#which is. extremely childish first of all. what are we‚ kids at the playground??

[iamyounicorn]

Love to live in a country with a president who still has a hint of humanity. Love to see the international backlash against him pretty much saying "I don't think soldiers killing women and children is something I'd call a war". Actually I think if a country with a history of diplomatic neutrality says a situation is fucked up that means more (and more powerful) countries should've been saying this already

[sapphorror]

Yes! Yes, exactly!

Something I find really fun with Zim is how variable his apparent maturity is based on context. Like, on one hand, he is extremely independent and experienced in a way no human child can be, even ones that grew up in similarly isolating, high-stakes environments, because he's a god damned military specialist who's been through who knows how many human lifetimes of presumably brutal training and some amount of legitimate warfare (including OID1, which, uh, yeah), just to start. This in no way negates how incredibly childish he is in other regards, and more specifically how naturally he falls into the role of a *human* child.

Interestingly, humans will also, to some extent, go through delayed developmental phases that they were denied when they are finally given the space needed to do so, but it's always going to be severely limited by the fact that our brains fundamentally work differently at different stages of life, so you can't fully embody the 'real' experience once you've passed that window. Since Irkens don't have this problem thanks to their primary OS remaining largely static, it makes sense to me that Zim would essentially be able to do his mental development out of order. The things the Empire couldn't offer him were put on hold until he incidentally entered an environment perfectly suited to fulfilling them for the first time in his life. Which is why we can see him gravitate towards parental figures, fully invest himself in the inanities of a typical human childhood, etc, not to mention his Entire Thing with Dib which—and this is a whole essay in its own right—I still think reads more like the universe's most deadly playground game than anything else (this is why we don't give kids lasers, y'all), while still operating at and demanding a distinctly adult degree of responsibility and independence. He doesn't need to regress on these fronts because they're something the Empire, in all it's horribleness, was already equipped to teach him.

Anyway. Usually he can switch between the two as it suits him and the show rarely if ever puts the two co-existing sets of needs in direct tension with each other, but it is an angle I find very interesting (and, for that matter, has great comedic potential). Something about how, while Earth has given him exactly what's he's needed, trying to force him fully into the role of a child wouldn't just infuriate him but be actively counterproductive, just as much as the arrested development type adulthood he experienced in the Irken Empire. He has to balance being both things at once, weird and complicated though that might be, which is something I personally find waaaay more intriguing than making an easy, direct human comparison.

If you think about it, it actually makes sense for Zim to overestimate how much of a threat human babies are, given that Irken smeets are born as basically mini adults, with a lifetime of knowledge implanted at birth.

[gaoxkuma]

i FINALLY HAVE SOME TIME TO DO THIS SO HERE YOU GO. thanks @sleepytoby​​ for the ask !! sorry it’s EXTREMELY late though :( some of these were actually pre-written! (ALSO REPOSTED srry about that!)

this is my first time doing these types of things so sorry if it’s weird!

PART 1 (LUCIFER, MAMMON, LEVI, SATAN): Here

PART 2 (ASMO, BELPHIE, BEEL): To be written

PART 3 (DIAVOLO, BARBATOS, SIMEON, LUKE): To be written

PART 4 (THIRTEEN, RAPHAEL, MEPHISTO): To be written

“Diavolo, why we are here again?” Lucifer asks, walking by his best friend.

Diavolo in return flashes a toothy grin, “you’ll know when we get there!”

The redheaded demon is currently being accompanied by his butler, the seven Lords of the Devildom, RAD’s exchange students, and Mephistopheles.

Speaking of the latter, he walks up to Diavolo, “about that, may I ask, why am I here, Lord Diavolo?”

“You’re head of RAD’s newspaper club, you’re bound to want to write about something so interesting!” he replies.

Thirteen, although all the way at the back of the group, makes an uninterested noise, catching the attention of her companions.

“What is this place anyway? It looks like a mall, which, by the way, we have plenty of in the Devildom. I don’t see why we had to go all the way to the Human World!”

“Oh, but Human World malls have so many rare finds!! Things we don’t have in the Devildom!” Asmo squeals.

The sound of Diavolo’s hearty laugh fills the parking lot, startling a few other passersby.

“This isn’t a mall, Thirteen! Well, not entirely. MC said it technically was one!”

At the mention of the human’s name, Mammon raises his head, “wait, MC told you about this place?”

“Looks kind of kiddy for MC...” Levi claims.

“Hello, hello!! Welcome to the Pizzaplex! May I have your passes?” A cheerful woman situated at the front door says.

Pizzaplex?

"Barbatos? You brought them, right?” Diavolo asks his butler.

“Of course, My Lord. MC told us specifically not to forget them” Barbatos replies, pulling out the tickets from his pocket.

“Thank you very much, sir! Enjoy your visit at the Pizzaplex!” The woman says.

Opening the doors, the group is met with an overwhelming sight.

The entire place was lit up with purple-pink lighting, as well as hints of yellow from stage lights on the ceiling and floors.

The center area of the floor had a black and white checkered pattern to it, while the rest had black, matte tiles.

There were four sets of stairs, two on each side, along with an escalator in between the staircases and walls. Even more stairs and escalators were found not too far from the first.

Metal palm trees were situated at the middle of each pair of stairs.

At the center of the main building is an unbelievably LARGE, shiny, gold statue of MC, along with three other people.

The statue of MC had a mic in their hands, while the others were popping out from behind him holding keytars, guitars, and basses.

LUCIFER

what.

what am i looking at.

why is it so bright?? and so.. colorful

“it’s like the celestial realm was colored with highlighter pens” THAT’S WHAT HE THINKS

the statue of you. you have a statue?? of yourself??? in a children’s playground???

he doesn’t like how every kid he looks at is screaming and running around with pizza sauce on their faces

unsanitary, and he HATES it

but when he sees YOU perform, he does think it’s childish

bUT

he loves you. and thinks you’re awesome.

making all these children happy just by breathing

lmaooo lucifer try doing that

hates how loud and bright it is but stays for your sake (and diavolo’s ig but mostly yours)

MAMMON

it’s like a casino but for kids without the gambling

^^ exactly what runs through his mind

literally think of ANY time he’s bewildered about a certain place. that’s him right now

THE STATUE OF YOU. IT’S MADE OF GOLD?!?!?!I

“is it real gold, MC??”

“no, sorry mammon. it’s metal”

:(

doesn’t matter anyway, it’s a statue of YOU and anything with his human is valuable!!!!

will most likely ask how much you make working here

off topic but i hc glamrock!MC makes BANK here at the Pizzaplex

wants to go to the arcade with MC. yeah ok Levi can come ig but mostly him and MC!!

cries when you have to stay with the children

(i don’t think i ever talked about this but after performances the glamrocks will hang around with children IF there wasn’t a birthday party planned afterwards)

loves you on stage

it’s kids music he’s banging his head to rn but it’s BANGER kids music so he’ll let it slide

you’re singing it, after all

LEVIATHAN

you know that one voiceline he has

the one that goes like

GGHUUAÅÆĂÄÂÃAÅÆĂÄÙŰŮŪĞĢĞĢH

yeah that one

that’s him upon entering the building

first of all wants a replica of the statues, maybe 300 of each and an extra 100 of MC

collector thingz, you know?

and when you tell him there’s an arcade?!?! bro he’s dead on the ground

wants to go to EVERY ROOM. EVERY ONE.

except the physical activities room cuz yknow. he’s levi

mans screaming crying combusting when the MC is performing

his new favorite band is the glamrocks now

sorry sucre frenzy some kids band has topped you in levi’s heart

SATAN

wow.

just. wow.

that one shocked sprite he has. yeah that

“impressive” i think that’s what he would say.

wonders if the statue was actually gold. but not in the mammon type of way where he wants a chunk of it to sell it. it’s interesting to him.

he loves how the glamrocks are animals. but he wants a cat glamrock. preferably for MC to be the cat

not to say MC isn’t cute as a sheep rn

impressed by how all this; lights, smoke machines, a moving STAGE, holograms, just EVERYTHING, is just for children

humans are weird. it’s nice

PART 2, 3, AND 4 come out as soon as i could!! thanks for reading !!

[sweettodo]

Evil tutor⟿ Katsuki Bakugo x fem!reader Pt . 1

••

A story; [which will include smut at some point] where y/n is failing chem and she has no choice but to be paired up with the one she hates the most- her. Who would’ve thought Bakugo was good at anything besides being a total asshole?

Take note : this ‘part’ will include - slight angst [ mostly arguing ] & swearing !

Word count, 1,198

I knew I would be facing repercussions because of my actions; being a failure or a student did not get you anywhere. You hated to admit that you totally flunked a class, but at the time you put your combat first, and your most challenging class took a backseat almost all semester.

“Please. Don’t make me take the class again Mr [random name]! I’ll just fail all over again, how much time do I have left before the semester ends?” I struggle to hold back my tears, the desperation in my eyes was honestly quite pathetic. You were ready to clean bathrooms for extra credit.

“Y/n, relax, I’m just going to assign you to a tutor.” He signs, clicking the button at the end of his pen repeatedly, my eye twitches out of annoyance.

“A tutor?” I ask, my counselor nods.

“As in someone coming to my house...to teach me?” I raise my hands in almost self defense, he nods again, more slowly, almost like I’m not getting the point or something.

“Yes yes yes,” he insists, I fiddle with my thumbs, it was my fault yet this felt extremely unfair, Mr. R/n stands suddenly, he opens the office door and peers his head out, almost like he was looking for something.

“I think he’s here if I’m not mistaken...” HE? I scream internally. This is just how the fan fictions I read started. Would we have this major attraction with upmost sexual tension? My heart- quite literally gets stuck in my throat when I see a somewhat tall, blonde boy with spikey hair, oh hell fucking no.

“You’re good at chemistry? This must be a joke!” I snort, my face twists and i glare at him. Bakugo tilts his head and rolls his eyes.

“I would’ve thought you’d be smarter!” He bites back. Me and Bakugo have had our moments, we both have practically the same quirk.

Frightening enough to have one Bakugo on the schools hands, but a potential sidekick? This was going to be a very cautious, slightly terrifying four years for the teachers.

Luckily for the students and staff, the similar quirk we shared drove me and Bakugo apart; we butted heads constantly and always fought, Mr. Aizawa always paired us up for practicing and combat, we could fight for double the time a lot of the other kids could fight.

The difference between me and Mr. Bakugo was that I was able to release my arsenal without needed to sweat like a fucking dog.

“I don’t think it’s smart to pair us up-”

“Enough of the childish quarrel; and if you want to pass this class you better let me help you.” Mr. R/n states matter of factly, I roll my eyes.

“Well let’s go ugly! I have until 7!” The bastard shouts, I cringe.

“Shut it! Sweaty bastard.” I growl, swinging my bag onto my shoulder and shoving past him, walking out of the office. They always do this shit on purpose. Everyone know we hate each other. Why do they do this.

We hate each other for the most obvious reason... competition and our anger issues. As kids, he used to burn all my toys, trip me, use his fire to threaten cooking my hair off. I couldn’t get him back because I didn’t have my quirk under control; thus never being able to use it. I used to cry and cry, his menacing laugh taunting me on the playground. Until I got strong of course.

Nevertheless, I hated him.

He follows me and I stride out the school doors, trailing behind me on his phone, silently dreading the fact we were stuck with each other. I stop before crossing the sidewalk and Bakugo pays no attention to me, slamming right into my back.

“Hey!” I screech, turning around and shoving him, he moves at least five feet back and looks at me absolutely furious, his teeth gritted together and his cheeks red.

“What the fuck!” He roars, walking over to me quickly and shoving me back.

“You better watch where you’re fuckin’ going you smelly piece of shit!” Flames emit from my palms and his does as well, his eyes a dangerous red and as flames come flying towards me, dodging, I make a break for it.

“Get back here pussy!” He chases after me and I giggle, “I have to tutor you!” He shouts, ‘that’s right’ I groaned internally

“I’m not letting you tutor me!” He glance behind me as we run off towards the dorms. Running was the only way to escape him ‘tutoring’ me, not fighting.

Right as I run down the pathway to the dorms, I caught myself lacking in speed when I turn my head to peek behind me, giving him the opportunity to pounce onto my back and I instantly scream and begin punching him frantically.

He grabs around my arms and waist, preventing me from hitting him further, kids stare; not with any shock of course. This is because it was no surprise the two most competitive kids in U.A, once again, were fighting like disturbed animals.

“I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.” I growl into his ear as he flips me over his shoulder, my bag swinging against his back, his arm holding my legs against his chest. When he walks up the steps, kids spread around- away from us, quickly clearing the area like we would make them collateral damage if they came too close.

“You better shut up before I put Sero’s tape around your mouth.” He grumbles, heading towards the elevator.

“I don’t want you to tutor me, ever.” I spit, he sighs.

“You think I’m excited? I fucking hate your guts.” He chuckles, the elevator dings.

“Let me dow-”

“No.”

He steps in front of his door and swings the door open, it hits the wall loudly and slams closed, he throws me on the bed and places his bag on the table in front of the couch.

“Ew, you’re fucking germy bed! God knows what you do on this thing.” I jump off in utter disgust.

“Shut the fuck up damnit!” He shouts. Do you think I’m going to let you scream at me? And not scream back?

“You better stop now before I show you who you’re talking too!” The wall echo my yelling, he slips his shoes off and sits on the floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighboring rooms heard the shouting through the walls.

“Come on! I don’t have all day!”

“I’m not doing this, I’m not letting some disgusting animal teach me- whether I’m failing or not.” He quirks and eyebrow and crosses his arm, sending me a deadpanning stare.

“Fine, leave, I’ll make sure your counselor finds out.” The air was cold as I strangled him with my eyes - if looks could kill alright.

“Go ahead.” I brush my skirt with my palms and strut past him. Opening the door.

••

“Why do you mean you didn’t study last night?” My counselor grits his teeth out of annoyance.

“As I said before me and Bakugo don’t-”

“Cut this crap y/n, I will fail you right now if you do not get that grade up.” I cross my leg over the other and huff out air.

“If I find out from Bakugo you aren’t letting him tutor you I will force you to attend summer classes.” I gasp and stand onto my feet.

“Alright!” I shout, he interlocks his fingers and throws them over his crossed knee.

“I’ll be checking in on Monday, I’m sure he will be free Saturday and Sunday as well.” His voice dissipates as I storm out of his office in a rage of fury.

[jiminsfault]

Can I put my head on your shoulder? | jjk

⇁ pairing: best friend!Jungkook x reader

⇁ genre: a tiny bit of angst (?), fluff

⇁ word count: 3k

⇁ summary: Jungkook has been your best friend and crush since kindergarden. So when he gets dumped, you‘re his shoulder to cry on.

⇁ warnings: lots of tears, Jungkook got his heart broken, feeling guilty, they‘re adults but they act like teenagers ugh, kissing (I know right? Ew), the author trying to be funny and failing

⇁ A/N: this is my first fanfiction here on this blog, so I really hope I didn‘t disappoint! (I also don‘t think there should be any problems with the time tenses but if there are, I‘m sorry!) Thank you for reading, enjoy :)

You were deep down in your slumber, dreaming about the greatest things, when at about 2.30 am your phone started to ring loudly and disturb your sleep. You, thinking that it would be your set alarm in the morning to wake you up for your part time job at a café, automatically went to shut off the obnoxiously loud ringtone. But slowly you realized that in fact, it was the weekend and your phone usually wasn’t supposed to wake you up on these special two days because you allowed yourself to recollect the sleep that you had lost over the previous week. With a fuzzy look on your display you saw Jungkook’s name shining into your face, letting you know that his calling was the reason for the disturbance of precious sleep. As you picked the phone up, planning to ask for the matter of a call this late at night, your voice still drunk on sleep, he announced his presence with loud sobs, seemingly hiding his face behind his sleeves to cover them up, causing your heart to wrench.

„C-an you— can we meet up?“ he almost shyly asked you, his voice tight and shaky. You never thought you could wake up from your dreamland as quick as you just did. Your immediate instinct was to ask him if he‘s fine, if he‘s hurt.

„Kind of, yeah.“ That was all it took for you to know what was up. You told him to meet you at the playground you used to meet up almost everyday when you were younger, ever since kindergarden. It‘s not a far walk from both of your places and you knew that at this time, you‘d surely get the much needed privacy due to the absence of all the kids and their parents.

This is where you were sitting on a bench now, looking at the trees across from you, behind the sand and the slide, everything dunked in the dark of the night. Jungkook was hunched over next to you, hiding behind his arms and crying into his long sleeved plaid shirt. It‘s probably much too cold, the way he‘s dressed. After all, it was a winter night. At least you assumed this from the way he was shaking, even though it could be reasoned with his heavy crying as well.

When you arrived, he looked at you with red eyes and tear stains on his cheeks, seeming like he‘d break down again right in front of you. You simultaneously went in for a hug, tight and warm. He had stuttered a few words into your ear, along the lines of „how could she— she just..“

After that you didn’t need him to explain much more, you already figured out that it has to be the thing that you always had anticipated for most of your teenage years.

Jungkook had been in a relationship with his highschool crush for years. When he was fifteen he bravely confessed to her after weeks of you having to repeatedly assure him that yes — she’d definitely accept his confession. After all, Jungkook was very popular, fawned over by nearly every girl in his grade. His shy demeanor and pretty face made them all melt on spot, his cute bunny smile tempting to just pinch his chubby cheeks. So of course she said yes immediately, blushing and hiding her face away from the cute boy who had turned around to where you were standing and watching on, not noticing your jealousy and throwing you a thumbs up with a big toothy grin. As his best friend all you could do was be happy for him so you regarded him with a smile and an ‚ok‘ sign.

They stuck with going on cute little dates for a long time before he had the courage to officially ask her to be his girlfriend. And that she was proudly. Well, up until just tonight. Or actually, up until she started to attend the University of her dreams overseas. After years of being highschool-sweethearts their relationship shifted after she moved away, studies keeping them both busy and time zones making it impossible to keep up with each other properly. You witnessed all this standing on the side of Jungkook, always supporting and encouraging him to initiate something romantic that will lift the spirit in their relationship up.

He had complained about this and that a few times, always very considering of her wishes and dreams like the perfect boyfriend, but soon having his fill. He‘d often wanted to visit her but as she‘d profusely and repeatedly went against it, they started fighting. She wouldn‘t want him to spend his money on her, she surely would be too busy to even spend the time with him well. He‘d gotten angry at her and she said that it wouldn‘t make much sense anymore, putting all this effort into a relationship as lost as theirs already was.

That‘s at least what Jungkook told you in the past fifteen minutes, throughout multiple times of tearing up just at the thought, before his voice finally broke and he wasn‘t able to hold his frustration back or stop his deep sobs from erupting.

As you sat next to your childhood best friend, your mind raced. This is what the thirteen year old you was waiting for all these years, having to stand by and watch your crush falling in love with another girl. Back then, when Jungkook first told you, red cheeks and shy doe eyes, you were extremely disappointed about the news of him crushing on a girl that wasn‘t you. So naturally one would think you would be glad about these news and you probably would do Jumping Jacks right about now, if it weren‘t for the circumstances. You couldn‘t exactly say it made you happy to see Jungkook hurting like this. It has been a pathetic thought of yours, the hope that he‘d be ready to fall into your awaiting arms and in love with you as soon as he‘d get out of his relationship.

You shake your head slowly, realizing your ignorance over the last years. You yourself had become great friends with Jungkook‘s girlfriend over time, often tagging along when the two of them were going to the movies or doing study groups at the library. Just hoping for their relationship to fail behind their backs was unforgivable of you and if Jungkook would know about it, he wouldn‘t be searching for comfort in you right now.

„You know... it uhm..“ you started forming your sentence without really knowing where you wanted to get with it, putting your hand on his still hunched back in a soft, comforting gesture. „It will get better.“ you decide to say after a short pause, it being the only thing you‘re sure of right now. „You will get over her, or maybe you guys will make up again?“ planting hope for a reconciliation wasn‘t exactly what your heart wants you to say, not at all.

If you‘d allow yourself your heart's will, you‘d be risking a friendship that‘s much too important for the both of you. You wouldn‘t allow yourself to ever choose that path, choosing your feelings over his in this moment would be ignorant and unfitting, you kept reminding yourself of this.

