#unfortunately my student who probably needs it the most is not in a class where anything is ready so

[terresdebrume]

Tonight I am frustrated by the fact that I still have a lot of bias to unlearn when it comes to dealing with students with special needs

(As in, it would be nice if I could be effortlessly good at it, but alas)

[eddiesghxst]

hellow, i’m officially done with school for the next year or so which means (if u haven’t already noticed) i’ve started to write 50 wips <3

so anyway, here’s a snippet of something im writing about dom!eddie who’s also a tattoo artist who just so happens to own a tattoo parlor that’s right next to a ballet studio which just so happens to be owned by ballet instructor!reader

18+ — MINORS DNI

It was a series of unfortunate events.

You had spent the last five years of your life building your ballet school from the ground up, but when your old studio was sold out from under you, you were forced to find a new home for your students.

It wasn’t easy. There weren’t many options for you to choose from and most buildings either needed an immense amount of work that your pockets couldn’t afford or were too far away and would inevitably cause you to lose students.

But then you stumbled on a dream. The new studio was perfect— freshly installed tiling, beautiful acoustics, and the fee to install the mirrors wasn’t all that bad— except for one small detail: the tattoo parlor next door.

For the months that you spent preparing the studio for your students, you were tormented with the constant buzz of needles and the faint scent of ink lingers in the air all day, mixing with the sharp fragrance of floor polish and irritation that comes with summer heat. It nearly drove you insane.

But what started as a nuisance soon flourished into something else entirely. The tattoo shop’s owner, a tall, inked-up man named Eddie, was there every morning, the storefront always open to the bustling world outside. Your first conversation had been brief— you introduced yourself, explained how you ended up here and he wished you a good start to your new building.

It wasn’t until a few months down the line that you finally caved and complained about the noise, telling him it was difficult to focus with the loud sounds from his shop and Eddie— surprisingly, since you had somewhat painted him a villain in your mind— apologized and said he’d try to keep the noise down— “I can’t promise the same on the days I don’t work, though. My team tends to never listen to me.”

And so then you and Eddie formed a very nice, casual, and polite relationship. Something like a work relationship. A nice smile and wave in the morning, small and quick conversations about the week— and sometimes, he would get you a coffee and slide it on your desk while you’re busy with your morning class.

But as weeks passed, your casual exchanges became… something more— quick morning greetings turned into full blown conversations and free coffees turned into free lunches— “The deli down the street always gives me an extra sandwich.” And you almost think he’s lying about that, but he never really leaves you room to further pry about it. Lingering looks, shared laughs, and an unspoken connection grew deeper with each passing day.

But it started and ended at work— there on Blackburn Avenue where your ballet studio and his tattoo parlor share a sidewalk— and it never left. And you never expected it to be more— Eddie is more of a work crush anyway. You talk and flirt for the few hours that you share a wall, and when you go home you watch your reality TV shows, eat dinner, and think nothing of it.

But what the hell do you do when you walk into a BDSM club and see your work crush on a stage, knuckle’s deep in a pretty girl, with a bunch of strangers watching— including yourself?

What do you do when the pretty boy that owns the shop next to your studio is on a stage, whispering dirty praises in a girls ear and finger fucking her until her thighs shake? What do you do when you realize— oh fuck, I should probably leave since I actually know this guy and we’re kind of coworkers, but you stay like the idiot you are?

And what do you do when his pretty brown eyes (which look even dreamier when they’re blown out and dark with lust) glance up from the woman below him and just happen to immediately land on you?

What the fuck do you do?

[starry-hughes]

wonder who i’m looking for

luke hughes x ex!reader

summary: you don’t go to parties anymore but luke still looks

warnings: angst, implications of sex, mention of losing in frozen four, underage drinking, drinking in general, probably more angst

navigation

The house reeked of cheap beer. For most of the occupants of the house being taken in the NHL Draft, money wasn’t too much of a hardship, especially with the scholarships and everything else they were entitled to as student athletes, but it was still cheap beer. Luke knew everyone here, almost everyone. He wasn’t too familiar with the freshman kids that had came in after he left. He knew some names just through passing and if they were top prospects.

It felt like yesterday he was living in this house with his friends. Now, most of the friends were scattered across the country. Dylan in Tampa, Mackie in Charlotte, sometimes he got to bounce to Sunrise. Luke was leaving for New Jersey. Training camp was going to start and he was no longer on the University of Michigan hockey team. Mark and Ethan still lived in the house, but now the empty rooms were taken by other people. It was part of the life though, Luke had known he wasn’t going to be at Michigan forever.

The party drowned on around him. Cheap beer in his hands, Luke’s eyes scanned the room. He didn’t know who he was looking for. You wouldn’t be there. Why was he still looking?

Luke lived in the dorms his freshman year, as did most. But, because he was a student athlete, he still got invites to parties and events. He didn’t exactly need parties but it was a right of passage, partying in college. But he didn’t even meet you at a party. Those party conversations and meetings came later.

Instead, Luke had met you in one of the buildings he had class in. He walked out of class with Mark when you approached, immediately talking to them. “Your bag,” you handed the bag to Mark. “Thank you. Sorry about that, but I needed it for practice.”

Luke was confused. Who were you? “Oh, right, this is Luke, my teammate,” Mark introduced. “(Y/N),” you stuck your hand out, “I’m the unfortunate person stuck with Mark on our project in Intro to Business.” Luke shook your hand. “He left his bag in my car last night when I drove him to his dorm because of the rain.”

“And (Y/N) happily and graciously brought me the bag because she has class a building over.”

“I should get going, have fun with practice. See you in study group Mark!” And then you were gone. “Are you and her?” Luke finally asked when they got to Yost. “Nope, she’s all yours bud.”

Luke didn’t see you again until Mark yanked you to the group at the football tailgate three weeks later. You were dressed in Michigan colors with an M temporary tattoo on your cheek. “(Y/N)! You remember Luke right?” Mark handed you a cup, presumably alcohol since you were mostly underaged and couldn’t openly drink. “Hi Luke.”

From there, it was meetings at the library, Luke happened to always just be free to attend study session with you and Mark and your other classmates. Then it was text messages and Snapchat picture exchanges from classes when class was boring. Then after the first hockey game of the season, you finally appeared at the party.

The freshmen players weren’t drunk, they were mainly stuck on designated driver duty and bouncer duty. The upperclassmen house was full of students when you arrived. Luke didn’t see you for the first hour or so but he had to admit, he was looking for you. You finally appeared on the back porch of the house, where Luke was. Your roommate was off drinking and you needed out of the stuffy house. “Luke! You didn’t text back after the game so I didn’t know if you would be here,” you hung off his shoulders in a hug. “Are you drinking tonight?” he asked, an arm snaking around your waist. “Yes, my friend is DD!”

Luke smiled. That was the first night you kissed him. Luke wasn’t too proud of it. He felt like you were drunk and you shouldn’t have kissed him. But you wanted to kiss him. It’s why you continued to kiss him the next time you saw him and every time after that. By winter break, you were officially dating.

During the summer in between your freshman and sophomore year, Luke and you were long distance. You were living back with your family for the summer and he was busy with his family and hockey. But when the two of you got back to campus, you were immediately with Luke.

He was living with the boys and you were in an off campus apartment but most of the time you were with him. The excuse for you always being at the house was not just for Luke but also for studying with Ethan and Mark. Mark had taken credit for being the reason you and Luke were together.

At every party, Luke didn’t have to look for you. You were always next to him. Talking to friends and drinking cheap beer or poorly mixed jungle juice. Everything was perfect and good. You were always with him. Most of the times, parties ended late and you slept over with Luke, when sleeping was an option. Most of the time, the two of you were getting hot and heavy behind the locked door of his bedroom.

As sophomore year dragged on, it became more and more apparent to Luke that after the season ended, he would be leaving for New Jersey. Everyone knew it. Well everyone but you. You heard whispers about it but Luke never confirmed it. When the team made it to the Frozen Four, you couldn’t attend the game in Tampa and Luke simply kissed you goodbye and said he would see you soon. But he wouldn’t. He already had bags sent to New Jersey and had his extra sticks packed up. All his teammates knew and you didn’t. It wouldn’t make sense until a week after the Frozen Four as to why Luke had been only hanging out at your apartment, he didn’t want you to know he was packing.

The watch party of the game ended sourly when the boys lost. You texted Luke, telling him you loved him and when he got back you would come over to help cheer him up. Only Luke didn’t come back. He was in New Jersey days later, only telling you when you called crying and angry. Luke had never told you. It was the end of your relationship.

You hated hockey. You hated Michigan. You hated New Jersey. You hate Luke Hughes. Your transfer paperwork went in quickly and your apartment was empty at the end of the semester. You were no longer attending the University of Michigan and it was all because of a boy.

Why hadn’t Luke just told you he was leaving?

Luke had no idea you left. It was almost ironic, him not telling you he was leaving and you not telling him that you transferred schools. Every time he asked Mark or Ethan about you, they dodged his questions. They didn’t want him to know he had caused you so much trouble that you left.

When he finally returned this year, he looked everywhere for you. At the football games, with faces he vaguely recognized, he even debated looking at Mark’s laptop to try and see the class roster, knowing you should be in the same classes. He finally broke and asked the day of the party.

“She left didn’t she?”

“Transferred to OSU after sophomore year,” Ethan admitted. “She’s doing okay if it makes you feel better,” Mark started. Mark was going to continue on but Luke didn’t want to hear it. “No, it doesn’t make me feel better.”

At the party, Luke sat on the couch. All his former teammates and all his friends around him. Cheap beer in his hand. An impending plane ticket to New Jersey for training camp already on his phone. The knowledge that you wouldn’t be at the party, or any party for that matter. All this and more, and yet he still looked for you.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Extra Credit

♡ featuring: gojo & geto x f!reader

♡ summary: class is getting too hard for you, so you seek help. unfortunately, the help you receive is not what you expected. wc: 2.8k+

♡ cw/tw: manipulation, praise, light degradation, throat-fucking, edging, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, pretty mean gojo, cum play

notes: helloo! a slightly shorter one this time. hope u like :) my first jjk fic!! art by _3aem on twitter <3

You twiddle your sparkly pen with your fingers and eye the blank page. Chemistry-201 started an hour ago, and you’ve got nothing to show for it. Truthfully, you were exhausted thinking about having to attend. College was easy for the most part, even calculus. You couldn’t tell anyone the reality behind your performance block in this specific class. The excuse your friends heard was, “The slides are hard to read.” They were hard to read, but they’d probably be clearer if you actually looked at them. What you did like to look at, were the boys who sat two rows in front of you in lecture hall. The one with frosty hair would whisper through the entirety of class, while the quiet one diligently wrote down organized notes. That’s how you picked up their names: 

“Quiet, Gojo.” he snapped, tapping the paper with his pencil as if Gojo would catch the hint. He smiled and poked his temple. “Chill Geto, the best doesn’t need to study.”  

Geto sighs and waves his hand. “Not everything is about you.”  

“Why not?” 

Geto and Gojo you thought. Their names were sweet on your tongue. You squeezed your thighs together, imagining how their names would sound on your lips. On rare occasions, Geto would face your direction. Even though it wasn’t for you, it felt special, like you were the only person in the room. You wanted someone as hardworking and kind as him to notice you. Sometimes you’d catch yourself sketching the back of his head, promptly shredding the page after the bell. What started to unnerve you was Gojo, who was always aware of your shy glances even when his back was turned. His crystalline azure eyes bore into yours and you’d fumble for anything to look at. Even when you daydreamed dirty scenarios, he reads your mind. It made you feel guilty. When your professor dismissed you, you’d scattered up the steps, bag already packed. This strategy was efficient until the day you dropped your book walking out of class. Pale slender hands grabbed it before you could reach it. “Ah! Thank you-” You met eyes with Gojo, smiling above you like reborn divinity. You almost felt the urge to bow. “Gotta be careful, yeah? This shit's expensive.” You nodded another thank you and took the book, hasting away so he couldn’t see your flustered face.  

All these minor incidents accumulated into the major issue currently surfacing; you are on the cusp of failing. Your parents readily applauded the other classes, perfect A’s. Just visualizing the scenario where you show them a D sends you into grief. You vow to change this outcome today. Your final exam is in a month and a half, enough space to master important subjects. No distractions, no Geto and Gojo. You meet with student resources after Chemistry to inquire about your study options and settle on weekly tutoring. You’re determined and prepared to give your all for this exam. 

