, a cacophony of voices asking each other what had happened, how they’d gotten here. Among the crowd there were members of the Psycho Helmet C ult she recognized, but also classmates, acquaintances, and many, many strangers; it was as if the entire town had simultaneously flowed into the streets for some kind of parade, only to then forget who’d organized the event in the first place.

The ground shook, someone screamed, and then, the Divine Tree was floating. It raised itself up from the earth and towards the sky, following a flock of birds towards the horizon. Still in a daze, Mezato raised her camera to snap a picture, only to find her fingers wouldn’t move.

“It must be Lord Psycho Helmet,” Eiji muttered next to her, wonder in his eyes as he looked up towards the flying broccoli.

Mezato didn’t answer. She simply watched as the Tree disappeared from view.

///

The only thing the News Club would talk about was the Divine Tree, and the mass amnesia the city had experienced. As a matter of fact, it was the only thing any kind of news outlet would talk about, even as the citizens of Seasoning City slowly began to accept and forget it, as they always did when something strange occurred.

“The disappearance of the Divine Tree was most peculiar, yes,” said the news anchor. “But for many people, the most distressing part was finding themselves on the streets with no memory of how they’d gotten there. Of the theories proposed, mass hypnosis seems to have the most credibility, but it’s likely we will never find an answer to the question of what happened that fateful day the Divine Tree uprooted itself.”

Forums on the internet were dedicated to answering that question. What was left of the Psycho Helmet Cult was convinced that it was their Lord who’d done it. They might be right. If anyone was capable of pulling off a stunt like this, it was Mob.

But whenever she thought about it, tried to figure out an answer herself, she got nauseous, and something settled heavily into her chest, an emotion she hadn’t felt in years.

Somehow, Mezato thought that all this might’ve been her fault.

///

Her phone rang and rang, but when she kept ignoring it, eventually, Eiji stopped calling. She should’ve picked up, at least done him the decency of saying she was quitting the cult, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

Mob was acting strange. Had been since the Divine Tree incident. Maybe it was just because Mezato watched him much more closely than she had before, but he seemed lost - or well, more lost than normal. Recently, he’d gained confidence and drive, and while he didn’t lose all of that, it seemed a bit off now. Sometimes, he’d drift off in class, or glance at nothing and seemed startled for no reason, or fall still when writing, his pen hovering over his notebook. When he did put pen on paper, he took less notes in class, and just seemed to doodle some kind of cloud over and over again.

It was always hard to tell with Mob, inexpressive as he was, but if you payed attention to the details, you could reasonable draw the conclusion that there was something wrong with him.

Mezato considered pursuing it, like she normally would when she smelled a good story, and this could be a good story indeed. Mob acting like he’d lost something right after the Divine Tree had been removed from the city, combined with the knowledge that Mob had psychic powers, made for a strong possibility that he’d been involved in whatever had happened back then. If she could get the story out of him, she could sell it to actual news outlets, rather than being content with her little part in the school paper. It would be the smart move, and could possibly be interesting, too.

Mezato let it go. They weren’t close enough for these kinds of discussions.

///

None of her pictures had any pizzaz anymore. The composition was flat, the lighting bad, and the meaning missing. She struggled to write anything for the school paper that month, staring blankly at her laptop for hours before finally giving up and slamming it shut.

It wasn’t for a lack of interesting material; there was plenty of that. Even aside from the Divine Tree incident, there was change brewing within Salt Mid; Takane Tsubomi, most popular girl in school, was moving away, bringing all her admirers crawling out of the woodwork. Even Mob was planning to confess, and although, in all honesty, Mezato didn’t expect anything to come from it, she did hope for his sake it would work out.

She could write about the actual lines that had been formed by confessors, how Tsubomi had politely yet firmly turned all of them down, speculate on whether that was because someone else held her heart or because she was moving away soon, pretend that her turning down boys whom she’d never even spoken too before was somehow unreasonable. She had plenty of material to write a salacious story.

And yet, she couldn’t. All she had to show for hours of agonizing work was a blank Word document.

She let the deadline slide by, and didn’t offer any answers when the president came knocking.

///

Without the Psycho Helmet Cult or the News Club to distract her, all Mezato had to do was her schoolwork, and she’d never been good at that. She was plenty smart, but as soon as you put a worksheet in front of her, she lost all ability to think. It didn’t matter how much distractions she removed from her workplace, she would always drift off. Even a blank wall was somehow more interesting than her homework.