„I‘ll be there to help with that,“ you suddenly blurted out. You weren‘t sure if your mind was playing tricks on you or if you actually planted a suggestive tone into the phrase, but when Jungkook suddenly sat at full height, pushing your hand off of him with the abrupt movement and looked very much stunned over at your figure, you realized that your mind did not trick you at all.

„Wh-what do you mean by that?“ he croaked, his voice hoarse now from all the crying and talking he did. You blushed, feeling every part of your body heat up and as you retreated your hand from behind him, layed on the bench from being kicked off, you started to fumble with your open jacket. „Uhm.. I mean that I..“ you exhale. „I‘ll play video games and binge watch the star wars series with you, of course! We always do that when one of us is hurt, right? Always have, that‘s our thing!“ your nervousness clearly showed through your hectic blabbering, he picked up on it.

„Y/N.. are you sure that‘s it?“ he eyed you suspiciously. Your words just sounded to...allusive. „You sound delusional right now, what else would I mean by that?!“ you angrily replied and huffed, putting up your arms across your chest in a childish manner. Jungkook‘s lips formed a hint of a smile at that, your behavior taking away a little of his frustration. You always helped to lighten up his mood, even in his darkest moments.

„I just..“ he started, turning more towards you. He saw that you really were upset at him, which confused him even more. You rarely got defensive like this over such a small thing.

You started to get a little shaky. Why was he pushing this so much? You never made an indication of you being into him, you were sure of that. Yes, sometimes you looked a little bit too long when you two went swimming or when you sat on his bed waiting for him, just getting out of the shower because he was running late for your movie nights. But he wouldn’t have noticed, not with always being too focused on his girlfriend. Your thoughts were running wild. What if he noticed? What if he also had a crush on you?

Hope sparks in your chest at that, until — no, you remind yourself. You need to pull yourself together! Jungkook had a girlfriend until this very evening! He would‘ve never been into you, with or without a girlfriend. You're his best friend and it will never be more than that. Snap out of it!

Once again you shake your head at your thoughts, you couldn’t believe how ridiculous you were acting.

With a curious look on his face, tears long forgotten, he watched you fight with your thoughts. He placed a hand on your knee, ripping you from your train of thought. „I‘m just worried, you know. You seem upset?“ the way his voice raised towards the end made it sound more like a question and the look in his face, not red anymore but slightly puffy now, just confirmed this. Your mouth gaped at the contact he initiated. Skinship wasn't unusual for the both of you, you often hugged or bumped against each other while playing video games. But somehow his big hand on your knee seemed so intimate and his hand looked so attractive and made you all giddy. The overexcited girl in you wanted to take it into your own smaller ones, but the mature side of you knew that this would only worsen the situation.

„This isn't about me! You're hurt and I want to help, will you let this go and just allow me to do that?“ you almost pleaded, very desperate to move on from this little slip up.

He eyed you, analyzing your face and how you‘re beet red by now, deciding to drop it for a moment. „Well, alright.. but never put yourself on second thought just for me, I shouldn’t be your priority,“ he stated with a soft tone which made you want to cry. He was being the best friend he‘s supposed to be, asking you about your well being even if he‘s the one who‘s been crying the Pacific Ocean.

You felt so bad about your crush and you didn't know if it would be better left unspoken or if he‘d deserve to know. If you‘d be in his position, you can imagine that you would want to know about your best friend crushing on you. But then again, you could call yourself biased. You would want him to fall for you, after all.

„But you are my priority, Jungkook.“ What was it about your mouth today, just letting these things slip out? A decade of treasuring and hiding them away from him and now of all times, your mind decided that it‘s time to speak yourself?

Your confession made his eyes go big again, this time his mouth gaped and formed a little 'o'. This time you realized, it wasn't necessarily bad to tell the truth about your feelings. It actually felt good, finally letting somebody, especially him, know about this. You never had trusted anyone of your friends enough to keep this secret, they all would've been way too enthusiastic to tell him about the great news they have for him.

„I hope you know how important you are to me, even though we‘re just friends..“ you mumble, now back to your shy demeanor. You looked down to hide that you‘re eyes glossed over at that. You had to remind yourself in what place you belonged, you were only here to be a friend, placing little signs for him is not what you‘re supposed to do.

„I do know that, Y/N. You are to me too! I love you–” Even though Jungkook's voice was soft and adoring, you knew that he meant all this in a platonic way and you didn’t want to listen to it. You pushed his hand off of your knee and stood up.

„Please don‘t say that. Your girlfriend just broke up with you and this doesn't help the situation!“ you almost screamed at him, cringing at yourself when you turned your back on him. You’re clearly rambling and you know that you’re overreacting. All this was making you upset and you don‘t want to keep up this conversation.

„I came here because you were sad. If you don‘t feel sad anymore, I‘ll just go home.“ you state, pouting in the dark because you didn’t want to hear about how Jungkook loves you as a friend anymore.

He whispered your name, probably considering the time and place you were at, not wanting to disturb the people living around the area. „I‘m still sad, really. Please stay?“ you could hear in his voice that he more so plays it up now, but you still turned around to face him again.

He knew how to get you to stop being grumpy very well and he always used his charm to his advantage.

„If you love me, you have to hug me! Come on, Y/N! Show me how much you like me!“ he teased and the only reason why you could tell that he‘s smiling his big toothy grin, is because of his damn white teeth that are clearly shining in the far away street lights that dimly shined it‘s way over to you.

Maybe it‘s the sleep deprivation or the stressful week you just suffered trough but your mind and body really didn’t get along well tonight. Once again you ran on auto pilot, slowly walking back the little bit you went away from Jungkook, your hands fiddling with your sleeves. You stopped in front of him, he was looking up at you and his eyes widened just like they always did on multiple occasions.

Your breath stuttered as you leaned down, slowly putting your hands around his neck and kissing his puffy cheek. You retracted, staring back with eyes just as wide. He started to stutter your name but you relished in this moment, going in for another peck on the other side this time.

„I really wanna show you how much I love you but I don‘t think I can“ you murmur, knowing he would understand you because of your close proximity. Jungkook was still struggling with his words and you giggled quietly at him. Deciding to sit down next to him, you exhaled a big breath. Your nerves were on high alert, you never would’ve imagined to be as brave as you just were.

„You don‘t have to react to this,“ you start. „I didn’t plan for this to develop in any way, I just wanted to show you how I feel.“ He stayed quiet, just listened to you explain yourself. „I think there isn’t a better opportunity than this just was,“ is what you decided to end your half ass confession. You braced yourself for the worst, expected Jungkook to scream at you or tell you that you should leave him alone. But non of it ever came.

„I always kind of knew that you liked me more than friends do.“ His voice was hushed but you still heard his humor trough. „Was kind of wondering if you‘d tell me when I‘d be single again.“ He sounded so smug, you wanted to punch him.

Your mind was too fuzzy to think of a proper response. Should you laugh? Ask him if he hates you now? But before you could act on any of your instincts, he leaned in. Jungkook touched you cheek with his lips, just the lightest illusion of a kiss.

„I‘m really tired now, Y/N“ he stated. His head turned so you felt his fluffy hair graze your cheek, just where his mouth has been before.

„Can I maybe just put my head on your shoulder for a while?“ The question itself had a sense of innocence in it, he never asked you for affection as openly as he just did. The weight of his round head pressed your shoulder a little down and you couldn’t help but to rest your head atop it hair.

„Let‘s stay like this for a while, yes? We can talk about it when my voice doesn’t crack anymore like when I was in Highschool.“ Jungkook laughed at himself and you tagged along.

„But that was always so hot though“ you overly sighed to put up an act and placed your hand where your heart was.

„Stop that!“ he almost screeched because his throat was so dry and you both couldn’t keep from laughing loudly.

Silently you smile to yourself as the two of you just sit in silence. You feared talking about it, so the comfortable silence around you soothed your still shaking hands.

[withyounct]

What’s wrong kid? (3)

Reader X Single dad!Jaehyun

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2.7k

Prompt: You notice a child crying at a school playground. You decide to see what’s up and meet an extremely stressed/extremely handsome father.

Prev | Next

A/n: Enjoy!

“You were so hesitant to take the key, but you use it the very next day.” Jaehyun commented as you strolled into the living room while saying ‘what up it’s your girl’.

“My morning class was cancelled, and I forgot my lab book here. Plus, I'm here to make your daughter’s dream come true.” You scanned around the room and found the book on top of the bookcase. You looked back at Jaehyun to find him staring intensely at his tablet with a mischievous smile. You tightened your lips and squinted at him. You were short, but incredibly prideful. So, you jumped. You heard him chuckle behind you. You whipped your head around to see him still staring at the tablet. Smile more visible than ever. You let out a small whimper trying to reach the book on your toes. Letting out a pout, you returned to your feet. You turned again to see that he had set down the tablet and was hiding his smile behind his hand.

“In my defense I put it up there so Hyunjin wouldn’t draw on it.” He confessed, walking over to you and handing over the book with ease.

“Oh, so it wasn’t to see me struggle?” You suggested.

“No. Of course not.” He lied. You scoffed, gently hitting his side with the lab book before putting it in your bag. You asked him about his normal morning routine since this was an odd time for you to be there. He informed you that Hyunjin was going to wake up in the 20 minutes or so and he had to prepare breakfast and her lunch. You offered to help, and he accepted the offer with smiles.

A childish argument about which was better, pancakes or waffles, erupted between you two. Jaehyun was adamant that waffles were superior, and you almost quit on the spot. A quick rock-paper- scissors decided pancakes were the meal of that morning.

You were happily mixing blueberries into the batter when you felt something being smeared on your cheek. You looked to your side to see Jaehyun smiling down at you before quickly retreating. Raising an eyebrow, you grabbed the whipped cream can next to you. The pure horror on Jaehyun’s face almost made you break into laughter, but you kept your face straight.

“Y/n listen. Here’s a paper towel, I'm sorry.” He pleaded moving away from you. You smirked, but persisted. “I literally just washed my hair, Y/n.”

“And I'm wearing make-up!” You yelled, lunging at him.

You two wrestled with the can and you successfully got some in his hair. While you were laughing in triumph, you let your guard down and was pinned to the fridge. Jaehyun quickly threw the can out of your grasp and held your wrists above your head. You tried to push off, but the strength of Jaehyun and the weakness of your laughter kept you pinned. You were too busy laughing to notice Jaehyun glancing at your lips.

“Daddy. Y/n.” Hyunjin’s voice croaked sleepily. You both looked at her confused expression and slowly drifted away.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Jaehyun said dumbly as if he was caught doing something terrible. You immediately collapsed to the floor laughing at how dumb and random that was. Jaehyun looked down at your sobbing figure and broke out into laughter as well. Hyunjin, who looked like a cute disaster, finally realized what was going on and ran to your side.

“Y/N. You’re here and its morning!” She screamed excitedly while falling on you.

“Morning, angel.” You greeted as you pulled her into your lap. You told Hyunjin about how mean her dad was being to you. Hyunjin, being the truest ride or die, helped you cover Jaehyun’s hair in whipped cream.

The rest of breakfast went off without a hitch. Hyunjin was changing into her uniform while you and Jaehyun finished cleaning the mess that was the kitchen.

“I can drop Hyunjin off, since it’s on my way.” You said putting away the last of the dishes. Jaehyun was filtering through some documents on the island, trying to get some of the cream debris off them. You glanced at them apologetically.

“I would appreciate that. Thanks.” Jaehyun sighed, sending you a small smile.

“Busy day ahead?” You inquired pointing at the stack of papers.

“No just a meeting I'm dreading.” He confessed. You hummed understandingly.

Hyunjin announced that she was ready. You both said your goodbyes and left.

 Jaehyun was collecting his things when he spotted a ‘Good Luck! 😊’ note attached to his keys.

 “It’s 8:45 in the morning and we have a meeting in an hour. Why the hell are you smiling?” Johnny grumbled whilst downing his coffee. Jaehyun shrugged, writing his points for the meeting that he wasn’t even a little bit ready for. Johnny, being Jaehyun’s COO and best friend, was comfortable enough to call him out on his bullshit.

“Does it have something to do with the cute college student/babysitter Hyunjin told me about?” He teased. Jaehyun’s shocked expression immediately gave him away. “Holy shit. I was right.” Even though Johnny was the one to tease him, his face matched Jaehyun’s. He slammed down his cup and made his way over to Jaehyun’s office phone.

“Yuta, I need help. Jaehyun came in SMILING and it wasn’t because of Hyunjin.” Johnny said franticly into the phone. Not even a minute later, Yuta rushed into Jaehyun’s office with a tired Taeil and annoyed Doyoung following suit.

“I brought help.” Yuta stated in a slightly panic tone.

“Talk.” Doyoung said simply. Jaehyun sighed and pushed himself from his work. He shyly recounted the evening and morning that he spent with you.

“A key. He gave her a key.” Yuta muttered quietly. The room was silent for about five seconds before it erupted into chaos.

“Guys chill out, it’s okay for him to like someone.” Taeil spoke for the first time that day. All eyes fell on Jaehyun and his ears turned red at the sudden accusation of him liking you. The room fell into chaos once more.

“Shut up. I can hear you guys from down the hall.” Taeyong announced entering the room. He was greeted with scream of ‘keys’, ‘whipped cream’, and ‘kabedon’. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“We have a meeting with the shareholders in 30 minutes, so let’s leave our CEO to prepare, okay.” He reasoned as he filtered everyone out.

“Jaehyun.” He called. Jaehyun turned to his friend.

“If it’s serious, take her out on a date.” Taeyong smiled.  “And we want to meet her.” He said as he closed the door.

The meeting went as well as planned. The shareholders were happy about the progression of the company and signed off on the funds for their new project. Which happened to be your university’s new art building. Johnny, being ever the bearer of bright ideas, decided that they could do some scouting that the university during lunch. Jaehyun initially refused, but got dragged into it anyways.

“You do realize this campus is huge right?” Jaehyun asked being dragged from one end of the quad to the other. “Plus, she might be in class.” His brows knitted worriedly. He would be lying if he said that the thought of seeing you didn’t make his heart leap, but he was worried about how you would take his sudden appearance on your campus.

“Well you won’t tell us what she looks like or text her to let her know you’re here so,” Yuta said before he stopped a student to ask if they knew you. Jaehyun cringed at how shameless his friends were being.

“Science building.” He grumbled softly.

“What?” Johnny whipped his head away from a random student.

“She’s a biology major, so she might be in the science building.” Jaehyun saw the smirks on both Johnny and Yuta’s faces and knew he fucked up.

On the way there Jaehyun spotted you walking with one of your friends and stopped. The smile that made its way on your face from laughter made his heart stutter, and then reality smacked him in the face. Here you were in the prime of your life, hanging out with your friends and having fun. No real responsibilities and no real worries. He was reminded of his late wife, how she had to put her life on hold to take care of Hyunjin. She of course did it happily, but he still always felt bad. You were about the same age as her at the time, and his heart began to break at the thought of taking away your youth early just because he liked you.

“Let’s head back to the office.” He said suddenly as he watched you disappear into the library. Johnny and Yuta were about to protest when they saw how serious his face had become and how stale his tone was.

“What did you do?” Sicheng hissed at Johnny and Yuta when they arrived back. Jaehyun had said nothing to no one and locked himself in his office. Johnny and Yuta both shrugged and told them everything was fine until he suddenly changed.

“Well something happened.” Doyoung concluded. The group voted for Taeyong to go talk to him stating the ‘he’s scary right now and he only listens to you’. Taeyong, being the CFO, had a key to Jaehyun’s office and let himself in. He looked at his friend’s troubled features and sighed. He sat himself on one of the sofas in silence

“I can’t.” Jaehyun said simply rubbing his face. Taeyong hummed, encouraging him to continue. “She’s at the beginning of her life and I can’t just walk in with a child and mess all that up. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“So, you’re just going to decide what’s best for her without her knowing? Full offense, but that’s an asshole move.” Taeyong said bluntly. “From what little I've heard of her I can tell she would be hurt by that. But I'm not going to lecture you.” He got up, patting Jaehyun’s shoulder and left.

The rest of the afternoon went by way too slow for Jaehyun’s liking. He got virtually nothing done and felt shitty.

“Get up we’re leaving.” Sicheng suddenly said as he barged into the office. He didn’t give Jaehyun a moment to get confused as he pulled him outside. “Taeyong has deemed himself CEO of the day since you are ‘a terrible human being at the moment’, so we’re all getting off early.”

“My work.” Jaehyun tried.

“Will still be here when you’re reinstated as our CEO tomorrow, for now let’s go home.”

You had just finished putting Hyunjin down for her afternoon nap when you received a ‘I'm sorry in advance’ text from Jaehyun. Before you could reply, the front door slammed open and 6 very loud men barged in with an embarrassed Jaehyun behind.

“Hyunjin’s sleeping.” You shushed them harshly without much thought.

“I like her already.” Two of them said.

“Hey. I'm Johnny. The two who probably just adopted you are Taeyong and Doyoung. The short one is Taeil, and that’s Yuta and Sicheng.” Johnny introduced holding out a hand. You laughed at the group, shaking his hand.

“I'm Y/n. I've heard a lot about you guys.” You smiled.

“Aw she's cute.” Taeyong cooed.

“Okay bye.” Yuta said before he pushed you into Jaehyun. The group pushed you both out the door and locked it. You stood stunned and glanced at Jaehyun.

“They do know we both have keys, right?”

“Probably forgot in the excitement.”

Jaehyun asked if you’ve eaten to which you said no, so he drove you both to a restaurant. During the ride there and the lunch itself you noticed Jaehyun was more reserved than usual, it’s like his personality did a 180⁰ from that morning.

“Are you okay?” You finally asked, the worry evident in your voice. Jaehyun looked up from his drink and smiled, but you could tell it wasn’t real.

“Yeah, sorry. I'm just thinking about work.” He lied. You hummed, but continued to stare at him. You thought of something and had to bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. You pulled out your wallet and placed the bills down before Jaehyun could protest. You dragged him out the restaurant and demanded his keys.

“I want to take you somewhere special.” You whined cutely. He reluctantly handed them over and you drove.

“An indoor ice-skating rink?” Jaehyun questioned when you arrived.

“It’s one of my favorite places to go to and no one is here during this time, so it’s awesome.” You smiled and handed him his skates.

“I’ve never done this before.” He confessed nervously.

“That’s okay, just hold my hand.” You offered pulling him onto the ice. The moment he entered; he fell. You had to expel every ounce of will power not to laugh. You tried to help him up and ended up falling yourself. That broke your serious facade and you giggled. You both raised to your feet and Jaehyun held onto you for dear life, which you thought was beyond cute. Holding both of his hands, you pulled him around. Somewhere along the way, you saw the confidence make its way on his face and let go of one of his hands. A wide smile painted his face, eyes turning into crescents and you had to calm your beating heart.

“Okay this is kind of amazing.” He said in awe. You nodded smiling.

‘yeah this kind of is’

“Are you feeling better?” You asked returning the skates. The face that Jaehyun made was one of surprise.

“Wait, you did this for me?” He asked stunned.

“Well yeah. I like you smiling better so,” You blushed. Jaehyun’s blushed matched yours, but you decided to blame it on the coldness of the room.

The drive back was better than the trip there. Jaehyun was more engaged in the conversation and made way too many lame jokes. You found yourself laughing at everything he said and learned that your music taste was similar. After a short detour for ice cream, you made it back to his place.

You walked in to find his friends chilling in the living room with a sleeping Hyunjin cuddled on Taeil. Jaehyun promptly kicked his friends out while you put Hyunjin to bed. Since it was fairly early in the night, Jaehyun suggested a movie. Having trauma from the first movie session he deemed you un-trustable and picked the movie. To your dismay it was an action film.

“Tasteless.” You mumbled under your breath. Jaehyun heard and just chuckled. Throughout the movie, popcorn was secretly thrown between you two. The climax of the secret fight ended with Jaehyun pouring the entire bowl on your head.

“You win this time.” You squinted with a handful of popcorn in your hair. Jaehyun was in tears as he helped you pick them out. You both finished the rest of the movie in relative peace and you helped him clean up the mess.

“I should go. I have a test to probably pass in the morning.” You announced stretching. Jaehyun laughed at how weird that phrasing was.

Jaehyun, like always, walked you to the door. You turned to say goodnight when you felt a hand wrap around your neck. Your eyes flew to his then slowly down to his lips. You saw him do the same and smiled. Jaehyun slowly brought your lips together and your eyes fluttered close.