Next week arrives and you're full of vigor. You try your best to rationalize each problem, no matter how wrong you are; and you were very wrong, frequently. You’re mentally apologizing in advance to your tutor. You see Geto and Gojo quietly bickering. Gojo has long pretty eyelashes, and you can’t stop glancing at them. They swiftly point to you. Nothing unusual, until—for the first time—Geto turns to you. His eyes are fixated solely on you. You're startled and knock over your water bottle, pouring it all over your notebook. A domino effect ensues. The valuable notes you took smear from the liquid, and it drips from the table onto your mini skirt. You stand to dodge it but your open bag tips over and out the chair, spilling the contents all over the floor. The room is silent, and everyone in your vicinity is staring. Time stops as you gather your stuff and leave the hall to dry yourself. You’re in the bathroom now, dying from embarrassment as your brain recalls the moment repeatedly. The sly smirk on Gojo’s face. I have to get over this you thought. Your session is in an hour, and you don’t want to waste crucial experience. Surely it can’t get worse than this. 

You show up five minutes early and patiently wait for their arrival. Fortunately, you’re afforded a closed off workspace with the tutor. You draw dainty flowers in your book until the door creaks open. To your surprise, you see tidy black hair and chiseled features.  It’s Geto. Your personal tutor is Geto. The stars must’ve aligned to dispatch one horrific cataclysm. You contemplate what you could’ve done to the gods for them to punish you so harshly. He pretends that he’s never seen you. “(Y/N), right? My name is Geto, I’ll be tutoring you for the rest of the semester.” His professionalism makes you breathe easier, and you’re relieved, content with maintaining this attitude. Together you set up your notes and the first 15 minutes go without a hitch, simply reviewing the topics you grapple with.  

“A lot of these are early concepts. They’re used in basically every class. Forgive me if this offends you, but how do you not know these?” 

“Ah, I get a bit distracted.” 

“By what?” 

“Oh… um.” You shift your thighs back and forth, pondering a justifiable answer, oblivious to the way Geto ogles them. "I just have a hard time focusing.” 

He scans your tight fitted shirt, then your lips. “I see.” Suddenly, the door swings open. Bright orbs piercing you, capturing you. You drop your head, hoping he won’t recognize you from the scalp. 

“Yo Geto, look at this game I- oops.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to barge in while I’m tutoring?” 

“Haha, sorry ‘bout that…wait, I know you!” He exclaims. Gojo snatches a chair and sits so you’re sandwiched between them. Intently skimming the textbook as if you didn’t hear him, he grabs your cheeks and twists you to him. 

“You’re the girl that wet herself today, right?” He laughs. 

“C’mon, she's dealt with enough already.” Your wishful thinking fell on deaf ears; they clearly didn’t forget that easily. 

“Heh, it’s too funny though. Geto, I told you about her remember? She’s always looking at us in class.” he teases. You felt a shiver go up your spine and your face get hotter. “That isn’t-” 

“Shh” Gojo interrupts you. “Tell me, are we more handsome now that you have a closer look?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you stumble over your words. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to look. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m deeply sorry.” 

“Nah, it’s cool. I like the shy type.” 

“I think I should go.” You try to rise, but Geto pulls you from your skirt. If they wanted you, they would have you. "I didn’t permit you to leave. Sit. We'll continue.” 

“I don’t know if I should-” 

“Are you disrespecting the time I’m putting in to ensure you end with a decent grade?” he questioned. You went meek, reconsidering the effort you’d be wasting, and how badly you wanted Geto to acknowledge that effort.  

“No. I’ll do it.” His smile is saccharine and alluring, masking the dark intentions pulling at his conscious. 

“Great. Next chapter.” 

You’re eight paragraphs in, a sheer glistening sweat on your legs. You can barely mouth the words. Gojo’s breath is painfully close to your ear, tickling it as he follows along the page, his thumb running under the hem of your thigh high socks. “You wore these for me, yeah?” he whispers. You clamp your thighs, and a scheming grin creeps up his face. Meanwhile Geto’s fingers are behind your neck, brushing it gently with his other hand steady on top of yours. The bare skin contact is disorienting, so much so that you hadn’t noticed you’ve read the same sentence for the past minutes. 

“(Y/N)?” You snap out of an affectionate trance. “Huh?” 

“Is something troubling you?” His nose is inches away from yours, taunting you. 

“Mm, no.” Your trembling voice exposes the truth. “You seem frustrated. Do you need help alleviating that frustration?” Such a straightforward question is nerve-wracking. You've only imagined this in your dreams, calling out both of their names. The scandal that unfolds if people find out would be reputation-shattering for you. But desire burning in your dampening core blanketed those worries. “I don’t know what to say.”  

“(Y/N), when someone offers you something, you should accept it and say thank you” Gojo adds. His hand slides deeper in your socks, groping the plush fat. 

“Do you want it, yes or no?” The decision tosses in your mind. Until you finally manage a soft-spoken “yes.” Instantly, the air in the room switches, their gaze encapsulating you like prey. You feel smaller.  

“This won’t be easy, though. I’m teaching you concentration. If you get through this quiz with us touching you, I’ll reward you. Understand?” Geto says. You nod at him like a lost puppy, ready to please him. 

The quiz starts with ten entry-level questions. You get to work, and they get to devour you. Gojo parts your legs, salivating from the strings of slick sticking to your underwear and inner thighs. He litters kisses and lustful bruises along your neck, his hands trailing to your chest. Geto’s hands hike your skirt up and move to your underwear, circling the erect nub through the fabric. You’re on question three and can hardly achieve a scribble. He pulls your panties to the side and spreads your folds, toying with the mess. You have a loose hold on his shirt that tightens whenever he presses on the bundle of nerves. His fingers are skillful, knowing the right buttons to push to coax whimpers out of you. Meanwhile, Gojo tugs your shirt up, exposing your nipples to the cool air. He flicks one with his tongue, then envelopes your breast in his warm wet mouth. He sucks and bites the bud, tasting it and fondling the other. He moans, light pops as he comes up, gazing into you for approval. The walls are thin, you can’t get caught, but you need them deeper. They make you fall apart just to punish you, a sharp sting from Geto’s palm directly on your clit.  

“If you can’t keep your voice down, I’m gonna stop. Are you sure you can handle it?” Geto teases. He definitely isn't stopping, but your panicked, yearning expression made his cock twitch. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, I can be quiet.” 

“I don’t know, you seem to be struggling. You wanna make me proud, right?” You nodded frantically. 

He places a gentle, almost manipulative kiss on your lips. “Good girl. Then you’ll take everything I give you.” His digits glide vertically on your vulva until they slip inside, scissoring and massaging your g-spot. You somehow make it to question 6, but your mushy thoughts aren’t sure if they can recover from the rhythmic pumping and juices running down his knuckles. Gojo releases you for air, bite indentations dotting your mounds. “Geto. Switch?”  

“Okay.” He says and begrudgingly drags his fingers out. You whine from the emptiness, but Gojo quickly replaces him. He gets under the table on his knees and forces your legs wider, appreciating the upcoming feast. His pink muscle licks a long harsh strip against you. The new sensation makes your back arch, and your hand cards through his hair.  

“Too sensitive? Aww.” He moves roughly, slurping and lapping up everything he can get his mouth on. His grasp is tight, even with all your strength pushing him off is a challenge. Question nine passed, still shaking and stuttering. Geto pinches and twist your nipples but showers the pain with loving kisses. He pecks the back of your neck. You’re so close you start to involuntarily buck your hips. Gojo stops immediately, grinning at your frustrated cries, your essence covering his jaw and chin. “Don’t come yet, wanna feel you.” 

“One more question, baby.” Geto says, caressing the swollen marks. You put your heart into finishing the last problem, an unintelligible number for your response. You can’t decipher the words; all you want is Geto’s praise. He takes the pencil out of your hand and counts the correct solutions. 

“8 out of 10. I’m so proud of you, angel.” None of your answers were right. But he relished how effortless it was to make you happy, how much you starved for his attention. He searched to lock you away where no one could find you. You’re beaming nevertheless, smothered by his kindness. 

“C’mere. Taste yourself.” Gojo husks before French kissing you, tongues intertwined. He moans into your mouth. “Want your reward now?”  

“Please” you rasped, and he picks you up, pressing your stomach flat on the desk. Geto wraps around in front of you. He pulls his throbbing cock out and lifts your chin, propping it on your lips. “Open.” he coos. You loll your tongue out, looking up at him expectingly. He smiles and drives his length into you until your nose is flush with his pubes. His cockhead is deep in your throat, it burns, but you’re the center of his world in this moment and it makes it worth the ache. You worship it, savor him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you start bobbing your head. You drool on his balls, gently sucking them and tracing his veins with your tongue. His moans are breathy and deep, hand firm on the back of your head to prevent you from bailing. He denies your pleas for air.  

Gojo taps his leaking tip against your clit a few times and slides himself in, whimpering from the soaking grip molding to his shaft. “A-ah, so tight.” he choked. His balls collide with your ass, and your orgasm hits hard. You tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you try to ride it out. But Gojo doesn’t let you and jerks your arms behind you with one hand. He pounds deep and fast, noisy plaps and squelching fervor pushing your limits; at the same time, Geto is face-fucking you. You were sure students heard the commotion by now. The men ravaging you sent a trail of fire crawling up your body. Tears smear on your face, gagging spit drips from your bottom lip, a mixture of fluids soak your socks, but your fuzzy senses can only drown in their pleasure. The spring coiling in your body is quick. Gojo’s tip kisses your g-spot perfectly and you embrace him. “Hey, you on the pill?” he asks. You're about to answer but he shoves your head down to Geto’s hilt. “Never mind, I don’t care.” 

Geto’s movements quicken. Your disheveled face sends him over the edge. He blesses you with his creamy hot gift, spurting inside your gullet, accompanied by guttural sighs. “Swallow all of it.” You struggle but slowly get it down. You polish off the rest of his twitching length in revere and open your mouth for proof. “That’s my good girl.” He pats your head, and you lean into the warmth. Waiting for his confirmation. 

“You wanna come? I’ll let you come, baby.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare, you do it when I tell you to.” Gojo snaps. Tears prickled your lashes from overstimulation. Your whimpers stream out the room and he laughs through breathy whines. “Little pervert. You want people to hear you getting railed?”  

“It's t’much! Gojo I can’t-” 

Geto cradles your jaw. “(Y/N). Ask him for permission.” He is suddenly stern, and you obey him. 

“Please lemme come!” you babble. His concern is clouded with sin. 

“Yeah? Beg for it.” An orchestra of please’s sing, and you mean it, but Gojo didn’t care. He’d much rather watch your rippling ass and melting figure. Each thrust has you incoherent, and you plead more, enough to satisfy his smug demeanor. 

“That’s better. Now come for me, all over my cock.” His command splinters, and your gushy walls convulse to form a white ring around the base. Gojo’s strokes get desperate as he approaches his release from your slippery heat. He pulls out and holds you in place, a few pumps before he shoots ropes across your ass and paints your vulva. “Yeah- you’re so fucking good.” he moans, mumbling and quivering through his orgasm. 

They get dressed while you lie on the desk. You’re breathless and trembling, but they’re focused on cleaning themselves up. Gojo gets eye level with you. 

“If you tell anyone, you know I’ll ruin your life, right? Keep it hush.” You can’t speak. He grabs your panties off the floor and pockets them. “These are cute. Imma keep it.” Geto reties his hair and smiles at you. “See you later.”  

They abandon you, covered in come and items strewn across the table. You’re left to wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. One thing was undeniable, however; you were really looking forward to next week. 

[ov105]

Short: Hush

After refusing to upload this for a day, Tumblr finally budged! This took a lot longer than I wished to write. Well, who can blame a lazy student right? I can only keep the industrious facade for so long. Some irl experience *wink wink* helped crank this one. (This is not a retelling.)

This is the prequel to Noise.

3,360 words of Park Sieun

Enjoy!

University. The four years of your life where you can make or break the rest of it. At least, that's how I saw it. The high pressure, an unfortunate side effect of such a perfectionistic pursuit, required sacrificing many things that I saw as necessary at one point. I was enrolled in a program that took all the time. Studying most nights, usually holed up beside my bed or in the library, tonight felt just like any other. It was a routine I'd gotten used to, but sleep's siren song called with so few people at this hour. The custodian wasn't even around, just a single librarian at the first-floor desk. It was a weekday, the last where we needed to be on campus, and there was a holiday tomorrow and the weekend after that. I didn't feel like going to my dorm, but I didn't want to be lazy.