So she sat in her room and stared at her books, willing herself to write a summary, to study for the upcoming exams. The words blurred together, there but meaningless; she’d reread this paragraph fifteen times, and still couldn’t tell you what it said. The silence was maddening.

Vaguely, Mezato remembered the reveal of Lord Psycho Helmet, streamed for all Psycho Helmet followers to see. The Lord’s face was blurry, a spot she couldn’t quite place, but she knew it wasn’t Mob, because she’d never gone to pick him up. She couldn’t remember why she hadn’t. She couldn’t remember why she’d dismissed him, the next morning. She couldn’t remember why she’d helped distribute Divine Tree candy. She couldn’t remember why she’d encouraged people to pray to the Divine Tree. Then, she couldn’t remember much of anything.

Had there been something in the candy? Had she somehow helped to brainwash the entire city?

She clicked her pen, again and again and again. She could say that she’d never wanted that, that she’d never wanted to hurt people, but, well, she ran a cult. But it was a nice cult, really more of a club than anything, not anything like the ones you saw on TV, the way the (LOL) Cult had worked, where people became zombies completely dependent on the cult doctrine. It was just a group of people coming together in shared admiration for the mysterious Lord Psycho Helmet.

Only he wasn’t so mysterious to her at all, was he? She knew who he’d been since the start. She could’ve told everyone, put an end to the mystery real soon. And without the mystery, the cult wouldn’t have lasted; much as she wished he was different, Mob simply didn’t have the charisma to keep a group that large together. She’d seen how he’d behaved when he ran for the student council. He wouldn’t have lasted a minute on stage.

So why had she been so insistent to get him up there, then? Why had she kept the cult alive, why had she kept pressuring Mob to lead it? What did she have to gain from it?

Her leg was bouncing, and her pen had started leaking. She laid it aside, calmed her leg, sat back and stared at her textbooks.

She slammed them shut and stood up, shoving the chair so roughly it creaked. She’d take a walk. Maybe afterwards, she would actually be able to concentrate.

///

The boredom was suffocating. The teacher droned on, his words turning to gibberish before they reached her ears, and Mezato tuned it out, staring blankly at the board to give the impression she was paying attention.

In the end, those were the questions she kept returning to, again and again. Why had she lead the Psycho Helmet cult? Why had she tried to force Mob to lead it, despite knowing he couldn’t?

Why had she wanted to start that cult in the first place? Why had she decided to investigate the (LOL) Cult? Why had she joined the News Club?

She was bored. She was restless, but bouncing her leg or drumming her fingers or clicking her pen or anything else would get her in trouble, so she sat as still as she could and tried to ignore the way her muscles itched. Her knuckles were turning white as she gripped her pen, as she gripped it tighter and tighter in an attempt to relieve the stress without actually moving, until -

Crack. It broke, sending the plastic casing flying off her desk and spilling ink all over her hand.

“Miss Mezato, care to explain what happened?”

The whole class was looking at her. Mezato groaned.

“Any day now, Miss Mezato.”

“I broke my pen, sir.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Please go clean your hand, and get cleaning supplies from the janitor to tidy your mess.”

Ink had dripped all over her desk now, too. She stood up, carefully keeping her hands in front of her to avoid more ink onto her uniform, and hurried towards the toilet.

The ink was easy enough to wash off. Mezato watched it disappear down the drain, staring at the streaming water.

She was bored. She was always bored. Things only excited her for so long before she had to move on to something new, something shinier, something that she could explore, until she’d inevitably grow bored of that as well. Was that why she hadn’t been able to write anything for the paper?

Her hand was getting cold under the stream, but she couldn’t get herself to move. Was this how it was going to be? Was she just going to flit from one transient thing to the next for her whole entire life, never satisfied, always hungry for something she’d never get to eat?

Her hands shook. She tried to turn the faucet off, but couldn’t find a grip on the handle. She leaned on the counter, trying to breathe.

She couldn’t study for her exams. She could tell herself that she’d be able to do so next year, but that’s what she’d told herself her entire life. It’s what she told her parents when they scolded her, and she knew it was a lie. She wouldn’t be able to study any better next year, and she’d never be able to get into a good high school, let alone keep up with the studies required there. She’d have to drop out, and what then? What kind of future did she have?