Kissing Jaehyun was like experiencing something new. The unknown aspect made you a little hesitant and scared, but the softness of his lips and the gentleness of his hand washed that all away. Jaehyun felt you relax and found the confidence to move his lips. He moved his hand from your neck down to your side and pulled you against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let out a small whimper when you felt his tongue graze your bottom lip.

Just as soon as it started, it ended. He placed one last kiss on your forehead before pulling apart.

“Goodnight Y/n.” He smiled.

“Night.” You said in a daze.

The moment you were in the safety of your apartment, you let out a scream. Kun and Ten came rushing out their respected rooms in a panic.

“You good!?” Ten yelled.

You stared at them for a second before giggling and hiding your face in your hands.

“She’s fine.” Kun sighed.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaehyun was laughing like an idiot too.

[thebarefootking]

The Rocket Ship

It's a well-observed fact that the strange ones tend to find one another.

We all have heard of cliques in high school (or even earlier) that, over the course of life, individually discover themselves (and often, then, each other) to be queer, neurodivergent, or some other kind of not-normative. Many of us belonged to them.

This is the story of my friend KV and how we fell into mutual weirdness.

KV and I met for the first time in daycare, just before I aged out at ten years old. They were half a year younger than me, and a grade lower in school. (They, like myself at the time, were not out as nonbinary; I didn't know anyone who used singular they pronouns or who was out as nonbinary, or even what that meant, until I was well into adulthood.)

We were fast friends, possibly because neither of us had bonded particularly well with any of the other kids at daycare. Maybe one or two would acknowledge and chat with us at breakfast, but most of our recreation time was spent just the two of us, playing imaginative games among the playground equipment.

The next year, I aged out of the daycare, and KV aged up into the same middle school I attended. I frequently made time to visit their locker between classes, and we grew closer.

One catalyst for this closeness was a number of musicals we performed in together. The first was a local production of Children of Eden which had open casting for children, and which was being directed by a mutual friend of our families. Both of us were accepted into the production.

As the children's cast for this play was only needed for two scenes or so, there was plenty of time to screw around doing whatever we wanted to do (so long as we were quiet about it). There, one of our playground games solidified into a full-on roleplay of sorts, an unending game in which the two of us took the parts of anthropomorphic cat people sent by a rocket ship from the planet Meowmix in the Eukanuba galaxy, in order to complete a long-term recon mission.

It suited our (to this day undiagnosed, but very much present) autistic traits. What autistic person hasn't at least once felt like a different species, trying to learn the culture and habits of Earth's dominant lifeform? We simply made a canon of it, and developed that canon everywhere.

We even had a secret substitution code, full of words that meant other things. "I'm going to buy a pineapple," they would say, before slipping off to use the restroom.

"I'll keep an eye out for sprinkles," I'd reply, and begin to covertly sweep the area for cops/untrustworthy adults/mall security… for some reason. 

It was the sort of game that could truly be an artificial context for anything else.

Mostly, though, it tended to be an artificial context for our profound isolation and loneliness, even if we never dared break character long enough to say so to one another. If our alien characters talked about being misunderstood and missing home, it meant we never had to admit to being estranged from our cohort. I, for my part, didn't even admit to myself what emotions we were loading off onto our game.

Besides, our 'Cat-Human' counterparts had something we did not, when it came to that topic: hope of a return to 'normalcy'.

I could write for hours about our game, and all the fun and weird things we got up to. (For a while, our thing was giving individual nickels [which we called 'engravings of Thomas Jefferson'] to random mall-goers, just for the thrill of human interaction, and to see how they would react. Once, one dude gave us an 'engraving of George Washington' in return, for a profit of 20 cents!)

Instead, though, I'll tell you about the ostensible end of the game.

It was another play we were in together, some two years after the first. Both of us had tried out for middle school 'children's' roles in the high school's yearly musical, and gotten our parts. Mine was a major speaking role; theirs was a chorus part. Even so, I still had few enough scenes that we had time to play in between.

Things went pear-shaped, though, in a way I didn't expect. On the first night of the show, KV was dealing with unexpected and intense stage-fright. I walked onto the backstage floor from the back entrance, and half a dozen other kid actors were surrounding them, trying to talk them down from what I now know was either a panic attack or an autistic meltdown. (Maybe both! Hell knows I sometimes can't tell the difference in my own.)

I told all the other actors to back off and give them some space, and then I moved in to check on them. They were speaking rapidly and almost incoherently about there being too many humans in the audience, and how they weren't ready to be seen. They were talking to me as if still in the game.

And I, twelve-year-old that I was, and in an empathic panic on their account, didn't understand.

I didn't know that they were communicating their emotions about the impending performance in the only way they knew how (that being, through the game we had both used for so long to frame our emotions). I thought they were confusing the game with reality. I thought that they were legitimately convinced they were a humanoid cat alien and that the Earthling audience was dangerous.

And with about twenty seconds to go before our scene, I was pissed. They picked now to play a stupid game?

I snapped on them. "It's not real, KV. You're not a freaking cat person. You're a human, and you already committed to doing this show. No one here is dangerous. There's just you, and you've done plays with a way bigger audience than this, before."

I didn't stop to think that this role was much more intricate than most they had performed before. Or that it was much closer to home, with their father leading the pit orchestra below, and likely with their entire extended family watching. Or any of the other reasons they might have had on this particular night that I couldn't know about. It didn't even occur that I was taking away their last support in the face of sheer panic.

In my opinion at the time, they were just being childish. And I let them know it, as viciously as I could manage in fifteen seconds. Then I pushed them into the lineup, went to my own spot, and seethed.

Really, I thought, how dare they try to use our game as a way to avoid responsibility?

We didn't talk much for a while after that.

Thankfully, it was a short while, and -- somehow; I have no idea how -- we eventually came up with a new game. Somehow -- I have no idea how -- we fell into a solid friendship again, if a slightly more formal one.

After all, we had to hold the fort; both of us were the topic of bitter rumours, usually about our sexualities and what we did with them. (Oddly, despite us both being rumoured to be lesbians, no one ever rumoured that we were together. I suspected it was because of the class year difference, but it's more likely because we each had closer friends that filled the rumour role better.)

At any rate, things moved along, all the way past my graduation from high school. Even then, I frequented the school football games, just to hang around the band, in which they played the saxophone. (This irritated KV’s father, the band director, to no end! haha)

And one night, at a house party one of our mutual friends was hosting, they verbally pulled me aside. We moved to an out-of-the-way porch swing in a darkened corner of the yard. For a while, we just played catch-up; there had been something of a lull in our friendship, just on account of scheduling. And then,

"There’s something I wanted to tell you. I'm a lesbian."

We were both silent for a moment.

"I know," I eventually admitted. Because I did; there had been too many hints for too long. Even beyond just rumour.

This, in retrospect, was a fucking shitty way to respond, but they took it in stride. After another silence, they prodded me further. "And what do you think about that?"

"I think it's a sin. But I still care about you, and this doesn't change my opinion of you."

Again, a shitty thing to say.

"Well," they said. "It's just... how I am."

I really can't overstate how unfailingly kind and polite they were to me, when I very much did not deserve it. Maybe they were trying to salvage the friendship. I don't know for sure. For my part, I just assumed that being gay meant you weren't trying hard enough. After all, I was attracted to girls, too, and I wasn't gay. Right?

Not that I said that to them. We didn't really hang out much after that, and they soon moved away for college.

College, and then the subsequent year and a half spent living away from my family, had an enormous impact on my views toward many things, but sexuality in particular. Eventually, I was able to apologise, some time after I got kicked out of my parents' house for coming out as bisexual. (Surprise!) We discovered at that point that we had both drifted away from Christianity in favor of eclectic paganism.

We've been oddly in step, that way.

When I told them recently that I was nonbinary, they told me that they were as well. Later, when they came to town, we got Mexican food and had a long talk, during which we discovered that we are both neurodivergent, and in some extremely similar ways… which caused us both to drop out of college.

We each finally got a cat, which we'd both been wanting for years.

Halfway through lunch, KV said one of the most weirdly intimate things I've ever had said to me: "If there was anyone on Earth I was drift-compatible with, it'd be you."

It was blown away for a second or so; that's like admitting to a form of soulmatedom. But then… I got it, y'know?

Because, honestly, there's no one I've been more understood by than them, even if we sometimes had to create a new language to make it happen.

I wish I got to see them more frequently. I feel like I can appreciate them now in a way I didn't know how to before. I haven't been the best friend to them; in fact, I've been downright abhorrent at times. But I think I can make it up, now.

[beckzorz]

PREMONITIONS (2/5)

or, Adventures Adjacent to a Six-Year-Old Seer

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 2932 Summary: On Halloween, your clairvoyant niece leads you straight into Bucky Barnes. It could not have gone worse. Warning(s) for part 2: Light swearing, hospital A/N: WOW I cannot believe how kind everyone has been!!! Thanks to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged... you are all delightful and I appreciate you very much!!! Also today is my delightful niece’s 6th birthday, so good timing me XD Anyway here is part 2/5! Hope you enjoy!!

Part 1

Part 2

By some miracle, the damage to your body is minimal. The bullet hadn’t hit your hip, but your extreme lower back. Which is different, apparently. No vital organs hit, no major blood vessels ruptured, the whole jazz. It all makes much more sense to your brother, what with his physical therapy background. It just sounds like jargon to you.

Whatever the case, the surgeon is optimistic about your recovery. Antibiotics, rest, PT. Right now, you’re busy with the first two. The anesthesia hasn’t quite worn off from surgery. Matt is still with you, though he’s dozing a little in the chair by your hospital bed. His light snores are endearing, but more importantly, it gives you time to think.

You weren’t surprised at the doctor’s prognosis. There wasn’t a single thing that surprised you, though the doctor herself had been shocked at your luck.

It was Gemma. Gemma had known. “She’ll be fiiiiine.” Hell, she’d known just where to go to prevent the death of one of her favorite superheroes. She’d pointed right up at the roof. “Bang bang!” The thought of her cute little voice makes you smile, but behind the childish tones there’s an uncomfortable truth. You cross your arms and shudder.

Your niece is a frigging psychic.

Okay, so she could see the future. Parts of it, at least. It wasn’t like she never did stupid things. She’d sprained her wrist before, fallen off her bike. Last night she’d been surprised to see the Winter Soldier lying down on the sidewalk, one of his legs trapped between yours. The memory triggers a flush, and you fan your face to lessen the heat in your cheeks. You push away the thought of his bright eyes staring up at you, his crinkling smile, his gentle hand on your back.

Your brother is snoozing just a few feet away. Now isn’t the time.

Could Gemma read minds too? Could she sense feelings or intentions? Could she tell fortunes? The image of your tiny niece reading palms makes you grin; you huff in amusement.

The noise jerks your brother awake. “Huh?”

“Nothing, Matt,” you say automatically.

Matt blinks owlishly. “How are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess.” You wiggle your toes under the sheets. You’ve been stripped from your Winter Soldier costume. Your hospital gown is almost as garish as the Hawaiian shirt the real Winter Soldier wore last night. Matt’s cape is slung across the back of his chair. If you’d had a choice, you would have preferred your bloodstained black tank top over the ridiculous florals you’re stuck with.

“I still can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to tackle the Winter Soldier,” Matt mutters. You bristle.

“I wasn’t thinking that far in advance, Matthew. Of course it wasn’t a ‘good idea’—” you make little quotes in the air with your fingers— “but it was the right thing to do!”

“You could’ve been killed!” Matt frowns and crosses his arms. “Gemma could have been killed.”

A chill passes through you. You hadn’t thought of it like that, but Matt’s not wrong. You’d dropped Gemma some distance from the collision, but anything could have happened to her. You hadn’t been thinking, not really.

“He would’ve been fine,” Matt continues. “Presumably.”

Oh no. Yes, protecting Gemma was a priority. But making excuses about why you shouldn’t try and help someone just because they might be okay was too much even for you.

“Listen, Matt, next time you have the chance to save a superhero I’ll be glad to have a moral debate. In the meantime…” You glance at the closed door and the empty bed to your right. “Listen, we need to talk about Gemma.”

“Yes we sure do.” Matt scrubs his hands over his face. “How much did she see?”

“Huh? Oh.” You think back. Between your black outfit, stuffing your glove in your pocket, and Bucky’s care to hide his own bloody hand from Gemma’s sight, there really hadn’t been that much to see. “Honestly? I don’t know if she saw anything beside me tackling the guy to the ground. She seemed in pretty good spirits.”

“Well thank god for that,” Matt mutters. “Still, I think you should expect not to take Gemma out on your own for a good long while.”

Your heart drops. “What?!”

“I talked to Sarah while you were in surgery,” Matt says. “It’s not like you can’t see her. We just don’t want you going anywhere alone with her. One of us can go with you.”

“That’s…” Your mind races. You love spending time with Gemma. A trip to the park, a short hike, a visit to a bookstore—you’re the cool aunt! How could you be a cool aunt if you couldn’t hang out with her on your own?

Matt winces at your crestfallen expression. “Look, you’re going to be on a pretty limited regimen for a while,” he says. “Playgrounds are going to be off-limits anyway. You won’t want to be alone with Gem, really. You know how she loves to climb all over people.”

“Sure, but I could handle it,” you say. You press a hand to your abdomen. “It’s not so bad.”

“You’re still full of anesthesia, you dweeb,” Matt snorts. “Give it another few hours and see how you’re doing.” He stands up and stretches. “I think you should get some sleep. I’ll send your love to Sarah and Gemma.”

“Wait,” you blurt. “We need to talk about Gemma!”

Matt gives you some impressive side-eye and folds his cape over his arm. “We just did.”

“Not about that,” you snap. “About how she knows shit she shouldn’t.”

“You weren’t swearing in front of her again, were you?”

You flush and cross your arms tight. “Maybe, but there were extenuating circumstances. Listen, though. Gemma knew exactly where to go to find Bucky. She—”

“Come on, you know Gemma’s always been lucky.”

Blood rushes in your ears. Why wouldn’t he just listen? “She led me straight to where I needed to be to stop the guy from getting killed,” you say. “It wasn’t just luck.”

“You’re in shock,” Matt says, not unkindly. “We all know Gemma’s the luckiest kid in town. Besides, she’s six.”

“She knew,” you insist, but Matt’s already shaking his head.

“Get some rest,” he tells you. “I’ll see you soon.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and leaves.

You grab the remote from the bedside table and shut off the lights, fuming. If Matt wants to ignore the facts, you’ll just have to figure out the truth on your own.

---

“So does Sarah have my phone?” you ask Matt the next day. He’s come back to visit again, this time minus the Dracula cape. He’s brought some clothes from Sarah, who’s about your size. You’d wasted no time in getting out of the horrible hospital gown. You didn’t feel great, but damn it if you were going to look like a loon for any longer.

“No,” he says, eyebrows raised. “Why? Didn’t Captain America give it back?”

“Apparently not,” you say. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I need to get in touch with work.”

“Well, good thing it’s only Sunday,” Matt says. “You can use my phone if you like.” He unlocks his phone and passes it over. “Not sure how you’re gonna get yours back, though…”

“Maybe I’ll get a hospital visit from him.” You bare your teeth in a facsimile smile, already busy with your brother’s phone. Typical—you save Captain America’s best friend and get a bullet in the side, and in exchange for all your trouble, your phone goes missing. As if you weren’t already concerned about the hospital bill.

“Try calling your phone,” Matt suggests. He pops to his feet. “I’m going to get a coffee, want anything?”

“Black with two sugars, please.” You wait until he’s gone and your email to work is sent to try calling your phone. It rings twice, and then someone picks up.

“Yeah?”

Your heart skips a beat. That voice—that’s Bucky! “Hello?”

“Oh, it’s you,” Bucky says. “You’re alive.”

“So they tell me.”

Bucky snorts. “You probably want this phone back, huh?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You twist your free hand in the sheets. “Might come in useful.”

“I can bring it later,” he offers. “Where are you?”

You rattle off the hospital and room number. If your heart is pounding, you ignore it.

---

Matt leaves within the hour, and if you’re being honest, you were ready to shove him out the door half an hour ago. You do not need your judgy, overprotective brother around when you make your apologies to Bucky Barnes. Sure, you might have saved his life, but you also destroyed his milk.

And you hadn’t had the chance to explain your costume yet.

You groan. You can’t believe you listened to Gemma—letting a six-year-old decide your costume? Even after she’d declared her intention to go as Captain America, you’d been pumped to go as the Scarlet Witch, what with her sweet red coat and her glowing red eyes. You’d been clicks away from buying red contacts before Matt had called with Gemma’s request. Request? No, an order, more like. There was no arguing with Gemma. Even now, barely sitting upright in the hospital, you could imagine her climbing over you and insisting things be just so right in your face.

Why had Gemma insisted? The costume hadn’t offered any sort of protection. Worn leather wasn’t exactly a substitute for, say, an actual bulletproof vest. All it had done, presumably, was make Bucky stop short at the sight of you barreling towards him like a crazy person.

Oh god.

You bury your face in your hands, cheeks burning. You still can’t believe you’d ended up sprawled on top of him. You practically were grinding his damn thigh. Well, no, it wasn’t a damn thigh. It was a damn good thigh. All muscle—

“Ugh,” you groan, pressing your legs together. Now was not the time.

“If I’d known I was getting such a nice welcome, I would’ve come sooner.”

Your eyes pop open and you stare at Bucky in horror. He’s leaning against the doorframe, a half-hearted smirk on his face and a bouquet of white calla lilies in his metal hand. You blink. Did he know they were your favorite?

Bucky glances down at the flowers. “Your sister said you liked these,” he said. He slides into the chair by your side and holds the bouquet out. “Figured I’d bring some by.”

“They’re beautiful,” you tell him. You take the lilies and bury your nose in them with a deep, satisfied sigh. When you glance up, your heart skips a beat at Bucky’s tiny smile. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“Dammit, that was supposed to be my line.” He sighs and tosses your phone onto the bed. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

“Um.” Your eyes flit to his hips, then back to his face. “The goal was to save all of you.”

He snorts. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Well, you’re welcome.” You arrange the bouquet in your arms like a baby; you even smile down at it fondly, as though the flowers are gazing up at you.

“So how did you end up dressed up as me for Halloween?” he asks nonchalantly.

You wheeze, your inhale turning to a sputtering cough. Bucky leans forward and puts a hand on your back as you lean over the flowers, tears pricking your eyes as you recover. His hand is large and warm; you can’t help but remember how he’d caressed you last night, his thumb brushing along your spine. He pulls back as soon as your breathing is back to normal.

“Sorry,” you manage. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath before looking back at Bucky with pink cheeks. “I, um, it was Gemma. She insisted.”

“Your niece? Huh.” Bucky leans forward, elbows on his knees and fingers twisted together. He’s frowning.

“She’s pretty demanding,” you admit. You hope that’s enough, but—

“And she’s the one who told you where to go.”

Your heart drops. The flowers rustle in your arms as you clench your fists against your stomach. Why had Gemma said anything? Why did she have to be so damn young, so damn chatty?

“She just wanted to walk down Main Street. She didn’t—she’s not—”

“She’s special.” Bucky’s tone brokered no argument. “She’s special, and her parents don’t know.”

Your mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?”

“Because they dismissed her,” he explained. “She kept saying you’d be fine. You listened. Her mom didn’t. I bet her dad didn’t either.” He raised his eyebrows.

“I did try to explain,” you say. Your hands uncurl; you spread one on your thigh and the other over your abdomen, the bouquet still angled between your arms. You didn’t expect him to be so observant. The brawn didn’t surprise you. The brain… “Matt just brushed me off. Said I was in shock, or something. They just think she’s lucky, but there’s no way in hell ‘lucky’ explains what happened last night.”

Bucky’s gaze trails from your face to your hands to the flowers tucked against your chest. “No it doesn’t,” he agrees. “Did she know there would be a gun?”

“I mean, she’s six. She said ‘bang bang.’ I extrapolated from there once I saw the guy on the roof.”

“Huh.” Bucky twiddles his thumbs between his thighs. “So not necessarily all about the details, huh.”

“She was surprised to see you,” you tell him. “Even though she dragged me to the right street and forced me into wearing that costume.” Bucky’s lips twitch; will you ever live that down? “Gemma has… intuition, not information. Although come on, she’s six.”

