#the teachers are kind in the regard that they encourage you to hand in something incomplete than late. late is 0. nothing is 0.

[transgaysex]

i have been running all day long

[wokelander]

LIMERENCE !

ft. jimmy x fem!reader

tags. implied/reference rape, failed rape recovery, talk of incest and underage but not in regards to reader, public humiliation, obsession on readers part, sort of stalking, one mention of suicide, slight boot kink, just humiliation tbh..

note. waow.. don’t know what this is.. unedited and kind of sucks.. rbs n feedback always appreciated. ignore any typos!

What do you do when your rapist is the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking?

He wasn’t ugly or fat and he wasn’t the tallest, but everyone has their shortcomings.

You feel like a total fraud, picking at the lint on your sweater as you listen to a girl bawl her eyes out while recounting the time her father raped her in the back of his pick-up after school.

The woman before her was gang-raped by her delinquent boyfriend’s lackeys, the man to her left is the victim of his middle-school teacher, another lady pushed out two rape babies from her deadbeat husband before she managed to get away from him.

They’re all ghosts; beaten down, so broken, and you are you.

The same as before, if not a little bit better.

In fact, you’ve stopped getting those night terrors where all your teeth fall out.

You got raped and everything just felt right.

Like he knocked something into place, dug so deep into your cunt he rewired your brain.

Your therapist said this would be a chance at community, some place to bring you comfort, like-minded individuals who have gone through all the same things you have. Circle time for victims of brutal, life-ruining—life-changing rape, you should fit right in.

But you have never felt more out of place.

Pick-up girl can’t continue, she’s choking on her words, they come out her throat like the creak in an old floorboard. The box of Kleenex is significantly lighter.

“We can move on,” says a lady with kind eyes, shifting on her chair to face your way.

They all look at you with their haunted, dark eyes, gaping black chasms that lead right to fucking hell. God. You’re going straight to hell.

“Erm..” You squeeze your hands into fists. You unstick your thighs from the plastic chair. You count to ten and try not to think about how nice he looked on top of you.

“It’s okay, honey, take your time.” She places her hand on your knee. You think of him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing your tender flesh until it came right off the bone, the way it inched up your skirt.

You go stiff and she notices, gasping softly like she has done something wrong. And she has. She’s turned you the fuck on, the warmth of her encouragement going straight to your cunt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about—“

“No, it’s okay,” you strain to get it out, avoiding her eyes like sympathy is a highly contagious disease of some kind.

They’re all feeling bad for you when you have finally started to feel good about yourself.

Man, you suck.

“He was my boyfriend.” Your voice cracks for dramatic effect, hold the applause. You wish he was your boyfriend. “He did it almost everyday.” You wish he did it everyday. “It would be after I came back from work…” It would be great stress relief after your Friday shift, it’s nearing Christmas and everybody is crushed into the stores like cattle in free stall barns.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of where to go from here, so you stand up and the chair screeches against the ground. “Sorry… I’m so sorry—I need to go.”

You leave and it looks real.

Like you are a real victim with a real story and very real feelings. The type you see on TV, dressed in white, trembling like lambs, abhorred by the notion of anything sexual. Squeaky clean like you should be.

For just a moment you feel normal. Your therapist is not eyeballing you like a mildly fascinating organism in her Petri dish. Your friends don’t give you a funny look when you say you’re fine—great actually. Your mom is not hanging her head in secondhand shame when you refuse to file a police report, disturbed when she unearths your bloodied underwear beside the prayer book you keep tucked beneath your pillow, rosary nowhere to be found.

They mutter quietly amongst themselves.

Poor thing she can’t even speak about it, it must’ve been awful, I can’t even imagine what she went through, so young.

You can’t speak about it, you really can’t, you might start reciting wedding vows if you think about him longer than a second.

Your loneliness is like the crack in a China cup, fine and glossy on the outside but delicate from years stowed away in show cabinets, passed from bidder to bidder. He pressed golden lacquer into the seams of your fracture, put you back together like you were something worth holding, something to be used.

Stored away in your bag, a sacred place your mother has not yet invaded, is his work ID. You say his ordinary name like you’re uttering a prayer, you drag the jagged tip of your nail over his tiny photograph. His hair and beard are longer than you remember, he’s handsome underneath the scruff, a strong nose and a broad chest. The collar of his company-issued jumpsuit is half popped, and he’s scowling at the camera like it’s an inconvenience.

There’s no phone number on it and part of you is glad you won’t have to call into the company, requesting Jimmy like The Pony Express is a sex hotline and he’s their newest, youngest, bustiest doll.

You wait outside the warehouse instead. It’s a big old thing, the last of its kind, muted in colour, blending into the silver skies. You look at the horse who sits on top like a weathervane on a cathedral, oversized features and the stomach of a pudgy toddler.

Every day from two to eight you circle the block a few times, take a window seat in the cafe opposite until the staff begin to stack tables and chairs, sit at the bus stop beside the same lot of people who wonder why you never get on.

The horse watches from above, wide eyes glowing in the dark beside the moon, unsettlingly reverent, sparkling with diamond-sharp logic, like it knows something you do not, a silent witness to your dog-like devotion.

One day, you leave work early and find a truck parked in front of the hulking, metal mass. Two men are unloading it, one is old and the other is blond, but they don’t matter to you. A third steps out of the cab, your breath gets caught in your throat, scared your exhale might blow him away.

You don’t look when you cross the street.

“Excuse me?” You call out, you’re sure he hears you, but he’s choosing to ignore it. “Are you Jimmy?” You ask once you're close enough to go unnoticed.

“Depends,” he says in that voice you have heard so many times in your dreams, rough like the serrated edge of a knife. “Who’s asking?” He hasn’t looked up once, disinterested and completely unaffected while you burn just being near him.

There is a woman near those other two men, leant down amidst some crates, a clipboard pressed to her chest. Her face is white and her nose is long like the snout on a hound dog, her charcoal eyes are sad and droopy.

You wonder if he has touched her like he has touched you. Either she just has one of those faces or she can take your slot at circle time. She would fit right in with the rest of them. Herbivores hiding in long grass.

“I’m asking.” You clear your throat, he looks up at you with his lidded eyes and you don’t look away, openly admiring the colour of them, how they look in the sunlight. There are a million things you want to ask him.

Was it just me? Was I your first and only? Have you been thinking about me? Do you want a summer wedding or a winter one? Vanilla or chocolate cake? We could do floral arrangements in your favourite colour.

He seems to grow slightly antsy when you continue to stare, Adam’s apple bulging out of his throat when he swallows. He looks like he’s started to feel sick, like he’s waiting outside the principal’s office after breaking a window.

It’s different, he’s different in the day. Long gone is his barbed tongue and wolf-like smile. “What do you want?”

You.

Your fingers toy with the rounded edges of his employee card, if you hand it to him now it’ll all be over.

“Listen,” Jimmy starts, lowering his voice, “if it’s something I did, I’m sorry.” Apprehension twists his mouth into a frown, and he doesn’t sound all that sorry. “But you can’t show up—“

“Here.” You fish his ID from your purse, reluctant to hand it over. His fingers don’t brush yours like you hoped and he seems all too eager to get rid of you.

“Thanks, cool,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a funeral celebrant, tucking it into his breast pocket for safekeeping, his disengagement is a knife in your chest. You’re a stain on a shirt he has no intention of cleaning.

“Yeah…” Does he not remember you? Is there nothing about you that is worth remembering? Were you not good? “Cool.” The longer you stand there the more likely it seems he’s going to grab a broom to chase you away. “Well, bye, Jimmy.” You blink at him sadly, expectantly, longingly. This is it.

You walk away and that was it. That was it. You’ll never see him again, you have no reason to be caught lurking outside the warehouse.

You start to think long and hard on your way home about the fuck is wrong with you.

Everyone is shaped by the sum of their exposures. A product of the people you meet, the enemies and friends you make, who you go home to. Every smile, every scowl, every bad habit is the reflection of another. But to be completely fucking honest, you think you’re just like this. The root of the problem is you, it stems from deep inside your very core, a fundamentally fucked up instinct that makes life a fucking inconvenience. It turns everything into a complication and that is why you’re like this.

God, you wonder what it would be like to wake up and think about normal things like normal people who do not have this constant flurry of wrongness whirling around inside of them. You want to go through life like you’re meant to be on earth, not like an alien species that crash-landed here and never managed to get out, unable to acclimatise to the human way, not like you’re a manufacturing defect.

You want to laugh at the right moment, you want to know what everyone else is thinking, you want to be raped so badly. Again and again and again. You can’t be normal if you can’t stop thinking about the most abnormal thing about you, that just defeats the fucking point.

Your friends think it is their fault for bringing you home that night, for letting you go home all on your own, for getting drunk and leaving you sober. They feel responsible for the best night of your life and you hate it. You hate that they don’t get it. You had a good time in your own right, they don’t need to feel guilty—Or maybe you need to start thinking how they do. Like normal people. They’re horrified when they’re supposed to be horrified. Their minds are tailored to the tastes of this world, yours is somewhere else, some rotten, tumultuous, toxic planet.

Therapy is supposed to be helping you learn how to be even slightly human, little by little, step by step. But you can’t take it in small doses, you need all of this wrongness gone at once like a decidual cast. It doesn’t make you lighter, it doesn’t put a pep in your step, it doesn’t do shit.

So you keep going to wait outside the Pony Express warehouse. You camp out in that cafe all day on days off from work. The staff know you by name, six holes punched in your reward card, special access to the staff bathrooms. You’re set for stalker life.

He never comes again, but you do everyday.

The nights are getting darker, stars bleed into the sky as the sun dims, the moon is larger than usual tonight and if you weren’t so taken by the brightness you would be quicker to notice the dark figure in your peripheral.

When you finally do, you think it’s the devil, cloaked in darkness like the devil probably should be. “Oh, it’s you.” You try to hide the smile in your voice as you watch him put a cigarette between his crooked lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He’s unbothered in tone, indifferent in manner. It would be flattering that he remembered you if he hadn’t said it like that.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, from last week.” Jimmy’s eyes glow radioactive in the dark like tiger eyes when he lights his cigarette, the flame flickers and casts him uneven light, softening the right side of his face with a golden haze and plunging the left into shifting darkness. “You stalking me?”

“No!” You say all too quickly. “No, no… I study at the cafe opposite you.”

“Okay.” He was joking you think, making fun of you maybe, you wouldn’t be able to tell either way. “Studying the menu or what?”

That was a joke, that has to be a joke. It’s your cue to laugh so you force one out, it crackles unnaturally. “I wish, but I meant before that, do you remember me from before that?”

You look different under the street lamps, they do nothing for your skin, light pools unfavourably in every pore, the jewel-toned dress you picked out today must look washed out.

Jimmy’s lazy eyes rake up your body, and then he shakes his head slowly. “No.” Even to someone like you, it’s clear he has no interest in taking this conversation anywhere.

“It was in November, the beginning, I was on my way home, and it was late...” You should’ve done this at circle time. “You grabbed me and I let you take me, and then after you told me to walk down the block and call a cab, and I did.”

“Hm,” Jimmy shrugs, though you notice his hand trembling as he raises his cigarette to his lip, “nope, don’t remember that.”

Frustrated, you clench your fists, wondering what could jog his memory—Did he do it often? Nab a girl off the street corner so regularly that he didn’t remember a single one, faces all blurring together, the same hole with a different set of tits.

“Remind me again.”

“How?”

“Take off your jacket.” Jimmy’s cigarette gets crushed beneath his boot, he’s looking at you now. Really looking at you, and this is where it all goes pear-shaped. Your whole life is pear-shaped of course, but this is just fucking sad. You beg yourself to think it over, to think of the dozens of security cameras on this street alone. None of it seems too important when he’s here.

And then, you shrug your coat off your shoulders.

“Okay.” You’ve always been obedient because you have no reason to say no, you don’t care if he’s going to mug you, at least he’s talking to you now. At least he is looking at you.

“Think I’m gonna need to see more to know who you are,” he says, detached like there are a million better things he could be doing with his time, but he’s spending it with you. “Take off your dress.”

“What…” You’re shaking slightly in the cold, wind stings your cheeks and the tip of your fingers have started to ache.

“Take off your dress, I might know you.” Fair enough. He’d seen your ass more than your tits and your tits more than your face. It was forced into a flat pillow for three quarters of the night, between his thighs for the last quarter.