I study alone. Group study never appealed to me, though a friend here or there would come. People I know knew my routine well.

A message lit up my phone screen. It was Sieun.

[Hey, you're in the library?]

[Yeah] I replied.

[What floor?]

[5th]

Sieun didn't respond after that. There was no elevator, so I only assumed she was on her way up the stairs. Seeing the door open and her come through, laptop and textbook in hand as she waved at me. She asked me the cliched question as she laid down her stuff.

"You read that other chapter yet?"

"Nope, barely halfway with this-," pointing to my screen, the pdf opened.

"-Aish, quit studying; you have the whole weekend anyways!" Sieun jokingly exclaimed.

I wasn't. I was just reading other things.

"Oh well, you're right, bye-bye!" I replied, pretending to close my laptop.

"Yah! Don't leave me here," she replied, shutting me down, "I don't want to go home yet, so do whatever you want."

I knew Sieun had a lot of friends, I didn't have much, but they were just as introverted as me. I was probably overthinking it to have a girl from class join me; she was a coffee shop kind of girl. Even more confusing, she was known to be nice to everyone, everybody's friend, but she was smart about it, not becoming a stereotypical caricature of the more socially well-endowed. Typical of an overthinker like myself, I didn't question her company if it didn't make me uncomfortable.

"Oh, you too, huh," I said as I opened my phone.

"What?" Sieun asked, confused.

"When you don't feel like going home, you just hang around somewhere."

"Oh," she seemed to relax, "Yeah, when I don't feel like greeting too many people."

“Besides, I’m an introvert anyway, just happens that I’m just an attention-seeker as well.”

“I can tell,” I replied.

She grabbed her headphones from her bag, holding it in my direction, "Wanna watch?"

"What you watching?" I asked, hoping to myself it wasn't some blood-boiling thriller drama.

It was a rom-com—nothing I find stressful. I agreed, then Sieun told me to scoot over beside her.

I didn't know how long or what time it was, but we were still waiting for someone to come up to tell us to go home. It wasn't that late. Before I knew it, we were six and a half episodes in. We sat comfortably and moved now and then, not to lock our muscles up. I had my right leg up, with my left hand dangling in the space between the chairs. Keeping my focus on her laptop, I didn't mind, nor did I want to overthink her gesture; it was a cold hall.

That was until I felt her right hand slowly gliding over my thighs, barely feeling her fingers over my pant leg. But she wasn't doing well if she attempted to be discreet. Sure, I knew what to do, but I was just too unsure, so I whispered.

"Sieun."

"What?"

I simply pointed down where her hand was. A smirk appeared on her face.

"Oh," she whispered, a blush joining her smirk as she looked up at me. At least, she tried to.

"I've heard some things about you lately."

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. I knew what Sieun meant. I always let my lips loose whenever I was inebriated, though I knew secrets were always off-limits. Unfortunately, that meant my arrogance stuck out, perhaps a little too much to disregard myself. She let out a chuckle.

"Don't regret it now," Sieun said, looking at the door before matching my gaze, having a different look in her eyes, mere inches away, even in the dark. She wanted something from me.

"Don't worry, I'm the right person to hear about it," she slowly said, noticing her left hand already tugging at my arm, pulling me in.

Sieun's eyes then darted for a split second to my lips. She then shut her eyes—a soft smooch—and the next thing I knew, I was opening mine. We were much closer now. I was probably red because she was too. I was, however, sober; her words echoed; why would she be the right person? It was impossible to think straight; I just swallowed my pride.

"Just give me a chance," she said, almost in a whisper, taunting, "I know you'd want me too."

Wait. Did Sieun just ask me if she could do me? Was I being gaslit? Didn't this scenario only exist in movies? I swore I panicked for a second.

I just smirked, then gave a peck on the lip as an answer. Almost throwing herself on me, returning more than just a peck, it had collapsed into a full-on make-out before I could even count to ten. My hands were on Sieun's thighs and neck, with hers on mine—a handsy affair. It was a side of her I hadn't seen before or one I only expected to happen in printed fiction. I knew everyone had their own pervert, and mine was a tomcat on the prowl. Though now, even the wildest I've heard of seemed tame. All because this was reality.

"I never thought you were naughty," I quipped.

"So did I."

Wanting to see how true that was, we kept pushing and pulling with our lips, not noticing how handsy we were becoming. Sieun was softly groping the bulge between my legs and, with my right hand, moved down from her neck, mirroring hers, three fingers pressing where it was the warmest.

"Wait, wait, wait," she pulled away as I tried to move up her sweater.

Standing up, Sieun closed her laptop, the drama having run away from us becoming steamy, straddling me into an embrace, pressing herself right up to my face before using her fingers to point me upward and back to her lips. It felt electrifying, the room becoming colder and warmer as our lips approached each other. She was going somewhat slower now, and noticing my hands were idly gripped to her thighs, she grabbed my wrist and put it on her waist. I wasn't planning just staying there, going down and slipping upwards under her sweater; the problem was that it was in the way.

Giving me one loud, suckling kiss, she moved back, almost forcing herself to. She hurriedly pulled her sweater off herself and dumped it where she sat. Grabbing my left wrist again, but now putting on her right tit, squeezing the moment my palm landed on it.

It was small, little by anybody's standards. After all, Sieun was petite. To make myself clear, I laid my lips where I felt it, even with the shirt on. Being so exposed where we sat, anything beyond the sweater was off-limits, but she already had untucked her shirt when she took it off.

Though as we continued to make out, I slid my hand into it, and firmly grabbed her tit, feeling the soft mound held in place by her bra, cursing that fact in my head, only to be distracted by Sieun suddenly darting her tongue out when I did. If that was so, then so should I, softly squeezing with my left hand, my right moving back to her ass and copying it. A slight jolt came from her as she grabbed my wrist from under her and pulled away.

"Let's not do this here," Sieun said.

"Couldn't you have said that earlier?" I replied, annoyed.

"I just got carried away," she sounded sad.

She was thinking of something.

"Alright, let's go to my place after this," Sieun said. I just agreed with her.

Giving me one more kiss, she got off of me. Looking at where she was gazing, it was on the large old shelves of the archives room. Filled to the brim with cardboard boxes, some empty, others half-full, and more empty, yellowed-out periodicals, and some published medical and law reports. But as an imaginative kid with too much access to the internet, I always thought it was the ideal place for a quickie.

Looking back, she knew I had checked out the same place.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked as she tied her hair.

I just nodded. I had no idea.

Before I knew it, she flashed me a smile and darted off. I stood up and followed her into the room as she turned into a shelf with a higher shadow, having long forgotten, hard-bound folders stacked above it, creating a shade. I stopped. For a second, the old legends my grandmother told me flashed back, one of the pretty fairies that lured young men into the hills, just for them never to come back down.

But now isn't the time for tall tales, even if it felt like one.

Following where I last saw Sieun, she dragged me to the window sill. Gently pushing me against the wall as she planted her lips on me again, much more tender this time, with her hands on my chest. I was running on instinct, driven by the perpetual motion of her lips. All sorts of images popped up in my head, the least of which involved carrying her and fucking her raw then and there.

A storyboard straight out of a manhwa—that was stretching it—but I was already in her pages anyway.

After making out for a bit, and now with me up against the shelf, Sieun looked around before dropping down to my crotch. Her squat turned into kneeling as she grabbed and undid my belt, putting her left hand under my crotch and massaging my balls through my boxers. The feeling of butterflies in my gut quickly left as blood pooled on my cock, sparing her at least a quarter of the work as she pulled my boxers down and took it in her hand.

Sieun was not shy. Looking up at me as she opened her mouth and pointed her dick at it. Her tongue made a swift flick on the tip before wrapping her lips around it, tugging at it as she went to work. It was a quickie, after all, and there'd be no excuses if somebody came past and caught us. Thankfully for her, the past few minutes gave me plenty of images to be erect quicker, the best of which was the feeling of her mouth doing me.  

I felt my breath begin to shorten, maybe even shake, as my tip got harder and, thus, more sensitive. Taking a hand off and hearing a slight gulp as my cock enlarged in Sieun's mouth, a slowly rising pace to come along with it, maybe even a hushed moan as the world seemed quiet at that minute. Looking down to see my cock firmly wrapped in her lips as her tongue glided up and down slowly, needily, and readily. The tip brushed against the top of her mouth as every vein on my shaft was pressed by her tongue. She gave herself a few dips as she tried to settle in a pace; the last of them went too far as her lips hit my crotch. Gagging, her face turned sour as she pulled away, suddenly catching her throat.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Sieun said as she swallowed, reassuringly saying, "I-I'm fine, it’s just been a while."

Regaining her composure, she puckered, then wrapped her lips around the tip, starting slowly at half length before going all the way in. This time being more careful not to make herself gag again. So she went, continuing where she had tripped earlier, the whole hiccup not even being counted to ten. Setting a speed that left me holding on to the shelf as she closed her eyes and reveled in her work. Seeing her head twist slightly to the left as she wasn't using her hand, I could hear a low humming as she sucked on my shaft. Almost going down the same way and hitting the back of her mouth, though this time she wasn't going that far and enjoying herself.

Thinking that was the end of me, she reluctantly pulled her lips away and licked my cock upward.

"I'm not going to say this any other way," she followed, "You got a good one too."

An ego boost. I would even think it was an unnecessary one.

"You're not lying, aren't you?"

"Hmm?" Sieun said with half my shaft in her mouth, giving it a few tugs with her lips and only stopping when she felt the slightest twitch of my cock on her tongue, asking back as she kissed it.

"Am I lying now?"

I didn't answer. It was enough an answer either way. Sieun eased her head back down on it as she continued. Thinking I was to be carried away easily, she suddenly sped up, even catching me off guard as I felt myself shudder when my tip hit the back of her mouth. What made her stop wasn't a gag this time, but rather the loud suckling that her lips made, once, twice, three. She stopped, then suddenly looked up and saw the surprise in both our eyes.

Realizing her error, she had no way to go but slow, which meant teasing me much more. I just hoped she was the type to swallow.

Closing her eyes, Sieun then formed a ring with her index finger and thumb; she kept her lips tightly sealed while her tongue circled my tip. Catching me off guard when she slipped it over her tongue and dove down, feeling the tightness of her lips and the pressure of her tongue as she slowly got deeper close to where her fingers were at. She just had to top it off, looking up at me—as if waiting for a compliment—while she passed every vein and let the pressure slowly build up.

Keeping at that for a good minute, she ensured I lost track of time. By that point, she knew that she was just dragging me along by that point any faster, and I'd explode down her throat. I became more sensitive as she tasted the precum, seeing her eyes react as the secretion came onto her tongue. So, she enjoyed herself, tilting her head and probably moaning quietly. On my end, my breath was already shaking, and I was biting my lip.

I was always shy with dirty talk. Though if there was anything like a "romantic blowjob," this was it.

I've yet to hear of one-night stands that get too attached. But Sieun was in the same class; this would either end awkwardly or something was up. Then I remembered what she said earlier, but before my brain could fly away, thinking itself to death. I was brought back down with one swift swipe of her lip.

Looking down to see Sieun picking up the pace as my knees began to buckle under the sensual barrage from her front; she was anticipating me to break any moment now. I just knew that it was a thin line for her to cross, but whatever confidence she had now, she was not misplaced. Going deep and only deep, save for a few tugs at the tip, as keeping my mouth shut became much more challenging.

Pulling away with a loud pop, she kept it going with a handjob.

"You like it?" she asked.

This was the worst time to ask. It's like Sieun paused the porno.

I just nodded like an addled boy. She licked her lips and smiled.

I took a big gulp as her lips engulfed my shaft again, knowing I was at my last straw. Just one tight slurp after the other, and I was just about done for.

A thunderbolt. A single swipe of Sieun's tongue sent me shaking, curling, drowning. Her lips barely held the saliva in a while, and my twitching became quicker, using everything she could to try and make me cum. Just barely crossing the threshold, though this time, it was her making the noise. Leaving any sense of awareness as she moaned and hummed to herself as she tried to rein my shaft in her mouth. Feeling her mouth tightening, it was the death knell of me, whether it was me imagining it or it was her intent, but I just knew this was it.