“Brain development, et cetera,” Bucky finishes. He blows out a breath and runs a hand over his mouth and chin, catching his bottom lip between his fingers as he considers what you’ve said. It’s distracting, to say the least—his mouth might be the most alluring part of him, at least that you’ve seen.

He lets go of his lower lip with a tiny pop. You drag your eyes back up to his, trying to mask your embarrassment. You’re on a bucketload of meds right now; let that be your excuse.

“So how did your niece get these flashes of intuition anyway? Her parents are normal, yeah?”

“I’ve got no idea.” You shift the flowers in your arms; you really need a vase. “Would it be silly to just assume luck?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He’s looking away and frowning. Your hands twitch; you’d give anything to smooth the lines on his face away. When he finally turns back, his solemn expression makes your breath catch.

“Your niece isn’t safe. I need to tell—”

“No! Don’t tell anyone about Gemma,” you blurt. Your fingers dig painfully into your skin. “Please.”

He sighs. “If whoever came after me finds out…”

“She’s just a kid! No one pays attention to little kids.”

“That’s not true.” Bucky’s voice drops, but there’s an intensity in his blue eyes that makes you shift back with wide eyes. “Whoever tried to shoot me yesterday isn’t going to be happy you got in the way.”

“I got in the way?” You gape at Bucky. “I’m sorry, but I don’t regret a damn thing!”

“Woah, calm down, hotshot,” he says, eyes wide, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not complaining. But you’re probably about to get caught in some more crosshairs. And your family’s part of that. You should know what you got yourself into.”

“Oh.” You slump back and sigh. “Well, I guess I should blame Gemma, huh?”

Bucky laughs; the sound is warm and happy. Your toes curl in pleasure. His nose scrunched up is so damn cute. “I won’t stop you. But I’d thank her, personally.” His eyes twinkle at you—twinkle! at you!—and you can’t help but smile back.

“I did get some nice flowers out of it,” you quip.

“Nice? Surely you mean beautiful,” he says. He reaches out to brush his hand over the flowers, but he’s looking at you, just you. Your breath catches in your throat. You can’t look away.

“I…”

A nurse pokes his head in. “Hey, just a head’s up that visiting hours end in like, five minutes, guys.” His does a double-take when he sees Bucky. “Oh man! Uh, sorry.” He backs away and leaves.

Bucky winces and stands up. “Listen. I can’t not mention that you’ve got a superpowered niece. If I don’t and something happens to her… I’ll keep it to Steve, okay? You gotta trust him, he’s Captain America.”

“Oh.” You think this over for a moment, then nod. “Fine. But don’t go bugging my family. You have questions, you only get to bother me.”

“Am I a bother?” he asks, a slow smirk spreading on his face as he looks down at you. “I brought you those nice flowers and everything.”

“Don’t push it,” you say with a giggle, then you wince and press a hand to your bandaged wound. The painkillers are wearing off. “I have yet to reach a conclusion.”

Bucky leans over the side of the bed. His face comes alarmingly close to yours, then he ducks to kiss your cheek. His stubble scrapes along your skin, and you bite your tongue hard to keep quiet.

“Get well soon,” he murmurs. “And be safe.”

He leaves with one parting smile.

You don’t see him again for over three months.

Read Part 3 here!

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[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5540 Summary: Protostellar - the earliest phase in the evolution of a new star. It begins with self collapse. And it ends by exploding outward in to light, a new beginning.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Chapter 2

Being aware of Tobirama was strange is more ways than one. It was like finally taking notice of a massive creature which had been standing next to him for years, silent and unobtrusive, and only just realizing how much he had been missing right in front of his own eyes.

Part of it was the physical awareness of him, of course. Madara had already fought and lost against the raw attraction he felt and at least mostly succeeded in packing it away inside his mind in a dark box labelled ‘dangerous’. It was no more difficult to ignore than if he had found anyone else in the world attractive, pleasant to contemplate but not enough to distract his every waking thought. He was far from the only eye candy in the village, though he was unique in his particular brand of looks.

Another part of it was an intellectual awareness. In his lack of care for Tobirama’s existence Madara had failed to truly contemplate was an amazing resource he was in so many areas. Although he had peripherally been aware before that Tobirama had his fingers on the pulse of the village’s inner workings, he’d never truly realized just how many projects and committees and developments he was actually a part of. It seemed as though there was nothing that happened in the village without at least brief input from the younger Senju brother. Tentative questions, carefully phrased to be casual and bland, revealed a gold mine of information floating inside that pretty head of his.

The next time Madara needed gossip he was sending Hikaku straight to Tobirama. For some reason the two of them got along extremely well and he was not above threatening his cousin in to gathering information for him.

Probably the least surprising thing, however, was the influx of pitfalls in the emotional roller coaster Madara had been riding every day of his entire life. He was already volatile and prone to mood swings. Adding the impossibility of trying to decide what to do with the information that Tobirama might be his soulmate was an extra stress he really didn’t needed.

Some days it wasn’t so bad. He frequently circled back to reminding himself that nothing really had to change if he didn’t want it to – and that it never would if he just kept his mouth shut and said nothing about this to Tobirama. On those days he was calm.

But then there were other days when this unwanted knowledge played through his head like a song on repeat and he found himself staring, analyzing, judging every move Tobirama made and comparing it to himself. Even the insignificant details were viciously picked apart. How could all-knowing fate have paired him with a man who preferred early mornings to late nights? Would he really get along with someone who lacked an appreciation for fried foods? Even their favorite colors differed and on the days he spiraled downwards it felt like a sign that they were simply not meant to be a part of each other’s lives, not even as friends.

It took several weeks for the universe to drop an opportunity in his lap, weeks in which the Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi clans slowly began their immigration to Konoha. High tensions were skillfully avoided by having only a handful of families make the move at a time rather than descending as one like an invading force. The existing citizens got used to their new neighbors at a gradual rate and over time came to accept that they would need to share their playground with a few more kids.

And there were indeed a lot of kids. Madara had never seen so many children all in one place. He had been one of the many to scoff when Tobirama suggested that building a playground should be prioritized over other more important structures but after seeing how it was swarmed by tiny feet even before completion he retracted his former scorn, replacing it instead with a sense of wonder. Children, younger siblings, they had been the cornerstone of the dream he shared with Hashirama. Everything they accomplished together had all been in the hopes that future generations would be safer and have the opportunity to enjoy something his own generation never had: a childhood.

Madara had only just barely grown used to seeing a handful of tiny new faces dashing along the streets of the Uchiha district when one of his own came to him with a request which took him entirely off guard.

“You want to what?”

Standing on his front doorstep and digging the toes of one foot in to the ground, Uchiha Kagami looked up at him with wide innocent eyes and the same brilliant smile which seemed to get him in to trouble about as often as it weaseled him back out. He was only twelve years old, a fatherless bastard of a woman who had retired from active duty when she discovered she was pregnant, but Madara could already see many qualities in the boy that made him a true son of their clan.

It was a pity that the circumstances of his birth prevented most others from seeing the same.

“Please, Madara-sama?” the child wheedled. “We asked him but he said he won’t do it unless we have permission from our clan Heads. Torifu already got his uncle to say yes! Please!”

“And did he seem…amenable to this request?” Madara crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the door frame, hoping it wasn’t obvious he was using it to hold himself up. Ever since that old Yamanaka hag had interfered with his life and turned his world upside down, it felt like the universe was shoving Tobirama in his face at every given opportunity.

“Tobirama-sama said he would love to train us. He said we looked like bright kids!” Kagami beamed up at him, clearly pleased with what to him was a rare compliment. “But you need to say yes. Please say yes! I want to be strong like Tobirama-sama so I can awaken my Sharingan and be super famous like he is!”

“Why him? You aren’t likely to find any help learning fire jutsu from someone with a water nature.”

Kagami danced on the spot, his short body practically vibrating with childish impatience. “He says it won’t be a problem and he has lots to teach me.”

“Hm.” Madara frowned, lifting his gaze to stare unseeing in to the middle distance and disappearing in to his own head while he considered his options.

Allowing someone outside of the clan to teach one of their own could be taken as an incredible insult to his own people. On the other hand it could also be spun as a gesture of peace, proving that the Uchiha had trust in the Senju, and if he played his cards right he might even tuck this away to use as leverage should he need a favor at some point down the road. Being owed a favor was never a bad thing, in his experience.

It would also, he realized, give him a perfect excuse to take a closer look at who Senju Tobirama really was without making it obvious that he had a personal interest in the matter. Five weeks had yet to dull the curiosity no matter how much he tried to tamp it down. Really the only other option was to give in to it and he would be a fool not to take the opportunity being handed to him, practically gift wrapped and free of charge. If Tobirama wished to take on the responsibility of training a child whose own clan had subtly rejected him then Madara would still be well within his rights to insist upon overseeing their training. Should he happen to learn more about the man and put his own wild thoughts to rest, well, it could only be considered a bonus.

“We may be able to come to an agreement,” he said aloud, pausing for a moment while Kagami gave vent to a triumphant howl. “Is he expecting an answer right away?”

“I don’t know! But we can go see him now! Can we? Please? You said yes, right? That sounded like a yes.”

“Ugh, I will retract that yes if you don’t calm down and stop acting like a sugar-high puppy.”

“Right!”

Grumbling to make a show of his reluctance – seeming eager simply wouldn’t do – Madara stepped out and closed the front door, following along while Kagami dashed off down the street.

It wasn’t the first time he had accompanied someone in to the heart of the Senju district, although it was the first time he had gone with anyone other than Hashirama. He was more surprised than he would have liked to admit when their path diverged from his familiar route to take them in the completely opposite direction. Apparently Tobirama had taken the opportunity to put some distance between himself and his brother when the residential areas were being built.

Actually, Madara couldn’t really fault him for that. Friends or not, he wouldn’t want to live in the same house as Hashirama either. Much too noisy; way too much enthusiasm before the sun had risen. He was incredibly close to his own brother but even being related to Hashirama couldn’t make him less overwhelming.

Tobirama’s house was tucked away in a corner, visibly no different from those surrounding it except for the weeds growing up in the front yard where most of his neighbors had planted small vegetable gardens. It was a good idea in a village still trying to find a balance to provide for its ever growing population. Making a note to suggest the same to a few members of his own clan, Madara watched Kagami bounce up the wooden steps and thunder his tiny fists against the front door. Evidently Tobirama must have felt them coming because he stepped out only moments later, closing the door behind himself and looking down at his tiny guest with a hint of amusement.

“Back so soon?” he rumbled. Kagami danced in a circle out of sheer excitement.

“He said yes! Well, sort of yes. He said we needed an agreement but that’s almost like a yes so YES!”

“A shinobi should remain calm in all situations,” Tobirama told him in a demure tone. Kagami went rigid and Madara just barely caught the light of laughter in Tobirama’s eye as he leaned down to murmur, “And you’re very close to dancing on my toes.”

The boy’s face went red but he giggled unrepentantly as he leapt backwards to the bottom of the stairs and raced back to wriggle at Madara’s feet, too full of energy and overloaded with happiness.

“You have conditions, I assume?” Tobirama addressed him directly.  Madara nodded.

“Cross-clan training has never been done before and there’s bound to be a lot of people questioning the situation. You may teach him only if you agree that I may oversee his training sessions whenever I wish and ask whichever relevant questions I see fit.”

“Reasonable,” Tobirama admitted. “Although we may come to disagreements over what either of us deems a relevant question.”

“That’s a problem for future me,” Madara drawled. He watched Tobirama’s cheeks twitch as the man tried not to smile and was promptly forced to smother an odd feeling of triumph which bubbled up in his gut. Just because seeing a smile on that face lately had become as rare as a warm day in winter, there was no need for him to feel all smug about it; it was hardly a groundbreaking accomplishment.

Between them, Kagami did his best to remain calm as he had been asked but it lasted no more than a half a minute, then he was bouncing back over to his new teacher with a golden smile and taking the startled man’s hand between both of his own.

“Come on sensei! Let’s go find Torifu and you can teach us something now!” Before he’d even finished talking he was pulling and tugging to lead them away.

“Sensei…?” Tobirama followed where he was lead with a slightly dazed expression.

Madara watched them go until they were both out of sight only to realize that he was now standing alone in a part of the Senju district where he had no business being. Not wanting to rouse the suspicions of anyone passing by, he took to the rooftops and bounded away to where he could feel Hashirama’s chakra humming along in the marketplace. Since he was already here, he might as well drop by for a visit and possibly wheedle out a free dinner.

It was hardly the first time he had shown up unannounced at odd hours of the day and when he swung in through the kitchen window Mito didn’t even bother to look up from her needlework as she tilted her head towards the door leading to the next room. She did look up when he made to walk across her immaculately clean floors without first removing his sandals and Madara felt no less a man for admitting that he was just a tiny bit afraid of what she might do if he hadn’t immediately hopped over to leave them at the back door.

On his way by he peeked over her shoulder to see what it was she was working on, confused to see nothing more than a series of concentric circles with lines woven through like a spider’s web. Even more strangely, she was stitching it on to a knitted cap that was much too big for the creature growing inside her barely rounded stomach.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Stitching seals,” she said. “If my husband refuses to dress fashionably then he will at least be dressed warmly. These seals will draw from his chakra reserves to keep his head at a proper temperature even in the coldest weather.”

“Huh. Alright.”

It seemed like a lot of effort to go to when he himself had never heard Hashirama complain of cold ears but Madara figured that it wasn’t worth his life to point that out and risk offending her. Instead he merely shrugged and carried on in to the living room, not at all surprised to find his friend tangled up in several different colored balls of yarn. Nor was he surprised by the massive smile which greeted him upon entering the room. Hashirama never changed.

“Your brother wants to teach a child from my clan,” he said as he stepped around the tangled man without offering to help. Hashirama wriggled in a happy sort of way, lending him a disturbing similarity to Kagami.

“That’s amazing news! And you said yes? That makes two children from the other clans who have asked to train with him! I’m so happy I could just cry!”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh lighten up.” Hashirama chuckled at him as he carefully extracted one of his arms and began to pick at the strings looped around the rest of his body.

Madara watched him resignedly. “Do I want to know how you got like that?”

“Nope!”

“Alright.”

“This is what we always dreamed of, Madara. Right? Isn’t it? People from all different clans living together in harmony and peace and prosperity.” Pausing in his movements, he leveled Madara with an intense look more serious than was usually found in his repertoire. “Thank you, my friend. None of this would have been possible without both of us working together. And, I have to say, I’m proud of you for agreeing to let my brother care for one of your clan children. Usually I have to tear up on at least one of you just to get you to play nice.”

Madara was disgustingly touched to have someone tell him that they were proud of him for something – but the sentiment was drowned out by the hot wave of indignation he was much more familiar with. “We’re not children!”

His friend laughed and went back to pulling on yarn.

Allowing Tobirama to train Kagami was a decision he came to regret as soon as the Uchiha elders caught wind of it. He never seemed to remember just how annoying they could be until suddenly they were breathing down his neck and cornering him for yet another meeting full of boredom and irritation.

Their first few objections were at least semi-reasonable. It was rather in character for them to take insult to Kagami by-passing his entire clan in order to seek training with an outsider but Madara was quick to remind them that up until now they had done nothing to hide their contempt for the unknown half of Kagami’s parentage, openly calling him a bastard and doing very little to ensure he was given the same advantages as his pure-blooded cousins.

When they questioned his judgment in trusting anyone outside their clan with the care of any child he reminded them very pointedly that they were now a part of Konoha and that the point of peace was to trust your allies. Traditionalists to a man, they didn’t take that reminder very well but Madara cared little for hurting their precious, delicate feelings. Times were changing all around them and the Uchiha needed to be able to adjust just the same as the other clans did or else they would be swallowed – or worse, cast away like a broken part to let the rest of the machinery run on.

Beyond that their objections grew less and less sensible until one of the elders was grumbling under her breath that she had never approved of tattoos anyway and how could her own clan leader approve training from a tattooed upstart like Tobirama? It was at that point that Madara very firmly ended the meeting by stating that he had already made his decision. As they very clearly had no good reasons for him to overturn that decision, they were just going to have to live with it.

The only thing which seemed to appease them in any way was the agreement Madara had already come to which gave him the right to check in on his young clansman to make sure he was being treated well. As obvious as it was that they were only interested in sticking their overlarge noses in to Senju Tobirama’s business, perhaps to find a little dirt on the most reticent of their ancient enemies, Madara was just glad to have double the excuse for his own nosiness.

It was with the excuse of appeasing his elders that he followed Kagami to the training fields less than two weeks later and jutted his chin defiantly under the raised eyebrow his presence received.

“That took longer than I thought it would,” Tobirama murmured, crossing his arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that I expected you to come nosing around several days ago. My congratulations on holding out for this long. Could it be that you trust me?” Tobirama sent him a dry smirk before turning around to dismiss him entirely.

Madara fumed, both at the dismissal and for being so predictable. He had indeed been fighting with his patience in an effort not to seem too eager. His scowl went unnoticed as Kagami bounded forward and skidded to a halt, offering his sensei a quick bow before springing back up with way too much energy for how early in the morning it was.

“What are we doing today?” he demanded. “Are you gonna teach me how to throw a shuriken? Or maybe run like you do!? I can be fast too sensei!”

“Slow down, nugget,” Tobirama chastised him.

From where he was standing beside the man, Madara whipped his head around to stare at him. “Nugget?” He was bare moments away from snickering when Kagami shot him the happiest smile he had ever seen the boy wear.

“Because! Because sensei says I’m like a nugget of gold in a field of coal!”

Madara stared some more. That was surprisingly touching and sweet if he ignored the implied insult to his clan. Strangely, when he looked to the side to find Tobirama clearing his throat uncomfortably, his instinctive urge to jeer and make fun simply wasn’t there. Instead of trying to look inside himself to figure out why, Madara allowed the opportunity to slip him by just this once in favor of a simple grunt as he settled in to watch without comment.

Visibly grateful for the opportunity to sidestep his own embarrassment, Tobirama moved quickly in to demonstrating the proper stance for a set up warm katas. The two of them went through the exercises several times while Tobirama explained why each of them were beneficial to flexibility, muscle gain, or even chakra control. Madara was slightly ashamed to admit that he’d never bothered to learn the reasons behind his favorite kata. All he knew was that they seemed to work best for him; it had never even occurred to him to wonder why.

It was the surprise of learning something he hadn’t even realized he should know already which encouraged him to follow Kagami to another lesson the next week. When he showed up again a mere two days later Madara had no excuse and so offered no explanation, only raised his eyebrow at Tobirama’s questioning look, daring the other man to tell him he wasn’t welcome.

Truthfully he found it strangely pleasant to see the way Tobirama acted around his two little students. Normally stoic and devoid of much expression, Tobirama seemed to blossom like a flower whenever he had the chance to spend a bit of time instructing Kagami and Torifu, answering their questions patiently and smiling ever so slightly when he was pleased with their progress. Madara also noted that Tobirama’s smiles were the single most potent motivation for either of the children and they tended to double their efforts after being graced with one.

Sitting in on their sessions had other, more unexpected benefits that Madara noticed over time as well. It turned out that wherever Tobirama happened to be was very likely to best hiding spot in the village whenever Hashirama was looking for him and fairly soon Madara began to bring some of his work with him, settling himself in a nearby tree and using the peaceful atmosphere to his advantage. It was also the only place he was guaranteed not to be bothered by his clan elders and that alone would have made spending so much of his time here worth it even if he weren’t finding some other enjoyment from it.

He became so much of a permanent fixture that he wasn’t sure any of the ragtag little trio even remembered he was there on the day a young girl who looked to be the same age as Kagami came crashing through the bushes with tears streaming down her face and a blank, lost expression that Madara knew better than he wished he did.

“Koharu!” Being the closest, Kagami hurried over to flutter uselessly in front of the girl. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Sensei is she hurt!?”

“Give her some room to breathe, nugget.” Tobirama gently guided his student away and knelt down before the girl, his eyes already scanning her form for obvious injuries. She didn’t seem to realize where she was or how she had got here but there were no obvious signs of blood. He had only just opened his mouth to ask if she was alright when she cast herself forward without warning, wrapping her arms about his neck and sobbing in to his fur collar, making him glad that he had worn it today on a whim.