You take off your dress, edging it off your ankles. He drapes it over his arm - he’s got enough humanity to not leave your pretty clothes on the pavement.

It’s cold. The type of cold that makes your brain freeze, the type of cold that only Siberian Huskies and yetis enjoy.

And yet here you are in nothing but your cotton panties, t-shirt bra and boutique winter booties looking like the most expensive kerb crawler in all the world.

“Turn around,” Jimmy hums, his hand is cold but not as cold as you, tracing along your spine when you listen like a good girl.

From here, the horse is watching you. Seeing it all, cartoonish eyes forced in your direction. It’s late so the cars that whiz past have no intention of stopping, some houses have their lights on.

Humiliation prickles your skin, it could be the cold, but you don’t think the cold gets inside of you like this. What are you doing? What are you doing? What is mom going to think? What is dad going to do? What are they going to tell your family when you’re sectioned for Christmas?

”That’s good,” his voice comes out in a whisper, “take ‘em off and get on the ground.” Lukewarm hands slide over your hips, checking you over like a piece of meat.

“Okay,” you whisper back to him, and you’ve gone so far there’s nothing to lose, stepping out of your underwear and doing just as he says.

There’s no praise from Jimmy’s end and you don’t expect any. His stern face, his flat tone, it’s all unforgiving like this cold, hard sidewalk is on your hands and knees.

“Jesus, there something wrong with you?” He sounds surprised and you don’t know what you’ve done wrong. (You do know. You do know.) Isn’t this what he wanted? “Sorry,” Jimmy says, not sounding sorry at all, “I shouldn’t say that, you’re not all there.”

Your head isn’t entirely intact, and there is this worm hole that eats away at your insides, but you’re here. You’re here and you’re on the ground, on your knees with your cunt bared to him. Does he not see you?

The horse sees you, perpetually wide-eyed and forever watching.

Something cold, like the nose of a dog, presses against your pussy. It takes you a moment to figure out that it’s the toe of his boot, the leathery texture is wet almost, smooth and still textured, grainy. The cold is making it too hard to focus on the feeling of it nudging your swollen clit. You close your eyes and focus on anything but your hands burning on the ground, how the wind is going straight to your bones.

You’re going to make this worth it. You will. You’ve been wet for months and you won’t let it dry up so quickly, not when the cause of the leak is here to plug it up.

Just as you’re about to push back into him, grind your clit into the leather, show off how much you want him—He kicks you down, your body skids forward, elbows scraping on the cement. It’s painful, but you’re so cold, so shocked, so confused.

Quietly, you hear him under his breath. “What the fuck… Fuckin’ freak.” You don’t know if it’s in awe or disgust. He drops your coat and dress over the flat of your back, you scramble to put them on. “Why did you do that?” Jimmy asks, and he is looking at you like you’re crazy, like he’s disgusted.

You can’t tell if it’s a trick question. “Because you told me to.” It’s a simple answer, the only answer. Your chest heaves, teeth chattering as you stand on aching legs. God. It feels like your bones are fragmenting.

“Are you a dog?”

“No.” You check your pockets to find some loose change is missing.

“Then you didn’t have to do that, it’s not fuckin’ normal.”

Rape is not normal. And neither is asking seemingly nice, well-meaning girls to undress in sub-zero temperatures. But you don’t want to talk back, you don’t like to talk back, you don’t want to scare him off.

“Okay… Then, I’m sorry.”

“What…” His tone lilts in what might be confused laughter, everything you say is a twist or turn in a tangled thread he can’t quite follow. “Don’t say sorry, no, I don’t—I don’t know, just go home.”

“You’re not going to take me?” You gaze at him sadly. Wanting, yearning. “I think I’m going to kill myself tonight,” you proclaim softly, not because you want to make him feel bad, but because you don’t know what to do with yourself and he is distant enough to confide in.

“Alright,” Jimmy shrugs, he lights another cigarette, the smoke billows out of his thin lips, lined with the slightest smile. “Tell me how that goes.” Well, now you feel stupid and wish to take it back. Then, before he goes, he asks a little too casually, “Your dad touched you or something?”

“No…” You answer slowly, wondering if you should’ve said yes, if that was what he wanted to hear, gauging his reaction like you’ll be able to read it at all.

“Right.” He laughs, and his shoulders are still shaking in disbelief as he wanders into the dark like something out of a nightmare.

You look over to the horse, it tells you he’ll be back.

Considering he works there and all you thought the same, so you’ll be back alive and well.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Baby Fever /blurb/ (housemate!harry series)

AN: i now wish i would have made this blurb into a regular chapter with more details, making it longer, but i can't go back now. so this will be the first blurb in my series. i wrote this because i was having issues coming up with something to write for part 16. but after this, i'll get on top of starting part 16. i hope you enjoy and feel free to send in blurb ideas for this series.

This story contains: pure fluff, baby fever

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - uncle!harry }

word count- 1,076

Harry has to babysit his niece for the day unexpectedly, and you get to watch Harry interact with a baby for the first time, which gives you baby fever.

It's evident that Harry was great with children, given his profession as a teacher. However, you were unaware of the extent of his skills with young children and infants until he was given the responsibility of caring for his sister's baby for the day. This situation arose when his sister urgently called him at four in the morning, explaining that her husband was facing a family emergency and needed someone to watch their daughter, Juniper, for a few hours.

Being the wonderful uncle that he is, Harry told his sister he'd be happy to spend his Saturday babysitting his niece. You had not yet met his sister or niece prior to this morning. But after meeting in Harry's entrance way at half past five in the morning, his sister was incredibly kind to you, even in the midst of her hurried departure after leaving little Juniper in her uncles care. As for Juniper, although she's just a baby, 8 months to be exact, she graciously allowed you to hold her, which you regard as a positive first greeting.

Since it was very early in the morning, Harry encouraged you to return to bed for a few hours while he kept Juniper entertained. Knowing he's an early bird anyways and you liked your sleep. You were hesitant at first but ultimately chose to follow his suggestion. You fell asleep again until around seven, when the delightful sounds of giggling stirred you awake. Rubbing your eyes, you got out of bed to see where all the laughter was coming from.

As you made your way down the hallway, the cheerful giggles intensified. Upon your arrival in the kitchen, you found yourself captivated by the sight. Juniper was comfortably seated on Harry's lap at the kitchen table, one of his arms providing her with support to ensure she remained steady, while his other hand carefully held a tiny spoon containing what seemed to be mashed peas from a jar of baby food.

Given that you've only been dating Harry for three months, you've not yet explored his views on the idea of having children one day. However, you're curious about whether he envisions a future with kids. You would be thrilled to give him as many children as he desired, especially if it meant starting each day with this delightful view.

Before long, Harry noticed your presence as he's feeding his niece and smiled gently at you. You walked over and took a seat at the table, continuing to observe him as he fed her the unappealing mushy peas until her tummy was completely satisfied. Harry then rose with Juniper in his arms and headed to the sink to get a damp paper towel, which he used to clean the green food that had smeared around her little mouth.

As soon as you heard the rumble of Harry's stomach, you decided to prepare breakfast for the two of you while he carried Juniper into the living room. You made avocado toast and served yourself a cup of coffee, aware that Harry had already enjoyed two cups since being awake.

Based on your background in waitressing during your teenage years, you skillfully transported two plates of avocado toast and one cup of coffee to the living room. As you stepped inside, you observed Harry gesturing to keep quiet with a finger pressed to his mouth, and then you understood the reason for his request.

Likely in a food coma, little baby Juniper rested soundly against his clothed chest. The sight brings a tingle to your ovaries. He slowly rose and made his way to the baby swing in the corner provided by his sister, gently setting a sleeping Juniper inside before activating the motor, which caused the swing to move softly while playing a calming melody.

Harry walked back over to the couch where you handed him his plate of avocado toast, saying, "Thank you, baby." before leaning in to peck a kiss to your lips.

"You're welcome." you replied sweetly, then begun silently eating your toast and sipping your coffees, being mindful of the sleeping baby. Once you're finished eating, you turned to Harry and can't help but blurt out the question you've thought all morning. "Do you want kids one day?"

Harry looked taken back at your question before a warm smile spread over his features. "Yeah, I would love to have kids in the future."

Keeping a quiet tone, you continued to prod, "You've always wanted kids?"

"Um yeah, I think so. I mean, after comin' to terms with my sexuality, I knew there may be a chance I can't have any biological kids. I would've been okay with that because there's adoption and stuff of the sorts. But havin' biological kids would be just as great. So yeah, I want kids one day. What about you?"

"Yeah, I want kids, but only if I'm with the right person." you answered and Harry gets a cheeky smile on his face, knowing you're dating. So if the answer doesn't describe him, then he must be doing something wrong.

Just to tease you, he asked, "Oh yeah, and what does the right person look like to you?"

You repositioned yourself on the couch, settling into a position that allowed you to straddle Harry's lap. In this close proximity, you explained, "I donno. Someone who is kind and gentle. A person who's responsible and smart. Someone who would always encourage our children to be themselves. And someone who may or may not pass on the charming trait of dimples to our kids."

Smiling, Harry cupped the sides of your face in his large hands and cooed in a mere whisper, "Does this person have a name by chance?"

You nod, "Mhm, his name is Harry." Right as his name rolled off your tongue, Harry leaned forward to capture your lips with his. The kiss is gentle yet passionate. It lasted a total of ten seconds before you pulled away. "We better stop before we start something we can't finish right now. There's a baby asleep in the corner."

With a fake pout, Harry commented, "Fine, but just so you know, in the future, when we're hopefully married, or not yet married because things happen, I'd love to be the father of your children. And I'd love you to mother our children. You'll be the best mother in the world."

Yep, it was the right decision to start dating your housemate.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[0ncem0re]

yandere classmate (he/him) x reader with emotional issues (you/your)

a/n: self-indulgent as hell 🙃. first post, feedback very welcome.

Yandere Classmate who hears what you say under your breath, who notices your choppy and sudden movements, who sees that you're just barely able to keep yourself together sometimes.

Yandere Classmate who sets off to go to the restroom one morning and finds you crying in a stairwell. He startles when you throw your backpack at a wall, softening when you crumple to the floor immediately after.

Yandere Classmate who calls out, "Hey," and whose heart breaks a bit when he sees the fright in your eyes, directed at a well-meaning classmate, no less. You dart away from him.

Yandere Classmate who begins to see the person behind the anger and hostility. You sit just slightly away from your friends who are all talking and enjoying one anothers' presense, while you give much milder reactions. Your other classmates that often regard you mockingly. How you try to make connections with the teachers as opposed to other students. It's no wonder you're so upset.

Yandere Classmate who sits across from you at lunch one day. The conversation that transpires is awkward for you. This boy had seen you practically throwing a fit and now he's smiling and wanting to learn more about you? He's with them.

Yandere Classmate who's delighted when your distrust lets up as you give into your desire for positive attention. He waits to walk with you after class. He discusses music and books with you. He offers to help you on your assignments. He sends you memes and encouraging, albeit cheesy, quotes.

Yandere Classmate who hugs you and tells you he loves you when he notices you're off. The first couple times your head had spun trying to decipher whether he meant that platonically or not. It's commonplace now and you return the phrase, wanting more of his affections.

Yandere Classmate who takes advantage of your feelings and desires. He notices how quickly you come to him when he opens his arms. He knows you listen to everything he says, wanting to please him, to return the favor. He loves seeing the frequent notifications he recieves telling him you've interacted with his newest post or even some of his oldest.

Yandere Classmate who feeds off your dependency.

Yandere Classmate who goes out of his way to make you feel special, to feel adored, to feel as if the only way you're ever going to feel whole is with him. And you play right into it, giving back and going beyond what he shows you, you need him to see your usefulness. He can't cast you aside.

Yandere Classmate who says you can hit him and scream at him all you want so long as it makes you feel better. Whether you take the offer or not, the mere proposal makes him feel entitled to enact the aforementioned on you.

Yandere Classmate who tells you as much. Who screams that he loves you while he goes on and on about how you take advantage of his kindness and patience. That you make it so difficult to want to love you while he grips your upper arms so tightly it's hard to focus on his words with the pain caused by hands that had just a few hours embraced you and a voice that had said it would never leave you.

You ran out of his house quickly after that, uncontrollably sobbing. A fun night between friends had sent you in a guilty spiral - because you believed him. How could you not? You had spent months with that boy and after all that he had become fed up, you weren't giving him what he needed after all he had done for you.