When I went quiet, I knew my end was up. My jaw dropped in silence as my knuckles began to turn white, holding onto the shelf. Sieun's eyes, the only way I could tell anything from her, shot up in surprise as my cock, her lips midway, hardened and began bursting in her mouth. Perhaps, a little too early, the second spurt, a warm, gooey one that made even me jump, as it hit the back of her mouth. Feeling an instinctive gulp and watching her react as the rest followed. Slowly moving while her eyebrows furrowed, probably surprised by the sheer volume or taste, trying to keep it in her mouth, fighting the urge to swallow, while her tongue stayed where it was. As my orgasm died down, and having done her bidding, she slowly eased back.

It was perhaps an unintended consequence on her end that I'd let out that much cum. I just hoped she wouldn't be too mad. Slowly taking her lips off, my cock was covered in drool but looked clean, except for the tip, which had expended itself.  

Sieun put her hand under her face, probably to spit it out. Looking up at me before she drew her hand away and swallowed it all, but not without some discomfort in her expression, then licked her lips before stating the obvious.

"That's a lot," she said as she stood up, "and hotter than I thought."

"What?" I asked, a little confused, while I pulled my boxers up.

"Everything, the blowjob, where we are, um," Sieun stopped.

"What is it?" I asked again.

"No," she hesitated, "I'll just tell you on the way down."

Not wanting to ruin the mood by prying, I just scoffed, letting her go. We then left the shelves like nothing had happened. It might have been witness to other couples doing more daring things than a tame, silent blowjob. Sheepishly walked back to our table, and while thankfully nobody came, it seemed like a ghost town with how late it was. Just two bags and personal belongings strewn on the table, forgotten by their owners. I had lost track of time from when she kissed me, but I knew that was a lifetime ago.

There was a sense of silent urgency among us as we packed, flashing a shy smile or two as we knew we'd be doing a lot more once we got to her place. Leaving the room, what she did next surprised me and made me feel warmer than whatever we just did. She put her arm around my elbow. As we made our way to the staircase, we decided to go the route that prevented us from seeing the librarian's desk. Sieun then put herself beside my ear and spoke up almost in a whisper.

I turned red, shy even, but with a tug, there seemed no need to run.

[thatsrightice]

HOW TO BECOME A FIGHTER PILOT

So as you may or may not know, I am writing a fanfic. Unfortunately for me, I can never do things half way, and because aviation is my passion I must do hours of research on a particular subject that I probably won't even use or reference in said fanfic. Here is a guide for how our favorite characters (probably) became fighter pilots. If there are inaccuracies let me know, I want to know :)

United States Naval Academy

The USNA is an undergraduate college that is a combination of academics and military development programs. Students who want to go into Flight School could qualify with one of a variety of different majors, but there are particular majors that obviously may provide a bit of an advantage to aspiring pilots. The USNA currently offers a variety of different majors and minors, though there are fewer than you might expect from a typical university, and overall the degrees are more tailored towards the Navy. They encourage participation in athletics in the form of a Varsity or club/intramural sport(1). 

NOTE: Maverick likely attended a regular college and was a part of the Naval ROTC program at that school. He would have gotten his degree in a field relevant to aviation, likely Mechanical Engineering given his mechanical aptitude seen in Top Gun Maverick, and then attended the 13-week program called Officer Candidate School. To be honest, Maverick’s path within the Navy is a mess and impossible to follow but in the most straightforward scenario, he would go to flight school following Officer Candidate School.

Flight School 

Flight School is an approximately 2-year-long program that is required for Naval Aviators to earn their wings. Primarily located at the “Cradle of Naval Aviation” aka Pensacola, FL, flight school consists of many different phases that will divide students into different specializations. 

1. Naval Introductory Flight Evaluation (NIFE)

Divided into four phases, NIFE is a program that evaluates students’ aeronautical aptitude as well as screens them to ensure they’re capable of becoming aviators. Students may earn a “pink sheet” for any score below 80% or a failure of a task, requiring them to stand before a panel of instructors to explain why they failed and how they plan to improve. Too many pink sheets result in removal from the program(2).

1a. Water Survival Training Following medical clearance, students are taught and tested on their ability to swim while wearing flight gear as well as formerly instructed on various survival techniques and CPR(2).

1b. Academics  A 3-week phase where students take classes and exams in five subjects. It is condensed to test a student’s ability to retain information, learn new information in a high-stress environment, and challenge their self-discipline in regard to time management and other areas(2).

1c. Introductory Flight Screening (IFS) Students are entered into a 2-week-long modified civilian flight training program where one week is dedicated to ground school courses before they must conduct a series of flights in a Cessna using Navy flight procedures during the second week. Students had to memorize and prioritize information to complete the flights, specifically in regard to conducting pre-flight briefings and emergency procedures. Overall, they’ll conduct seven flights in which they are required to complete a set of standardized maneuvers(2). 

1d. Aviation Physiology A week-long training course that consists of emergency-specific training evolutions such as the hypoxia chamber, emergency first aid, and the “helo dunker.” The “helo dunker” (from what I understand) is a particular training device that consists of strapping a pilot into a cockpit-like or helicopter contraption within a pool and submerging the entire structure under the water, simulating an environment in which their aircraft has landed in the water and they need to escape from the seat(3). An image of this can be seen below(2).

The Top Gun cast had to undergo a similar training course in order to be allowed to fly in military airplanes for filming. A video of some of their training can be viewed below.

2b. Aviation Pre-Flight Indoctrination

A 6-week long program that marks the beginning of the aviation pipeline. Located in Pensacola, FL, students attend classes covering the basics of aerodynamics, weather in relation to aviation, air navigation, flight rules and regulations, and aircraft engines and systems (3). 

Prior to API, those interested in becoming Radar Intercept Officers (RIO) will have expressed their interest and requested a designation as a Naval Flight Officer (NFO). 

2c. Primary Flight Training

A 6-month-long program that teaches the students the basics of flying. There are two locations for Primary, one at Training Air Wing 5 at Naval Air Station Whiting Field in Pensacola, FL, or Training Air Wing 4 at Naval Air Station Corpus Christi in Corpus Christi, TX. Both Naval Air Stations (NAS) are taught the same curriculum and fly the same aircraft, the T-6 Texan II. The students learn about the instruments, flight basics, radio instrument navigation, formation flying, and aerobatics, and also conduct several solo flights. At the end of Primary, students choose which pipeline they would like. This is conducted depending on the needs of the Navy and how many spots are available(3). 

Obviously, Iceman, Slider, Goose, Cougar, and everyone else got Jets, though they may not have gone through flight school at the same time. 

2d. Intermediate Flight Training

Intermediate Flight Training is a 27-week program. Split into five platforms; Jet, E2/C2, Helicopter, Maritime, and E-6 TACAMO. The jet platform flight training focuses more on navigation, air traffic control, individual skills, and cooperative skills of flying jets. The intermediate flight training program for jets is located at Meridian, MS (Training Air Wing One) at either VT-7 or VT-9, and Kingsville, TX (Training Air Wing Two) at either VT-21 or VT-22, both of which teach the same curriculum. Students in the jet platform will complete 58 graded flights in the T-45C Goshawk jet trainer aircraft(3). 

2e. Advanced Flight Training

Similar to Intermediate Flight Training, the program is split into five platforms but lasts 23 weeks. The students will probably have stayed with the same training squadron throughout the intermediate and advanced flight training. This stage includes learning skills specific to the chosen platform. The Advanced Flight Training program for jets is what’s called the Strike Syllabus. The Strike Syllabus includes an additional 67 graded flights in the T-45 covering air combat maneuvers, low-level navigation, tactical formation flying, and aircraft carrier qualifications. Students will then graduate from Advanced Flight Training with the Wings of Gold(3). 

3. Squadron Selection 

The final selection process assigns naval aviators to a particular squadron based on the needs of the service. Naval Aviators are assigned to a fleet replacement squadron or other similar training assignments for further training on their specific aircraft type. Here, RIOs and pilots must become qualified by gaining the required flight hours and meeting the proficiency standards necessary.

NOTE: It’s kind of hard to figure out when exactly the RIO training occurs. I know it takes place over the course of all the primary through advanced training occurs as well but I’m not sure if they have to attend seperate courses for it. 

TOPGUN

From there, pilots and RIOs may have been moved to their first official squadron for deployment. They would have been in their first squadron for approximately one and a half years, deploying with them. Their squadron would come back from a deployment and during the stand-down time before their next deployment, their commanding officer would select them to go to TOPGUN.

Sources

(1) https://www.usna.edu/homepage.php

(2) https://www.navy.mil/Press-Office/News-Stories/Article/2944668/nife-lays-foundation-for-naval-aviation-training/

(3) https://www.cnatra.navy.mil/tw4/flight-school.asp

[qqueenofhades]

Hello! I have a question that may be a tad uncomfortable but I don't know who could answer honestly. How do you get over class with a professor who self identifies as your mentor/father? He spilled his guts to me after class and told me how happy he was he connected to a young girl like me(Im 19 he's 59). He will be my prof for the ENTIRE year. I don't know how to feel, it wasn't flirty at all, and I actually think he sees himself in me. He's odd and off putting and stand offish. I am too, kinda. He said if shouldn't feel lonely because Im different, because I have my family, and now him (also Implied i should find god).

He's a conservative catholic with a wife and kids, I can tell he doesn't mean it in a weird way. He probably means well. But it's odd that he's acting like a mentor when I've only known him for a month.

Now, I thought this chat wouldn't affect me but he psychoanalysed me and it felt like he saw right through me while treating me like his therapist. I also think he's a lonely man who is projecting, seeing my potential and "what could've been" for himself.

How do I cope? I don't want this to affect me, but it pushed me terribly off axis. I felt pigeonholed, more than anything, and also feel bad for him.

WELP. Okay, first of all, I want to reinforce that this is NOT your fault and that it clearly creeped you out to the point where you decided to ask someone for help, all of which means that the situation is not okay and he does NOT have the right to do any of this -- whether forcing emotional intimacy on you after a very short time, suggesting that you Find Jesus and/or convert, hinting that he wants to "mentor" you, or whatever. Just because he's a conservative Catholic is no guarantee that it won't get creepier (indeed, often the total opposite) and even if it wasn't sexual or didn't feel sexual at the moment, that is... wrong. He should not have done it. He does not have the right to decide He Is Now Your Mentor and to push that connection on you. Even if it was not conscious or intentional grooming behavior, it is... squicky to say the least, showed that he was willing to push boundaries with you right away, and is certainly something that should make you cautious of any more uncontrolled or one-on-one interaction with him. So yeah. Gross. "Now you have me so you won't be lonely"??? Sorry, there is no scenario in which I can imagine that being an okay thing for a professor to say to a student. No. It may be that he just doesn't have a good sense of social boundaries or appropriate behavior, but that also doesn't mean you need to excuse it.

Next, if you can switch to another section or class so you don't have to spend the year with him, that might be worth looking into. If you can't, then obviously minimize the time you spend one-on-one (if there are office hours or if you need help with the class, maybe ask your peers or the TA if there is one, rather than him) and remember that you can tell people at your university if it continues to creep you out, not just me. There are procedures in place at most institutions to document this kind of interaction if it continues to cross a line (I don't know where you are in the world, but in the university where I work in the US, there's an office of Title IX, which deals with these kinds of issues). Older male academics smarming up to young female students and telling them they're "special" happens a lot, unfortunately, and while it doesn't always end terribly, it is something that you deservedly flagged as weird and which you should keep an eye on going forward. I'm sorry that you've experienced this and once again offer my support in navigating this year in as un-icky a way as possible. Please remember that you do not have to apologize for or excuse yourself for making choices to get out of a weird situation that clearly threw you for a loop, and you do not have to put up with this behavior if it continues or gets worse. Good luck.

[aquz]

babysitter . . . # four

☆ ortho has a temporarily new babysitter and idia has to walk him there every morning before school. idia isn't a fan of clichés but... who knew the babysitter was so cute?

☆ gender neutral reader, reader is kind of a shut-in yet is good with kids, strangers to crushes with idia shroud featuring ortho! magicless au!

gently, idia closed the door to the small room at the very end of the upstairs hallway. ortho stood in front of him, a deadpan look displayed on his face. "okay, the security system is up-to-date. remember what i said: keep the door locked, absolutely do not answer it, don't touch anything on my computer that isn't a children's game because you might end up scarring yourself, and i'll be home as soon as possible."

idia laid down some common ground rules, for ortho was to be left home alone for a few hours. unfortunately, ortho had to be left home alone thanks to the school exam that both idia and (name) had to take. idia remembered the conversation from last night and how nervous he felt when he realized ortho would be home alone for a while.