She pressed her hand against her mouth, leaning over until she rested against the mirror, trying to focus on the cold glass against her forehead, but her heart was going a hundred miles an hour and her hand didn’t stop her from hyperventilating and oh god, she was having a panic attack over a stupid broken pen in the filthy school bathroom, great, fantastic, fucking awesome, she thought she was done with this goddamnit, but nooo, something as small as this was enough to set her off again because lord knows her emotions couldn’t just behave normally for once in her fucking life -

A pair of hands pulled her back from the mirror, and in reflex, she punched at them, hitting air. Everything was blurry, and she was pushed towards the ground, and then her head was pushed onto her knees, and she heard someone say something, but couldn’t understand what it was. Her breathing was erratic, and she desperately tried to gasp for air at the same time she tried to remind herself not to, because no, she wasn’t out of breath, she wasn’t dying, she was just hyperventilating and she needed to take less breath not more, she knew that, she did, but it was just so hard.

From somewhere, a voice filtered in. “Breathe in, one, two, three, four, five, hold, one, two, breathe out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, breathe in, one, two, three, four, five -”

She latched onto the rhythmic counting, matching her breaths to the rhythmic counting, and slowly, slowly, she found herself coming down. The ground beneath her was cool, her uniform somewhat itchy, and the bathroom stalls smelled as horrid as ever. With a final deep breath, she lifted her head, blinking her eyes against the harsh, flat light.

Next to her was Tsubomi, sitting cross-legged on the filthy floor, staring at her with a blank expression.

“Are you okay?” she asked, monotone.

“Yeah,” Mezato said, her voice hoarse. Tsubomi nodded.

“Good. See you.” As she went to stand up, Mezato felt her throat constrict, and without thinking, she grabbed her sleeve.

“Stay,” she said, and tried very hard not to beg.

Tsubomi studied her for a bit, then sat back down. Mezato relaxed, focused on her breathing again, tried to return to a better state of mind.

They sat there for a while, on the bathroom floor underneath the sinks. Mezato barely even noticed Tsubomi, but her presence was just enough to help keep her grounded in reality.

“You know,” she finally said, after her legs relaxed enough for her to move them. “most people stay with someone after a panic attack. To make sure that they’ll be fine.”

Tsubomi just stared at her with that blank expression. “You said you were okay, so I assumed you were.”

There was a flaw in logic there, probably, but her brain was too scattered to find it.

“How did you know what to do?” she asked instead.

Tsubomi shrugged. “Panic attacks really aren’t that special. I know at least five people who get them on the regular.”

“Yourself included?”

“I’m not telling that to the school reporter.”

Mezato managed to snort at that. “C’mon, I’m not fishing for a story here. Haven’t even written anything for them in over a month.”

Tsubomi didn’t ask why. Neither did she answer the question. After a few seconds of silence, Mezato pressed: “Seriously, I won’t tell anyone. I really owe you one after that.”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Tsubomi said bluntly. “I don’t know you, and this is personal.”

Oh. That was... fair, actually.

Mezato shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. It’s your business.”

Again, silence. It was awkward, but Mezato felt that she could be forgiven for not keeping the conversation going, under circumstances.

“Can I have my sleeve back?” Tsubomi asked.

Mezato blinked. Finally, she noticed that she still held Tsubomi’s uniform in a vine-like grip.

She let go, and Tsubomi pulled her arm back. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Mezato’s first instinct was to say yes, but remembering Tsubomi’s earlier reaction, she shook her head.

Tsubomi shifted. “Do you want me to stay for a bit?”

“Yeah.” Mezato drummed her fingers against her leg. “Hey, why did you help me?”

Tsubomi pursed her lips and squinted her eyes, thinking. “It just seemed needlessly mean to leave you there when I could help,” she finally declared.

“You don’t seem like the type of person who cares for people you don’t really know,” Mezato replied, tapping her feet.

Tsubomi raised an eyebrow. “What gave you that idea?”

“You turned down an entire line of suitors one by one, ruthlessly.”

Tsubomi rolled her eyes, quite possibly the loudest expression of emotion she’d made thusfar. “I didn’t even know any of them. I could’ve ignored them entirely, or turned them all down at once. Instead, I took the time to turn them down individually, because that was the polite thing to do.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Just because I don’t let people walk over me doesn’t mean I’m cruel.”

Mezato stared at her for a while, and she stared back, not even blinking.

“How do you do it?” Mezato finally asked.

“Do what?”

“Just...” Mezato gestured to all of her. “You really seem to know what you want.”

“I mean, it’s not hard to figure out you don’t want to date someone you’ve never spoken to,” she said, deadpan.

“Well yeah, but like -” Mezato made a noise of frustration. “I can’t place it. It’s just. I have this feeling that you aren’t easily persuaded to do something you don’t want to do.”