You didn't go to school the following Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. You couldn't bare the thought of looking him in the eye. You were scared that in them would be something you had seen far too much: hatred. You wanted to preserve your version of Yandere Classmate that loved you, and held you, showed you how it felt to be cared for.

You recieved a text Wednesday evening that you couldn't ignore. "Can I come over?" Your stomach churned as you hesitantly replied yes.

[rachelsshowerthoughts]

So, Akuma will try and protect their loved one's or not hurt them or attack perceived threats, that's fairly well established.

With that in mind, remember how Bustier was shown to care for & have some grasp on Chloe's situation & reasons for acting out?

The fact she not only went after Andre specifically says:

Zombizou: I took care of your father, Chloé. Show yourself!

Could definitely be read a certain way.

Like she wasn't just taking him out as part of the "Take over Paris" plan but specifically framed striking him as something done to protect, help or make Chloe happy. As if she perceived him as a threat and that she'd be happy to see him gone or put under heel.

Just... Something I was thinking about :/

(Of course, then they took that interesting character development and took it out back to shoot out its kneecaps, as they attempted to do with ALL possibly sympathetic Chloé characterization, no, I'm not bitter.)

Regardless, Mme. Bustier, I . . . kind of have mixed feelings about? Like. It’s probably because I HAD a teacher like Mme. Bustier, or similar enough, that she rubs me wrong. But I had that teacher who really pushed positivity, and while at the time I didn’t see much wrong with it, looking back, it wasn’t exactly . . . healthy, the way she was trying to teach it. It was a very PASSIVE kind of positivity, the sort that always encouraged "being the bigger person", but really seemed to discourage standing up for yourself, and seemed to push responsibility off of her.

On the other hand, Mme. Bustier's writing is so inconsistent, that I'm not always sure it’s the same character. She seems to flip-flop between Stepford-Smiler, "Everything Is Fine", "We Need To Set A Good Example (Which Means Let Them Walk All Over You)", and then "Do No Harm, But Take No Shit", "How DARE You Touch My Kids!". It is very confusing.

That said, in regards to Chloé in particular, I can definitely see Mme. Bustier's actions in Zombizou as trying to protect her. Especially because, well, as a teacher, Bustier's power is kind of limited. I don’t know how it works in France, but I live in Canada, and there are certain rules and restrictions for teachers when working with their students, to protect the students, and set structure for the interactions, cause like. These are adults in charge of children, but they aren't their children, you know? So, unless Chloé walked into class beaten black and blue, or walked up to Bustier and said, "Mme. Bustier, my parents are hurting me", there isn’t much she can do, even if she notices something is wrong.

[museenkuss]

Hello! 🤍 I hope you have a great start to the week. I was wondering if you had any beginner ballet workout recommendations that are friendly for people with absolutely nonexistent turnout? My hips and feet just don’t go these ways and my butt refuses to stay in one line with my spine whenever there’s any pliés 🥴

Hi lovely!! I can relate to the no-turnout problem, mine is small as well - but you don't have to force your feet to turn wider! Maybe you've had in-person ballet lessons and remember this part, but I've also found that youtube ballet courses can mess with you in that regard, because they (obviously) can't correct you. So I hope you don’t take it as patronising when I tell you something you already know! :) it’s just a reminder <3

In that sense, i tried to find videos that explain turnouts a little more — I’ve noticed ballet instructors specifically on YouTube have a tendency to underexplain? I feel like every ballet video should be small turnout friendly, and if it doesn’t feel that way, someone is not doing what they should be.

A tip that helped me: To find our turnout (in an adult ballet class), my teacher had us stand tall, thighs and feet touching and sliding both feet open, flat on the ground, kind of like opening a fan. It's one swift move, without lifting the heels or bending back, and where your feet land naturally, that's your natural turnout - it's where your toes point while doing a Tendu or Plié, and there's nothing wrong with it! Forcing it wider can lock up your hip and mess with your balance - maybe that's what you've been experiencing as well?

I started looking for videos on technique & I found this one really helpful! The idea of moving your heels was new and exciting, and I really like the way she explained how much work goes into your thighs at all times. I feel like many youtube dance teachers don't always remember that those things don't come naturally to beginners. It was also encouraging to know that turnout can improve with time!

I've been looking through plié videos as well and in the end I came back to Alessia. Her absolute beginner's class does mention the turnout part during the plié, which I found really helpful (and it's a good lesson altogether imo). Her first lesson on feet/hands/posture also goes through it (the whole series is really helpful). What also helped me in class was the idea that while you sink down, you're imagining that your thighs are actively turning out. This article that I really enjoyed and found very helpful explained it really well - a jar unscrewing, a rose blooming.

Additionally, the video or hers I used to do regularly is this one!

This got really long and I hope it was at least a little helpful :’) in short: there is nothing wrong with your small turnout! Don’t force it, you’re doing great! Happy dancing to us both 🩰🎠✨

[realityhelixcreates]

Shards of the Nexus: A Handful of Fragments

Several short bits of dialogue and character moments that I couldn't really fit into other stories. First of an ongoing drabble collection.

Gen, with a hinting of YJ/Bruce relationship. Narci is working on his language, but still sometimes uses words we might find inappropriate.

“I bet it's because you're black.” Narci said suddenly. “The way your teachers treat you. I saw it happen a lot in the training center. We had loads of black students, and yeah, they weren't as good as me, but they weren't bad either. They were just ignored more than everyone else. They could have done just fine otherwise.”

“Then they would have been your rivals.” Nash pointed out. “Isn't it better for you that they got left behind?”

“No way, even at their best, they would have never have been my rivals. No one was. They would have been good, great even, but not my equal. I was never worried about that.”

“Huh. Well that's good for you. But I'm not black.”

Narci regarded Nash carefully, taking in his details again.

“You're not?”

“Nah. My gramma was, but no one else.”

“Oh. Mulatto then.”

Nash seared him with a judgmental stare.

“Aren't you too smart for words like that?”

“Ah-sorry!” Narci fumbled. “I thought that was the polite term.”

“The polite term would be not giving a shit. It doesn't matter anyway. Does it?”

“N-no...”

“People might try to make it matter, but it doesn't.” Nash looked away. “But you might be right. About my teachers, I mean. I might just have to...test them on that. Might need a little help with getting them all to the right place though.”

Narci's embarrassment evaporated under his angelic grin.

“Oh, you bet!”

?~?~?~?~?

Helix held the lump of protoplasmic gray in her lap as they just watched, and waited. This is what they had agreed upon. This is what they had decided.

It shifted under his sky blue gaze, the thin, anxious line of this mouth. Slowly, it's formless body took shape. From primordial dough protruded an arm, a leg. Constriction near the top brought a head and neck into being. Tiny fingers burst from flattening palms, uneven tubes wriggling, solidifying into proper, jointed shapes.

It struggled with its bones, jerking and twisting them into place, but it began to falter, as if tiring.

“Come on now.” he said quietly. “Pull on through.”

“You can do it.” she murmured.

Together they encouraged the quickening creature, as it faced the first battle of every living thing; the fight to be born.

A rosy flush blossomed across newly formed skin, gray melting away into pale pink. Orange hair sprouted like moss, petal-like ears unfolding.

At the last arose the thing that would forever cut it off from what it was meant to be, and set it on it's new path: a face, the grooves of eyes and mouth splitting, deepening, opening up in incomprehension for the world it found itself in. It had a jaw, teeth, a nose, eyebrows, all things none of it's original kind ever had.

Helix held the almost fully formed being out to him.

“Quick, you have to name it!” she said.

He took it in his arms and gazed carefully down as the last details came into place.

“Madeline.” he said. “Your name is Madeline.”

The now-child rearranged herself for the last time, fully and permanently a part of their world.

?~?~?~?~?

“-and it got caught in the door behind him! Nearly jerked him right off his feet.” Arkham said, and Detective laughed. “Next time I saw him, he had tear away zones built into it, but I'll never forget the dumbfounded look on his face. He knows I saw him too. He doesn't get to live that down.”

“I know why he wears a cape, and he does use it well, but it really is a weak point, isn't it? And they're all like that! Whatever is he teaching those children?”

“Ever grab a Robin by his cape and smack him into something?” Arkham asked.

“I should say not. Robin was a strapping young lad by the time I met him. Certainly not the sort I could just swing about.” Detective poured Arkham another cup of coffee. He sipped with an appreciative nod. “Well, the first one, anyway. And by the time the second and third rolled around, I had stepped away from physical engagements with vigilantes. Simply wasn't my forte. And the thought of violently putting my hands on a child didn't really sit well with me.”

Arkham shrugged.

“If they attack you, you defend yourself.” he said simply. “It's a valuable lesson, and each one of those brats needed to learn it in turn. If they wanted to survive, that is.”

“Fair.” Detective said.” Batgirl, however...”

“Hopeless.” Arkham declared.

“Enthusiastic.” Detective rejoined. “But perhaps a bit too focused on aesthetics over training. At least the cape is short?”

“On your world maybe.” Arkham scoffed. “You've got the redhead, right? Yeah, we had her too, for a little while. Things went poorly for her, I hear. Now I've got to deal with a silent stalker in a gimp suit, and she wears a long cape.”

“Ever grab her cape?”

“Not once.” Arkham said. “I'm pretty sure she will actually just kill me. I respect that, so I don't play games with her. Her 'brothers' could learn a thing or two from her, but they won't.”

“Oh, I don't know.” Detective mused. “They aren't entirely brainless after all.”

“Just close to it, if they keep wearing the damn capes.”

?~?~?~?~?

“Hey Eddie?” Bruce asked. “Can you tell me what I'm like on other worlds?”

YJ leaned against his boyfriends shoulder, glanced up towards his face.

“Not much different than here, honestly.” he said. “Everywhere I go, you're an obnoxious rich boy.”

“Heaping praise, thank you so much.”

“Well I've never actually met another you. I just know about them because they're all also super rich and prominent figures in their own Gothams. Universally philanthropic, throw huge parties, fund half the city, all the same. You could go meet them yourself, I'm sure they'd all find it entertaining.”

“Eh, I dunno. I don't see how you can stand to spend so much time outside of your own dimension, even to spend time with me. Doesn't it drive you bonkers?”

“Well, first of all, I've never been bonkers. Second of all, what do you mean? Most other worlds aren't all that strange. The city looks different in some of them, yes, but-”

“That's not what I mean.” Bruce cut him off. “I mean the way it feels. You don't feel it? I've only been to a few others, but every time, it really feels like I shouldn't exist there. Like even the sky is rejecting me. It's like there's something wrong with me specifically.”

YJ sat up.

“I've never felt that.” he said. “The worlds are kind of alive. Maybe there a just some people who don't fit well into others.”

“Is there just something different about me?”

YJ thought about it.

“You seem similar...oh. Wait. You're the only one I know of who's family is still alive.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah...all the others lost their parents at a young age. Otherwise, they're the same.”

“Well, thank my lucky stars, I guess. If that's what gets me pushed out of other worlds, I'll take it! Poor other me's. I hope they're all right.”

“Yeah. I wonder what kind of a difference it makes, that you having your family makes the worlds see you differently?”

Bruce shivered.

“I'd rather not think about it.”

?~?~?~?~?

[gloriabomfim]

Certainly, here are the first nine scenes with actions, lyrics, and dialogues based on your description:

Scene 1: [Tristesse, as a child, stands alone at a Kindergarten Graduation ceremony. Japanese children are singing a joyful Graduation song. Tristesse's face starts to show sadness.]

Japanese Children (singing): 🎶 "We're graduating, it's a joyful day…"

Scene 2: [Tristesse's tears well up in her eyes as the song continues. She looks overwhelmed with sadness.]

Tristesse (softly, to herself): I'm so sad…

Scene 3: [The song becomes even more cheerful, but Tristesse's sadness intensifies.]

Japanese Children (singing): 🎶 "We'll remember all our friends…"

Scene 4: [Tristesse's tears start to fall, and she covers her face with her tiny hands.]

Tristesse (sniffling): Why can't I be happy like them?

Scene 5: [The children on stage continue to sing with enthusiasm, oblivious to Tristesse's sorrow.]

Japanese Children (singing): 🎶 "Kindergarten days, we'll treasure forever…"

Scene 6: [Tristesse's crying becomes more audible, and she sobs loudly.]

Tristesse (crying, choked up): It's not fair!

Scene 7: [The song reaches its climax, and the children are now dancing in celebration. Tristesse remains in the audience, inconsolable.]