(name) [6:40 pm]

god damn it (ﾒ` ﾛ ´) okay so erm. i have to show up to school IN PERSON tomorrow. . .

idia [6:40 pm]

LMAO HOW DOES IT FEEL

wait

what about ortho

(name) [6:42 pm]

augh you're right ... maybe he can stay home alone for a bit? i've been staying home alone quite often since i was young and i think i've turned out fine ^_^

idia [6:44 pm]

BUT we live in a big house and we are a well known family... what if someone tries to break in??

(name) [6:45 pm]

im sure nobody wants to do that, and if they do, think of the fancy shmancy security set up you have!!! police will be there like... in a second

idia [6:50 pm]

im going to assume ortho told you about that because i have no recollection of telling you about the security set up myself. i think i should be more worried about you breaking in rather than anyone else (⊙_⊙)

there was no time to be worried, though; idia had a solid 5 minutes before he absolutely HAD to leave. ortho smiled, "it's okay, idia! i'll be extra careful! i won't go outside, i won't eat your candy and i'll even clean my room!" idia patted the younger boy's head. "good, i've really got to go now... don't forget to call me if you need anything. if you can't reach the phone on the counter, you can use my tablet to contact (name)."

ortho nodded and waved a goodbye to his brother, who finally made his way downstairs and out the door with a grimace on his face. it's too early to have a stomachache; stress from ortho and the exam clashing together as if they were fighting for dominance in his stomach, which made him feel worse. he could probably throw up right about now.

idia arrived just in time for the bell to ring and signal the start of classes. idia looked around the room at all the other students, sitting or hanging around their seats while they waited for the instructor. idia's eyes glanced towards his own seat - unofficially but he had been sitting there for so long that it was automatically his - to find someone already sitting there. idia's face lit up with recognition as he began to make his way up the raised seats to the very top; in the corner was idia's occupied seat. "hey... um, i sit here." idia chortled at his own joke.

idia's poor attempt at "do-i-know-you" humor startled the babysitter. (name) looked up with wide eyes, before sighing out in relief. "is it really? sorry about that; your seat was the only open one that's not surrounded by people i don't know..." idia shrugged at their statement. "it's okay, i get that. i sit all the way up here, in the corner, because i'm away from most people."

they nodded in response as they watched idia sit down in the empty seat beside them. as soon as he touched the chair, the teacher walked into the room. "class, sit down and listen up; today is the day of the last practice exam. i will divide you all into groups and send you where you belong."

the class erupted into whispers, hoping to he grouped with their friends. as the teacher began listing off names and groups, idia tuned out. it was quite loud for him and being in public during such a nerve-wracking day really set him off.

"...., .....,. To start group b, shroud and (last name). ....., .....," idia was not able to catch his last name; luckily the cutie in his seat did. whipping their head over to the anxious man, they smiled brightly. "hey, did you get that? we are in the same group! they quietly exclaimed to idia, who was just snapped out of his own head.

"....yay..." he quietly hummed, looking down at his hands, which fiddled with his hoodie. (name) deadpanned, "oh? are you not excited about that? huh, and i thought we had something special..." they dramatically sighed which made idia shake his head. "nonono - you just... we can even do anything together because we are taking practice exams. it's almost like it'll make no difference if you're there or not..." he replied.

before the babysitter could response, someone sitting in the row in front of the two whipped around, pressing a firm finger to her lips as she shushed both the teenagers behind her. she shook her head before turning back around. (name) and idia looked at each other immediately after she turned back around and started to giggle quietly among themselves.

the bell rung, signaling the end of the torturous practice exam. idia sighed and let the disgustingly stressful feelings out of his lungs. standing up quickly, he began packing up. he looked to where (name) were assigned to sit, two rows ahead of him, and watched as they did the same. he was about to meet them at their desk to walk home together . . . until they began to leave and the crowd of students followed behind them. thay put a physical barrier between idia and (name)... there was no way he could catch up now.

idia waited until the horde of students all left to turn in his exam and to leave the room. he walked down the hallway, a sudden sadness in his step. 'you didn't wait for me' he sulked in his head, gripping harder onto his backpack strap. as he pushed through the school doors to reach the outside, he felt a looming presence behind him; one that was not sadness.

he slowly looked behind himself and there they were - holding two energy drinks. "idia~ sorry for not waiting. the students are as strong as elephants, i couldn't stop walking or else i would've gotten pushed and trampled... i bought you a little something!" (name) held their hand out, passing an energy drink to idia.

"o-oh. no, it's fine. totally cool. i also really need to make it home, ortho is still there alone..." idia sighed and began the slowest brisk pace. to be fair, he would probably keel over the second he reached an increased heart rate, so at least he was looking out for himself. (name) nodded. "yeah, that's smart..."

idia looked down as he walked, the other teenager just a few steps behind him. "s-so, how was the exam?" idia muttered out, pulling his phone out and checking for any calls or messages. "painfully long, i wanted to ask you something but i forgot... if only i sat next to you ... could've passed you a note."

"ah, yeah... as soon as i get home and see ortho, i can get on (game)... you can join me if you want..." idia suggested, finally looking up from his phone to see (name), who had now began walking beside him. "oh yeah? that'd be cool!"

small talk filled the silence between the two as they walked home in the warm afternoon. as soon as idia got home, of course after dropping (name) off at their house, he dropped everything. rushing around to find ortho was probably the fastest idia has ever moved in his life, and he found ortho napping on the couch as some cartoon played on the tv.

idia sighed with relief and pulled out his phone once more. before he could log onto (game), he had to listen to his favorite artist's new single. his headphones were in his backpack, which he didn't remember putting in there instead of around his neck, but that was a trivial detail. idia went back to where he threw his bag and opened it up ... to find an extra energy drink.

'to idia,

you can have this drink too. i don't drink this kind... oh also, wanna hang out tomorrow? i'm free and you should be as well... it's okay if you can't, but i'd love too. lmk your response, ids ! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ'

the sticky note read, making idia cock an eyebrow. hangout tomorrow... sounds fun... WAIT? never once has idia shroud THOUGHT THAT A HANG OUT SOUNDED FUN. were these even his own thoughts!?

idia short circuited for a bit before smiling and grabbing his headphones, setting the drink with the note on a nearby table. he pulled out his phone, plugging in his headphones while he had it, and typed a response back to the note's author.

idia [2:55 pm]

'sticky note on a drink? how cliché lol... but sure. let's hang out tomorrow.'

authors note? god damn this took so much longer than it should've... that's okay though!! it's done now!! (watch me disappear for another month) school has taken a lot of my energy and time and effort but we UP now!!! i'm excited to wrap this story up ... (5 chapters left. Aughhhh.) because i wanna write a new one about the 1920's (VERY INTO THAT DECADE AS RECENTLY.)

i hope my tired ramblings of the majority of this chapter made sense and were interesting enough to not make you wanna watch paint dry!! time for aquz to sleep ~ bye bye and thanks for reading!

[komatsudaya]

RKRN Komatsuda Yuusaku Appearances (w/summaries and translations)

The older Komatsuda brother has appeared sporadically throughout Nintama Rantarou over the years. Unfortunately, he was excised from several of the anime adaptations of manga chapters he appeared in, so people who haven't read the manga aren't getting all the Yuusaku content that they deserve. That's a problem which needs fixing!

Like my previous Rikichi+Komatsuda RKRN guide, I put together a little something showing all the times Yuusaku appears in the manga, with summaries and translations.

Quick list:

Vol 32, pages 31-32, 34, 36-37, 39, 42 Vol 33, page 188 Vol 35, pages 43-49 (voice appears on page 52) Vol 38, page 240 Vol 41, pages 30, 146-147, 154, 161 Vol 47, pages 126, 180 Vol 65, pages 11-15, 63-65, 67-70, 72, 82, 86, 89-90, 102, 107, 109, 119, 127, 148, 221-223, 235

Summaries and translations

Vol 32

Pages 31-32, 34, 36-37, 39, 42

Yuusaku's first appearance - and he didn't even make it into the anime adaptations of these chapters (episodes 11-22~24, 11-76~78)!

Komatsuda comes across a leaflet advertising ninja work and, still hoping to be a professional ninja, goes to find if he can get a job. He brings his brother with and runs into Rantarou, who came with his mother.

They meet up with everyone else looking to find work and are given their task: they must sneak into a certain castle’s outpost and retrieve some hidden documents. Rantarou spots Dokutake ninja among the job-seekers, raising his suspicions. Dokutake ninja would never go looking for other ninja work, he says; according to what Yuusaku has heard, Dokutake castle pays well. Perhaps that's something Yuusaku learned when Komatsuda went to take Dokutake's employment exam?

Yuusaku gets one more line, asking if Rantarou knows one of the ninja they meet. After that, Rikichi disguises himself as Yuusaku and takes the man's place without anybody else knowing. Where did Yuusaku go? Home, most likely. I like to imagine Rikichi pulled Yuusaku aside, explained the situation, and told Yuusaku he'd take care of it. Yuusaku would probably say that sounded fine and to take care of his brother. Maybe Yuusaku knew about Rikichi because his brother had written about him in one of his letters?

Let's take a moment to appreciate all the cool and fun expressions we get to see "Yuusaku" make when Rikichi is disguised as him.

Vol 33

Page 188

Yuusaku was cut from the anime adaptation (episode 12-67) of this chapter as well.

Some of the students of 1-Ha have noticed that Komatsuda has been unusually competent compared to usual. When the students ask Yoshino and Doi, both of them say Komatsuda's been the same as always; Komatsuda even lost the key to the explosives warehouse. Class 1-Ha goes to search for the key and ends up falling down a hole and getting hit by sleeping gas. Isuke, the last to fall asleep, finds Komatsuda kidnapping Shouzaemon.

When Isuke runs into Komatsuda after the incident, Komatsuda claims that he doesn't know anything about Shouzaemon being kidnapped. Luckily, Isuke remembers something that clues him in to the fact that the Komatsuda he saw in the hole was actually a fake. The Komatsuda he saw was wearing a uniform that had the "Clerk" tag sewn into the shirt. But during the last summer break, his family's dye shop got a request from a certain someone.

Yuusaku requested that the tag be directly dyed onto Komatsuda's uniform so the boy wouldn't have to worry about dropping and losing it. "What a sweet big brother," Isuke's mother comments - I agree.

Vol 35

Pages 43-49 (voice appears on page 52)

The anime adaptation of this chapter (episode 13-05) marks the first time Yuusaku appears in the anime - hooray!

It's summer break, and while Rantarou is in town to sell his family's rice harvest, he comes across Yoshino. Yoshino had mentioned conducting a house visit before everyone left for the break, and all the students figured the only person he could have been talking about visiting was Komatsuda. Rantarou asks if Yoshino is still going to Komatsuda's house, but Yoshino says that he's of two minds about the whole thing. Is it okay to tell Komatsuda's family that the boy isn't cut out for clerical work? Rantarou is worried that this means Komatsuda is going to be fired, so he decides to tag along with Yoshino to Komatsudaya.

Yuusaku stays at the store, and Yoshino tells Komatsuda to get ready to head back to the school because there's plenty of preparations to take care of for the next semester. Komatsuda packs a knapsack as big as himself and is crushed under its weight. "Ah, Shuusaku," Yuusaku calls from inside, "are you okay out there?" Komatsuda, still stuck under his belongings, squeaks out, "Oniicha~n."

Vol 38

Page 240

Yuusaku is the star of this volume's 4koma.

Much like how Doi learned to parse what the kids of 1-Ha say, Yuusaku can decipher what his brother means because he had plenty of practice while growing up with the boy. It takes a Komatsuda to understand a Komatsuda.

Vol 41

Pages 30, 146-147, 154, 161

Kirimaru slept through the announcement that the school's autumn break would be starting, so he didn't line up any part-time work. "Why not come work at our place for a bit?" Komatsuda offers. "If you ask my brother, I'm sure he'll hire you on for a little while." True to Komatsuda's word, Kirimaru is hired as a part-time worker for the day.

Kirimaru returns to Doi's house the next day. He mentions that the store received a strange order. To make fans, you fold the paper into a pattern that creates holes that you can then insert the bamboo frame in. However, a customer wanted a large order of separate paper and frames. Concerned, Doi asks if the store took the order.