“Well, neither are you,” Tsubomi retorted. “You’re well known for being stubborn, Mezato.”

“I know, but...” she trailed off, closing her eyes. Her feet tapped against the bathroom floor, and she counted to its rhythm. It was strange how infiltrating a cult was easier than speaking honestly.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted, refusing to look at Tsubomi. “I’m probably not gonna get through high school, I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up - I have nothing to do, really. I distract myself with an endless string of hobbies that never go anywhere, and still, I’m always bored, and that’s the only thing I can see for myself in the future. Just an endless sea of boredom.”

Tsubomi blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to give your life meaning in a public bathroom?”

Mezato burst out laughing. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, and laughed harder than she had in months, perhaps even years. When she finally finished, looking up through her tears at Tsubomi, she saw that even she had cracked a smile.

“Alright, fair enough.” She rubbed her eyes. “Guess I gotta figure that out myself.”

“I can’t do that for you,” Tsubomi confirmed. “I barely even know you.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Mezato waved a hand. “Sorry to dump that on you.”

“It’s okay.” Tsubomi seemed to hesitate for a bit, then added: “Maybe buy a lollipop on your way back home.”

Mezato blinked. “What?”

“They always help me calm down.”

Tsubomi stood up and rubbed the wrinkles out of her skirt. “Are you okay?” she asked, holding out a hand.

Mezato grabbed it, and let Tsubomi help her up. “Yeah,” she answered, and she meant it, this time.

///

Why had she joined the News Club?

Why had she started the Psycho Helmet Cult?

Why had she tried to persuade Mob to lead it?

Because she was bored. Because she needed a goal. Because she needed something to give her life meaning.

Eiji picked up after only one ring. “Mezato!” he cried out, his voice tinny through the phone. “I’m so glad to hear from you!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she said, and she didn’t quite mean it, but she was getting there, maybe. “I’ve been going through a rough time lately, and I don’t think I can keep up with you guys. Sorry, I’m going to have to rescind my leadership position.”

Eiji sighed. “That’s a shame, but we did expect something like that. Losing the Divine Tree was hard on us all, and after the earthquake in January, I certainly don’t blame you.”

“Yeah.” She hesitated for a second, tempted to chicken out, but she steeled herself and asked: “Eiji, why do you follow our religion?”

When the answer came, it sounded baffled. “Because Lord Psycho Helmet gives my life meaning, of course. Because he does so for all of us.”

She breathed in. Breathed out. “A word of friendly advice. Find something else to chase.”

“What do you mean?”

She thought. And she thought. “Nevermind,” she finally said.

They hung up, and Mezato stared at the ceiling.

///

Mob had been doing better since the disaster in January. He was much more alert, didn’t look like he lost something, and in many ways, he seemed more relaxed than he’d ever been before. It was a sag of his shoulders, an easier way of talking; small things, like always with Mob, but they made a world of difference.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?”

He turned, waving at his brother to go on, and said “Sure, what is it? Does the Pyscho Helmet Cult want something?”

“Ah, no.” She tapped her fingers on her leg. “I dropped them, honestly.”

Mob raised his eyebrow, only a little bit; she was paying attention and even she barely noticed. “Really? I didn’t think you ever would, to be honest.”

“Well, I guess you could say I got some perspective, recently.”

There fell a silence. Mob stared at her, didn’t make a move to continue the conversation, and for the first time, she understood what he might have seen in Tsubomi. They were unnervingly similar, in a way.

“Listen.” She clenched her fist, then relaxed. “I need to ask you a question, okay?”

Mob cocked his head. “What is it?”

And before she could lose the nerve, she rushed out: “That whole mess with the Divine Tree. Was that my fault?”

Mob blinked. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s pretty clear that the problems started thanks to the Psycho Helmet Cult, which I was directly responsible for.” Her voice sounded steely, confident. Good. “Or at the very least, it wouldn’t have spread as quick as it did without them - without us, me. I don’t remember a whole lot from back then, but I think that, whatever it was, I was at least partly responsible for it. Is that right?”

Mob was silent for a while. “You’re sort of right,” he finally admitted, slow and deliberate. “Without the Psycho Helmet Cult, whatever it was probably wouldn’t have spread as quickly as it did. My memories were also wiped, but I talked with someone whose weren’t, and he confirmed that the Psycho Helmet Cult was instrumental to city’s brainwashing.”

Mezato clenched her fists.

“But,” Mob added. “he could’ve done it without you. You just happened to be there, and be convenient. So I wouldn’t say it’s your fault.”