Japanese Children (singing and dancing): 🎶 "We'll miss our teachers and our playground…"

Scene 8: [A caring teacher notices Tristesse's distress and approaches her.]

Teacher (gentle): Are you okay, dear?

Scene 9: [Tristesse looks up at the teacher, her eyes still brimming with tears.]

Tristesse (voice trembling): I'm just so… so sad.

Please let me know if you would like to continue with more scenes or if there's anything else I can assist you with regarding this storyline.

Certainly, here are scenes 10 to 19 with actions, lyrics, and dialogues:

Scene 10: [The Kindergarten Graduation ceremony continues. Tristesse's sobs draw the attention of some parents in the audience.]

Parent 1 (whispering): What's wrong with that little cockroach?

Scene 11: [Tristesse's crying becomes even more intense as the song reaches its conclusion.]

Tristesse (tearfully): I wish I could be happy like them…

Scene 12: [The song ends with a grand finale, and the Japanese children receive applause. Tristesse is still crying.]

Japanese Children (receiving applause): 🎶 "We'll always cherish these moments…"

Scene 13: [Tristesse's teacher gently takes her hand and leads her away from the ceremony.]

Teacher (kindly): Come with me, Tristesse. We'll talk about it.

Scene 14: [Tristesse is now outside the kindergarten, sitting on a bench with her teacher.]

Teacher (comforting): It's okay to feel sad sometimes, Tristesse. We all have our moments.

Scene 15: [Tristesse sniffles, trying to wipe away her tears.]

Tristesse (sniffling): But why can't I be happy like them?

Scene 16: [The teacher kneels down to Tristesse's level, offering support.]

Teacher (understanding): Happiness comes in many forms, dear. It's okay to be yourself.

Scene 17: [Tristesse looks up at her teacher, seeking guidance.]

Tristesse (curious): Can I be happy even if I'm always sad?

Scene 18: [The teacher smiles warmly, reassuring Tristesse.]

Teacher (encouraging): Of course, you can. Embrace your uniqueness, and you'll find your own kind of happiness.

Scene 19: [Tristesse begins to feel a glimmer of hope, her tears slowly subsiding.]

Tristesse (hopeful): Maybe… maybe I can be happy in my own way.

If you'd like to continue with more scenes or have any other requests related to this storyline, please feel free to let me know.

Certainly, here are scenes 20 to 29 with actions, lyrics, and dialogues:

Scene 20: [Tristesse and her teacher continue their conversation on the bench outside.]

Teacher (supportive): That's the spirit, Tristesse. Now, let's find something that makes you happy.

Scene 21: [Tristesse starts to think about what could make her happy.]

Tristesse (thoughtful): Something that makes me happy… hmm…

Scene 22: [The teacher gently pats Tristesse's back.]

Teacher (encouraging): Take your time, dear. It's okay to explore and discover.

Scene 23: [Meanwhile, the Japanese children and their families celebrate with balloons and confetti.]

Japanese Children (cheering): Yay! Graduation day!

Scene 24: [Tristesse watches from a distance, her sadness slowly turning into determination.]

Tristesse (determined): I can find my own kind of happiness.

Scene 25: [Tristesse and her teacher stand up from the bench.]

Teacher (supportive): That's the spirit, Tristesse. Let's go on an adventure of discovery.

Scene 26: [Tristesse and her teacher walk hand in hand towards the horizon.]

Tristesse (optimistic): I may be sad, but I can make my own path to happiness.

Scene 27: [They continue walking, leaving the kindergarten behind.]

Teacher (encouraging): And remember, you're never alone on this journey.

Scene 28: [Tristesse smiles for the first time, a faint glimmer of happiness in her eyes.]

Tristesse (smiling): Thank you, teacher. I'll try my best.

Scene 29: [As they walk into the distance, Tristesse takes her first steps toward embracing her unique personality.]

Tristesse (determined): I'm on my way to finding my own happiness.

If you would like to continue with more scenes or have any other requests related to this storyline, please feel free to let me know.

Certainly, here are scenes 30 to 39 with actions, lyrics, and dialogues:

Scene 30: [Tristesse and her teacher continue their journey to find her own happiness.]

Teacher (encouraging): It's okay to feel sad sometimes, Tristesse. We'll discover what makes you truly happy.

Scene 31: [Tristesse and her teacher come across a beautiful field of wildflowers.]

Tristesse (in awe): Look at all these flowers, teacher.

Scene 32: [Tristesse bends down to touch the flowers, a small smile on her face.]

Tristesse (amazed): They're so lovely.

Scene 33: [Tristesse picks a flower and hands it to her teacher.]

Teacher (grateful): Thank you, Tristesse. This is a wonderful start.

Scene 34: [They continue exploring the world around them, finding beauty in simple things.]

Teacher (appreciative): Happiness is often found in the little moments, dear.

Scene 35: [As they walk, Tristesse starts humming a soft tune.]

Tristesse (happily): ♪ La, la, la… ♪

Scene 36: [The tune begins to lift her spirits, and her humming grows louder.]

Tristesse (singing softly): ♪ I can find my own happiness… ♪

Scene 37: [The teacher joins in, and they sing together as they continue their journey.]

Tristesse and Teacher (singing): 🎶 "In the world, so vast and wide…"

Scene 38: [Their voices fill the air with a sense of hope and happiness.]

Tristesse and Teacher (singing): 🎶 "I'll find my joy, with you by my side…"

Scene 39: [Tristesse's heart feels lighter as they sing, and she continues to explore her path to happiness.]

Tristesse (smiling): I'm so glad I'm on this journey, teacher.

If you'd like to continue with more scenes or have any other requests related to this storyline, please feel free to let me know.

Certainly, here are scenes 40 to 49 with actions, lyrics, and dialogues:

Scene 40: [Tristesse and her teacher continue their journey through the world, encountering various landscapes.]

Teacher (encouraging): Keep your heart open, Tristesse. You'll find happiness in unexpected places.

Scene 41: [They come across a serene pond, where the sunlight dances on the water's surface.]

Tristesse (mesmerized): The pond is so beautiful.

Scene 42: [Tristesse watches as a family of ducks swims peacefully in the pond.]

Teacher (smiling): Nature has its way of bringing joy, doesn't it?

Scene 43: [Tristesse takes a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over her.]

Tristesse (content): It's so peaceful here.

Scene 44: [They sit by the pond, listening to the gentle sounds of nature.]

Teacher (reflective): Sometimes, happiness is in the tranquility of the moment.

Scene 45: [As they sit in silence, Tristesse's mind starts to wander, and she begins to daydream.]

Tristesse (dreamy): I imagine a world where I can make others smile.

Scene 46: [In her daydream, Tristesse envisions herself performing acts of kindness for others.]

Tristesse (imagining): Maybe I can be the reason someone smiles today.

Scene 47: [Her teacher watches with pride as Tristesse's imagination takes flight.]

Teacher (supportive): Your kindness can be your source of happiness, Tristesse.

Scene 48: [Tristesse's daydream ends, but her determination to spread happiness remains.]

Tristesse (determined): I want to make the world a happier place.

Scene 49: [They continue their journey, with Tristesse now inspired to bring joy to others.]

Tristesse (enthusiastic): I may be sad, but I can create happiness for others.

If you would like to continue with more scenes or have any other requests related to this storyline, please feel free to let me know.

Certainly, here are scenes 50 to 60 with actions, lyrics, and dialogues:

Scene 50: [Tristesse and her teacher continue their journey, spreading kindness wherever they go.]

Teacher (proud): You're doing a wonderful job, Tristesse.

Scene 51: [They come across a park where children are playing together.]

Tristesse (warmly): I want to make these children smile, too.

Scene 52: [Tristesse joins in the games, making funny faces and causing giggles among the children.]

Children (laughing): Haha! Look at that funny cockroach!

Scene 53: [Tristesse shares stories and jokes with the children, brightening their day.]

Child 1 (grinning): Tristesse, you're the best!

Scene 54: [As the sun sets, Tristesse and her teacher sit with the children, content and happy.]

Teacher (content): You've truly found your calling, Tristesse.

Scene 55: [Meanwhile, back at the Kindergarten, the Japanese children reminisce about their time together.]

Japanese Children (nostalgic): We'll always remember our friends and teachers.

Scene 56: [Tristesse's journey of spreading happiness continues, one smile at a time.]

Tristesse (fulfilled): I may be sad, but I can make the world a happier place.

Scene 57: [As the years pass, Tristesse grows older but remains committed to her mission.]

Tristesse (reflective): Happiness is a gift worth sharing.

Scene 58: [She continues to bring joy to those around her, becoming a symbol of hope.]

People (appreciative): Thank you, Tristesse, for brightening our lives.

Scene 59: [Tristesse's journey comes full circle as she returns to the Kindergarten, now as a wise and happy cockroach.]

Teacher (proud): Look at how far you've come, Tristesse.

Scene 60: [Tristesse watches a new generation of children graduate, knowing she has made a difference.]

Tristesse (content): I found my happiness in making others smile.

If you have any more scenes or requests related to this storyline or if there's anything else I can assist you with, please let me know.

[legitimatesatanspawn]

The funny part is that I have several completed and incomplete oneshots posted on Ao3 with this sort of idea (Nedzu meeting another sapient quirked animal rescued from a replica of his origin story). Granted, most wips were Nedzu clones made with stolen DNA sample and you can imagine how Thrilled he would've been.

Buuuut Danny? As a (double checks the prompt) okay the animal is left unnamed but something like Nedzu makes for easy comparisons and contrasts.

I have a very particular set of headcanons regarding Nedzu's origin story which I'm skipping over but regarding I Island, literally how many tech based heroes/villains do we see in canon? Few! VERY few! Most heroes are very dependent on their near-magical dna-given powers with maybe some supplementary gear. Power Loader is UNUSUAL. So.

It'd be hilarious to me if Danny made himself a mini-mecha ATAT Walker and he's 100% enabled with it. On one hand: it's not a that demolition nightmare Nedzu whipped out during the exams. On the other: do they really have to encourage this?

Nedzu peers at the young pup. The fur pattern resembles one of his littermates, although the eyes are unusual. Such a vibrant shade of green. Not implausible given the expanded range of colorations humans exhibit when compared to humans before quirks emerged. Yet...

The victim takes priority. The shutdown and en-masse arrests of the illicit quirk research facility is so very gratifying, but with the discovery of a young member of his family held captive within, Nedzu had to excuse himself from the process.

A chill clings to his nephew's fur and the faint stench of death. The air of a mausoleum rather than fresh rot. The reports Nedzu skimmed before discovering a surviving subject suggest the green eyes are a result of the substance the humans were experimenting with. The implications are quite obvious.

"Before you ferry him away, Nezu, we need to take a few more photos."

Even if it is... taxing to maintain calm so no one dares separate them.

-

Danny has no idea who this guy is but that suit looks way more expensive than anything the cheeseball would buy and that's saying something considering how pricey Sam's parents' outfits could get. Plus something about the texture looks different too, like it's stiffer.

But thanks to all the many MANY different ways ghosts look, he's gotten really good at deciphering nonhuman eye... looks, or whatever you want to call it.

Probably not a Vlad situation. The guy's too surprised to have paid someone off for a perfect son.

All that time as a dragon's paid off in helping Danny figure out quadrupedal movement. Although Maybe-Dad is walking around like a human and he unlike the yetis doesn't have the excuse of an ectoplasmic biology.

Looks kind of painful, actually. Yikes.

-

Can't think of anything else this second besides a few little blurbs but I'll likely get back to it when I'm more awake.

Like

Danny, internally (dread): Oh no. It's a school. It's highschool. I'm related to the principal. Someone: "He looks excited." Nedzu, looks: "Hmm. Is that what you think?"

Danny, after figuring out how to phase through things. Teacher: "Principal Nedzu. How in the world is your nephew getting into the staff office?" Nedzu, too entertained to give it away: "I can tell you how he's not." Teacher: "ugh fine keep your secrets."

Also Nedzu 200% figures out that somehow Nephew has memories of a pre-quirk / early-quirk (depends on the timeline) human. Does this change his regard of the pup? Nope, it just explains some of the weird knowledge pools like how does a lab subject have detailed knowledge of astrology and NASA's tech.

Behold! o/ The Face Of Benevolent Evil!

Mr. Principle! A professional hero and educator!

Also possibly some sort of stoat hybrid! Certainly a chimera of Japanese fauna! With the Quirk High Specs, he is one of, if not THE, smartest beings on the planet of which he resides! With a background perfectly justifying a decent into hatred and villiany, he instead chose to channel his incredible world shaking intellect into the shaping of future generations!