(Yuusaku appears in this chapter's anime adaptation, episode 16-02)

Doi suspects the customer was someone who plans to use the fans to perform the Kasumiougi no Jutsu, where ninja place poison inside a fan then blow the poison at their enemies. The group manages to track down the customer, a Suppontake ninja, and find out what he's scheming. It turns out the Suppontake are targeting the lord of Chamidareamitake castle. The lord goes to view the autumn leaves every year, and the place he chose to view them is in a valley whose geography would make it easy for the Suppontake to overwhelm him with poison using the Kasumiougi no Jutsu. With this information, Doi devises a plan. Why not fight fans with fans?

While Yuusaku is helping to sell their sightseer disguises, Komatsuda is carrying the "ultimate anti-Kasumiougi no Jutsu weapons," as Niino calls them. The brothers go with everyone to prepare for the counterattack.

The Suppontake begin their attack, though it turns out that Niino has replaced the poison in their fans with laughing gas and eye irritants. As the fumes begin to approach the valley, our heroes pull out the "ultimate weapons" that Komatsudaya made - gigantic fans that they use to blow the fumes back toward the Suppontake.

(Unfortunately, Yuusaku doesn't appear in this chapter's anime adaptations, episodes 16-23~24. He isn't even the one to make the "ultimate weapons" - Niino shows up with giant uchiwa instead. What a waste, to not have Komatsudaya's proprietor in a fan-centric series of episodes!)

The Suppontake's plans are thwarted and the day is saved! Everyone starts heading home.

(Doi is crying out "Ah!" because he just remembered that the autumn break is ending.)

Vol 47

Pages 126, 180

Yuusaku makes two short but sweet contributions to this volume, and appears in the anime adaptations (episodes 19-28 and 19-31).

Ninjutsu Academy's cultural festival is approaching. However, when it comes time to send out invitations, Komatsuda makes a mess of all of Ninjutsu Academy's documents and ends up sending invitations to both friends and foes. But one thing is very strange, the students muse - how did Komatsuda manage to get the invitations sent out so quickly if everything was such a mess?

Two of the festival attendees are the assassins Masukarasu and Dosukarasu. They appear at the festival crossdressing and with fans in hand. The students worry that the assassins could have put poison inside the fans to perform the Kasumiougi no Jutsu. Saburou, however, says there's no need to worry about that. That's because…

There's that entrepreneurial spirit!

Vol 65

Pages 11-15, 63-65, 67-70, 72, 82, 86, 89-90, 102, 107, 109, 119, 127, 148, 221-223, 235

(As of this writing, this volume has not been adapted for the anime.)

School is starting up again after the autumn break, and some of the 1-Ha students have met up on the road to school - where they find Yuusaku tagging along with Kirimaru and Doi. Rantarou asks what Yuusaku is doing there.

Everyone finally gets to school while carrying Shinbei, who gained too much weight on the break and had gotten too exhausted to walk anymore.

While Yuusaku waits in the staff room, the students find out what's been going on with Komatsuda. Komatsuda has become obsessed with getting people to sign in and out of the school, all day and all night, to the point where he won't even take a bath because he doesn't want to be in the tub when an intruder shows up. Even when the teachers volunteer to make the rounds, he refuses to rest and is running himself ragged.

Rantarou finally manages to get Komatsuda to go to the infirmary, where Niino gives him medicine to get him to sleep. The students and teachers will take care of any intruders that appear while Komatsuda is incapacitated.

The ninja looking to scout Komatsuda is Komochi Wakana, who first appeared in volume 15. He technically already met both Komatsuda brothers, as he was one of the job-seekers in volume 32, but neither Komochi nor Yuusaku remember each other. Fushikizou says they should head to the infirmary to see Komatsuda, but Yuusaku says that going there right now is a bad idea.

Shenanigans ensue as Sonnamon shows up to challenge Doi to a battle. Yuusaku gets to learn about ninja tools firsthand when Doi uses a urine-soaked cloth diaper to defeat Sonnamon. The main Tasogaredoki crew, who came to pick Sonnamon up, leave, but not without one last word.

Knowing that his target is elsewhere, Komochi dashes off to find Komatsuda and complete his mission. Shinbei saves the day by using his snot to catch Komochi by the leg.

Komatsuda shows up again, having overcome the medicine he was given. Even worse, a ninja from Hidahatake castle (who'd previously judged Komatsuda's Hidahatake castle employment exam in volume 38) shows up to scout Komatsuda as well.

Just when Komatsuda starts to go with the Hidahatake ninja, Rantarou pulls off Komochi's hood and reveals his lusciously lipsticked mouth. Komatsuda is so surprised by the sight that he snaps out of his trance. Crisis averted!

Yuusaku continues to learn about the world of ninja, as well as why it was good that he got a name in his first appearance.

There's some hubbub as other intruders are spotted, but Yuusaku and Komatsuda are busy getting ready to return to Komatsudaya.

"Hey," Shinbei says after the brothers leave, "doesn't something about what Komatsuda's brother just said bother you?" If a ninja hears about someone ordering a large number of fans, of course they'll be concerned about the Kasumiougi no Jutsu. Convinced that Komatsudaya's customer is a ninja squad, everyone heads over to the store.

As the students stand by with bated breath, somebody approaches the store - and promptly falls into a hole that Ayabe had dug in the street. When the mysterious person is pulled out, it's none other than Shinbei's father.

And so ends Yuusaku's appearances - as well as Rakudai Ninja Rantarou as a whole. How lucky, getting to be one of the characters to appear on the manga's last page!

I feel like I have more to personally say about Yuusaku that would make this longer than need be, so I'll probably eventually make another post. In the meantime, I hope everyone who read this enjoyed seeing more of the Komatsuda brothers.

[bagalois]

100 days of productivity - 6/100

jan 22, 2025.

✔ went to class ✔ washed my dishes ✔ meal prepped! ✔ put away groceries ✔ troubleshooted an issue with my fridge to my landlord

(more under the cut - warning for very long and kind of negative)

today's the first day of classes (where i'm a student)! i'm taking combinatorics, group theory, and algebraic topology.

the profs for algtop and group theory were... okay, i guess. i dont doubt they are very knowledgeable about their field, and the lecture content was all fine and good, but the presentation i fear was not so good. my algtop professor waffled on about inconsequential things that only made sense to him for probably half of the entire lecture (random jokes and pedantic clarifications that depend entirely on your specialty that, frankly, while i understand their place, the slight difference in convention between algebraists and geometers doesn't mean very much to me as somebody who is not that familiar with either field). and the group theory prof, he spoke too quietly and the entire class could barely read his handwriting.

also, i fear that i've come down with a cold or a fever, so even though i got a lot done, i felt pretty bad all day. i felt okay this morning but i still wore a mask. another grad student asked me why i was wearing one, and i told them i was worried i got exposed to some sickness, since i was feeling under the weather.

i was started to overheat and get overstimulated just from my combo prof's voice .-. and she was the only good lecturer i had today! straightforward, concise, and had briefly humorous moments that didn't detract from the rest of the lecture.

overall i've been feeling less than great, but getting as much as i have done today makes me feel better. posting, cleaning, cooking - all these things help ground me in some semblance of reality.

(begin cw: us politics)

it's probably because i'm sick, but i can't deny that trump's inauguration -- specifically how a lot of people are panicking about it -- is weighing on me. i really hate how little i know about anything. palestine-israel was what got me to seriously think about politics for the first time. of course i remember what i learned in high school history class, and as an ethnically han chinese person i paid attention to BLM and stop asian hate, but i didn't really think critically. my history classes didn't seem relevant when i was taking them, but of course they're relevant; the history is the context for what i'm living now.

eventually i was going to grow up and fend for myself and the people i care about in this country. i never realized that somehow. i have been so naive and ignorant.

it seems that everybody else has long understood what has been going on, with everything. but now my friends are panicking and i don't know what i'm supposed to worry about or not. when news articles and social media become untrustworthy, you need to rely on yourself - your own knowledge and critical thinking. unfortunately, i forgot to do that growing up...

(acknowledgement and disclaimer) i'm in a better position than most. the fact that i'm just worried about being informed is nothing compared to the others currently losing/have lost their homes, jobs, reproductive care access, their dignity (transgender inmates being forced to detransition), etc. so i don't mean to say all this to mean i'm genuinely panicking about living in trump's america. i just have a fever and i'm more stressed than i should be about the weight of my privilege and resulting responsibility if i want to call myself an ally/leftist/whatever.

(/end cw)

in any case.... i like to finish these things on a positive note so i'll keep writing.

i have to teach tomorrow morning at 8:30am :/ last time i barely spent any time reviewing/teaching summation notation to the class. i just showed them the anatomy of the notation and did one example, but for some it's their first time seeing that, so i should be spending more time on it.

after teaching, well, i wanted to sit in on riemannian geometry but if i still feel shitty tomorrow then i might just go home... i have textbook chapters to read and review so that'll keep me occupied while im not at school.

i'm taking a couple mg of melatonin as i'm writing this sentence. i need to rest. bye~

[theamityelf]

Uh, I remember you have an AU where Makoto became Hope Tutor for Izuru. Can I asked more detail about it?

Gah, this is my first time doing this I don't know how to ask properly

That's totally fine; you're doing great!

Boy, "hope tutor AU" is definitely what I should have tagged this as, lol. Well, let's see.

First thing is, the AU isn't anime-compliant and might not be compliant with most other supplemental materials, since most of my Danganronpa fan works are based mostly on game canon.

In order for Makoto to have been identified as someone suited to the task of making Izuru come across as more personable and inspiring, he must have earned the faculty's notice in that regard. Which means this could cross over with the debate club AU (seeing as that's a good way for them to have seen him flourish in public speaking), but also it's not all that important to go into when exactly he earned their notice.

I'm thinking Makoto just walks into homeroom one morning and his teacher tells him that the headmaster has asked for him in some other room. He goes to that other room, and a couple of guys in suits are like "Makoto Naegi, the Academy has an important task for you. Should any details of this conversation be told to anyone outside this room, you will face consequences far more severe than expulsion."

Makoto is just like "U-Uh, okay. Are you sure you have the right person for whatever this is?"

They say something like, "Believe me, we're as surprised as you are."

Maybe they have Jin Kirigiri come in to cut the tension, like, "Hey, these guys are pretty intimidating, but really we just need you to help out with this great project we're working on."

And Makoto goes, "Oh, sure, I'd love to help."

And they take him down to the labs- not quite to Kamukura's room, but to a secondary room where Kamukura has also been taken. (Maybe Makoto's blindfolded on the way there.)

He's just left in an almost featureless room to sit across a table from Izuru, who's just Kubrick Staring him through his hair.

"Hi, I'm Makoto Naegi," he says nervously.

Eyes like rubies stare him down.

"They, uh...The guys who brought me here didn't really tell me what I was supposed to be doing. Just that I should come and meet you, and that you would take care of the rest. What's your name? I don't think I've seen you around here, but you look like you're around my age. I wasn't expecting that."

The person seated across from him straightens, raising his chin in a way that almost reminds him of Byakuya, but devoid of any of the fire or ice that usually sits behind Byakuya's eyes. And the stranger still doesn't say anything. (Probably. It would be kind of funny if Izuru went, "What else about my appearance didn't you expect?" and just generally probed at Makoto's words to make him flounder.)

Makoto waits for at least a minute before breaking the silence again, "Sorry, if there's something I'm supposed to be saying or doing, I don't know what it is."

Eventually (either right then or after more false starts), Izuru says, "Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Lucky Student from Hope's Peak's 78th class. You're here so that I can learn you."

"Learn me?"

"Yes. The faculty has assessed that, in terms of general likability and ability to sway people, you're the student who has the most to teach me. Unfortunately, I haven't found anything in your disposition worth emulating in the past few minutes." And actually, I am going to cross this over with the debate club AU, just because I like the idea of Izuru having already been shown footage of Makoto's debate wins before they met. "I've seen the footage of you in debate club. Is this how you are normally?"

"Well, yes. Pretty much."

"That explains why everyone looks surprised when they see you in debate club."

Makoto laughs nervously. "Looks like you've learned me already." Am I allowed to leave now?

"Not yet. Your contradictions are...almost interesting."

I like the idea of the scientists and teachers allotting Izuru an hour or so with Makoto pretty much anytime he wants it, because it means that when his (for lack of a better word) "use" for Makoto goes from pragmatic interest to subjective fascination to just enjoyment of being around him, he'll have people going "Are you sure you still need to talk to Naegi?" And he'll still be saying, "Yes. Bring him here."