Mezato let out a deep breath. “I - thanks. That’s nice to hear.”

She stood up, squared her shoulders. “I have one more thing to say.”

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath, and made sure to look him straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Mob blinked. “What for?”

“For using you.” She looked him in the eyes. “I wanted you to lead the Psycho Helmet Cult not because I thought you genuinely could, but because it would be entertaining to see you try, and because it was entertaining to try and convince you. I’ve grown to genuinely like you, and I started convincing myself I really just wanted to give you a chance, but I was lying to both myself and you. I’m sorry for that.”

“Oh.” Mob shifted, breaking the eye contact. “That’s okay. I’m glad you admitted it, though.”

Mezato blinked. “That’s it?”

Mob stared. “Shouldn’t it be?”

“It’s just...” She started playing with the hem of her shirt. “I treated you pretty badly, because I didn’t really care about you, at first. I don’t care about a lot of people, honestly. I try to, but it’s hard, and I forget to try pretty often. So this just feels a bit too easy, I guess? Shouldn’t you be angrier?”

Mob shrugged. “You apologized, you seem like you mean it, and like you’re trying to do better. It’s in the past, and you won’t do it again, so you’re okay now.”

Mezato gaped. “I just admitted to not really caring about other people, and you think I can do better?”

“Well, at least you’re self aware about it. That’s a good start.” He frowned. “Wasn’t that something you said about Tsubomi, though? That it seemed like she didn’t care about people?”

“Yeah.” Mezato scratched her neck. “I might’ve been projecting a little.”

“That makes sense,” Mob said, shifting his bag. “Was that all?”

For a moment, Mezato floundered, then confirmed: “That was all.”

“Okay. See you later, Mezato.” Mob turned to walk away, but stopped short.

“Actually,” he began, reaching into his bag. “I have a friend that you might like.”

Mezato raised an eyebrow. “A friend?”

“Yes.” He pulled out his phone. “His name’s Hanazawa Teruki, and he goes to Black Vinegar. I think you two might get along.”

He looked up at her. “You want his number?”

She stared at him for a second, then cracked a smile. “Sure,” she said. “Why not.”

///

She made the next deadline for the News Club, turning in an all-out expose on the delinquent war between Salt Mid and Black Vinegar. The president was lyrical and the paper was well-read; the article was a slam success.

She’d written nearly all of it in one go, and when she’d been done, she’d sat back, smiling.

She might not know what she wanted to do in the future, but she knew what she wanted to do right now, and maybe that was okay. She was still young. She had time to grow.

For now, she had a fantastic article, a new friend, a bag of lollipops in her drawer, and she’d be fine.

[beanwaitingforya]

Daisuga Art Students AU Part 2

*drops this here quietly* I still don’t have a name for this halp? Inspired by @priintaniere‘s CUTE ADORABLE ART 

Part 1 Here and Part 3 Here

Note: This is from Sugawara’s POV, more notes at end, and this is pretty much unedited whoops, all mistakes are mine