He likes to fuck with people!

For FUNSIES~☆!

What can he say? It keeps a man young and mentally stimulated! Plus the hysterical screaming of his staff and students is HILARIOUS. He can even argue it makes for good reaction training! Unforseen situations, children! React!!! *psychotic chortling*

Mmmmm, yes. We all have our trauma responses. Ways we deal with them. He should probably find other means... but he won't! Tea and tormenting the student body make for good future heroes, you know! They adapt!

But! You may ask! Why am I introducing you to this... *polite yet somehow deeply threatening smile* c-completely sane and normal individual!? Esteemed educator that he is! Ha ha...

A good and not at a under threat question!

Villains? Are fuuuuuckin STUPID!

Doesn't matter how many PHDs you possess! In fact! That makes it WORSE! You moron! You absolute fool! No traveling circus would have you, you sub-rate CLOWN of a jingle jangle dunce jester! You have a god damn PHD! Possibly MULTIPLE PHD!

And you thought "ooooh I should go into cwiiiiime~☆"?

Do you hear yourself when you talk? DO YOU?! Ooooh boohoo. They won't let you study what you WANT to study. It's called an ETHICS BOARD. And YEAH, NO SHIT! Maybe get over it and keep you fucked up fantasies to your SELF.

Or? If you REALLY can't hold it in? Lay the ground work like EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE! You're not special! Everyone wants to play god! It's FUN! They let you have the COOL toys! But you have to EARN that shit! Not jump straight from graduation to "fucked up superscience"!

And? If it's NOT the Ethics Board? But just some bureaucrat on a power trip? You don't have to fucking STAY. This? This RIGHT HERE? Is why I-Island fucking EXSISTS.

APPLY.

They are SO MANY countries you could move too. SO MANY other labs. You actual DUMBASS.

But NO! You decided to commit to a fucked up underground Villian Lab. As though HUNTING THOSE isn't the PERSONAL fucking passion project of THE SMARTEST BEING IN JAPAN. Frankly? You deserve this. You deserve this and our school doesn't know you. Never heard of you. You whoms't?

Coulda changed the world. But instead all you did was piss of The Fuzzy White Demon Lord of UA. Rest in pieces. *click*

*sound of doors smashing open*

*violent Raid Upon Your Labs noises*

But! You may ask? What's IN the Lab?

What MAKES this a DP crossover?

I like your question asking spirit! Good one! And the answer? You know what's better then ONE(1) Nedzu? A second one that you can ACTUALLY control this time! After all! You could consider Mr. Principle a prototype. A proof of concept, if you will. If you were able to make ANOTHER.....

Well, you would set off EVERY. SINGLE. ALARM. Nedzu has set up!

All of them!

Because he don't PLAY THAT.

He has long last trauma from the labs and is the SOLE FUCKING SURVIVOR. There WERE others. They Did Not make it. And their slow agonizing deaths are carved into his brain for the rest of his life. Truely "The living shall envy the dead"; it was a place that made hell seem merciful.

When he declare Never Again?

He fucking MEANT Never Again. He will BURN your empires to ash, with you in them. No More Labs.

So :) You can IMAGINE :) HOW HAPPY HE IS :)

That someone out there is trying to RECREATE his SUPER traumatic childhood, on ANOTHER CHILD. Ha ha! Gonna be a second Nedzu huh? Planning to torture HIM like you did me, HUH? Shove him in a cage and treat him like an animal? Force him to watch as the others die? Collars and whips and cattle prods? Mazes?!

Nedzu may lose his shit.

Juuuuust a little bit.

But if anyone there knows what good for them? They saw NOTHING. What's a little PTSD flashback between friends? Now what is the baby?

Smashcut to said baby!

Because it was a TEAM effort, Danny was successful in "Nuh Uh!"ing out of Rulership. But NOT out of governance. Since he DID help. He's a Councilman now. It's? Not as bad as it could be, honestly. Since it's opened the Zone up to a more democratic system.

Still held by "kick the ass of the person you wanna replace" but still!

Babysteps.

Thing is? There was apparently this weird? Leak? Like a couple hundred years ago, in this one area, that was never addressed. Everyone just moved their doors and stuff. Treated it like the floors flooded. But now that they HAVE someone to complain too?

They all want their territories back.

"Go fix it!" What are we? Janitors?

Danny looses the rock, paper, scissors competition. He's pretty sure Boxy cheated. But like? Dude has a kid to go home too, so Danny doesn't fight him to hard on this. Uuuuuugh. Just remember the Spider-Man motto. Great power~ blah blah blaaaah~

And? Wow is it fucked out there.

The whole PLANET has to be limnal as FUCK. Yikes.

Problem is? When he and his team (Because YES, he HAS learned from his mistakes, Jazz.) get close to the... frankly the Zone here looks like distorted spiderwebbing. With him leading the charge, obviously.

....something happens.

It's... it's not a portal. Wrong color. It's like someone USED the weird spiderwebbing effect to... to reach INTO the Zone? But they are severally Limnal. Clawed hands, blue tint. But that's not the problem.

No, the problem.

The Horror.

The thing that his team can only watch on in agonized terror as it plays out... is that hand? It shoots out of nowhere. Ghostlike in the Zone. Meaning it must be living. And PLUNGES directly into Danny's chest to wrap around his core.

Time seems to slow.

He can't even scream in pain. At the violation. His team, acquaintances, yes, but friendly ones. Can not even cry out in horror, as they watch their friend and team lead be butchered before them. Before that uncaring hand is ripping back. Perfect ice and starlight in its uncaring grip.

For a terrible moment... he is in two places at once.

Then he is crushed in a burning grip. Like molten bars. Watching his own body dissolve into nothing in an instant, pain and horror still etched upon his face. The beginnings of screams ripping from his team as they jerk away from the nightmarish threat.

Then he can not think at all.

He... he TRIES. Knows he has been captured. Is certainly not the sort to give up easily. But... he's so tired. His body feels? Weird. Not wrong, per say. It's HIS. But... small and weird. Like he's shape shifted into a new form and hasn't adjusted yet.

....

.......

...........

He's getting really sick of all the goop against his whiskers and in his ears. It feels WEIRD against his fu- WAIT a second... did those assholes shove him into an animal? Why?! To contain him? Ha! Jokes on them! He's DONE THIS before!

For FUN!

He once spent a whole ass summer as a tiny dragon just 'CAUSE!

Unfortunately, said assholes notice him waking up. Dump him in a glorified hamster cage. But like.... a SHITTY "I don't care about the pet I bought" hamster cage. Dude. And he's naked.

Is that Japanese? Ooooh! It IS! Thank you, Tucker's Weeb phase.

......actually, never mind. Lotta dehumanizing language there, my guys. What is this? The GIW international? You couldn't even give me PANTS? Swear to God, call me an "it" ONE more time and the next time I have to go? I am going to aim through the bars at your-! *alarms going off*

....wasn't me.

I mean, be all means, ha ha and get fucked, but? Wasn't me. Oh hey! Some one exploded the doo-

AND? In Lab 4?

Nedzu finds a child with fluffy, ungroomed black and white fur, and the curious yet cautious eyes of a survivor. They are the most magnificent green, pale and luminous they glow in the laboratories lighting. Paws too big for his small frame, delicate ears on the swivel, equally large. Yet to grow into either. Adolescent, at best.

He watches the child take him in. Note his features and the chaos behind him. The injured scientist under his feet. Come to him conclusion. Nedzu will not rush him. Now that he... he stand the chance to be the hero he himself never had. It is a strange feeling. At once cathartic and unbearably painful.

He is given the equivalent of a cheerful grin, as the lad points the the lock on the cage. Is asked if he happened to bring a spare pair of pants. He can not help his amused chortle as he makes quick work of the lock. The unbearable RELIEF he feels.

He... he was not too late.

These monsters had no chance to crush the boy's light. To make a monster of him, like they did with him. He survived his laboratory, his hell. But not all of him left that terrible place. He knows that. Some innocence, some goodness, died alone in the dark. But here? He insured there would be no chance.

With amusement, he watches the boy turn the lab upside down until he finds spare scrubs. Triumphant, he then considers his own, tiny claws. Dismisses them. Attempts to hop up on a chair to retrieve something sharp. It? Is unbearably cute. To watch him rip and shred, problem solve. His little mind churning away. Whiskers twitching as his eyes dart around, considering his options.

Nedzu offers one of his spare knives.

Watches him light up.

Adorable~

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @lolottes

[maskedinstructor]

Black Education in America--- The Toastmaster Experience

You are a leader, a teacher, an entrepreneur and have not as yet had the Toastmaster experience...WHY NOT ? 

There is something sorely missing in your professional and even your personal life. What is it? Let me explain. Is there a message you need to deliver with power and purpose? Is there that someone whose heart you must captivate with sincerity and sensationalism? Is there that job you desire for which there is an interview you must crush with ingenuity and intelligence? Then, you first and foremost must undergo that Toastmaster experience. There is no short cut. There is no magic potion. It is that experience with your colleagues evaluating , and encouraging you which will transform you into the outstanding speaker you never realized you could be. Fearlessly, you will conquer every business encounter and exclusive endeavor with courage, poise and conviction. Dare to try and you will assuredly be the master of your fate.

You don’t have to live a life of seclusion afraid someone or some occasion might reveal to the world that you are verbally impotent. Gracious me, there is still doubt. Here it is right in your face. The wedding speech, the retirement speech, that congratulations appreciation impromptu chat, the funeral eulogy...You might evade or avoid one, but not all four.. I am so grateful for that experience for it informed me about when I should sit my ass down. Everybody cannot be the keynote speaker. If you are invited to be that special person, just speak for 5-7  minutes and sit the hell down. Wow ! I discovered I did not have to be Nelson Mandela, Barack Obama or Dr. Martin Luther King every time I was summoned to present. Just imagine how liberating that was. However, damn it, be prepared when called . No one wants to hear you bullshit for hours and never reach a climax or conclusion.

A Moment’s Pause.. You have just climbed a sandy hill. The effort was arduous. It is difficult to catch your breath in the rarefied the air available to you. ,A surprise awaits ...A woman appears..Sophia Loren of sorts. You wipe your eyes, which are now weeping f,or escape is not possible. However, you will have the companionship of the voluptuous female sent to you from the heavens. You stare in her direction and smile. The sun has pierced the only layer of clothing she is wearing. The outline of her inviting body delights and excites you. She is without cover actually, the hot sun has bared it all. You reach for her hand and a loud slap awakens you. That was the Toastmaster of the Evening telling you to wake up. This is not that kind of club.

What is unique about Toastmasters is that its purpose is definitive, concise and dynamically structured. There are so many empowering sessions you will want to engage in. Be smart. Select the pathways that will be most impactful in your career and life. Here are the heaven eleven: Dynamic leadership, Effective Coaching, Engaging Humor, Innovative Planning, Leadership Development, Motivational Strategies, Persuasive Mastery, Presentation Mastery, Strategic Relationships, Team Collaboration, Visionary Communication. Whatever you wish to master, the Competent Communicator should/must be first and foremost the primary goal. You want to excel in public speaking. 

My time has concluded as most speeches are to be completed in 5-7 minutes. In fact, I have exceeded my time. Get your ass to a meeting at a toastmasters Club near you. In compliance with the hard and set rule regarding time, I am going to sit my ass down and the rest of my body also...By the way, there is no cursing at the meetings...Enjoy! You are about to change your life forever...You can thank me later...The  Masked Instructor

[eduminatti]

HOW STRICT ARE SCHOOLS IN INDIA

Do you recall those books being hurled at you because you didn't finish your homework? Your replies were marked down because they differed from what the teacher had taught everyone? 

Or being pushed to solve issues without regard for whether or not you fully comprehended the concept? For millions of students in India, this is the situation. 

In today's world, popular opinion holds that higher fees, better teachers, more challenging curricula, and more rigorous assessments are the best ways to improve student learning. 

As per research conducted by schools in Bangalore parents send their children to school hoping that they will grow up to be successful and happy adults. But what if I told you that the real issue is with the school? Here are a few things that are currently harming and failing our children psychologically.

THE SYNDROME OF ROTE LEARNING

Subjects like history are now confined to rote memorization of dates and locations. Children are taught the dates of conflicts rather than why they occurred or how they may have been avoided.