Torifu hovered anxiously to the side, reaching out a hand to pat the newcomer on the back every so often while Kagami danced around the three of them in an effort to peek at her from all angles. Although it took a very long time, eventually the storm abated and Tobirama was able to extract himself to hold the child at length. He gave her another once over just to confirm the diagnosis that she was not actually injured before using his thumbs to wipe the tears from under her eyes. More fell to take their place.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Oh! Koharu! It’s Koharu!” Kagami skidded to a halt when his sensei turned a stern look at him.

“I did not ask you,” Tobirama scolded him before turning back to the girl. “Koharu is it? Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Her small body shuddered with a fresh wave of sobs. “They’re dead! They’re both dead!”

“Who is?”

“My parents!”

As his two students immediately dissolved in to sympathetic babbles, Tobirama’s face twisted in to an expression of silent empathy. He said nothing when Koharu collapsed back in to his embrace, stroking her hair but offering no empty platitudes. Very likely she would hear enough of those in the days ahead.

“Koharu, that’s awful,” Kagami murmured, trying to stroke her hair too. “I don’t have a dad so…I know how much it sucks.” The poor boy didn’t seem to realize he’d said anything wrong until his friend tore herself away from the adult comforting her and spun around to punch him solidly in the nose.

“You don’t know anything! You’ve never had a dad! It’s different! I had a mom and a dad and I loved them but now they’re gone and they – they’re n-never coming back! Don’t pretend that you understand how I feel!”

“But Koharu–!”

“Stuff it, you idiot!”

“I was just trying to make it better!” Kagami lifted the hand not holding his nose in a helpless gesture but, although he did mean well – Kagami was incapable of meaning anything but well – his friend was clearly not in a state to appreciate his efforts.

With a face twisted by the horrible feelings welling up inside her, Koharu used both hands to shove Kagami away from herself as she screamed, “Nothing will ever be better again! Never!”

As quickly as she came, the girl turned and fled in to the forest, disappearing between the foliage until all that remained of her was the echo of her tears and the blood streaming down Kagami’s face. For a few moments there was utter silence, both of the children doing their best to process all that had happened while both of the adults kept quiet and allowed them to make of it what they would. Death was a topic that all shinobi must eventually become familiar with and, no matter that they had built an entire village just to keep the next generations safe, it still could not be afforded to coddle them. It was a lesson they needed to learn.

Surprisingly it was Torifu who spoke up first.

“Maybe we should go after her?” he suggested hesitantly. Madara snorted, glad that he was too far away for the child to hear his derision.

“That would not be a good idea right now, I’m afraid.” Tobirama beckoned Kagami to him as he spoke, lifting one hand and coating it with a weak glow of healing chakra. Madara had seen him heal bruises and scrapes, although most other injuries appeared to be beyond his skill. Likely all he could do now was numb the pain.

As he’d thought, Kagami came away from his treatment with his facial muscles more relaxed but with blood still trickling down. Tobirama offered him a gauze bandage to hold to the injury and urged him to head towards the hospital for treatment.

“Why can’t we go after her though?” he murmured, not leaving but for once in his life standing completely still.

“Because your friend has lost someone important to her and it would be best to give her some space for now. She will not be as she was before and it may take some time before she can accept what has happened, let alone accept offers of sympathy from her friends.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve never truly experienced loss, Kagami, so you cannot possibly be expected to understand what she is going through right now. Grief is a monster of its own class.”

“But I want to help! Can’t you explain it to me sensei? You can explain everything.”

Tobirama furrowed his brows in a look that was serious even for him, although he couldn’t be said to look displeased, only very deep in thought. After a few moments he very carefully knelt back down before his student, unclasping the collar of fur he had tied around his neck.

“Greif is like this collar,” he said.

Before either of his students or their forgotten spectator could ask what he meant, he settled the fur around Kagami’s shoulders and fastened it so that it would not fall off. Kagami stumbled back a step with a look of naked surprise on his face.

“Sensei, this is heavy! I never thought it would weigh so much.”

“Yes.” Tobirama sighed. “No one ever expects it to be as heavy as it is until they wear it themselves. Greif is a weight that presses down on you until you are forced to bow or to bear up under it. Over time you grow accustomed to how heavy it is and there are days when you almost forget that the weight is there until someone helps to lift it from your shoulders unexpectedly.”

Kagami watched him with rapt attention. Across the clearing, so did Madara.

“Sometimes you forget what it was like to live without grief and you think surely this means that you have healed, surely you are back to what you once were. And that”-Tobirama reached out to stroke the fur, causing the ends of a few strands to tickle Kagami’s skin-“is when the memories brush against you once more and you remember that you will never heal. Not fully.”

“Then…does that mean she’ll never get better?”

“No. She will get better. There will be days when she will fool the whole world in to thinking that everything is okay; there will even be days when everything is okay. But there will also be the days, all the way up until she is old and wrinkled, that she will remember what she once had and she will not be okay. That is what it feels like to live with grief, to lose someone close to you.”

While the young ones tried to process their lesson and Tobirama took his collar back, fastening it around his shoulders with a passive face, Madara crossed his arms tightly across his chest and tried to surreptitiously squeeze out the dark shadows gathering within. Visions of the brothers he had lost danced before his eyes, the mother who disappeared and never returned crowding his memory.

If he were given a month to prepare he was certain he would not have found a better way to explain grief to a child. If he were given a year he wasn’t certain he could have come up with anything to explain what Tobirama had so easily demonstrated: the dark and heavy weight of losing someone precious.

They’d had two other brothers, he remembered suddenly. As clear as though it had been yesterday, he recalled the way Hashirama had been crying on the day they met, mourning the death of a younger sibling, and Madara looked across the clearing now to furrow his brows at Tobirama. The younger man had never struck him as the type to mourn someone so long gone, to linger on his grief. He seemed more the type to bury his memories with the dead and move on.

It appeared he still had a lot to learn about Senju Tobirama.

Seeing as no one would be in the mood to concentrate on their training now, Tobirama sighed and rose to his feet, laying a hand on both of his students’ heads.

“Come. We’ll pass by the tower and ask my brother to fix up your nose, Kagami, and then I think we would all feel better which a bit of lunch in our bellies.” After a moment of hesitation he looked over his shoulder to where Madara was perched. “Open offer.”

Nearly falling from his branch in shock, Madara covered it by slipping down and trailing after the sad little parade Tobirama and his students made.

Lunch was mostly quiet but despite the morbid scene they had all just witnessed Madara took an odd sort of comfort from sitting beside Tobirama in something close to resembling comradery. He resolved never to let Hashirama find out about this, however; he didn’t want to have to listen to his friend cry over it as he surely would. Three and a half years after their two clans had come together and only now were the two of them finally learning to get along properly.

Madara eyed the man beside him and before he could stop the thought he found himself wondering about the mark on his own skin and the tattoos which covered Tobirama’s.

He wondered why he cared that he might never have the chance to see if he could truly find himself hidden among twisting red lines.  

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

His Raven, part 2

Killian Jones x Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Changed  few things from the canon story to fit my own. This will be a few parts. Story commissioned by the lovely @chabertlacey.

Summary: Storybrooke was a small, quiet town - a perfect little haven. It had been your only home for, well, as long as you could remember. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened, in fact, the town was quiet ordinary. Except it wasn’t. But the residents of Storybrooke were oblivious to the curse that they were under and only three people knew of said spell - Mr. Gold, Mayor Mills, and Henry Mills. That is until a pirate of a famous name came sailing into the dock of the town, seeking revenge.

Part 1

Killian’s heart pounded so rapidly, he was sure the leather on his chest would burn. You stood there, looking every bit the woman he had loved - dressed a little differently, but nonetheless, breathtaking.

“Excuse me?”

“The curse, of course,” he spoke mostly to himself.

“The what? I’m sorry, are you looking for Mr. Gold? His shop is closed.”

You pointed to the sign and tried not to judge the man in front of you too much - considering he was wearing what looked to be like a pirate’s costume, a very expensive one at that. He gave you a quick smile and apologized.

“Of course, I have business to discuss with Gold. I suppose it could wait til’ morning.”

Not really liking the way he said business, you nodded and began to walk past him, wearily of the new stranger in town. Then something stopped you from going any further and you slowly turned to the man.

“I’ve never seen you in town, we don’t really get outsiders here.”

Killian held back a smile and shrugged. “Aye, I’m just passing through.”

“Right, right. Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“Are you offering, love?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Absolutely not. There’s a diner down the street, Granny’s, it’s also a bed and breakfast..”

“Bed and breakfast?”

“An inn,” you explained with a quiet chuckle. “You really aren’t from here, are you?”

“No, no,” Killian smiled and stepped toward you, holding out a gloved hand. “The name’s Killian Jones, it’s nice to meet you.”

Walking up to the man, you took his hand and gave it a stern shake, releasing your hand quickly when a strange surge fell over you. A sensation you chalked up to being confronted by an extremely attractive man - something Storybrooke was lacking, at least for the most part. You had a fling once, with a man who mostly kept himself secluded in his house located in the woods. It had proven to be a mishap in your short dating history, but Red said it counted as a notch on your bed.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you spoke quietly, bringing your hand back down to your side. “I better get going.”

“I bid you a goodnight, love,” Killian smiled and bowed his head, which was a bit odd, but you smirked and said goodnight.

As you turned to leave, you remembered something and called to Killian, who was walking off in the opposite direction.

“He opens at nine - in the morning, that is,” you called out, tucking your hands into your jacket.

“Gold...opens the shop at nine.”

Killian’s eyes softened when he noticed the illumination of the street light on your face, remembering all the precious moments he had spent with you and he nodded.

“Thank you.”

…..

“A tourist?”

“I don’t know, Mary Margaret,” you sighed, forking at the pasta she had packed for the two of you. The children were running around the playground during lunch and the two of you sat side by side on a bench. She eyed you carefully and asked if you had spoke to him since.

“Yes, M. We had breakfast this morning after we had incredible leathery sex.”

“Language!”

Her eyes widen and you laughed, reaching a hand over to her shoulder.

“My bad, I’m just slightly frustrated with my life right now.”

“I understand,” Mary Margaret nudged you with a smile. “Let’s just keep that talk for when Red’s around.”

“Speaking of, she was thinking a girl’s night out soon. You up for it? Greasy food and drunk singing in the streets?”

You winked at the teacher several times until she grinned and sighed. “I mean..it doesn’t sound so bad..”

“I’ll take that as a yes! I’ll let Red know,” you smiled and closed the lid to the tupperware. “I better get going, I have to go some stuff.”

“Some stuff?”

“He’s by the docks.” Henry walked by the two of you and smiled.

You gave the kid a confused look and asked what he was talking about.

“Captain Hook,” he explained, stopping in his tracks. “He’s here. He’s your key.”

“Henry,” Mary Margaret sighed. “Why don’t you go on and play with the rest of the class? Lunch is almost over.”

He nodded and gave you a knowing smile before walking off.

“What was that about?”

“His book of fairy tales - he’s been mixing fiction with reality. So, you have stuff to do?

“Yup, stuff,” you repeated, brushing off Henry’s cryptic message and getting up from the bench. Handing over the tupperware to Mary Margaret, you smiled at her and grabbed your bag. “I’ll see you later, M.”

…

You walked leisurely through Storybrooke, not really aiming for a certain location, just wandering. It was something you did often, when you didn’t have much to do. When things became too loud in your mind and before you could help it, fuzzy. And for some reason, Henry’s words kept coming back to you.

What did he mean by your key?

Captain Hook?

Did he mean Killian Jones? The newbie in town?

Crossing the street, you walked past Mr. Gold’s shop and toward the docks. You rounded the corner and felt a cool breeze against the waters. Then you stopped dead in your tracks, realizing where you had wandered off too.

“He’s by the docks.”

That’s what Henry had said so confidently.

Sighing you walked over to the railing and looked down at the water.

Of course Henry knew where the new stranger in town was, he was the mayor’s kid - a mayor who made it her business to know everyone’s business.

Rolling your head to undo a knot in your neck, you groaned and leaned against the railing.

“Fairy tales,” you scoffed, staring at the water.

“Freaking fairy tales.”

..

Killian watched you from his ship - from the way you hadn’t reacted to the vessel, he smiled in relief that the magic spell he was taught to conceal the Jolly Roger worked. His eyes fell down to where you stood, looking a bit lost. You were muttering something to yourself and he chuckled quietly, glad to see not much had changed.

“This has to work,” you muttered.

Killian looked up from the carriage he was packing, smiling as you held two hands above a small stone. You grunted, fingers straining - desperate to melt the rock with your magic. Or at least magic you had in you.

“Love,” he called out, but your eyes stayed on the stone.

“I can feel it, Killian. It’s there, I just...I just need motivation.”

“You’re doing good, but we have to be on our way,” he explained, moving behind you.

When he slipped an arm around your waist, you leaned into his chest and closed your eyes when his lips pressed against your neck,

“As if the Jolly Roger would set sail without its Captain,” you mused.

Killian chuckled. “Or it’s enchanting..enchanting..”

You laughed when Killian was at lost for words, so you turned around in his arms and kissed him lightly.

“First mate?”

Killian’s eyes narrowed and he pulled you tighter against his body. “Aye, love. You are far more than a man’s first mate.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” he asserted, his hand pressing into the small of your back. “You are the love of my life.”

…

Pushing away from the railing, you gazed around the dock and sighed in repressed disappointed. You weren’t sure why you had felt compelled to come to the docks, maybe it was Henry’s words or a strange hope on your part. Whatever it was, it proved to be nothing but childish delusion.

Deciding to head back to your apartment, you started to walk away, but then your cell went off. It was Red and you turned back to the waters and answered it.

“Hey, Red.”

“So did you talk to Mary Margaret?”

“Yeah,” you answered with a smirk. “She’s completely down. So since it’s a Friday, what do you say we paint the small town tonight?”

Red squealed and you had to pull the cell from your ears, laughing.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes! It will have to be after my dinner shift at Granny’s, but we can totally met up there. Eat some food, maybe have a few beers?”

“Sounds good, then we can drink in the parking lot - like a bunch of high schoolers.”

Red laughed. “Perfect. I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Alright, tonight.”

You hung up and your spirits instantly lifted.

Whatever thoughts you had of Killian, the mysterious tourist, subsided as you thought of all the fun you’d be having tonight with your girls.

Giving the water once last look, you inhaled deeply with a smile and walked off.

…

Killian watched as you strolled away, your back disappearing around a building. His heart was heavy with regret and the tiniest of hope. He couldn’t help, but overhear your conversation, you were right there in front of him. So close, but out of reach. He tapped his hook against the railing of his ship and sighed. He had intended to come to this land to seek revenge on the croc. The devil who had stolen everything from him, but there was one thing Killian wasn’t counting on.

You being in Storybrooke.

He had thought you were back at the Enchanted Forest, or at least some version of it in some other dimension. Before the curse was cast, Gold had separated Killian from you. The last time he had laid eyes on you - you were distraught and crying, trying desperately to use your magic against Rumple, but it wasn’t enough and you just vanished. He was left alone on the Jolly Roger, a pirate without his treasure.

Forever tag (tagging in everything I write, no matter the fandom)

@my-amazing-nerdyness @naih-reedus @maciiiofficial @casownsmyass @jade-taillia@fangirlextraordinaire @indominusregina @feelmyroarrrr @my-rainbow-wonderland@myhopeisinfinite @girl-next-door-writes @dontbeamenacetotheforce@melonberri@superisatomboyuniverse @xloudwhocares @crownie-sr @dracsgirl@moonlight53@makemyownwonderland @dreamwhisper87 @superisatomboyuniverse  @barely-emily@winterboobaer@purelittleblueberry @goodnightwife @mishaissocoollike @stormyfandoms@foreverybodythatunderstands23 @gallifreyansass @flirtswithdanger @yana-tardis-drwho@myplaceofthingsilove   @jchona  @alyssaj23  @blackhoneybucky@urbanspacedecay@castieltrash1 @hannahsakorax3 @imagine-all-the-imagines @motleymoose@distinguishedqueenofbooks @kitkatgaming @fizzylollipop12 @iamwarrenspeace@darkmystress00 @lunarwolfrose  @kapolisradomthoughts @sisinia13 @swiggityswagness@takemetoneverland91 @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @sarah-mos@rubynationwins@padfootorionblack @kaywolves @wonderlace19 @yourxaveragexslythergit@purelittleblueberry  @courtneychicken @rayleyanns  @whatmakesmebeme-tblr@thewinterwitch@avengersgirllorianna @holywinchesterness @purelittleblueberry @brewsthespirit-blog@seabasschino  @lame-lozer @ex-bookjunky @travelwithwords@supernaturaldean67@thehuntchback @shoytai @besamiculo-puto @ign-is @zuni21798@multipleuniversesinwriting@pleasantdreamqueen  @damalseer @10kindsofderp@hennessy0274-blog @jodoethr @s-t-r-i-k-e-us @seeing-but-not-observing @happyskywhale@anyakinamidala @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @cinema212 @geeksareunique@potato69fan @snarkyturnip  @thilbob @hercrazyfandomobsession @wildefire @sashavis @nosleeptillbucky

His Raven tags:   @taylorjacksonandtheolympians​ @theruimking @oops-forgot-to-laugh @Itkeke @littledarlinhavefaithinme @startled-seastar @alex-hamiltonian

[dontletthishappentoyou]

OoT

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GyUcwsjyd8Q This video does a decent job at explaining why it’s good, and the last third of it gets to something I’ve thought about a lot over the years. I want to expand on it and speculate on why it might have been perfect for kids our age when it came out.  First of all, before you look at why it has such nostalgic power, we have to understand that first time we played it, and without leaving the village, got completely hoooked. First of all, the main character was a kid our age, the lack of dialogue makes Link a great whatever it’s called when the main character is intentionally left somewhat blank and ambiguous to allow the player or audience to insert their own intentions, values, or perspectives.  Before you start playing, a couple things happen. Evil guy shows up, and he looks like maybe he’s trying to kidnap someone. Stranger danger was a thing in our culture at the time, and if you look at AtLA, Pokemon, and other stuff, you do see people with kidnapping roles starting things off as the primary antagonists. In both of those examples, they become less of a threat as the plot develops.  Second of all, there’s that Navi POV scene, which establishes the setting, the fact that the world is magical, and the fact that the magical world is safe to explore. She really smashes into that fence, but it’s comical and low consequence, which means we know going into it that we can hop on everything and not die if we mess up. We just shake it off and try again. Learning by observation.  Next up, we start actually playing the game. Or you guys do. I don’t think I played at all the first time we played. But you’re collecting things and exploring the neighborhood. You’re saving up for a shield. Kids often have a thing they want. If it’s not Christmas, they’ll often collect money, look under the couch, between the cushions, or in the long grass or wherever they can reach in this case. But you’re just collecting small change.  The first thing that can cause pain is incapable of evil intent. It’s a rolling rock. It’s undefeatable, but our incompetence isn’t all that bad right now. The bad things still might have just been a dream, and we remain unexposed to anything evil. That’s up there in that spot we can’t reach probably.  The evil progresses very slowly, with plants that can’t even see you, some of which just stick their faces straight up randomly, so it’s still hard to call them evil and they won’t follow you. It’s a while into the tree before anything actually cares to attack. Spiders aren’t too bad, one of the scariest things you need to do is the big jump, and that’s a very internal fear that you have to face before moving onto the external fears. Later into the dungeon, things will actually look you in the eye and attack you, and then there’s an actual monster you have to defeat.  Then comes a few other things. First of all, the death of the father figure and the real call to adventure and all that, but also, what may be more noticeable from a child’s perspective, an adult has given you the task of collecting pretty rocks. I walk in the woods with tons of kids, and I end up with tons of smooth, interestingly colored, or strangely shaped rocks in my pockets at the end of the day. I personally suspect hunter gatherer job specialization involved kids collecting firewood, rocks, and stuff like that. It seems pretty instinctual for kids to not only collect stuff like that, but to make a point to give it to their parents and feel proud of their contribution to the family or something. The Deku Tree telling you that you have been specially selected to collect rocks is awesome. That appeals to our primal nature spectacularly. Even when link ‘grows up,' he just has to collect colorful coins for a different adult. It’s a demand for childish-instincts-oriented activities with the reward of validation from adults. That’s how to make a good game that gets kids interested.  Beyond that, the next phase of the plot involves going places you weren’t allowed to go before. Just having someone enforce rules evokes curiosity and makes it extremely satisfying to have those rules lifted. Leaving the forest represents a small step toward growing up in so many ways. The town design is so much more like a playground than any other place, the characters are obviously children, it’s leaving home, it’s a departure from backyard style greenery, and as soon as you see the world, it contrasts the village where everything was close together and accessible to children even if they’re afraid of getting lost, with a huge open world where you can’t even see your destination from your departure point.  But Link never grows up. His body develops, but he was asleep or whatever, and he’s still an empty avatar that players who are mostly children are painting themselves into. It’ll still be satisfying to collect medalions, fight with swords, and do a lot of the same kind of stuff, although there definitely is more of a change toward complex puzzles and taking control of your environments as the game goes on.  But the things you have to do, especially early in the game, are specifically in sync with universal childish instincts. Sometimes the floor is literally lava, you have to find and catch chickens, people are making you learn an instrument and you’re learning short and simple melodies, sneaking past the Hyrule guards is basically what we’d try to do at Grammie and Papa’s back in the day anyway.  All that, and I already mentioned back in a video a long time ago how sort of growing up in the game made you imagine growing up, kind of automatically building a bridge between the then current child you and the adult you. Nostalgia is just using that bridge to facilitate taking the perspective of your child self. Playing OoT again, listening to its music, and reminiscing on it is basically just putting the master sword back. The nostalgia was a part of the design of the game, both in its mechanics and theme. I think we got very lucky to get exposed to it when we did. 