Sugawara Koushi does not have crushes. He's had a few flings, to be sure, but nothing ever serious. Nothing that ever made his skin burn with excitement or had him dancing on his toes. He maintains this stance when his friend visits him at his part-time job working at the campus library. He's sitting at the front counter, doodling on a scrap of paper while he waits for someone to check out books, when Yaku Morisuke barrels inside. He leans against the tall desk, just barely able to rest his arms on the counter. "Suga, you would NOT believe what Kuroo said, I can't even - Hey, you're drawing that guy again!" Yaku stops mid-sentence to point at Suga's latest doodle, not much more than the back of a head and a well-defined back. Suga absentmindedly erases a bit, then thickens a few lines. "What?" "You know, muscles guy. You're always drawing this same dude. Anyway, will you listen to this? Kuroo said he'd wait for me after practice, but ditched me for Kenma again, the bastard -" Yaku kept talking but Sugawara wasn't listening. Muscles guy? Who was he even talking about? He supposed the dark-haired man he was currently drawing looked a bit familiar, but that wasn't too surprising. He flipped over the scrap of paper to some doodles he had done at breakfast and sure enough it was the same guy, dark, closely cropped hair, wide shoulders, and muscles. He was still admiring the biceps he had drawn when Yaku's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. He tugged on Suga's sweater and pointed over his shoulder. "Hey, is that the guy? The one you've been drawing for weeks?" he hissed. Two guys with oversized art portfolios and messenger bags had just walked in, claiming a large table by the small corner cafe. One was tall, wearing a long coat, and had long hair pulled back into a ponytail. The other was wearing a dark beanie and navy hoodie. They had their backs to the counter, but looked strangely familiar... "What, the tall one with the longish hair? No, that's not the same guy-" Long-haired dude sat down while the other guy dropped his bags, taking off the beanie and ruffling his hair. As he turned to stand in line for the cafe, Suga finally caught a glimpse of his face. "It's him," Suga whispered. Sawamura Daichi, the subject of his sketches, was standing in line for coffee, just twenty feet away. "Yaku, stop staring!" Suga hissed. "Oho, he's pretty good looking. You should tell him to join the volleyball team, I'm sure Kuroo and Bokuto would enjoy that. That other guy is pretty tall too." Yaku ignored Suga to contemplate the stranger's ability. "We could use a few wing spikers-" "Yaku, cut it out, go home or go study!" Suga scolded. He was saved by a girl with an armload of books. "Shoo, I've got work now, Yaku!" He smiled at the girl while delivering a chop to Yaku's head. She looked slightly alarmed, but quietly handed over her mountain of books while Yaku sulked out the front doors. Sugawara was absorbed in scanning, so he didn't notice a familiar figure in line until he stepped up. "Hey, Sugawara. Didn't know you worked here," Daichi said quietly. A soft, gentle smile appeared on his face, and Suga was taken by surprise. He seemed much more...serious, the last time they were paired together for drawing class. Daichi handed over a few large books, then stuffed his hands into the large pocket of his hoodie while he waited. "Oh, you remember me! It's been a few weeks, huh? Yeah, this is my part-time job." He took the books from Daichi to scan. "It's a pretty easy job, and I can do some work if it's really slow here. These are over-size, so make sure to bring them back in two weeks to return or renew, instead of the usual four, okay?" He stamped the card on the inside of each book.

"Yeah, sure. How often do you work here? My friend, Asahi, will probably drag me back to study for the art history exam later this week." Daichi gathered his books as Sugawara finished scanning them. "Uh, just a couple of days a week. My next shift is on Saturday though, same time. I have that exam too! You must be in the Tuesday-Thursday class, right? I'm on Wednesdays and Fridays," Sugawara replied. "Yikes, that's a late shift," Daichi chuckled. His eyes crinkled, and Suga got the sudden urge to sketch the little smile lines on Daichi's face. Suga shook his head, partly to rid himself of the feeling, and partly to answer Daichi. "Well, if you're free, Asahi and I will be studying here all week, you're welcome to join us. He complains that when we study at work we always get flour over our stuff." Flour? "Ah, I'll take you up on that!" Another person began walking up with an armload of books, but Suga didn't want the conversation to end. He scribbled his contact information on a corner of the scrap paper he had hastily stuffed under a textbook and handed it to Daichi. "Just shoot me a message whenever you're planning on studying. Sorry, I should help..." his voice trailed off. Daichi looked over his shoulder, eyebrows rising when he noticed a line forming. "Ah, sorry, for keeping you. I'll let you get back to work, Sugawara." He turned to leave, but Suga called out to him one more time. "Just Suga is fine!"

He was hushed by three impatient people in line, his coworker at the desk beside him, and his conscience. 

He spent the rest of the evening putting books away, checking books out for people, and sneaking glances at Daichi, and wondering why in the world they had flour at work. 

Scratch that last part, he couldn't even believe his staring was subtle at all, he was just incredibly lucky that Daichi was intent on passing his art history exam. He had given up on scribbling on his small scrap of paper, so he dumped out a few sketchbooks from his bag, putting back the ones used exclusively for class. Computer graphics was a spiral bound, black cover that he slid back into his bag. His art history notebook had normal notes so he stuffed that one back into his bag as well. He finally selected a plain brown flip book, the size of a paper back and opened it to the first few pages. 