And I like the idea that he can do this at pretty much any time, so he can pull Makoto out of any class, lunch, whatever. Maybe one day he's looking at the school's security cameras and sees that Makoto is having a good time alone with Sayaka and he sends for him then, just to separate them. And he wonders why he felt the need to do that, and that's when he realizes that he likes Makoto.

And then it's like, Oh, they were right. Even I like him.

[nox-in-a-box]

Rewatching The Princess Prodigy for my girl Vivian. But the magical aspect of this episode intrigues me. We're introduced to an entirely new form of magic: magical music! I like how it works, with sheet music being the written spell (at least, I think that's how it works?). I also find the idea of being able to steal someone's musical talent to be interesting.

Here's my theory: Baron von Rocha is a sorcerer who specialises in the field of magical music. This type of magic is lesser known and not commonly practiced, because though it is extremely powerful, even more so than wand magic, it requires one to practice their musical skill to a great extent.

Baron von Rocha decided to go into this field of magic, wanting to be a more powerful sorcerer, but he was too impatient to take the time to master it on his own, and wanted greater power more quickly. So he discovered a shortcut: the spell he uses in the episode to steal musical talent. This spell is of course shown in the episode to have a downside: the stolen musical talent fades, and it probably fades quite quickly. For this reason, he keeps having to find the most talented musicians and singers to steal talent from.

Adding more to it with, well, sort of a headcanon: that magical music is one of the subjects at Hexley Hall; an elective that lots of students take, enticed by the promises of great power, but discouraged by the effort required. After all, it's not as simple as learning a spell. You have to know how to play instruments first, or sing.

This class is probably where von Rocha actually first started this theft business. Instead of giving up like any other frustrated student, he instead stumbled upon a spell; one that would give him the great power he wanted, with none of the required effort. He tricked fellow students who were better than him into performing the spell, giving him the musical skill he needed and making the other students quit when they found themselves suddenly lacking all their built-up skill. The teacher thought he was a prodigy, but truly he was a fraud. And he kept doing this for years, stealing the skill of all the skilled musicians he could find, even stealing from songbirds!

Now, if only he had spent all those years actually building his own musical skill, ha.

Going to relate this with his presence in Day of the Sorcerers now: After losing all the stolen musical talent at the end of The Princess Prodigy, Baron von Rocha has found himself back at square one, with little musical skill of his own and therefore little power. He quits magical music and decides to simply do wand magic instead, the mainstream branch of sorcery. When he gets the opportunity to have a powerful item like a medusa stone, become king, and take revenge on the princess who ruined his career, of course he'd take it!

Magical music gives you potential to be a great sorcerer, but only if you're willing to put in the time and effort required. Which Baron von Rocha, unfortunately, was not.

[sprinklenoodles]

Alrighty! So, uh, the one and only Aoi dude just send me an ansolutely lovely post as I'm sure you can all imagine! So, that means it's time for some cute Sakuraoi headcanons- both from more 'canon' and fics... Might even from fics that aren't mine!

So, the more canon stuff:

Before everything went down, the two of them would have weekly dates. These could be to a nice sandwitch shop or a very fancy restaurant. The latter would only happen after getting Byakuya to pull some strings- something that wasn't too hard to do since he could easily be swayed with a promise of them distracting Toko for a bit.

Sometimes they would also go on double dates with some of the others of their class, or sometimes even triple dates.

It wasn't a surprise that the two of them got together- almost everybody had already... registered them as a couple, so when they made the announcement that they were really together, the only shock they got was due to the fact they they weren't together before.

Sakura always goes to Hina's swimming competions, cheering her onn and kissing her when she wins. Hina does she same for Sakura, though she is much more vocal in her cheering.

When they had to stay in HP, the two of them were always together. Hina was quite scared and worried about her family- namely her little brother- and Sakura would try her best to reassure her that everything would be fine.

Now, onto the fics! This will contain spoilers for all of my fics and also from the Ultimate Heroes series from @seashellcosmos because I am incapable of not talking about that AU. And I suppose that the headcanons for my fics aren't headcanons, but just... canon until I maybe contradict them

First up I want to talk about post That Really Wasn't Supposed To Happen (post What Things Are Supposed To Happen To? technically, but that one is still ongoing). After everything settled down, the two of them would keep helping rebuild the world. I don't think they would do that with the FF, but more on their own, with the help of their classmates.

And once they've done that, they would begin a little café, one just like the ones they went on during their dates before everything. Just a cute and small place which most frequent visitor is the CEO of the Togami Corporation- totally normal.

In the pokemon AU- A Heir's Journey, the two of them are gym leaders and very much rivals. Well, friendly rivals. They love nothing more than battling each other- other than kissing maybe- and it's very much how they show their love to each other. Their pokemon also get along great... for the most part.

In the fantasy AU- The Lies Hidden Beneath The Sand- the two of them are also together! Yay! When she's stressed, which unfortunately happens quite a lot, Hina always goes to Sakura and asks her to cuddle. Sakura is very strong and that gives Hina some nice comfort she needs.

Sakura also tries to help Hina with her self-doubt- she doesn't need to be a good fighter to be useful, she is already good at other things.

Then in The Ultimate Mystery Incorporated the two are just also a happy couple. They're not really different from 'canon' Hina and Sakura, it's mostly the people who they hang around with. They're just a cute wlw couple in their small but weird town. All things considered though, they're probably the best couple.

There's one more fic of mine where they are very much together, though it's very much one that isn't released yet. It's a sort of magical girl/ superpower AU- that's all you need to know for now, but feel free to send me some asks about it!

There, Hina is a very powerful water magic user and Sakura absolutely adores her... yet always gets anxious when Hina has to fight. The moment Hina returns, she takes her in her arms and looks her over for injuries.

Sakura herself doesn't go on fights too much since her powers can be quite... destructive, something which scares the other students away quite a bit. Though, Hina doesn't care. She knows that Sakura is just a big sweetheart and tries her best to show that to the others.

Now for the last set of headcanons- for the Ultimate Heroes AU. It does feel slightly weird to make headcanons about a fanfic, but hey, we love weird around here!

Hina most defintely will just lay on Sakura and just... fall asleep with her face right on her chest. This would worry Sakura for a moment before she remembers that it's fine and Hina... doesn't need to breathe as much as a regural person.

Sakura will sometimes also just pick Hina up. Most of the time this is after a fight because Hina has a little habit of doing too much and will just practically fall apart the moment they're back home. It's up to Sakura to take care of her then.

Going on dates is a bit... harder here, but they always try to do something at least once a week. Most of the time it's just in the beach house, but other times they can go to a restaurant, though they do have to be very careful. Especially since Sakura looks like... well, Sakura.

That's all I could think of! Quite a bit, but it's the least these two deserve! I also just have a lot of thoughts my fics- can ramble on about them for forever, so that also helped quite a bit. Plus, I was fuelled with a need to write this cuz of the Aoi guy. It’s our job to annoy that guy as much as possible with Sakuraoi things! So, like rambles, fanart, anything.

The more the better! Oh, and if you maybe want to know more about them in a specific AU of mine or just want to know more about it, just send me an ask! Or read the fic! Or do both! Love answering asks, so will probably answer it quite quickly… hopefully lol. But that’s it!

[our-transgender-experiences]

i (it/its) went on a walk the other day with a staff member at a school-adjacent program for disabled young adults i go to.

she noticed i looked overwhelmed by the noise of the classroom, and wanted to know why i was upset for that day - i had just started my period after missing last month and also got some really bad gender dysphoria.

i talked about how i was wearing my binder that day and was tempted to just wear that as a top instead of the t-shirt i was wearing (i regularly do this) but i decided against that because it was cold out that morning, and also how i needed to save up for a new one because a little bit of the elastic in the back was starting to wear down.

she didn't acknowledge it as a binder. i saw her stutter over her words as she tried to find something else to call it (she ended up going with 'crop' because it just looks like a crop top for those who dont know what a binder looks like).

it's not a trans-hostile space, one of the paraeducators there (not for my class unfortunately :<) is a non-passing trans woman and my instructor is nonbinary (both use she/they iirc), not to mention there's another GNC student in my class (although i think we're the only ones in the program in general. idk their pronouns but they frequently present androgynously).

idk, i just feel really invisible and disrespected. nobody in that building really respects me except the person i consider myself closest to there (also uses she/they). she's the only one who actually uses the correct pronouns for me (most of the staff use they/them for me, which i don't mind, but it's starting to get a little grating) and although she doesn't really understand what i go through i feel like she's the only one really trying her best with me. i have my pronouns written on my name card taped to my desk but because i wear skirts and twintails a lot of the time and have an eccentric and hyperfeminine style people always assume i'm a girl. (I do plan on cutting my hair and going on T, by the way.)

fortunately i have a place i go to after that in the afternoon/evenings where i straight up use a different name and get to play mario kart 8 and d&d at (a rec center - two of the lead counselors, the ones who have been there the longest, are also nonbinary - both use he/they) but tbh despite me being there so often it's not really enough. i want to feel like myself and be respected at both places i go to during the day.

i am very tired.

That sounds really hard. Try to be more insistent on pronouns, say thing like "I actually use it/its, not they/them" people probably won't see the nametag once they learn your name.

[fromtheshadowsnyc2]

Entry 1: New York State of Mind

[All dividers are credited to @saradika-graphics]

[Green Divider is credited to @firefly-graphics]

God, I hate living here.

I think that about a thousand times a day. When I’m forced awake from my alarm, when my mom yells at me to shower and get ready for another day at school. When I’m putting on the uniform for that snotty school I’m somehow attending. When I’m packing my little brothers’ lunchboxes while chewing on a freshly toasted poptart. When I’m dragging my feet to the train station. When I’m boarding the 6 train with the crowd waiting on the elevated station. When I get off at a station downtown and have to inhale the fresh ick from the subway as I walk up to the surface. When I have to dodge every idiot tourist or every other person trying to commute and live their lives.

You get the gist. No one hates New York more than someone who was actually born here. And it only gets worse the more you get randos from other states moving in and getting rid of what you actually loved about this place.

Ugh, another one? 

I frown at a new store sitting in the corner, where one of my fave bodegas used to rest. Replaced by another pretentious coffee shop/bakery mix. Probably run by some hipster idiot who will call 311 to complain about the loud Spanish and hip-hop music in the neighborhood.

Really tragic, honestly. Abdul was the only guy in this part of Manhattan who made a decent chop cheese. Plus, I liked his cat.

Unfortunately, this kind of cultural casualty has become all too common in the city these past couple years. From Washington Heights to Brooklyn, there’s barely anything that resembles the real NY anymore. Even Queens isn’t safe. It won’t be long until it infects my neck of the woods. It’s inevitable at this point.

Best that I can do is just dart my eyes forward and keep on walking.

The Stockman Academy for the Sciences is one of those fancy private schools you can only attend if you win a school scholarship—or if you’re a millionaire. 

Or, if you’re…

“Nice to see you showed up on time, charity case,” says a prim voice as I walk into homeroom. She’s surrounded by her usual minions, and making a show of fixing her make-up, her eyes on a compact mirror. “I was starting to think you finally gave up.” 

A retort does claw at my throat, but I hold it back and just walk to the furthest seat away from her, my fists trembling in the pockets of my school sweater. If there’s anyone in this school who walks around like their ass doesn’t stink, it would be Antonia Stockman—who is, of course, the only daughter of the school’s founder and current CEO the city’s most prominent science industries. Why does she feel the need to bother me? No idea. Far as I know, I didn’t do anything to her. Most days, I just use the same method I used back in my old school. Keep your head down, eyes forward, and mouth shut. No one can hurt you if you become invisible, right?

It’s just…very difficult, when you’re a poor kid surrounded by the children of New York’s elite. Everyone notices you’re different then. Like a smell you can’t wash off.

The moment I sit and set down my backpack, I reach inside and pull out a book I’ve been trying to finish. I’d go on my phone, but they aren’t allowed in school, which just makes my insides twist. I really want to message Cleo right now. Chatting with her always makes me feel better. Plus, it’s been so long since we hung out or even had a real conversation. Things have been a little…weird between us since I started attending Stockman Academy. In a way that makes me a little too anxious. What could be going on with her? 

It’s not even eight yet, and I already feel like I’m going to vomit.