[education-memoriesls11]

Years 1 & 2 , Playgrounds, Percy Police Car, Portakabins and Penguins.

Year One

We relocated a little bit further up the school past the main entrance to the lower “big playground” that faced on to the school field by the bus terminus. The school has a very memorable layout in that way, when people say you moved up the school, in each year group that was the case both in age and in geographical terms as well, In this year my class was 1V taught by were Mrs Vincent, an older teacher than the ones I had before, she had a look a bit like Betty Turpin from Coronation street with her style of glasses and how her hair was set. She was well-spoken, patient, empathetic and approachable, she had a very mothering influence with our class, she would always listen to whatever wild and wonderful stories we would come up with.

She had a lot of worldly-wise insight and had a way of explaining information to us in a way we would understand at our age without being too childish, she could also still be firm and assertive when required in a more old school manner and strong but fair in discipline if any child was trying to lash out too. In later years she also moved to Hugh Gaitskell and also taught my sister and one of my cousins in their time at school.

I remember I had a phase where I would draw pictures at home on a night with my felt tip pens, I was never a good artist but I enjoyed drawing back then, I used to bring her a picture in most days and she would always take it and thank me for it, no idea what she would do with them! She also made me register monitor so it was my job to go take to register back to the school office after registrations.  

A lot of the work we did in this time was more focused around learning about the seasons of the year, a lot of geography-based projects and elements of life and growth, particular examples that stand out were each table having to get a seed, water it from the start then maintain their plant up to growth and we would compare each tables efforts as the weeks went on, although in the case of our table we almost jinxed it from day one when I pretty much drenched the seed and pot after it was planted!  Alan Titchmarsh or Monty Don I am not that’s for sure!  

For a while too we had a class pet, which from memory was a hamster which we would have to take turns to tend to.  We read the story of the very hungry Caterpillar. The story was an introduction to our learning about nature as then a caterpillar was brought in and then we watched it follow the full metamorphasis to a chrysalis and then eventually a butterfly, for kids of our age it was eye opening and fascinating and in a way introduces us to some of the miracles and phenomena of life and nature.

We started to learn more about different occupations, Evolving Technologies of the day, and also about how Vehicles evolved so for example cars from Model T to the current Fords of the time. We were also encouraged to create or discuss our own ideas of what Cars and Motorbikes of the future may look like.

One of the most basic elements we learnt though were common courtesy and manners, holding doors open for one and other and tolerance of other cultures, our class in this year had more of intake from the growing Asian community in Beeston, The first name for example on our register was Adeeba Akhtar, the first response to reading her name out was for Mrs Vincent to tell her and all our class what a beautiful name she had. It transpired that Mrs Vincent had spent a good deal of time in Saudi Arabia when her husband worked in the oil industry, so she was very awake to the customs of Muslim culture before many in the area were, she also knew about how the law was dealt out over there and explained how it differed from our own, always in plain English and to sound engaging. She also organised some Mendhi Painting in the class at the time of the fest

The well travelled Mrs Vincent also spent time in Canada and I remember her bringing in a giant Maple Leaf the following day from pancake day after discussion moved from what we like to have on our pancakes to the symbolism of the leaf in addition to that very popular Canadian syrup. She was always thinking 2 moves ahead.

We had our first Christmas play in this year, the normal type that you would have but ours was not in the main hall but to the parents in the lower school wet area, I managed to bag myself a speaking part in it too, although I managed to bypass having to be dressed in any of the tinselly costumes as I had the part of “The Son” my role was to be told the story of the nativity by my “mother” which was the role delegated to Jenna Bennett who did an excellent job as narrator, it also meant that I got to spend the whole show in my pyjamas and slippers, which helped ease any nerves as I was sat there in the 1988 equivalent of loungewear. She was also the person that went on to marry my classmate Richard Leach, they are still together to this day, so my on-stage mother went on to marry the guy sat next to me in class on a daily basis, I don’t think Mystic Meg, Derek Acorah or especially that Stephen Holbrook would have been able to see that coming no matter how many adverts he puts in The Metro.

In summer Months Mrs Vincent would take us out to the little field for our games of rounders where she would act as umpire and occasional bowler too.  Stories, registration and milk time would be taken at the carpet, legs crossed and fingers on lips to be quiet until time to speak!  

This was also the year where we started to be allowed to go into the main hall for assemblies and year group would make their way into the hall one at a time then sit in their row with our teacher perched on a chair at the side, the hall used to seem massive, its wooden climbing frame at one side and if you looked up to the roof in and across a maypole which was only brought out at Maytime when we would be taught maypole dancing. Assemblies were mostly led by the then headteacher Mr Archer.  

We didn’t get to see him for long before his time at the school was finishing so I only have limited memories of him but I remember he was particularly fond of belting out the hymns, pumping one arm to the time of the music in the style of a conductor and giving out the various prizes and awards that had been given. One of which I believe was called The Thomas Watson award, there were also awards given out for House Points and a prize for attendance which was named after a female pupil who braved it into school in particularly treacherous conditions at some point in History but the name escapes me!

Other assemblies would be from the older years carrying out their designated topic or assembly based on what they were learning at the time.   Some assemblies would be taken by Mr Wood who was Deputy Head for many years, always dressed in a sharp suit with slick hair, he was built like a rugby player and had a distinctive whistle to his voice similar to how you hear whenever Matthew McConaughey is speaking in a film these days. He always carried an air of authority about him and when he spoke people listened, in later years when he semi-retired he also took lessons for my form class in our final year at Hugh Gaitskell as a supply teacher where I found him to be a bit more informal and he was always very sympathetic to the class whilst talking to us like young adults, he was always very well liked and when teaching in class and was particularly good at teaching maths.

Going back to Hymn practice, a regular occurrence over the years at BPS, as well as at the assemblies those were always taken accompanied by the piano, which was more often than not played by Mrs Oliver, Mrs Oliver was some character, her speaking voice was brash but to the point, northern straight-talking, she had a quick wit, sharp humour and if ever we were not doing something to give the song full effort would find a way to rouse us into singing a piece as she desired usually by way of delivering her critique in the manner of something Victoria Wood would orate in one of her stand up routines.  

The main ones we would sing are “if I needed a neighbour” and “all things bright and beautiful” in particular on the beginning of each chorus you would always hear us all doing a very pronounced high pitched emphasis on the word “all” at the beginning of each chorus.  

If Mrs Oliver was away her husband would take the piano to fill in, he had a very distinctive pair of readers that were half cut semi-circle glasses, once or twice a week to we would have an assembly with a lesson or parable from a vicar of one of the 3 local C of E Churches, St Mary’s St Andrews and St David’s, The most regular of whom at that time was also a namesake as The Reverend Oliver, But also occasionally from Reverend Williamson whose son Mark was a member of our class.  

At playtimes we had migrated to the bigger playground facing the field, the games we would play had evolved into either acting out our favourite characters from kids shows or movies, playing Tig or kiss chase and so forth, we were policed by Miss Mary and her cohorts which then also included Mrs Allen and Mrs Dunbar as well as Mrs Easton and Mrs Slight who were also parents of our schoolmates and in one case a Grandparent.

This is where Miss Mary came into her own as Chief Constable as well as judge and jury of any misdemeanour, Big red coat on in all weather, the main punishment  she would dish out would be send you to “The Wall” , Followed by a walk of shame to stand at the wall by the door, nose facing the wall to contemplate your actions and don’t dare turn around until told otherwise, in the most extreme case you would go to the heads office but that was rare then.  

However, it was a particularly wet year until the summer, lots of storms and thunder which then meant we would be inside a lot and have to take part in “wet playtime” which seemed to be a lot more hard work on the dinner ladies to keep our attention as they would have to make our entertainment for us, This would vary from having the giant tv with its winged covers on showing us some sort of educational re-run of “words and pictures “ with the magic pen, to sing-songs on the little cassette radio or if times were getting desperate then Mrs Easton all making us do repetitions with our fingers wiggling to some actions of “ex-er-cises ex-er-cises we can do our exc-er-cises" we still didn’t even have tablets back then this was the height of our self entertainment. They did a sterling job.

We also had our first school trip, a 2 part affair starting with a trip to Armley Mills in the morning, followed by a break for egg mayo sandwiches if like me you had school dinners then a trip to Roundhay Park in the afternoon, in between both journeys we were taken by the coaches that also ran the Asda bus and we would all stand shouting and screaming for “coach one coach one” or “coach two coach two” depending which one had been designated to take us. Some of the parents also joined us for day to assist with the supervision, I have a photo from it somewhere at my mums or Aunts house which I am in the process of trying to retrieve.

The last day of the year we were all allowed to bring toys, with our board games like Mouse Trap, Buckeroo, Operation and the like, we were too young then for the type made at Waddingtons down the road. Then it was time for summer holidays before joining Mrs Vincent's class again, At some point possibly maybe during a walk to The Co-Op I passed the school and we noticed some lorries in there dropping off some giant fabrications which we then came to know as “the portakabins” which became our daytime dwelling for the following year in year 2 where once again we had the pleasure of Mrs Vincent’s teachings. The area was starting to grow in numbers and with it the demand for bigger class sizes and more classrooms at the school to cope.

 Year 2

Year 2 was a year of change in many ways for me and my classmates, Class 2V was based in the portakabins of the big playground, complete with its green steel railings that faced on to the Whistlestop Pub and the summit of Crows Lane, which at one point one kid got their head stuck in and had to have the fire brigade help them dislodge it along with some soap and water.  

The playground used to look humongous for people of our age and size, it also meant we were mingled with the bigger kids at lunchtime which in turn made us feel a bit older and in my case, like we were a bit more grown-up, As well as Mrs Vincent's class I believe the other cabins were occupied by Mrs Graham who i go into more detail about further on in this section, Mrs Cumberbatch, a diminutive softly spoken older teacher with an element of an older petite Julie Andrews about her, and then her complete opposite Miss Seymour, who was probably the strictest teacher in the school, forthright in tone, very matter of fact and dealt in absolutes, she would also act as a sort of Health and Safety officer and Police the pupils, from her 2 bell routine which would involve us having to stand absolutely still on the first bell (the "Stand Still" resembled the one you hear in the Pink Floyd song if you know it)  to then making our way orderly to our lines on the second bell, if we didn’t line up quietly she would then make us perform rituals with our hands on our heads or shoulders as instructed until she had compliance.

In lessons from any I had with her, she was more relaxed and learning focused. Although she had a penchant for making us play the farmers in his den in PE lessons, which was always a laugh unless it got to the and the dog wanted a bone as if you got selected you were in the middle while everyone vigorously patted you on the head!   It must have been a job to do as well because it took a fair bit to stop us from having many a stray ball land over the fence to crows nest lane or the marshland behind.  She also co-ordinated the sports day for our year group which was a super competitive affair but well organised as you would expect under her jurisdiction.

It was the era of Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles (UK name at the time) and the emergence of Hulk Hogan and the WWF so the teachers had a lot on to stop us from performing Clotheslines, Back Breakers or heaven forbid any DDT on each other.

Some would also gather by an area to the far end of the playground near where you can see below the old bricked up War Shelter playing army. The other popular sports for the boys, of course, would be football which was highly competitive and usually about 25 aside. The goal at one end was a Portakabin and then coats by the fence at the top end. There was a little gap in that part too where the bars had been stretched so the ball could be retrieved if it went on the marsh, as long as you were quick to come back in.

On windy days some lads would just amuse themselves by turning their coat inside out over their heads facing the wind and see how far they could get blown or if they could resist it, all the while James Ratcliffe was a good year into carrying out a family tradition of wearing shorts for school every day continuously in a bid to outdo the efforts of his dad and his brother, I think he got to 2 and a half years, a sterling effort given some of the cold weather we had back then. His parents were one of many who would give their time up for the school. His father was the regular DJ for the school discos too. Although that's more for Key Stage 2.

The girls would be playing on their “Skip and Go” which was the popular toy of the time seeing if they could get over 100 on the counter. At Christmas some groups of kids would walk around arm in arm in large groups belting out pop songs, they seemed to particularly like belting out "Mistletoe and Wine", we were in the era of Cliff Richards annual christmas takeover of the charts then. At least we didn’t have to get him in to sing at wet playtime like they did at Wimbledon!

The most popular game involved the yard splitting into two halves and then launching a tennis ball to the opposing side, a bit like Shrove Tuesday football but much simpler, if you hit the fence or Portakabin / boundary at the opposite end your team got a point, also if you caught the opposing throw clean you got a point, Whichever of us had a monster arm on them for throwing was always the first pick. Before each throw to the teammates would be chanting their name akin to what you get at a football match.

We didn’t need tablets or Minecraft in those days, it was much simpler. We also had the toilets at the far end of the Portakabin below the upper playground. This was also where the wall was located for the naughty kids, the teachers used to have to spend a lot of time stopping people messing about by them or trying to crawl under the gap playing their army games. Then following our school trip to Temple Newsam they would have to stop people from running in and screaming “blue lady blue lady” which would cause kids to dash out of the toilet frightened that the urban legend was in their presence!

We also saw a major change at the school in terms of leadership, we had a new headteacher, Mrs Bobbie Syrett, A tall charismatic lady who carried an air of authority at all times yet was approachable and personable as long as the pupils were also conducting themselves with the same level of courtesy, from the memory of what I heard from other pupils too if anyone was misbehaving she also ensured the correct level of discipline was delivered to make sure pupils learnt their lesson with a knowing prod of the finger. Luckily for me I never got that summons.

She went on to become a legend at the school and continued lead the school when some of my classmates children attended too, over her time there she went a long way towards modernising the culture of the school.

I believe previously she had been based at Greenmount School and from her time there she learnt a lot about diversity and always encouraged it within the curriculum. She would also always take a very active part in hymn practice, particularly when it came to having to sing the round section in the “Sing Hosannah” hymn, where each line would have to follow the line in front, but also brought a bit more entertainment into the assemblies we had, on a Friday she would have a birthday assembly where all the kids with birthdays from the week ahead would be brought to the front and she would ask what they would be doing to celebrate and get the school to sing them a happy birthday. When events such as Comic Relief occurred we would all learn to do “The Stonk” by Hale and Pace whilst we put a red nose on our conks, for Children in need she would go all out, she organised a charity evening at the school where we put on a school fashion show, she converted the whole of the area adjoining the school hall into a café area, her husband came to play jazz piano music by candlelight next to the reading area which was being used as the cafe, we had tombolas, stalls and a mini fair set up inside the school hall. It was quite something.  

The school bonfires went up a gear too, again she would organise events in the hall such as apple bobbing and games for the kids to play, for the firework display we would all gather in the top playground whilst we then watched the display complete with the full array of Catherine Wheels, Airbombs, Screamers and whatever Standard was making in those days and have them be set off from the highest point in Beeston, all the time complete with her walkie talkie organising the logistics and setting a few off herself as well. We couldn’t have the actual bonfire for health and safety reasons but the display was as good as any a school could put on.  We of course had to watch all the safety films in assembly too about them. Most people will remember the type of safety advert you had in the 80s, most of which would end to the sound of sirens. She also made sure the school Harvest Festival went up a notch too, she worked us double hard in the weeks running up to that to make sure that we did the best possible rendition of “Cauliflowers fluffy and cabbages green” especially when it came to bringing the ending reprise of broad beans sleeping in their blankety beds to almost a whisper, it was an absolute triumph and the local pensioners and residents of Maple Court and Beeston Manor loved it.

Our other assemblies would vary from the readings again from the local clergy to being given presentations based around the different patron saint days of the year or the religious festivals of each culture, complete with the stories to go with them, usually taken by a teacher with heritage from the said country, so for Easter Reverend Williamson would tell the story of the resurrection complete with large illustrated images on the easel, when it was Hanukkah Mrs Raphael would take those.

Mrs Raphael was also a newer teacher at the school then who had come from Little London Primary School, she taught us a lot about Jewish Culture during our time there, she had a resemblance somewhere in between Harriet Harman and Maureen Lipman, she also taught me something about myself too as she used to always say that her favourite person on TV was Jonathan Hart from Hart to Hart, so from there I looked it up and learned about Mr Wagner's exploits, I still use it on phone calls at work as an ice breaker sometimes, “yes my names Jonathan Hart, I just don’t have a Ferrari, millions of pounds, Stephanie Powers or a dog called Freeway”, everything has a link somewhere!  

For our St David's Day Assembly we had a presentation from Mrs Graham, who had the most wonderful welsh lilt to her voice, she told the whole story of his Patronage and was sure to include all the expected symbols such as the Daffodils and Leeks for our cultural benefit. She would occasionally take lessons in our class too in the afternoon for reading or music where she would bring in her acoustic guitar which I was always fascinated by, it left an impression given my love of the instrument these days.  

A few times a year assemblies we had would usually be taken by members of the emergency services, we would have regular visits from the fire brigade complete with Wellyphant who the kids went mad for. We would meet our community constable which firstly was PC Cryer and then later PC Binns, they would come in to show us films about Saying no to strangers, the green cross code and road safety, which was a big thing for us as sadly over that time period a few children were sadly taken from the world mainly by the crossing at St Marys and the CO-OP , thankfully that led to some changes on the crossing too and the situation is much better these days, the other thing they would warn us about was playing on the railways, how much effect that had on some of us for the latter subject is debatable but once they had done the serious stuff they would then lighten the mood, especially if they brought in Percy the Police Car, which we would be mesmerised by as he whizzed around the school hall cracking jokes at the expense of PC Binns whilst educating us on the subject of the day, although in reality we should have probably noticed that there was a police officer with a headset microphone and a transmitter stood at the back of the hall , but we were all too fascinated by Percy to notice, plus it would have spoilt the magic.

Other memories from that time mainly come from the lessons we had, we still had look and read, the main episode of which was “Through the dragon's eye” complete with that beast called Charn that used to scare the bejesus out of the whole class, to the point where some would cover their eyes until he had left the scene! You can find the reruns on youtube his costume was pretty akin to something from Freddy Kruger mixed with some dark gothic crow, a bit much for a group of 7-year-olds to take in!

We would learn the various morality tales which would then be tied in with their countries, such as the story of Romulus and Remus, Icarus, The Emperor's new clothes, the boy who cried wolf, and The Little Dutch boy who put his finger somewhere which I will not complete the sentence for as it can be mistaken for being politically incorrect in 2020,that is if the wording is misinterpreted by people who don’t know about the canal system of the Netherlands as we discovered from this tale.

Our class read various storybooks, one that stood out to me was a story called ESP, a tale of a pigeon who would peck holes in a man's newspaper on the racing pages and always select winners. People who know me know I am a fan of the sport and spent many weekends watching Channel 4 racing with my grandfather, however, I don’t think Mrs Vincent was as impressed as I then went on to tell her the tales of picking out "In The Groove" to win the Juddemonte International at York ridden by Steve Cauthen and then followed it with all manner of other picks I had made reeling off tales of Nashwan and the like, my mother gave me a telling off when I mentioned it as she thought they would be getting the social services out on us!