Shit, Yaku was right. Sure enough, the pages and doodles all starred one Sawamura Daichi. How did he even manage to draw him this much when they barely saw each other even with one shared class? Why had he drawn his hands so much? As he flipped through page after page, Suga's heart sunk. I've got it bad, he thought. Real bad. 

~~~

Suga had spent his precious few nights off attempting to study at the library with Daichi and Asahi. Attempting because as much as he tried to study, he just ended up doodling Daichi's smile, Daichi's hands, Daichi's neck, and Daichi eating a granola bar. He adjusted his scarf and his notebook, angling it slightly in his lap as he settled into a large plush chair. They had chosen a quiet corner of the library after Asahi had said the cafe smelled too much like work - apparently the two worked at a bakery down the street. 

They hadn't realized he spent the whole time sketching, so Suga figured it was fine to continue...discretely. 

But he hadn't anticipated Daichi asking to see his work himself. Asahi had just gotten up to get another coffee when Daichi had slid his chair over to Suga's. Suga quickly flipped the page, covering a doodle of Daichi's ankle, only to find another of the back of his head. Shit, really me? His face colored slightly as he shut the notebook completely. 

"Hey, Suga." Daichi whispered. Suga looked up, cocking his head to the side with a tentative smile.

"You might as well call me Daichi, Asahi does anyway." Suga let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "And, this might be a bit forward of me, but well-" Daichi rubbed the back of his head, why was he so damn cute all the time? "I'd like to ask you something, if it's okay." Suga nodded, but he had a bad feeling creep up his spine.  Suga knew what Daichi was going to ask.

He knew and was still sweating. He ran a hand through his messy hair, prepared to come up with an excuse, any excuse, but he was still drawing a blank. Daichi was going to see and realize he had the biggest crush on him, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He already felt the heat creeping up his neck, and Suga clutched at his scarf, clenching his teeth so hard he swore he could hear them rattling.

"Suga, could I see your sketchbook?"

Bean says: omfgsurghlsighvbneawrig it took so long? So I realized the stuff I had originally written for a part 2 were boring and hard to write because THERE WAS NO CLIMAX OR ANYTHING you know like problem -> solution type of resolution and while this doesn’t exactly have resolution I feel like it’s better than whatever I had before haha. So basically I scrapped the old part and rewrote the whole part (which was not too bad since it’s not so long). ALSO my tenses are probably all over the place welp @_@ ALSO I PROMISED A CUTE ANON I’D HAVE THIS DONE BY THIS WEEKEND I HOPE YOU ENJOY I WISH I COULD TAG YOU 

<3  Bean

[typictheurgist-blog]

Howdy y’all. Sorry for the lack of art (aside from these lil scribbles) lately.

Time has passed so much that my hair is finally long enough to be put into a ponytail. This smol banana is on the verge of graduating high school, and is a couple of steps away from entering college life(TM). Which one? I have yet to know.

On the bright side, I did get accepted to the school I applied early to! (But the regulars, man)

A lot of things are going on right now. I’m currently wrapping up my IB work, sending transcripts to places, and working on other important things such as interviews. I still have to give in an overdue essay as well, haha.

The end of my senior year is steadily approaching, and I wish to finish it well. So, I won’t be able to do things like doodle/ask requests, art trades, etc. at the moment.

I will occasionally drop some doodles, or perhaps a written piece-- possibly with a cover. But I won’t be updating as frequently. This’ll go on till mid-February, because then I’ll be finished with everything except for the real IB exams in May.

Thank you!

P.S. But I will stalk my timeline pretty damn often ;^))

[inpeaks]

One trend that’s slowly taking shape in the domain of education is the shift from students as consumers to creators. Conventionally, students are taught to consume huge chunks of information over the span of the first twenty-something years of their lives, which is collectively referred to as education.

Now, while engagement and interaction are recognized as a necessary part of the process, it only remains to be seen how the aspect of creation is thrown into the mix.

So, the all-important question is, shouldn’t students be involved in the process of creation as much as they’re with the process of consumption? In order to shed light on it further, we have come up with some innovative ways for teachers to promote the process of creation among the students.

Begin and conclude every class with a little creativity

It doesn’t quite matter whether it’s poetry or a quick doodle of the geological record, as long as it promotes creativity in the class and leaves the student intrigued and inspired when the bell rings. You’ll have to time your creative inputs accordingly, make it relevant to your lessons, and all these efforts will pay off for sure.

Let students create a product for other students

Social entrepreneurship is a trend in education that’s on an upward swing, and for a good reason too. Creating something to benefit your own life is always great, but building something to help other people can work as a powerful reserve of motivation.

Have content-based weekly assessments and practical application tests mid-term

Various psychological researches have proven that long content-based exams conducted mid-way through the term and again at the end of the term are ineffective. However, weekly quizzes can be a great alternative for an assessment, which reinforces what they’ve gathered in their memory, and offers more effective outcomes than if they cram before major exams.

“Now while Mid-terms and finals are definitely essential, you should be evaluating how efficiently (and creatively) your students might implement the knowledge they’ve gathered in the real world, not how well they retain the contents in their memory”, says Will Forster, an expert on assignment help from MyAssignmmenthelp.com.