Going to classes is a reprieve from anything involving socializing. I’m actually a decent student, and the teachers here make things interesting. (I guess there’s something to what my mom said about me needing a challenge.) But my favorite subject? It's a senior English elective, Investigative Journalism, which is taught by—

“So, can anyone tell me the impact of Upton Sinclair’s book The Jungle?”

My hand shoots up immediately and I make sure to keep eye contact with her. Pretty sure the selection isn’t hard, since barely anyone answers most days. Usually, in any other class, I’d join them in the usual student apathy—but of all the teachers in this school, she’s who I want to impress most.

She glances around the room before smiling at me. Then she gives a nod. I sit up, a nervous excitement fluttering through me. It’s nice to be noticed, sometimes.

“Because Sinclair revealed its grisly practices and what exactly was going in their products, the meatpacking industry had to change how they mix and package their meat. Including…”

I continue on for barely a minute, knowing I’ll probably end up talking too much. I don’t participate a lot, but when I do, my nerves make it hard for me to…well, stop talking. And I hate that, because I end up stuttering and sounding so…so dumb.

But not this time! I think, keeping my smile casual on the outside and beaming on the inside. No stutter, no rambling, I was perfect! I hope.

I truly do. Ms. O’Neil is not only the nicest teacher here, she is like The Journalist to learn from. Couple years back, she was the face you’d see in the mornings, talking about the issues and stories many news outlets refused to discuss. She called out the previous mayor and the NYPD commissioner for their neglect of crimes in certain areas, especially the still growing gang activity. Especially regarding news about the most recent gang that’s popped up, the elusive and dangerous Foot Clan.

No idea how she ended up teaching here. But I did notice sometime last year or so, she wasn’t reporting the news as much. A lot of the stories she’d been updating had been pushed aside for celebrity scandals and other big fluff pieces. Nothing that really mattered. For a while, her old network seemed to pretend she didn’t exist. 

Maybe she finally said too much. Maybe she finally pissed off the wrong person. Whatever the reason, I’m glad to see she’s still around—and that she’s teaching my class. She makes me feel like I still have a little luck.

“You did good today, kid! I see you’re growing more confident,” she says to me after class, her grin wide.

I feel ready to burst out of my skin and turn into butterflies. She’ll never really know how much that means to me, coming from her.

“Thanks Ms. O’Neil! Um, are we still meeting after school on Friday?” I ask, referring to the school newspaper. 

“Definitely! Gotta give you kids your assignments for next month’s issue. Unless you have any suggestions or requests?” she adds, her tone already knowing—but of course it is, she’s amazing—and eyes slightly narrowed behind her glasses.

My smile widens and I reach into my bag to pull out a folder.

“I actually have an idea for a series! Remember how we talked about New York’s gentrification a week ago? Well, I was thinking of going around certain spots in the city and talking about the longtime businesses still there. Like restaurants, bodegas, or indie bookshops, even—a lot of the stuff that helps a neighborhood retain its culture, y’know? I actually have some ideas already…”

My voice trails off as I pull out some pictures I took last weekend, of places I’ve been visiting since I was little. Fortunately, some things in the Bronx haven’t really changed too much. It still feels like home.

Ms. O’Neil looks at each picture, her smile growing and her eyes gleaming with each one. When her eyes meet mine again, I want to think she’s proud of me. 

“This is a great idea, kiddo. Let’s talk more about it on Friday.”

Needless to say, I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

“—Aw, that’s awesome, dude! Ya think O’Neil will approve my idea too?”

“What? About the secret population of underground mutant humanoids or whatever? Please, Norman,” says my friend Sakina, rolling her eyes while sitting next to me.

“Oh, right, like your idea about aliens is any better!”

“At least I have evidence!”

“Based on old Japanese water paintings and mythology!”

“Oh? Oh, okay—!”

The old argument continues while I sit between them on the quad, but as annoying as it is listening to two weirdos argue about the same fucking thing, these two weirdos are the only friends I’ve managed to make at the academy. So, I don’t really mind. Too much.

“C’mon, dude, we need you as a tiebreaker! You gotta have an opinion on one of our theories,” Norman begs me, his voice nasally and grating. “Aliens vs. Mutants?”

Pressing my mouth closed, I let out a hum in negative while shaking my head. “No way, man. I’m not touching either of your corners of weird. Like, aliens—okay, that’s at least something people have talked about for decades. But mutants? Let alone a secret society of mutants?”

“Who choose to live in the sewers, of all places,” Sakina adds emphatically, her eyes rolling to the sky in near pleading before she murmurs a soft prayer in Arabic. 

“Well, I mean. Would it really be a choice? Considering humanity’s track record of…well, everything?” Norman finishes in a cringe.

Still, the words weigh heavily in the air. We all look at each other before looking away in thought. Sometimes, in the face of the obvious, there is no perfect response.

Suddenly, Norman’s phone goes off. He quickly takes it out and unlocks it. When he sees what’s on the screen, he lets out a sigh and pushes up his glasses.

“That’s my mom. She’s waiting for me out front,” he grouses. Then he sends us a worried look. “You two sure you don’t want a ride?”

Surprisingly, Sakina smiles up at him. “Thanks, but I live all the way in Astoria, Norm. It would be too far out of the way.”

“Yeah, and I have to do a shift at Gino’s tonight,” I add. “Thanks, though. Discord later?”

He grins. “Hell yeah! I gotta play some Mass Effect tonight anyway. I’m this close—this close— to romancing Miranda.”

I chuckle, my chest bubbling with joy as I watch him walk away. Then I shake my head. That kid can be too much sometimes.

“The heck is Mass Effect?” Sakina asks, once he’s far enough.

“An old video game series. You might like it, though. It’s like a space opera thing,” I explain. Then, with a mischievous smirk, I add, “With aliens.”

“Hmm…are there aliens I can seduce?”

I nod. “One of them has tentacles—on her head.”

Sakina’s eyes widen. “Hmm! Color me intrigued.” 

I laugh, and then start standing up.

“C’mon, we got a train to catch.”

The train ride with Sakina is fairly smooth and quiet, considering we’re going further downtown. We were fortunate to be able to find a car that was roomy enough for us to find seats next to each other. For a good few minutes, we sit in peace—at least, until.

“…For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve chosen to write about something else,” Sakina speaks softly. “Other than…”

Her voice trails off, but she doesn’t have to say it. I already know.

“A baby journalist’s hit piece on the Foot Clan?” I finish, my voice rather dry.

“Girl, you know it would have been dangerous. O’Neil freaked when you even suggested it!”

“Believe me, you don’t have to remind me…” 

I already remember.

(“Absolutely not!”

“But why?!”

“Because they are dangerous, kid! They’re not just a bunch of cosplayers who dress as ninjas for fun, they hurt people. And they will do worse to anyone snooping around!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I yelled back, tears springing to my eyes. “O'Neil, they’ve started recruiting people around my ‘hood! They’ve killed or taken people I know—and no one in this city is doing anything about it! No one thinks we’re important enough.”

“That’s not—”

“The only person who did was you! And you’re not doing it anymore!”

“…”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” 

There was this…this look on her face. Her jaw slack. Her eyes were vacant. Like she wasn’t there for a moment—like she was somewhere else. It frightened me. What happened to her? Why did she stop working for the news? 

But in a sharp breath, April O’Neil was back and looking at me with shining dark eyes. Her hands went to my shoulders.

“Kid, the only reason I became so good at what I do is because of the connections I’ve made. Some that are more special than others. The only reason I’m still breathing today is because of those connections,” she told me, her voice full of a fear that scared me deeply, in a way I didn’t understand. “But you…you’re still a kid. This is not a battle you should fight…not on your own. You have to leave it to those who can.”)

I wanted to retort some more, but my momentum was already gone after the confrontation. I was just left feeling much like a know nothing kid. And isn’t that the truth? Yeah, sure, it feels like giving up but—I have to face the truth. Who am I compared to the great April O’Neil? Maybe it’s just best to stay in my lane.

Talking about the parts of NY yet to be gentrified? Much safer. And it’s still something I care deeply about. Hopefully, the students who read The Stockman Herald will like it too. 

“Trust me, I learned my lesson,” I tell Sakina. “No pursuing dangerous people for the sake of a story.”

“Good. Wait until you’re a real journalist. Or at least until you know how to actually fight.”

“Hey, I came from an area where fights happen every second of every day! You can’t blame me for having a conflict aversion.”

Sakina points at her head and says in a drawl, “I literally broke a fuckboy’s nose for attempting to tear off my hijab, I have all the right to blame you.”

I let out a chortle. “Okay, okay! You don’t have to keep reminding me. I’m well aware of your badass status.”

We both share a smile and then shift our conversation to other topics, like the other classes we take and what else we plan to do for the school newspaper. By the time it’s time for Sakina to get off and transfer to her next train, I feel my mood has lifted more than quite a bit. Even still not getting a response from Cleo doesn’t bother me as much; I’m sure she’s just busy. 

I put in my earbuds and turn on my playlist, allowing myself to ride the calm of the subway ride. Might as well enjoy the peace now, before I spend the next few hours helping to make and deliver pizza.

[circular-bircular]

hi, have you ever read "normal dimensions of multiple personality without amnesia"? i really have no idea how to read these kinds of things but i'm super interested in them, and from my very lacking understanding of it, i thought it might be some validity for endogenic plurality? but again- i really don't understand these things so i'm probably misunderstanding. so! i was wondering if you had any thoughts on it, and perhaps could explain it in simpler terms for those of us who haven't learnt to read these things :)

Hello! Yes, I have unfortunately read that article. It is a fakeclaiming, ableist abomination, in my opinion.

A summary of my thoughts: The authors of the piece, in an attempt to "prove endogenic plurality," suggest that DID is fake, that those who have DID just "gave themselves" the trauma, and that the only pathologic part of DID is the amnesia those systems face. It uses the Fantasy Model (a version of the False Memory Model, wherein people just Fantasize their trauma) to fakeclaim a diagnosed system from a case study.

I wrote an entire debunk of the article over on my alternative blog.

I am disgusted by the researchers of this article, and I'm glad you sought out someone to explain a bit more. If you don't want to slog through that full link, I can give a bit more analysis below (rather than the liveblogging I need to do to get through articles such as that one, since I also struggle with dissecting medical literature!)

TW below for fakeclaiming of both systemhood and multiple types of trauma (sexual, physical, neglectful, etc)

The authors base their study on the idea that children experience shifting personality in adolescence, and argue that this is non-pathological. This is widely accepted! Someone shifting personality traits as they grow up is absolutely not the same as DID. The authors go on to argue that the amnesia criteria was added in the DSM-4, and go further to argue that so-labeled "high-functioning MPD systems" could actually be "totally normal people with multiple personalities with no amnesia."

(Note: "totally normal people" is a lovely touch of ableism, as if people with DID are not normal, and totally normal high-functioning systems without amnesia already have a label. OSDD.)

The methods of this study are so minimally described that I fear my 6th grade students produce better lab reports in their science classes. A survey made by the researchers wherein only one subjective personal response on their own criteria indicates dissociative identity disorder, because it 'totally correlates to the DES, trust us guys'. The sampling is even shorter and negligent to the point of feeling purposeful.

Part of the way through the article, they shift their hypothesis. In the start of the essay, they set out to prove that multiplicity without amnesia is a normal experience and that trauma is what causes amnesia. Here, they change the hypothesis to be a bit reversed; that multiplicity is normal, and in DID, amnesia is imposed upon an already functional multiple system. If your red flags have not raised yet for the fakeclaiming, they should be up now.

Especially because, yep, they go on to fakeclaim a case study, Frieda. This individual was diagnosed with DID. This article claims that most traumatized people do not dissociate (with no source for this claim, particularly because the claim is batshit), and that "fantasizers" like Frieda (you know, a woman with severe trauma) just... imagine their feelings to be fully fragmented parts!

It seems to be that they try to argue that these imagined parts are what every system experiences, and people get amnesia if they imagine they should (as seen by their accusations of Frieda's fantasizing).

BTW: Frieda was orphaned as a child, raised in orphanages where she was abused, neglected, and without proper food and shelter, and then molested by soldiers in the war she was living through. The article skips almost all of her traumatic childhood and suggests that, after being raped (while the original case study states "molested"), she gained amnesia for the event, which made her imaginary friend into a disorder.

So... yeah! There you have it folks: all systems are just made up, and DID/OSDD is caused when those systems (who are making it all up) actually experience something that causes amnesia!