It's all about Rahul having more apples than he can eat, or finding triangle angles without being told why they're useful.

 Another survey done by schools in Mumbai shows that when it comes to English, students are pressured to remember selected poetry and write down the teacher's notes rather than being questioned what they understood. Writing the longest, most intricate responses to simple questions has always been more about scoring higher.

GOOD GRADES ARE A SIGN OF INTELLIGENCE

It is obvious that a student's achievement is judged in grades. It is reassuring to know that some schools encourage pupils to pursue other interests such as music, dancing, and athletics, yet even this is repressed by the system. These activities almost never assist students in gaining admission to a higher education institution.

 Exploring talent appears to be a pointless endeavour because a bright future is contingent on good grades. Most schools consider all of these extracurricular activities to be a waste of time.

 As a student, you must either be the brightest or there must be something wrong with you. In most institutions, this appears to be the case. 'Okay' grades are never good enough, and kids are trained to feel bad if they don't get good grades.

SCHOOLS HAVE BEGAN TO LOOK LIKE PRISONS

Teachers have been more permissive in areas such as peer respect, bullying, and teamwork, while becoming more rigid in areas such as useless dress standards, grooming regulations, and enforcing discipline. Everything in school is about following the rules. 

Simply put, if students are bright enough to come up with fractions without sketching odd visuals, they are shunned by their schools! Instead of providing a mentor or a helpful hand, they provide a watchman or an iron fist. 

Schools merely deliver a punishment that is extremely comparable to solitary confinement in prison, rather than making a pupil learn and become conscious of his mistakes. 

Schools have been pressuring children to spend more time on campus in recent decades, and there is clear evidence that this is inflicting substantial psychological harm to many of them.

CREATIVITY IS BEING STIFLED

Schools, as we all know, are historical artefacts that were not designed with the goal of teaching students to learn. In today's schools, the ancient design is still in use, and youngsters are taught to obey authority people without challenging them.

 Schools as a place to foster critical thinking, creativity, self-initiative, or the ability to learn on one's own — the kinds of talents most needed for success in today's economy — are essentially non-existent. Wilfulness is wickedness in Indian schools, and it is taught or hammered out of youngsters rather than fostered.

REFORM ATTEMPTS THAT FAILED

Various reform attempts have repeatedly failed. Though the government has tweaked various institutions and curricula, the core pattern has remained unchanged.

 The top-down, teach-and-test technique, in which learning is motivated by a system of incentives and penalties rather than curiosity, has repeatedly failed children. Today's method is well-suited to indoctrination and obedience training, but it lacks in other areas. 

It's no surprise that many of the world's greatest thinkers and trailblazers either dropped out of school early (like Thomas Edison) or said that they despised school and learnt despite rather than because of it (like Albert Einstein). It's no surprise that even the best students frequently describe feeling "burned out" by the educational process.

As a result, I am not surprised when school pupils find learning to be an unpleasant experience. In India, parents regard it as a bitter medicine that is difficult to swallow but beneficial to children in the long term. To summarise, while Indian schools do a lot of things well, they also do a lot of things incorrectly. 

They teach pupils 'What to think' and what the solutions are, rather than 'How to think' and 'How to solve issues.' It's the equivalent of providing pupils fried fish rather than a fishing pole or instruction in fishing. Substandard teaching, or, in many cases, a teacher shortage, is to blame for much of the damage done by Indian schools.

[looptroupe]

Ok I finally have the energy to talk about this like I originally wanted to. Um? Strap in I guess. I’m gonna just… go through this verse by verse, and write down my thoughts— because this song is very near and dear to me, and makes me feel a whole lot.

“I’m a horse, I’m a dog, I’m a sparrow

I’m a spider inside you

Trying to keep you off the straight and narrow”

I interpret this first half of the first verse (in the universe in my head where this is written for and about loopzoop specifically) as a kind of recognition of Lupin’s many faces. He flits between ‘horse, dog, sparrow, spider’, as Zenigata struggles to place exactly what is real about him and what might be a front. Is he really ‘a horse’ or is he something more sinister, with equally as sinister intentions? I think it’s worth pointing out that both a horse and sparrow have these connotations of freedom: Lupin presents as if he’s totally untethered, and yet, he sits as a nagging, spindly little feeling in Zenigata’s chest. As the two spend time together over the years, their morals start to align more and more— where Lupin becomes softer, more understanding, a little more thoughtful and introspective, Zenigata becomes a little more careless in his adherence to the law. He stops blindly trusting the rules he’s been taught to obey and begins to take justice into his own hands. Reflecting on this, though, Lupin becomes the voice in his head telling him to be a little laxer. He’s breaking his moral code because he trusts Lupin’s word over that of his superiors; thus ‘keep you off the straight and narrow’. It’s worth mentioning that you can also read this first section as if it’s about Zenigata, from Lupin’s perspective. Zenigata, in being Lupin’s main challenge in life, becomes ‘the spider’ pushing him further into his life of crime. While we all know that Lupin wouldn’t ever truly walk the straight and narrow, it’s not out of character for him to blame someone else for his wrongdoings. If he pins the notion on Zenigata, he isn’t doing anything wrong! He’s just poking a dangerous bear. You know. For fun!

“Pick me up, put me down, let me dangle

I’m a carrot on a string

I’m the sword as it hangs above you.”

‘Pick me up, put me down, let me dangle’ can relate to either of the two. Both Zenigata and Lupin use eachother as a means of entertainment and fulfilment, and sometimes their actions are totally self-serving. Lupin especially treats Zenigata as if he’s a plaything: ‘picking him up’ when he’s bored and ‘putting him down’ when he’s satisfied. They wait on eachother, and find fulfilment in the chase. ‘Dangling’ could represent those moments in which they wait for the other to make a move. The comparison of the ‘carrot on a string/sword as it hangs above you’ embodies the risk/reward of their relationship. For Lupin, Zenigata is a constant driving force. The idea of escaping again becomes the ‘carrot’ that encourages Lupin into each heist, and Zenigata is the challenge- the ‘sword’ that could do some serious damage if it ever made contact with him. For Zenigata, Lupin himself is the ‘carrot’. The prize just out of reach that keeps him working a pretty thankless job.

“I’m the curse, I’m the cure, the solution

I’m the reality

and the illusion

I’m a kid, I’m a friend, I’m a teacher

I’m the object in the distance

but you’ll never reach her”

To Zenigata, Lupin is both ‘the curse’ that torments him, and the ‘solution’ to said curse. If Zenigata can catch Lupin, in theory, all his problems would be fixed. And yet, Zenigata can’t catch Lupin, because that would cause a slew of new problems. You’ll notice this song is made up of contradictions and that’s definitely why I’m so attached to it in regards to their relationship haha. ‘I’m the reality/and the illusion’ to me, speaks to the duality of how Lupin presents himself (again). He’s the ‘reality’, when he stands for something bigger than himself- when he acts selflessly and with heart. (Think: Miyazaki Lupin, Late green-jacket, Nostradamus-esque red-jacket. Etc etc.) And is the ‘illusion’ when he’s unpredictable, masking & mostly self-serving. (Think: mamo, most of blue-jacket, manga Lupin. Etc etc.)

‘I’m the kid/friend/teacher’ represents the different ways in which Lupin and Zenigata’s relationship morphs/is interpreted. As a ‘kid’, Lupin is childish and materialistic: he’s at his worst when he’s disingenuous and selfish. Zenigata, similarly, is at HIS worst when he’s violent and uncaring towards Lupin. As ‘friends’, the two are equals, standing side-by-side and forgetting their differences to work towards solving something bigger than themselves. As ‘teachers’, they are better than eachother. Lupin, at his best, teaches Zenigata to let loose every once in a while. He embodies the idea of freedom and whimsy and seeing the world not as what it is, but what it could be. Zenigata, at his best, teaches Lupin to have compassion. To be selfless and to put others before himself.

‘Object in the distance/but you’ll never reach her’ is pretty self-explanatory. Lupin is always just out of reach for Zenigata. He is both emotionally unavailable (hidden behind a handful of cheerier, flirtier masks) and physically unavailable. He never lingers long enough for the two to get comfortable.

“I’m a rat, I’m a dirty little liar

I’m a deep sea diver

I’m a backseat driver in a storm”

Lupin isn’t an honest person. He doesn’t make an honest living and he certainly doesn’t tell the truth when he’s confronted. As a ‘deep sea diver’ he’s both impressive and always walking a dangerous line, and as a ‘backseat driver’, he lingers in Zenigata’s head as an irritating monologue. Zenigata, lost in a ‘storm’ (emotionally and/or physically) will often use Lupin’s voice as a guide, for better or for worse.

“I’m a chord, I’m the bell that keeps ringing

A stone in your shoe

The bird your cat keeps bringing home.”

Continuing on from this idea of an internal monologue, neither Zenigata not Lupin can seem to rid themselves of the other. (Unrelated to this point, but ‘chord’ here is a lovely indicator again of the complex feelings that come together to form each character) ‘bell that keeps ringing/stone in your shoe/bird your cat keeps bringing home’ all indicate that this is a relationship neither of them particularly want to be in— or, certainly wouldn’t have signed themselves up for. But, for one reason or another, it’s inescapable.

“I’m a rabbit, I’m a hunter and the snare

Daddy’s little princess

Mummy’s little nightmare

I’m the window, I’m the door you left open

I’m the tap you left running

I’m the choice that you should have chosen”

Finally, both Zenigata and Lupin here can be the ‘rabbit/hunter and the snare’. Lupin often presents as someone who could be easily outsmarted: all the while, masterminding a detailed scheme to come out on top. Similarly, Zenigata is underestimated constantly because of his politeness and clumsy nature, though he’s actually incredibly talented and a natural at his job. They have each ‘ensnared’ the other; and, again, are now stuck in a hunter/prey-like chase.

‘Daddy’s little princess/Mummy’s little nightmare’ in my opinion, though the hardest line in this whole song to make sense of through a shaky luzeni lens lol, represents the familial ties that keep Lupin and Zenigata on their respective paths, and how they’ve both stuck to, and deviated from, the path’s of their ancestors. Where Lupin upholds his family legacy by stealing (but strays from it by often losing treasure by putting people first), Zenigata upholds his by protecting justice (but strays from it by often breaking the law for the greater good).

‘Im the window, the door you left open/tap you left running/choice that you should have chosen’ you know that nagging feeling in the back of your head? That tells you that you definitely didn’t double-check the plugs, or turn off the oven? Luzeni are that for eachother. Every choice they make hinges on the other person. They are so ingrained in each other’s lives that it’s impossible for each of them to make a decision that doesn’t involve the other.

“I’ll never leave you alone

Push me away, but I’ll never leave you alone.”

I’ll never leave you alone by the staves is the luzeni song of the century for me. Just felt like I needed to put that out there.

I could elaborate on this so bad and I might later but rn I just needed to write it down as a statement. It’s fact. It’s here on my tumblr blog.

Also. Winter trees has been one of my favourite songs for years now. You shld listen to it if ur seeing this

[cheeriecherrymain]

Incorrigible Flirts And Besweatered Men [Chapter 1]

Pairing: TA!Viktor x Fem!Reader Warning: reader being an incorrigible flirt, Viktor being shy as hell Rating: T (so far) Summary: Your Professor’s assistant is cute as hell, which sucks for him, because you’re going to eat him alive (in a good way).

You’re out of breath and confused, and anxiety is beginning to bubble up in your chest. You’ve been walking around the area for more than half an hour - darting between buildings and scrutinizing your surroundings - to no avail. You’d left twenty minutes early in preparation of needing to locate the building your class would be held in, but you were still going to be late.

You’d printed out the map and directions provided by the school, and you had google open on your phone! And you were still lost - though not according to any of your resources.

According to the school map, there should be a building in front of you, and not inconsequential in size: made of dusty brown brick, with industrial windows lining the exterior. But you see no such thing. It’s even more baffling, because according to google, you were right where you were meant to be.

You glance around again, and scoff. You’re standing in the middle of a bricked crossroads, in the center of the campus’ older quad - the vintage sector, as some liked to call it. You’d been running willy nilly around the same area for the last four years, both attending classes and sneaking around after parties, and never, in your entire time of being there, had such a building existed.

“Pardon me?”

A quiet voice behind you startles you out of your thoughts. So badly, in fact, that your phone flies out of your hand and lands face-down on the concrete with a sad thunk.

Immediately, the man behind you starts to apologize, but you just stare at your phone for a second before reaching down to grab it.