Don’t engage in a lecture for the whole period

As a teacher initiating all the discussions in the entire span of a period, even if they pause to ask questions or divide the students into discussion groups, will only set the students up for passive consumption of knowledge. In the process, they would subsequently forget what you are teaching them. Creation should be a part of every class, period.

Let the students record their own learning as a part of an ongoing project

It might sound a little weird, but the ideal way for students to remember any new information is to be conscious that they learn it. So, however they want to record their progress, be it visually, aurally, literally, is entirely up to them. Teachers can ask the students to keep track of it, and then have them submit it throughout the term, not only to be evaluated, but to make sure they are keeping at it.

Don’t use the physical textbooks; rather go for an interactive learning material

Why opt for passive readings when you can implement active ones? Check for online versions of textbooks with interactive options, like space for note-taking and embedded videos.

Have a cross-disciplinary approach whenever it’s applicable

Nothing boosts creativity like reinventing connections between two seemingly unassociated subjects. Apply art to science, science to art, poetry to math, and psychology to performing arts as often as you can.

Make creation a criterion in every assignment

This is an essential aspect that should be maintained. Most college homework or assessments these days comprise of writing or reading. You’ll be amazed at the transformation that comes in the learning process of a student when they are encouraged to do something with what they have learned in class.

Let students curate their own syllabus

It’s usual for instructors to pass on the note-cards at the start of the term, asking students what they’d like to learn or leave the class if they’re not interested. Teachers can take one step further and ask them (maybe as part of an early assignment) to prepare their own version of the syllabus, either from scratch or as a modified version of the one you’ve already presented them with.

If you don’t create something, at least talk about creating something

Classroom interactions often circle around theories and pre-defined concepts, but you can make an exception and shift the approach to make it practical. This could be easier said than done, specifically in case of English or Philosophy courses, for instance, but the simple act of trying it out will certainly result in meaningful and interesting outcomes.

Have a particular space for encouraging the process of creation

This is a huge phenomenon in educational institutions across the world. More institutions are establishing physical spaces where students can learn and build together, implementing content-and-product-centric activities as part of their instruction. With the way students are flocking towards these spaces with enthusiasm and talent, it’d be wise to adopt them sooner rather than later.

Focus on the unfamiliar

Keep an eye on the strange, exotic, or unique elements of your subject. Don’t forget to explore the uncharted territories. Delve into the mysterious. This way, the students can move away from the blatant consumption and start thinking, whenever they sense an unfamiliar concept.

Encourage risks

Every creative act involves a certain amount of risk. So, teachers should remind students as often as they can of the innumerable rewards that come from treading off the beaten track.

Welcome the mistakes

The mistakes made by the students can come in many forms, like wrong answers, poorly understood concepts or misheard instructions. But these mistakes should always be identified as a natural part of the learning process, even a beneficial one. Students today are just as horrified of failure as they ever were, and it’s the teacher’s responsibility to let them know they won’t succeed without becoming familiar with failure.

Wrapping it up,

Teaching students the significance of creation and critical thinking should be viewed as one of the central roles of the teachers and educational institutions in society.

For students to really appreciate the process of creation they need to witness how it can transform the world. Click To Tweet

The author, Denis Gibbs provides dissertation help online apart from writing engaging blogs.  Please refer the author section below to know more.

The post 14 ingenious ways teachers can help the students to become knowledge creators appeared first on Digital Ideas.

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[ardentiglo]

Another Semester huh? Tired of the same old routine? SCHOLARSHIPS AVAILABLE!!!

FALL 2018 SEMESTER IS HERE!  What will you do differently this semester?  

Take a look at what you could be doing in this SHORT video and let's get you going!

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 Belize City, Belize for 10 days and Austin Texas for 8 days.  One of them you can swim with sharks while working with community children in their school and the other you can take a hot air balloon ride while working with a real live working tiny home community for the chronically homeless. 

Belize leaves in November and is part of your Fall break and Austin leaves right after final exams!  

So stop getting stuck in the hum drum long drawn out semester and break it up with an incredible trip that will not only change your life but the lives of all the people we work with in these communities!!  

Scholarships are available on a first come first serve basis, so if you are ready fill out our application on our website under the "Volunteer Abroad Today" tab!  HURRY!  They will not last!

And if you will be traveling during the holidays we also have information on how to make it through when or if your plans get all wonky doodle in the  process!! Travel along with Momleficent and learn some super cool tricks to staying safe when the travel blunders have you going sideways!! 

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