We started to do science lessons complete with circuit boards and lightbulbs, made little tapestries and were encouraged to a lot of drawing, in particular for a competition which was launched by the newly constructed St Johns Shopping centre to design a mascot, which would then feature on their branding and in costume at the centre for advertising purposes, clever marketing on their part, it was open to all the schools in the local area, safe to say my poor effort “Babbit the rabbit” was an epic fail, I was also surprised to see that it was not won by Andrew Webb who was advanced at illustration in our class at the time and could draw original creations as well as brilliant replicas of the famous cartoon characters freehand and from memory.

But I am pleased to say Beeston Primary still forged the winner, as my neighbour, Phillip Mitchell had his selection “Pertweek the Penguin” selected, much to his enjoyment and I remember a year later when we were stood at the Lord Mayors show he suddenly went wild in excitement when his creation was walking down Vicar Lane waving at the crowds. For the school trips, an outing was organised to Temple Newsam, including a tour of the house as you will have gathered from the Blue Lady reference earlier with the obligatory egg mayo sandwiches again for the kids on free school dinners!

Then a long hot summer followed which was mainly spent with me my friends looking forward to replicating our favourite Leeds players who were now in the top league following promotion, many of the lads had Vinny Jones V Haircuts at the time, and to the world cup of Italia 90, complete with Pavarotti Soundtrack, Penalty shootout heartbreaks, Jack Charlton & O’Leary, prior to breaking up many of us in the playground could be seen doing impressions of John Barnes rapping or singing for England (Eng – Ger –Land). With that Key Stage one was over, next up we would be into year 3, with a new teacher, to whom teaching was also new, a shakeup of all the classes and us being the guinea pigs for a new style of testing.

It was also the last year we got milk too, which like the Prime Minister who was often spoken of when talking about Milk at the time Mrs Thatcher was also about to depart. 

That was the end of Key Stage one and I will probably repost in a week or so with key stage 2 once i have gathered a few more photos to go with the stories, if people have any stories to recall or clarifications, teachers they remember from their own classes in these year groups feel free to add your input, i will be mentioning a lot of the other teachers in accounts of my final 2 years at the school in future posts as I am trying to keep things chronological for my own train of thought.  Hopefully it triggers a few memories for other people too.

[teachersofbeestonls11]

Years 1 & 2 , Playgrounds, Percy Police Car, Portakabins and Penguins.

Year One 

We relocated a little bit further up the school past the main entrance to the lower “big playground” that faced on to the school field by the bus terminus. The school has a very memorable layout in that way, when people say you moved up the school, in each year group that was the case both in age and in geographical terms as well, In this year my class was 1V taught by were Mrs Vincent, an older teacher than the ones I had before, she had a look a bit like Betty Turpin from Coronation street with her style of glasses and how her hair was set. She was well-spoken, patient, empathetic and approachable, she had a very mothering influence with our class, she would always listen to whatever wild and wonderful stories we would come up with. 

She had a lot of worldly-wise insight and had a way of explaining information to us in a way we would understand at our age without being too childish, she could also still be firm and assertive when required in a more old school manner and strong but fair in discipline if any child was trying to lash out too. In later years she also moved to Hugh Gaitskell and also taught my sister and one of my cousins in their time at school. 

I remember I had a phase where I would draw pictures at home on a night with my felt tip pens, I was never a good artist but I enjoyed drawing back then, I used to bring her a picture in most days and she would always take it and thank me for it, no idea what she would do with them! She also made me register monitor so it was my job to go take to register back to the school office after registrations.  

A lot of the work we did in this time was more focused around learning about the seasons of the year, a lot of geography-based projects and elements of life and growth, particular examples that stand out were each table having to get a seed, water it from the start then maintain their plant up to growth and we would compare each tables efforts as the weeks went on, although in the case of our table we almost jinxed it from day one when I pretty much drenched the seed and pot after it was planted!  Alan Titchmarsh or Monty Don I am not that’s for sure!  

For a while too we had a class pet, which from memory was a hamster which we would have to take turns to tend to.  We read the story of the very hungry Caterpillar. The story was an introduction to our learning about nature as then a caterpillar was brought in and then we watched it follow the full metamorphasis to a chrysalis and then eventually a butterfly, for kids of our age it was eye opening and fascinating and in a way introduces us to some of the miracles and phenomena of life and nature. 

We started to learn more about different occupations, Evolving Technologies of the day, and also about how Vehicles evolved so for example cars from Model T to the current Fords of the time. We were also encouraged to create or discuss our own ideas of what Cars and Motorbikes of the future may look like. 

One of the most basic elements we learnt though were common courtesy and manners, holding doors open for one and other and tolerance of other cultures, our class in this year had more of intake from the growing Asian community in Beeston, The first name for example on our register was Adeeba Akhtar, the first response to reading her name out was for Mrs Vincent to tell her and all our class what a beautiful name she had. It transpired that Mrs Vincent had spent a good deal of time in Saudi Arabia when her husband worked in the oil industry, so she was very awake to the customs of Muslim culture before many in the area were, she also knew about how the law was dealt out over there and explained how it differed from our own, always in plain English and to sound engaging. She also organised some Mendhi Painting in the class at the time of the fest

The well travelled Mrs Vincent also spent time in Canada and I remember her bringing in a giant Maple Leaf the following day from pancake day after discussion moved from what we like to have on our pancakes to the symbolism of the leaf in addition to that very popular Canadian syrup. She was always thinking 2 moves ahead. 

We had our first Christmas play in this year, the normal type that you would have but ours was not in the main hall but to the parents in the lower school wet area, I managed to bag myself a speaking part in it too, although I managed to bypass having to be dressed in any of the tinselly costumes as I had the part of “The Son” my role was to be told the story of the nativity by my “mother” which was the role delegated to Jenna Bennett who did an excellent job as narrator, it also meant that I got to spend the whole show in my pyjamas and slippers, which helped ease any nerves as I was sat there in the 1988 equivalent of loungewear. She was also the person that went on to marry my classmate Richard Leach, they are still together to this day, so my on-stage mother went on to marry the guy sat next to me in class on a daily basis, I don’t think Mystic Meg, Derek Acorah or especially that Stephen Holbrook would have been able to see that coming no matter how many adverts he puts in The Metro. 

In summer Months Mrs Vincent would take us out to the little field for our games of rounders where she would act as umpire and occasional bowler too.  Stories, registration and milk time would be taken at the carpet, legs crossed and fingers on lips to be quiet until time to speak!  

This was also the year where we started to be allowed to go into the main hall for assemblies and year group would make their way into the hall one at a time then sit in their row with our teacher perched on a chair at the side, the hall used to seem massive, its wooden climbing frame at one side and if you looked up to the roof in and across a maypole which was only brought out at Maytime when we would be taught maypole dancing. Assemblies were mostly led by the then headteacher Mr Archer.  

We didn’t get to see him for long before his time at the school was finishing so I only have limited memories of him but I remember he was particularly fond of belting out the hymns, pumping one arm to the time of the music in the style of a conductor and giving out the various prizes and awards that had been given. One of which I believe was called The Thomas Watson award, there were also awards given out for House Points and a prize for attendance which was named after a female pupil who braved it into school in particularly treacherous conditions at some point in History but the name escapes me! 

Other assemblies would be from the older years carrying out their designated topic or assembly based on what they were learning at the time.    Some assemblies would be taken by Mr Wood who was Deputy Head for many years, always dressed in a sharp suit with slick hair, he was built like a rugby player and had a distinctive whistle to his voice similar to how you hear whenever Matthew McConaughey is speaking in a film these days. He always carried an air of authority about him and when he spoke people listened, in later years when he semi-retired he also took lessons for my form class in our final year at Hugh Gaitskell as a supply teacher where I found him to be a bit more informal and he was always very sympathetic to the class whilst talking to us like young adults, he was always very well liked and when teaching in class and was particularly good at teaching maths.

  Going back to Hymn practice, a regular occurrence over the years at BPS, as well as at the assemblies those were always taken accompanied by the piano, which was more often than not played by Mrs Oliver, Mrs Oliver was some character, her speaking voice was brash but to the point, northern straight-talking, she had a quick wit, sharp humour and if ever we were not doing something to give the song full effort would find a way to rouse us into singing a piece as she desired usually by way of delivering her critique in the manner of something Victoria Wood would orate in one of her stand up routines.  

The main ones we would sing are “if I needed a neighbour” and “all things bright and beautiful” in particular on the beginning of each chorus you would always hear us all doing a very pronounced high pitched emphasis on the word “all” at the beginning of each chorus.  

If Mrs Oliver was away her husband would take the piano to fill in, he had a very distinctive pair of readers that were half cut semi-circle glasses, once or twice a week to we would have an assembly with a lesson or parable from a vicar of one of the 3 local C of E Churches, St Mary’s St Andrews and St David’s, The most regular of whom at that time was also a namesake as The Reverend Oliver, But also occasionally from Reverend Williamson whose son Mark was a member of our class.   

At playtimes we had migrated to the bigger playground facing the field, the games we would play had evolved into either acting out our favourite characters from kids shows or movies, playing Tig or kiss chase and so forth, we were policed by Miss Mary and her cohorts which then also included Mrs Allen and Mrs Dunbar as well as Mrs Easton and Mrs Slight who were also parents of our schoolmates and in one case a Grandparent. 

This is where Miss Mary came into her own as Chief Constable as well as judge and jury of any misdemeanour, Big red coat on in all weather, the main punishment  she would dish out would be send you to “The Wall” , Followed by a walk of shame to stand at the wall by the door, nose facing the wall to contemplate your actions and don’t dare urn around until told otherwise, in the most extreme case you go to the heads office but that was rare then.  

However, it was a particularly wet year until the summer, lots of storms and thunder which then meant we would be inside a lot and have to take part in “wet playtime” which seemed to be a lot more hard work on the dinner ladies to keep our attention as they would have to make our entertainment for us, This would vary from having the giant tv with its winged covers on showing us some sort of educational re-run of “words and pictures “ with the magic pen, to sing-songs on the little cassette radio or if times were getting desperate then Mrs Easton all making us do repetitions with our fingers wiggling to some actions of “ex-er-cises ex-er-cises we can do our exc-er-cises" we still didn’t even have tablets back then this was the height of our self entertainment. They did a sterling job. 

We also had our first school trip, a 2 part affair starting with a trip to Armley Mills in the morning, followed by a break for egg mayo sandwiches if like me you had school dinners then a trip to Roundhay Park in the afternoon, in between both journeys we were taken by the coaches that also ran the Asda bus and we would all stand shouting and screaming for “coach one coach one” or “coach two coach two” depending which one had been designated to take us. Some of the parents also joined us for day to assist with the supervision, I have a photo from it somewhere at my mums or Aunts house which I am in the process of trying to retrieve. 

The last day of the year we were all allowed to bring toys, with our board games like Mouse Trap, Buckeroo, Operation and the like, we were too young then for the type made at Waddingtons down the road. Then it was time for summer holidays before joining Mrs Vincent's class again, At some point possibly maybe during a walk to The Co-Op I passed the school and we noticed some lorries in there dropping off some giant fabrications which we then came to know as “the portakabins” which became our daytime dwelling for the following year in year 2 where once again we had the pleasure of Mrs Vincent’s teachings. The area was starting to grow in numbers and with it the demand for bigger class sizes and more classrooms at the school to cope. 

  Year 2 

Year 2 was a year of change in many ways for me and my classmates, Class 2V was based in the portakabins of the big playground, complete with its green steel railings that faced on to the Whistlestop Pub and the summit of Crows Lane, which at one point one kid got their head stuck in and had to have the fire brigade help them dislodge it along with some soap and water.   

The playground used to look humongous for people of our age and size, it also meant we were mingled with the bigger kids at lunchtime which in turn made us feel a bit older and in my case, like we were a bit more grown-up, As well as Mrs Vincent's class I believe the other cabins were occupied by Mrs Graham who i go into more detail about further on in this section, Mrs Cumberbatch, a diminutive softly spoken older teacher with an element of an older petite Julie Andrews about her, and then her complete opposite Miss Seymour, who was probably the strictest teacher in the school, forthright in tone, very matter of fact and dealt in absolutes, she would also act as a sort of Health and Safety officer and Police the pupils, from her 2 bell routine which would involve us having to stand absolutley still on the first bell (the "Stand Still" resembled the one you hear in the Pink Floyd song if you know it)  to then making our way orderly to our lines on the second bell, if we didn’t line up quietly she would then make us perform rituals with our hands on our heads or shoulders as instructed until she had compliance. 

In lessons from any I had with her, she was more relaxed and learning focused. Although she had a penchant for making us play the farmers in his den in PE lessons, which was always a laugh unless it got to the and the dog wanted a bone as if you got selected you were in the middle while everyone vigorously patted you on the head!   It must have been a job to do as well because it took a fair bit to stop us from having many a stray ball land over the fence to crows nest lane or the marshland behind.  She also co-ordinated the sports day for our year group which was a super competitive affair but well organised as you would expect under her jurisdiction. 

It was the era of Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles (UK name at the time) and the emergence of Hulk Hogan and the WWF so the teachers had a lot on to stop us from performing Clotheslines, Back Breakers or heaven forbid any DDT on each other. 

Some would also gather by area to the far end of the playground near where you can see below the old bricked up War Shelter playing army. The other popular sports for the boys, of course, would be football which was highly competitive and usually about 25 aside. The goal at one end was a Portakabin and then coats by the fence at the top end. There was a little gap in that part too where the bars had been stretched so the ball could be retrieved if it went on the marsh, as long as you were quick to come back in. 

On windy days some lads would just amuse themselves by turning their coat inside out over their heads facing the wind and see how far they could get blown or if they could resist it, all the while James Ratcliffe was a good year into carrying out a family tradition of wearing shorts for school every day continuously in a bid to outdo the efforts of his dad and his brother, I think he got to 2 and a half years, a sterling effort given some of the cold weather we had back then. His parents were one of many who would give their time up for the school. His father was the regular DJ for the school discos too. Although that's more for Key Stage 2. 

The girls would be playing on their “Skip and Gos which was the popular toy of the time seeing if they could get over 100 on the counter. At Christmas some groups of kids would walk around arm in arm in large groups belting out pop songs, they seemed to particularly like belting out "Mistletoe and Wine", we were in the era of Cliff Richards annual christmas takeover of the charts then. At least we didn’t have to get him in to sing at wet playtime like they did at Wimbledon!

The most popular game involved the yard splitting into two halves and then launching a tennis ball to the opposing side, a bit like Shrove Tuesday football but much simpler, if you hit the fence or Portakabin / boundary at the opposite end your team got a point, also if you caught the opposing throw clean you got a point, Whichever of us had a monster arm on them for throwing was always the first pick. Before each throw to the teammates would be chanting their name akin to what you get at a football match. 

We didn’t need tablets or Minecraft in those days, it was much simpler. We also had the toilets at the far end of the Portakabin below the upper playground. This was also where the wall was located for the naughty kids, the teachers used to have to spend a lot of time stopping people messing about by them or trying to crawl under the gap playing their army games. Then following our school trip to Temple Newsam they would have to stop people from running in and screaming “blue lady blue lady” which would cause kids to dash out of the toilet frightened that the urban legend was in their presence! 

We also saw a major change at the school in terms of leadership, we had a new headteacher, Mrs Bobbie Syrett, A tall charismatic lady who carried an air of authority at all times yet was approachable and personable as long as the pupils were also conducting themselves with the same level of courtesy, from the memory of what I heard from other pupils too if anyone was misbehaving she also ensured the correct level of discipline was delivered to make sure pupils learnt their lesson with a knowing prod of the finger. Luckily for me I never got that summons.

She went on to become a legend at the school and continued lead the school when some of my classmates children attended too, over her time there she went a long way towards modernising the culture of the school. 

I believe previously she had been based at Greenmount School and from her time there she learnt a lot about diversity and always encouraged it within the curriculum. She would also always take a very active part in hymn practice, particularly when it came to having to sing the round section in the “Sing Hosannah” hymn, where each line would have to follow the line in front, but also brought a bit more entertainment into the assemblies we had, on a Friday she would have a birthday assembly where all the kids with birthdays from the week ahead would be brought to the front and she would ask what they would be doing to celebrate and get the school to sing them a happy birthday. When events such as Comic Relief occurred we would all learn to do “The Stonk” by Hale and Pace whilst we put a red nose on our conks, for Children in need she would go all out, she organised a charity evening at the school where we put on a school fashion show, she converted the whole of the area adjoining the school hall into a café area, her husband came to play jazz piano music by candlelight next to the reading area which was being used as the cafe, we had tombolas, stalls and a mini fair set up inside the school hall. It was quite something.   

The school bonfires went up a notch too, again she would organise events in the hall such as apple bobbing and games for the kids to play, for the firework display we would all gather in the top playground whilst we then watched the display complete with the full array of Catherine Wheels, Airbombs, Screamers and whatever Standard was making in those days and have them be set off from the highest point in Beeston, all the time complete with her walkie talkie organising the logistics and setting a few off herself as well. We couldn’t have the actual bonfire for health and safety reasons but the display was as good as any a school could put on.  We of course had to watch all the safety films in assembly too about them. Most people will remember the type of safety advert you had in the 80s, most of which would end to the sound of sirens.   She also made sure the school Harvest Festival went up a notch too, she worked us double hard in the weeks running up to that to make sure that we did the best possible rendition of “Cauliflowers fluffy and cabbages green” especially when it came to bringing the ending reprise of broad beans sleeping in their blankety beds to almost a whisper, it was an absolute triumph and the local pensioners and residents of Maple Court and Beeston Manor loved it. 

Our other assemblies would vary from the readings again from the local clergy to being given presentations based around the different patron saint days of the year or the religious festivals of each culture, complete with the stories to go with them, usually taken by a teacher with heritage from the said country, so for Easter Reverend Williamson would tell the story of the resurrection complete with large illustrated images on the easel, when it was Hannukah Mrs Raphael would take those. 

Mrs Raphael was also a newer teacher at the school then who had come from Little London Primary School, she taught us a lot about Jewish Culture during our time there, she had a resemblance somewhere in between Harriet Harman and Maureen Lipman, she also taught me something about myself too as she used to always say that her favourite person on TV was Jonathan Hart from Hart to Hart, so from there I looked it up and learned about Mr Wagner's exploits, I still use it on phone calls at work as an ice breaker sometimes, “yes my names Jonathan Hart, I just don’t have a Ferrari, millions of pounds, Stephanie Powers or a dog called Freeway”, everything has a link somewhere!   

For our St Davids Day Assembly we had a presentation from Mrs Graham, who had the most wonderful welsh lilt to her voice, she told the whole story of his Patronage and was sure to include all the expected symbols such as the Daffodils and Leeks for our cultural benefit. She would occasionally take lessons in our class too in the afternoon for reading or music where she would bring in her acoustic guitar which I was always fascinated by, it left an impression given my love of the instrument these days.   

A few times a year assemblies we had would usually be taken by members of the emergency services, we would have regular visits from the fire brigade complete with Wellyphant who the kids went mad for. We would meet our community constable which firstly was PC Cryer and then later PC Binns, they would come in to show us films about Saying no to strangers, the green cross code and road safety, which was a big thing for us as sadly over that time period a few children were sadly taken from the world mainly by the crossing at St Marys and the CO-OP , thankfully that led to some changes on the crossing too and the situation is much better these days, the other thing they would warn us about was playing on the railways, how much effect that had on some of us for the latter subject is debatable but once they had done the serious stuff they would then lighten the mood, espescailly if they brought in Percy the Police Car, which we would be mesmerised by as he whizzed around the school hall cracking jokes at the expense of PC Binns whilst educating us on the subject of the day, although in reality we should have probably noticed that there was a police officer with a headset microphone and a transmitter stood at the back of the hall , but we were all too fascinated by Percy to notice, plus it would have spoilt the magic. 

Other memories from that time mainly come from the lessons we had, we still had look and read, the main episode of which was “Through the dragon's eye” complete with that beast called Charn that used to scare the bejesus out of the whole class, to the point where some would cover their eyes until he had left the scene! You can find the reruns on youtube his costume was pretty akin to something from Freddy Kruger mixed with some dark gothic crow for a group of 7-year-olds to take in! 

We would learn the various morality tales which would then be tied in with their countries, such as the story of Romulus and Remus, Icarus, The Emperor's new clothes, the boy who cried wolf, and The Little Dutch boy who put his finger somewhere which I will not complete the sentence for as it can be mistaken for being politically incorrect in 2020 if the wording is misinterpreted by people who don’t know about the canal system of the Netherlands. 