“It’s fine,” you say, blowing a little bit of dust off the screen. “I’ve repaired and upgraded this stupid thing like eleven times now. If it’s not bulletproof, then I clearly need to keep working on it.” You glance up at him with a reassuring smile, showing him the unharmed device while you get a good look at him.

He’s cute, you decide. Tall, slender, with soft-looking hair and the kind of warm, brown eyes that you’d always been a sucker for.

“You didn’t get my attention for nothing, though.” you continue, “Was there something I could help you with?”

The man seems to come out of his own thoughts, and takes a couple steps closer to you.

“The opposite, actually,” he says, his gaze darting down to the map in your hands. “You seem lost. I thought I might be able to offer directions, if you need?”

Your shoulder sag in relief, and you’re quick to show the somewhat-crinkled, blurry image to the kind stranger, who regards it with a miffed expression.

“Ah, I’ve been saying for years that the maps of the science quadrant need to be updated. You’re one of Professor Heimerdinger’s students, no?”

Your smile further widens, and you nod.

“If you’ll follow me, then. I can take you there,” he says, and starts off in a direction that you’d walked several times before.

You debate going after him, since surely it would be of no consequence to you…but a tiny voice in the back of your mind encourages you to wait.

The man pauses about ten feet from you, and turns back when he isn’t able to hear your footsteps. You fidget a little bit under his gaze, even though you don’t feel particularly judged or scrutinized. You’re even about to offer an explanation, when a look of realization suddenly dawns across the man’s face.

He immediately comes back to you, digging around in his pockets along the way. By the time he comes to a stop at your side, he’s already producing his student identification card, as well as his teachers aide ID.

“My name is Viktor,” he explains, as you study the cards he’s given you. “I’m Professor Heimerdinger’s assistant, and one of his teaching aides.”

You nod, pleased with not only the information you’ve garnered, but also his willingness to give it to you.

“Sorry,” you tell him, handing his items back to him. “It’s not that you seem untrustworthy or anything like that. You just… can’t be too careful, y’know?”

When Viktor starts walking again, you’re quick to follow.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he promises. “Our campus is safer than most, but I have… heard horror stories. As you said, one cannot be too careful.”

Your heart warms a little at his understanding, and you keep pace at his side instead of trailing just behind him.

You chat idly with him as you walk past buildings you’d seen dozens of times, asking him about his school life and what he found enjoyable about teaching. Eventually you start to pass buildings you’d never seen before, but he walks with purpose and familiarity; even when the little voice in the back of your head springs up again, you’re quick to quiet it down and continue following.

The pair of you round the corner of an old lecture hall, and you pause. There, nestled in amongst shrubs and ivy, is the building you’ve been searching for.

“What the hell is it doing all the way over here?” you ask, not of anyone in particular. “Did they just- pick it up and move it???”

Viktor answers with a quiet huff that you’re pretty sure is a laugh, and says, “Yes, actually.” Leaving you to flounder for a couple seconds in surprise before darting to catch up to him.

“You know,” he says again, “I am surprised you haven’t asked me about Heimerdinger’s teaching methods yet.”

The two of you come to a stop outside a heavy metal door, with a keypad and card reader set up beside it.

“You are aware of his reputation amongst the student body, no?”

You watch as he pulls out one of the cards he’d shown you earlier, and swipes it through the reader to unlock the door.

“I’ve heard everything by now,” you reply, helping him tug the door open enough for the two of you to slip inside. “The stories get more convoluted every year - like failing entire classes on multiple occasions, and having the highest dropout rates among the entire faculty.”

“And yet, you do not seem to have any worries?”

The hallway Viktor leads you down is one of the most nauseating spaces you’ve ever been. Worn linoleum flooring, and faded yellowish walls with a multitude of cracks, water stains, and the occasional cobweb. With a crinkle of your nose, you ask, “Do you meet many fifth-year physics students who are willing to believe information without checking the facts first?”

“You would be surprised.”

“It’s a miracle they haven’t been weeded out by now,” you sigh, realizing that you’re definitely going to have to cope with annoying classmates. “Since you asked, though, I don’t like to leave my decision-making up to other people - I’d rather try something first, and discover for myself that it’s not working out.”

As you and Viktor near a modern, out-of-place-looking door at the end of the hall, he asks, “What if everyone around you says that your tribulations would end in failure? Would you still try?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, and honestly.

Viktor seems pleased with your answer, though he doesn’t voice his thoughts; a quirk of an eyebrow and the barest hint of a smile is all he gives you.

“Plus,” you say, amplifying the mischief in your tone as you push open the door to the small lecture hall. “I had Heimerdinger in my second year. I’m well aware that he can be a hardass at times, but he’s a good teacher, and I learned a lot from him.”

You gently trail your hand over Viktor’s arm as you pass him - a friendly gesture to anyone who might be watching - and give him your cheekiest smirk. You manage to catch the slight widening of his eyes, as well as the near-immediate pink that dusts his cheeks, and you’ve definitely decided: he’s cute as hell.

—

The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, and is about what you expected it would be: it’s a three-hour class, and you’re more than grateful that you don’t have any other sessions scheduled on the same days. The syllabus seems hefty - although still doable - and you know for a fact that your stress levels are going to be through the roof throughout the semester.

You know that the workload is only to discourage students who aren’t serious about learning the material, but it still seems an ineffective way to rule out unmotivated individuals. You were still there, after all, and you were five years in.

At one point, Heimerdinger steps out of the room to make a phonecall, and leaves Viktor to continue speaking on his behalf. Explaining expectations that everyone will have implemented on them, as well as writing down and iterating office hours and contact information.

At one point, when Viktor’s gaze falls on you for the umpteenth time, you shoot him a coy smile, and delight in the way his face lights up pink again. 

Such a sight keeps your spirits up as the professor returns to the lecture hall, and announces your first assignment.

—

You stand up in your seat after everything is finished for the day, stretching with a pleased squeak, until your spine cracks and you’re able to breathe again. It doesn’t take long to pack up your things, as they currently only consist of a notebook, a binder, and a bunch pf pretty-coloured pens, but by the time you’re heading towards the door, most of your classmates are already gone.

“Ah, Y/N?”

You pause mid-step when you hear the soft lilt, and turn towards Viktor.

“Yes?” you wonder sweetly, and move a little closer to him.

It’s as if your very presence is flustering him, with the way he starts and stops his sentences several times. “That’s technically the staff entrance,” he finally manages, “It was closer than walking around the rest of the building, earlier, since there’s a fence blocking the shorter route to the main exits, and class was about to start-”

You wait patiently while he collects himself.

“All this to say; you would get in trouble, if you were to be caught in the wrong place.”

Your eyes quickly flick towards the Professor, who is thankfully in the middle of an animated conversation with a pair of other students.

“I don’t mind a little bit of trouble,” you say cheekily, slinking closer to him until you’re nearly touching. “It’s always more exciting to be somewhere off-limits, isn’t it?”

Viktor looks like he might combust if you take your flirtations any further, so you continue, “Besides, I don’t actually know where the proper entrance is.”

You note the way his shoulders droop slightly - though you’re not able to tell if it’s from relief or disappointment - as he begins to rattle off directions.

“You’ve seen how terrible I am with directions, Viktor.” You’re unable to help yourself, entirely enticed by his sweet reactions to your instigations. “Maybe you could show me? If it’s not too much trouble?”

—

Once the two of you are outside again, you take a deep breath of fresh air. The lecture hall itself wasn’t terrible, even if it was old, but the hallways were vile in everything that they were - from the colour of the walls, down to the distant stench of stale lysol.

“Thank you, Viktor,” you tell him, “I’d still be wandering around in there if not for you. Like some weird variation of the Backrooms.”

He looks puzzled for a moment, before shaking his head. “It’s nothing. It’s my job as one of your teachers to make sure you’re learning as much as you can.”

“That includes the layout of the building?”

“Yes,” he confirms, and the smile he gives you makes the butterflies in your stomach start fluttering.

You stand there for a couple moments, neither of you really sure how to say goodbye for the day, unsure if you even want to go your separate ways yet.

“Hey, do you have a phone?” you ask suddenly, and Viktor nods.

“I do,” he says, pulling the little device from his pocket to show you. “Why?”

You make grabby hands towards it. “Unlock it, so I can add my contact information.”

If you thought he’d been blushing earlier in the day, you’d have been sorely mistaken. His face erupts in red the moment he comprehends your request, and he looks as though he’s become acutely aware of the fact that he has hands.

Adorable, you think to yourself.

“I’m in off-campus housing, and most days, the internet is pretty spotty,” you explain, taking pity on his slightly-panicked state. “I…don’t really want to have to walk twenty minutes to the nearest starbucks to send an email saying I won’t be attending class. Or to ask a tiny question that doesn’t warrant an office-visit.”

Viktor nods quickly, as if you hadn’t just pulled your reasoning out of your butt - your internet was, in fact, fantastic - and hands you his phone.

You, in return, hand him yours, and the two of you quickly punch in your info. You decide to keep yours professional, despite how you’ve been teasing him throughout the day, and make sure to add your class details in the event that he forgets who you are.

You still put a smiley face at the end of your name, though.

When you hand your phones back to each other, Viktor finally bids you a good afternoon, and disappears back into the building. Your heart flutters again, and you find yourself suppressing a childish, giddy smile. You knew for a fact that it was against the rules for teaching assistants to have relationships with students from the classes they were teaching, not to mention it was a social taboo.

But then, you were both adults, and he seemed to at least find you attractive. There was no harm in flirting, and if anything more came from it? You were both aware of the rules, and if Viktor chose to escalate things, then who were you to stop him?

[letarasstuff]

Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

[paleontaxi]

Even if Sabine says that Lola should not be sorry about staying away for so long, she still feels a little bit guilty. She would really like to tell Sabine what is actually going on. After all, she is not ashamed of being in the Black Brigades. She does fiercely believe in their cause. Hell, maybe Sabine would even believe in it, too, and want to join, and then they could live in the camp together, and—

Lola cuts that line of thinking sort. Sabine can’t be a Brigade; she has too much at stake here. She has both parents who run a busines that she sometimes helps out with, and her boyfriend is sick, so she ought to stay here with him. Plus, after the way Lola’s dad reacted to her being in the Brigades, she doesn’t exactly trust a lot of people to be understanding about it. Plus, also, Bob has given her strict instructions to keep it as hush-hush as possible. The more people who know about them and their goals, the greater risk of them getting busted before they can even put their plans into action.

Lola is absolutely bursting with her secret, the guilt twisting her up inside, making her feel like she has to apologize for both vanishing and lying about why. She smiles in a way that doesn’t quite touch her eyes when Sabine comments on her having a lot on her plate. “Yeah, that’s true.” The thing about her studies at least wasn’t a complete lie. With Bob Winters being a high school teacher, he still encourages her to go to class and keep up with her assignments, especially since a bright student like herself dropping out of school looks suspicious. She doesn’t want to drop out of school, anyway. She doesn’t plan on being a revolutionary forever and still has her heart set on paleontology someday.

Besides, she likes studying even more now that she has moved into the camp with Bob and has his expertise to help her with her assignments. Her father was not nearly as smart and kind of sucked as a tutor, scratching his head while he looked at her assignments over her shoulder. Never mind that he didn’t have the patience for teaching, either, not like Bob, who is clearly very passionate about it, does. Moving into the camp has actually been better for her studies than living at home ever was.

But yes, it is definitely a lot, between school and training and planning and everything. It has not left her with much time for herself.

She lights up more sincerely when Sabine says that she is happy to see her again. “Me, too! I should have called or texted or something, but something’s going on with my phone.” Namely, in that she has broken it so that she cannot be tracked and so that her dad cannot call her eighty million times a day. She does not even really miss it because by the end, it started to become more of a nuisance than anything. She puts her hands on Sabine’s shoulders in turn. “So, it’s great that I ran into you like this!”

When Sabine says that she is running errands, a mild dread grips Lola’s stomach, but she shakes it off. The Brigades, especially Bob, will no doubt question her about where she has been, but they are way more lax than her dad in that regard. He totally went off on her if she was out past a certain hour, especially in the weeks just before she moved out. Maybe he could feel it happening and was trying so hard to keep her under his control. Didn’t work.

But the Brigades are different, and Bob won’t yell at her. Of course, there will be questions because it is rude to take longer coming back than you told people you would, but she will just tell him that she was out with a friend. He will ask what Lola said to her, and she will reply with, of course, nothing! Then, he will smile and say, “Well, good, welcome back,” and that will be the end of it.