We read various storybooks, one that stood out to me was a story called ESP, a tale of a pigeon who would peck holes in a man's newspaper on the racing pages and always select winners. People who know me know I am a fan of the sport and spent many weekends watching Channel 4 racing with my grandfather, however, I don’t think Mrs Vincent was as impressed as I then went on to tell her the tales of picking out "In The Groove" to win the Juddemonte International at York ridden by Steve Cauthen and then followed it with all manner of other picks I had made reeling off tales of Nashwan and the like, my mother gave me a telling off when I mentioned it as she thought they would be getting the social services out on us! 

We started to do science lessons complete with circuit boards and lightbulbs, made little tapestries and were encouraged to a lot of drawing, in particular for a competition which was launched by the newly constructed St Johns Shopping centre to design a mascot, which would then feature on their branding and in costume at the centre for advertising purposes, clever marketing on their part, it was open to all the schools in the local area, safe to say my poor effort “Babbit the rabbit” was an epic fail, I was also surprised to see that is was not won by Andrew Webb who was advanced at illustration in our class at the time and could draw original creations as well as brilliant replicas of the famous cartoon characters freehand and from memory. 

But I am pleased to say Beeston Primary still forged the winner, as my neighbour, Phillip Mitchell had his selection “Pertweek the Penguin” selected, much to his enjoyment and I remember a year later when we were stood at the Lord Mayors show he suddenly went wild in excitement when his creation was walking down Vicar Lane waving at the crowds. For the school trips, an outing was organised to Temple Newsam, including a tour of the house as you will have gathered from the Blue Lady reference earlier with the obligatory egg mayo sandwiches again for the kids on free school dinners! 

Then a long hot summer followed which was mainly spent with me my friends looking forward to replicating our favourite Leeds players who were now in the top league following promotion, many of the lads had Vinny Jones V Haircuts at the time, and the world cup of Italia 90, complete with Pavarotti Soundtrack, Penalty shootout heartbreaks and many of us in the playground doing impressions of John Barnes rapping or singing for England (Eng – Ger –Land). With that Key Stage one was over, next up we would be into year 3, with a new teacher, to whom teaching was also new, a shakeup of all the classes and us being the guinea pigs for a new style of testing. 

It was also the last year we got milk too, which like the Prime Minister who was often spoken of when talking about it at the time was also about to depart. 

[joie-university-rp]

Dear JESSE ST. JAMES,

It is with great pleasure we invite you admission to Joie University! Welcome to the Thunderclap family!

-

Congratulations, ROG! Please be sure to check the New Members’ Checklist and send in your character’s account within 24 hours from now. We cannot wait to see all that you will bring to this roleplay! We love you already!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias; pronouns: Rog; they/them

Age, Timezone: 21; EST

Activity, short explanation: I’m very active, and I’ll try to be on as much as I can :D

Ships: Anything with chemistry

Anti-Ships: Forced

Triggers: RFP

Preferred photo for Character’s ID (please give a link): http://wamu.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/t185592953__jonathangroff-545x600.jpg

Anything else: Hit me up!

IC INFORMATION:

Full Name (First, Middle, Last): Jesse St. James

FC: Jonathan Groff

Age/Year at University (Freshman [1st Year], Sophomore, Junior, Senior, or Graduate Student): Graduate Student

Birth date (MONTH DAY, YEAR): June 4th, 1992

Hometown (please be sure to check the hometowns listed for characters your muse is related to!): Akron, Ohio

Gender/Pronouns: Cis male; he/him

Sexuality: Bisexual

Major(s): Theatre

Minor(s) [optional]: Music

Housing request (remember, only the president of a Greek Organization is required to live at a Greek House to be in it!): Beiste Dormitory, single

Extracurriculars (Click here for the list. Be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, secretary, etc.] If something isn’t listed, please put it here and we will add it to the masterlist!): Drama Club, Glee Club

Greek Life Affiliation [optional] (Please be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, pledge educator, etc.] or if your character is not yet a member, but plans to rush): -

CHARACTER PROFILE:

•Jesse was born into a very talented and wealthy family, every single relative was involved in the arts in one way or another. His mother was a costume designer for many well-known stars, and came from a famous line of Broadway and Hollywood stars, while his father was a successful film director, so Jesse was definitely expected to become prominent in the arts as well.

•He was told multiple times by his parents that he was their favourite, they didn’t bother keeping it a secret. This lead to some of his siblings to struggle with self-esteem and other problems. He is proud of knowing that his parents thought him most likely to succeed and become somebody important, but he still feels like the guilty one sometimes.

•Jesse had his first role in Broadway at the age of four as a minor character in a play. This was the moment in which he decided what he wanted to do with his life: dedicate it to the stage fully. Since then, he participated in plenty of productions and projects for the acting industry, and hasn’t stopped.

•His parents paid for every single thing he ever wanted, which included a lot of arts lessons. He took classes in singing, dancing, acting, and every similar thing he could find. Even though the lessons noticeably helped him, he was a natural-born performer, a fact that didn’t do much to help with his rapidly-growing ego.

•He didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Obviously, kids didn’t want to spend recess sitting down with Jesse while he rambled on and on about his latest Broadway show, or about Queen, or just sharing what his mother had told him about how promising his future was. But he didn’t need them, or so he thought. All he needed was his own voice and a tune to sing during recess while he strolled around the playground by himself.

•Jesse comes off as an overconfident, arrogant, dismissive jerk, and while that’s not exactly a lie, he can also be caring and loving to the people close to him. His rude and conceited persona is just a facade he uses. Confidence is the key to success, those are the words he lives by, and he completely agrees with them, even if he unknowingly exaggerates sometimes.

•He can be a very good manipulator when he wants to, and he makes good use of that gift. He has used it before, and he won’t hesitate to use it when necessary.

•While Jesse is fantastic at performing, the same can’t be said about his academic skill. While his parents forced him to keep up with his schoolwork when he was a child, the habit didn’t stick to him, and that caused him to fail out of his scholarship at UCLA.

•He still keeps the care bear Rachel got him. He went back to get it and it now sits on his bed. It’s one of his best kept secrets, and he’ll be dead before he lets anyone find out about it, it’s embarrassing to him.

•His first celebrity crush wasn’t on a woman, but rather on Freddie Mercury. He had always been in awe at the man, and he reluctantly admitted his deep admiration was more of a childish crush.

•Jesse did manage to mature a bit after graduating high school. Failing at UCLA helped him get slightly humbler, as he realised that he wasn’t perfect, after all. Regardless, he is still more arrogant than average, but he’s willing to improve.

STUDENT CENSUS SURVEY:

(Please answer the following questions IN CHARACTER. Responses can be as long or short as you see fit!)

1. What made you want to attend Joie University?

Plan B. It’s definitely not UCLA, but I guess it’s good enough as a second option.

2. What are at least 3 positive or neutral and at least 3 negative traits that you believe you possess?

•I’m extremely talented and superior.

•Not to brag, but I’m probably better looking than every single one of you here.

•Is this a serious question? I’m basically a walking positive trait! Have you even seen me? Anyway, I’m pretty determined, I guess.

3. Which of your traits do you value most?

All of them. I can’t pick just one, but if I had to, it would probably be my dedication.

4. How can that trait benefit the University (or its student body) as a whole?

I can assure I won’t let anyone down. You guys need me.

5. What do you hope to gain from your experience at JU?

Well, our latest Broadway show needs some extras, so if I could make some connections with a few people, that would be great.

6. What is a quote or song lyric that describes you?

“Confidence comes naturally with success; but, success comes only to those who are confident.”

[theveryworstthing]

July's prompt winner on patreon was he_walks, with their prompt about curious choices. so here’s that.

Pit

“So which one do you want? Her Majesty says you’re to have your chance to escape execution out of respect, but its been days sir. Please.”

The prisoner sat in front of the large doors and focused a dashing gaze on the two very tired guards. They’d been down there for seven days now and he was Still. Asking. Questions.

The man roguishly flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes for what the guards counted as the 58th time. They mentally braced themselves.

“One more time gentlemen, if you could just explain what is behind each door one more time. This is a very important decision you know. Literally life or death and-”

The first guard had his arm across the second guard’s chest on reflex. They both wanted to punch him. They wanted to punch him so bad. But there were orders. The first guard cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Sir. The doors contain exactly what the signage says they contain,” he pointed to the signs on each door. “One room has a snake pit. The other has a peach pit. If you best your chosen room you can leave and your insult towards the queen will be-”

Another hair flip, 59. “Yes but what specifically is inside them my good chaps?”

The second guard couldn’t take it anymore. “What do you think is inside them?! There is nothing more we can tell you besides the extremely obvious!” he pushed past the first guard’s arm, ignoring a soft “Calm down now…”, and stomped over to the door on the left where he motioned wildly to the elaborate sign. “A Peach Pit. In the context of a death trial for your freedom. Is probably a pit full of peaches that will try to kill you. I don’t know how, but they will try! Magic bullshit probably! Dark magics are kind of our domain’s thing!” he then motioned to the door on the left. He did so with jazz hands. The jazz hands were emotionally fraught. “Meanwhile, the Snake Pit is a Snake Pit. You know what a snake pit is!” he took a deep shaky breath and raised a hand to his hooded temple. “You know. So just. Pick already. This dungeon smells like pee and everybody here wants to go home. I’m not lying to you. I’m way more invested in a hot shower than your death and I have been for like, three days now.”

Another hair flip, 60. But to the guard’s surprise, the flip was now accompanied by a smirk (a bigger smirk than he was already wearing of course. He was the type who always had a default smirk in play).

“Finally, I’ve cracked you. Your lack of patience has shown your hand and revealed the wordplay that would have led me to my doom! The queen thinks all would take the innocuous Peach Pit door to avoid the beasts and then be set upon by botanical sorcery in some cruel pun. How childish.” He held up his chained hands, “Release me. I choose to challenge the Snake Pit. Better the devil you know after all.”

**********************************

15 minutes after the screams stopped the guards cautiously entered the Snake Pit door. They walked the suspiciously snakeless space to the table in the center of the room and nudged the man’s body, lock of hair fallen tragically mid flip over his temple, into a burlap sack. The first guard then pulled on a silver gauntlet and readied a mason jar. He slowly dragged his hand through the plate of plums on the table until he heard a ‘hiss~ *ping*!’and picked up the partially bitten plum, dropping it in the jar before the tiny viper coiled inside could strike again. The second guard looked on in awe, frozen mid death-sack zip-tie.

“You’re kidding me.”

“He was right about one thing. Her majesty does love the puns.”

“What would have happened if he chose the other door then? I know I said all that stuff but I don’t really know. Its not like I’ve ever been marked for weird pun execution.” He finished closing the sack and dragged it to the small trash cart. It only just fit. “I was just sick of that fucking hair flip.”

The first guard shrugged as he clipped the tightly sealed mason jar to his belt. “I don’t know. Everyone the queen sends to these specific doors always pick the Snake Pit.”

“But why did he bite the plum?”

Another shrug, “They always bite the plum. I’ve been doing this for 5 years and they always bite the plum.” He placed the glass cover back over the plate. No use letting the rest of the plums get riled up. After everything was in its place he walked over to the second guard and patted him fondly on the back. “Let’s head home yeah? Get you that nice hot shower?”

A nod and a hood-hidden smile later they walked down the hall to janitorial. After signing the sack over to the compost goblin, they made their way outside, enjoying a scenic route stroll to the time clock. Might as well soak up as much overtime as possible.

As they walked the sunset-lit skull path beside the daycare playground, the second guard took a breath of fresh air and sighed happily.

“You know, say what you will about the queen, but she knows who needs executing.”

The first guard slung an arm around his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“She sure does friend. She sure does.”

[ecotone99]

[RF] Chapter One - Fear and Liberation

Chapter One - Fear and Liberation

​

On my sixteenth birthday I moved out and was put up in a B&B by social services, in an old Victorian building next to a railway bridge. That's where I spent the next two weeks, alone in my small room with a selection of my favourite foods bought with shopping vouchers from my best friend's mum, and one communal bathroom with a precarious lock I didn't trust. When I went, I had to sit with both of my legs to the side pressing against the door.

​

The first step into that unfamiliar room, more than ten miles away from the town I grew up in, brought an extreme fusion of terror and freedom. I was frightened, because I was alone with no idea what was to come, and too young to make big decisions and face the adult world and my independence. But free, because I was outside the reach of tyrannical adult rulership, technically able to do whatever I wanted. I remember thinking, "I'M FREE!"

​

I freaked out whenever I heard a knock on the door. My uncle, who persuaded me to leave home in the first place, warned me of the dangers I might face in the social housing systems. Even though I'd already been through so much, I was naive and full of childish hopes, but in the back of my mind somewhere I was vigilant to the darkness of existence. Everyone in the building looked shady. I kept myself to myself.

​

I spent the first two days exploiting my newfound freedom, on my Nintendo DS, sending funny faces to my friend across the Wi-Fi, eating cheese toastie bagels with tomato ketchup, designing games from the paper and card I'd bought from Poundland and playing them on my own, and watching my Doctor Who DVDs on the small TV above my bed.

​

The next day my youth worker Kezia came to visit. She rocked up in her cute little car wearing those laced heels, I don't know what they're called. She had her shiny black hair in a ponytail, and pink rosy hamster cheeks and mousy lips with tiny teeth. I adored her in ways you can imagine a sixteen-year-old boy would.

​

She drove us to a coffee shop in town and we discussed my situation over a social-services-paid lunch (i). So far, I'd been living off an emergency payment by the government, she told me. I didn't really understand it that well. I was just pleased I somehow had more money to spend than I'd ever done. Though admittedly I wasn't buying any "toys".

​

Apparently, I wasn't guaranteed any money yet; I needed to go to the Job Centre and apply for something called Income Support and Housing Benefit. That's the only way I'd be able to live in accommodation long-term.

​

We chatted for a bit. I told her I was worried about what was going to happen with money and if I was going to be able to live anywhere. She reassured me that as long as we did all the things she said we needed to do, everything would be alright. But I was annoyed, because to me the process seemed so cold and heartless; at the end of the day, I was a kid with nowhere to go. The fact that I had to go through any process at all seemed crazy to me.

​

When we were done talking, we took a trip across town to the Job Centre and picked up a couple of forms, then went back to the car to head to what would be my new place, just as soon as everything went through, as Kezia told me it would. I was going to start the form in the car but before I even put pen to paper Kezia told me we were already there, and I was nervous.

​

The house was at the top of a steep hill, at the end of a secluded road. It was another Victorian-style building, but with unpainted grey stone and a lot bigger. As we traversed up the long hedge-lined driveway towards the big red door, I couldn't help get the creeps. It looked like some kind of haunted mansion, and with the trees around it in the middle of nowhere, it kind of felt like it.

​

The fact that it was social housing with six rooms, a communal living room and kitchen, and two communal bathrooms, didn't really sum it up.

​

We buzzed the Office button on the side panel next to the big red door. "Come in." A high-pitched voice replied. I tried pushing the door but it wouldn't open, so we buzzed again. "Sorry, the door mechanism sometimes gets jammed, we're having it fixed soon. I'll come down and let you in."

​

An old-ish woman ballooning at the thighs opens the door. "Heya. Miserable weather isn't it?" (It had been grey all day). As I stepped into the tiled hallway I felt empty. I wasn't sure whether that was me or the house. "I'm Karen. Nice to meet you Luke." She said, waddling us up the stairs and then through a door which seemed to lead up to the attic and into an office. We all sat down.

​

"Hello Luke. I understand you've come from a difficult situation and you're looking for a place to stay."

"Yeah." I didn't know how to feel about this whole thing. Is this really the place where I'd be living for the next year/ foreseeable future? "This is a new housing project. Currently there are no residents. There are six empty rooms, so all of you who are moving in will be new to this experience."

"That's something you were worried about, isn't it Luke?" Kezia turned to me. I nodded unconfidently. "Have you sorted out the housing benefit stuff yet?" The woman asked my youth worker as though I wasn't there. "Yeah we went down there today didn't we?" I nodded feebly again.

​

Karen told me some basic stuff about the accommodation and what my living situation would be like, by going through this wad of paper which she called a Tenancy Agreement. All of these words meant nothing to me. I was either living there or I wasn't. I don't know why I had to sign a piece of paper to make it official.

​

Memorable information from the Tenancy Agreement includes: almost nothing, except:

. Staff in the office every weekday from nine to five, available to chat and talk through problems.

. No curfew - can go and come back as I please.

. Guests must be signed in, and for no more than two days a week.

. Security take over from staff and don't leave until staff get back the next day.

​

This one interested me. I already didn't feel safe, especially how my uncle had hyped me up for some kind of life or death confrontation with someone who might want to steal my money. So, hearing there would be security made me feel a bit better. I didn't know at this point what I was up against. I'd been through many fights in school and wasn't confident or keen to go back to doing it. Especially since my last fight involved me getting repeatedly punched in the face with zero retaliation. Ever since that I had been humble.

​

But hearing there was security, it was like being in the presence of a teacher in the playground; you know the bullies can't harm you as long as they're around. At least, that's the way I hoped it would be.

​

I left with squids in my stomach; half excited, half terrified, and feeling slightly sick, dreading a little having to go back to my B&B room and spend the rest of the day on my own without Kezia. As she drove us back down the hill, I managed to persuade her to let me fill in the Job Centre forms in her car while she parked in town.

​

I scribbled through it quickly and she helped me with some of the questions. I ran through town and handed it in at the JC, then she drove me home. "Let's arrange another meeting. How about next Tuesday?" She said. I agreed, but secretly wished I'd see her sooner, and then sooner again. She was the only source of stability I had. "And Luke," I turned awkwardly towards her car, "Make sure you shower!"

"Yeah yeah." I said condescendingly, skipping back into the B&B like a div.

I know for a fact I hadn't showered in a week, at least.

​

I went to the supermarket twice that evening just as something to do and get my mind off being alone in the B&B, it was hard to sleep with all my anxieties swirling around my mushy head. I was floating in the ocean of uncertainty, as I had done for most of my life. But this time I was truly alone. One worry in particular kept circling: what will my housemates be like? Will they be as brutal as my uncle said they would be? Or will they be nice? I am nice, aren't I? Would I be able to make friends? Find a girlfriend, maybe?

​

The next morning I woke up dramatically, as though I had been pummelled in the chest with a bag of bricks. A bag of lead bricks. I felt the emptiness from yesterday creeping through the front door of the B&B, spreading its unwanted talons across the walls of my subconscious, attempting to trap me inside myself, inside the prison of panic I'd become accustomed to.

​

I couldn't spend another day cooped up in this B&B. I felt not-well, scummy, like I was deteriorating fast. I needed to do something, before this feeling swallowed me up completely. I got in the shower.

​

I spent fifteen minutes in the hot water and steam and decided to go on a long walk, explore the local area.

​

I had heard there was a beach about a mile away, which was one possible destination. The weather was grey again, but it didn't look as though it was going to rain. So that was something. Though, I'm not one of those people who is uppity about having ice creams on a cold day (ii).

​

Before I went out officially for the walk, I wanted to get some milk for my Cheerios (iii) and also maybe a packed lunch. So I put on some clean clothes and donned my blue rucksack, opened the door and set off down this road that was still alien to me.

​

It was strange. As I stepped out into the pavement, my anxieties lifted. Cars that scooted past me on the narrow road seemed friendly. The silver linings in the grey sky shone. The Cornish seagulls cawed in the distance. The coastal air filled my lungs. I had this feeling like New Beginnings. I could almost hear Rose's Theme in my head from Doctor Who. I was my own person in the big world, free from my tyrannical mother, with my whole life ahead of me.

​

I almost skipped to the supermarket. And I probably did.

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Footnotes

(i) She told me she got a budget of about £5 for lunches and drinks. I am led to believe this has since been completely abolished due to Conservative government cuts and Brexit. Also youth workers are no longer part of social services.

(ii) This was before I found out that cold foods actually make you cold.

(iii) I liked to start the day with some calorie-rich cereal. I'd usually have two bowls. Sometimes it was Wheetos, sometimes it was Cheerios. It depends on how hung up I was about my health at the time (Wheetos being the sugary, unhealthier option I would avoid. They were also expensive).

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