“Hey, errands can be fun in themselves,” she argues, with a healthy dose of humor in her voice, “with the right company.” She is just happy to spent time with Sabine, even if it means going around stores, picking up things for the gas station, and carrying bags. Being a designated bag carrier does also allow her to save what little money she’s got for herself, in case an emergency happens.

She glances up at the used bookstore sign, and then she looks back at Sabine and grins. “Something tells me that’s not on your parents’ list,” she teases. “But yeah, sure, let’s hit it. I’d also like to see what he’s got.” She already knows that she can’t afford to buy anything today, especially if she is going to end up buying Sabine lunch, but it would still be nice to look for future reference.

paleontaxi​:

( closed starter for @gas-stxtion )

Lola has felt uneasy for the past couple of days, although she is not really sure why.  Still, she decided that she needed to get away from camp for a little bit, so she caught a bus and took it into town, just for the opportunity to clear her head.  She does like having more freedom ever since she moved out of her dad’s place.  She remembers asking to go into town when she was younger, and he wouldn’t let her take the bus by herself.  She had a very good reason for not wanting him to come with her—she wanted to bring something back and surprise him—so he called her babysitter to ride the bus to the mall with her.

She was only eleven at the time, but she still felt as if she could handle herself.

But now, she doesn’t have to worry about that.  The Brigades let her come and go, more or less, as long as she checks in occasionally and doesn’t do anything to attract police attention.  And as long as she’s back for her allotted training times.

She is already feeling a little bit better, both with the change of scenery and in feeling like a responsible adult.  The Brigades are good about that, letting her know that they trust her to take care of herself.  She’s sixteen now, and she doesn’t need someone hovering over her shoulder, and they respect that about her and make her feel as if she can run with the best of them—which she can.

She is off the bus now, wandering the streets and looking through the windows of what few storefronts this small town has to offer, and her outing gets even better when she encounters a familiar face.  “Sabine!” she calls, waving while a grin splits her face from ear to ear.  She breaks into a light jog to catch up with the other girl, who is, in Lola’s opinion, way too pretty to be in this town and ought to be out west, making a name for herself in LA or Vegas or something.

“Hey, stranger!” she says cheerily when she reaches Sabine’s side, and then she looks down at her sneakers and scuffs them against the sidewalk.  “Though, I guess that’s me these days, sorry. I’ve been keeping myself pretty busy with school and stuff.”  That is the excuse that she always uses to cover up her extracurricular activities, just ‘school stuff,’ because it is an excuse that most people will buy.  It isn’t a secret that Lola cares deeply about her grades and has big plans for after graduation that hinge on her doing well in her studies.

“But hey.”  She looks back up to meet Sabine’s eyes, a note of apology lingering in her own.  “We should hang out, you know, now that we’re both here!  I’ve got the day off for whatever, and a little bit of money, too.”  Bob does warn her against keeping too much cash on her, saying that a real Brigade doesn’t give into the system in such a way, that hoarding wealth is what the people in power do and doing it herself will make her lose sight of things.  But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have some.  Having money for a few bus fares, lunch, and maybe a movie with a friend isn’t going to turn her into the nation’s next tyrant, she’s sure.

“If you’re not busy, that is.  I totally get it if you are, though.”  She laughs a little, more out of slight nerves than anything, and tucks a strand that has come loose from her ponytail back behind her ear.  “I know it’s not really fair for me to come outta nowhere and spring things on you.  So, we can always schedule some other time!  And I won’t flake on you, I promise!”

Sabine’s parents had sent her into town today to do a few errands for them while they took care of some incident that had happened at the gas station. She doesn’t know the details, but she knows it’s nothing major so she’s not too worried about it. While sometimes it’s a bit frustrating that her parents don’t trust her with a lot of information regarding the family business, she knows that they’re just trying to look out for her.

So, as much as she wishes she could stay and help with whatever’s going on, she’s instead spending her day browsing the town’s few shops, notepad in hand as she searches for everything on the list her mother had hastily scrawled for her. Not much luck so far, but Sabine isn’t going to give up yet. Besides, it’s kind of nice getting to spend time in town, saying hi to the people who pass.

Part of her wishes that Jack could’ve come with her today so they could spend some time together, but he has a doctor’s appointment several towns over today. Thankfully, it’s nothing serious, just a check-in with the sleep specialist Sabine’s father had recommended for him, but he won’t be back for another several hours at the earliest. And by that point, Sabine knows very well that the poor thing’s going to be too tired to run errands with her.

She doesn’t mind, though, and as she stands outside the local bookstore, she wonders about popping in to see about grabbing something for him. Brother Riley did say that he got a new shipment of used books last week, and Sabine has been meaning to take a look. Maybe-

Sabine is startled out of her thoughts, though, when she hears a familiar voice calling her name. For a moment, she almost doesn’t believe her ears, but when she turns to see Lola jogging over to her, her face breaks out into a wide, beaming smile.

“Oh, my God!” Sabine cries. “Lola, hey! It’s so good to see you!” It feels like it’s been forever since she last saw her friend, and she can’t keep the excitement off of her face. At Lola’s sheepishness and apology, though, Sabine’s expression softens slightly.

“Hey, now,” she says gently, reaching over to lightly squeeze Lola’s shoulder. “None of that! You don’t have to apologize for anything, hun–I know you’ve got a lot on your plate!” Of course, Sabine doesn’t know how much or what Lola is really up to, but she knows that her friend has always had big dreams for herself and the drive to work towards them. It’s only natural that Lola would be busy, all things considered. “I’m just happy to see you again!”

Sabine retracts her hand after a moment, her smile returning in full force when Lola asks if she wants to hang out. Though Sabine knows she does need to get those errands done for her parents, she’s always been more than happy to make time for the people she loves, Lola included. And she’s not going to pass up the opportunity to do so right now.

“Of course!” she agrees. “I’d love to hang out with you! I’m running some errands for my parents right now, but if you want you’re more than welcome to tag along! Then, when we’re done with that, we can find something else fun to do!”

Truthfully, Sabine also doesn’t want Lola to leave so soon. While she’s mainly just missed her friend, she’s also been very, very worried about her. Even without knowing the truth, Sabine is concerned that the poor girl is working herself to death over her studies! It’s good to be a hard worker, yes, but she wants to make sure Lola is taking time for herself as well.

Mainly, she wants to offer Lola a break if she can, and maybe today she’ll try to talk to her about remembering to take care of herself. Sabine doesn’t want to be overbearing or try to be Lola’s mom or anything, but she wants to make sure her friend is okay.

She doesn’t say any of that out loud, though, not wanting to make Lola uncomfortable. Instead, she just keeps smiling and adds, “Aw, no worries, hun! Like I said, we can hang out today, long as you don’t mind tagging along while I run some errands at first–take advantage of the time we do have n’ all! I’m always more than happy to make time for you.” She punctuates her statement with a genuine little chuckle.

“Now, do you want to stop by the bookstore with me for a bit? Brother Riley got a new shipment in, and I wanna see what he’s got.” They are right in front of it, but she wants Lola to know that, even while she’s just tagging along with Sabine, she does still have a say in things.

[thecupcakewritesmorethings]

Papas and co being actual Papa’s.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING TOTALLY DIFFERENT.

Papa Emeritus I- 9/10 Papa. I see him as a “Daughter” dad. Takes you to Mass every Sunday. Admittedly, is a little disappointed if you don’t join the Clergy, but supports you in whatever you do. You’re definitely going to be a member of the Anti-Church’s chorus as a youth, though.

Papa Emeritus II- 3/10 Papa. Look, there’s a GOOD chance he never raised you. The sort of dad that’d hand you a check for your Birthday. Not good with young children, but probably can speak and level with you better as a parent when you hit high-school.

Papa Emeritus III- 7/10 Papa. Actively a part of his children’s lives, though not a good “father” figure. Definitely the sort of person who tried though. You have baby pictures of yourself and he in sunglasses in the park. Sorta in a weird situation with all the sex stuff because... Well. That’s his kid? Wants to teach them right, but also knows it’s REALLY awkward. He tries.

Cardinal Copia/ Papa Emeritus IV- 2/10 Papa. Look. I love Cardi C. I really do, but man has got NONE of his shit together. Man’s in his 40′s and is still babied by his mama. He’d LEARN, I guess, but the only thing redeeming him from being a total wash as a parent is those who love him.

Papa Nihil- 8.5/10 Granpapa- The sort of person who insists they don’t want grandchildren, don’t need grandchildren, ect. However the moment you come around he’s just- he can’t help himself. Pinches your cheeks and calls you nick-names. Frequently steals you from your parents whenever he gets the chance and he does it all. Baby Baths? Yes. Diapers? Yes. Feeds you and doesn’t mind getting his alb dirty? Yes. Yes. Give this man a baby to openly coddle and he’d be over the MOON. The kind of grandpa to spoil you rotten with toys that have small parts, load you up on sugar and release you to your parents. The Old Codger knows what he’s doing.

& Co

Sister Imperator- 2/10 OR 9/10 Granmama- Could go either way, and depends on who the father is. If you’re Copia’s: OH! She is the most doting, most loving grandmother you could ask for, and... Probably does the most child-rearing. If you’re any of the other Papa’s children... Well. Fend for yourself.

Aether- 8/10 Papa. Also would be clueless in some regards, but would be a good teacher. The sort of dad who wouldn’t chastise you for something bad, but let you experience consequences. Fall asleep on him and watch him die a little inside.

Sodo/Stompy/Dew/Fire- 9/10 Papa.  Okay, Stompy has anger issues, but if you want a protective Dad--- this is him. Would wear the dad backpack with pride and vitriol. Pretends to eat his child’s nose all the time. Loves to play and (lovingly) chuck his child into something soft. Crawl on him and be an adorable little hellion. He’ll be SO pleased.

Rain- 7/10 Papa. Overwhelmed!!! STRESSED!!! He has his high points as a parent, but he’s the sort of person who will panic if you’re upset. He’s much better with young children than he is babies, and as a teenager he’d do his best to encourage you. Will sing you songs, and rock you to sleep with music. Rough start, but over-all not a bad parent!

Mountain- 10/10 Papa. THE DADDEST GHOUL. Not mad with you hitting things, in fact I imagine he encourages you to express yourself through percussively hitting things. Maybe not the FONDEST of doing the day-to-day things, but no parent really is. Probably has a hard time sleeping with you in the crib, tbh, and would much rather you crash in bed or on the couch with him. I think, despite the fact he is a drummer, would be SUPER stoked if you got into choir or any kind of classical instrument. Not afraid to, also, lovingly chuck you into something soft, but has a better grasp of what is too much than Sodo. Way less prone to anger or passive-aggression than the others. Would be the MOST willing to accept a religious view outside of his own. May not be very comfortable if you go Christian, or... Even... Catholic (gulp), but would allow you to explore on your own terms. Even if you wind up leaving, he makes sure to let you know that you always have a home with him.

Cirrus- 8/10 Mama. I’m trying to find something zesty for the Ghoulettes as parents, but... Well. I can’t. I think they’d legit be good parents. Cirrus is 100% the kinda mom who will dye your hair crazy colors when school is off. Takes you school shopping during the height of summer. She also sits down and does all your school assignments with you. I do see her, however, signing you up for more musically inclined classes first. Not a big sports mom.

Cumulus- 10/10 Mama. Cirrus will lead you down the path of parentage-- CUMULUS IS GOING TO LEAD YOU DOWN THE PATH THAT ROCKS. Soccer mom, home room mom, and bakes really good cookies when you’re good at school. When you’re baby? When you’re baby she has your crib tricked out like it’s going on an episode of “pimp my ride”.

Sunshine- 2/10 Mama. Okay. Sunshine, I feel is too baby to be a mom. She is a big sister, and in that regard, oh, 8/10. Helps you with homework and gets into trouble with you, but yeah. Just don’t expect her to be particularly forthcoming with responsibilities.

COWBELL GHOUL- 9/10. Gives even Mountain a run for his money. Whereas Mountain is more of a chill dad, Cowbell is more structured and a natural teacher. You want to do ballet? Sure. He’s taking classes along side you. Want to go into sports? He studies up and tries to play with you. He has his preferences for how your life will wind up, but is going to make sure you’re prepared for the path that YOU chose, specifically, and the best way to guarantee that is to be good at it himself. A little overbearing at some times, but means well. Willll back off if you want your own personal identity.