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bbq-hawks-wings · 4 years

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hey! I've seen a bunch of posts on how HPSC is slightly corrupted and all, could you explain if you understand this? They're (die hard villain fans) usually using this as a justification to slam the heroes for raiding the army. I'm quite confused sorry

I’d be more than happy to, friend! I have a strong feeling it’s going to be a key detail in the story moving forward so it’s good to go back in reviewing everything we know now; plus, it gives me the perfect chance to offer up my theory that ropes in Aizawa, Midnight, and Present Mic. Buckle up, though, because this gets a little long.

The HPSC tells heroes what to do.

The Hero Public Safety Commission is a pocket of the Japanese national government in this universe, sort of like how the FDA is in America.

It’s important to note that HPSC is a separate entity from the heroes. They’re the ones giving out licenses, disciplining rouge heroes, overseeing hero training, acting as liaison between heroes and law enforcement, organizing cooperative efforts with multiple heroes across different regions, and managing the general image of heroes with events like the Hero Rankings Billboard.

Heroes have to obey directives given by the HPSC and hero schools have to align with guidelines set by the HPSC, but heroes don’t usually get a say in these decisions and often only get to complain about how things are done and are stuck doing it anyway. If someone is caught heroing without a license or not in hero uniform, you can be fined and/or jailed. If a hero doesn’t keep up with paperwork or runs off and does their own thing they can also be fined and have their license suspended. If a hero goes AWOL or completely flips out they can have their license permanently taken away and be jailed.

It’s actually even more important to note that way heroes are allowed to operate and answer to the government is actually closer in line to a militia than a police force. In fact, while heroes are allowed to make arrests and use their quirks, they are more restricted in what they can and can’t do on their own than the police. If a hero wants to work with other heroes on an investigation, they have to use the private network (administrated by the HPSC) or communicate in person. In the case with the Shie Hassaikai or looking for Kurogiri and the LoV where police cooperation was necessary to carry out the investigation and bring in the gang right away there was no choice but to be transparent with the HPSC.

However, the HPSC doesn’t have to be transparent with the heroes.

They require heroes to give up all their information to keep working as heroes, but they don’t have any accountability for themselves and have notably dodged scrutiny up to this point with public backlash almost always falling on the heroes who have little to no say in how they run things.

Starting back at the beginning of the series with the USJ incident, it understandably garnered massive media attention - it should have. Dozens of unknown, random two-bit villains poured into the most secure, prestigious hero school in all of Japan undetected and resulted in the serious injury of two teachers and could have included the students as well if All Might had not been there to fight and subdue the inhuman monster - the Nomu - who had up to that point had never been seen before.

It’s not unreasonable that UA initially got the blowback from this as it could have been chalked up to complacency causing a lapse in security that the HPSC absolutely wouldn’t have been accountable for. It’s treated like a one-off event and despite investigations going nowhere on it, it’s ultimately downplayed and checked out in the background while continuing with the Sports Festival in high spirits. However, things get worse.

After passing their semester exams the Hero Course first-years head off to do practical training in the mountains with a hero team named the Wild Wild Pussycats. Remember, because this is a hero training initiative between a school and a hero team, the HPSC is likely involved at least on some administrative level in regards to granting permission and securing the patch of mountainside to use even if this detail is not acknowledged in the series. Despite efforts to only include the staff, teachers, and heroes involved word somehow still gets out - resulting in more student, hero, and teacher injuries, and most importantly the kidnapping of one of the students.

This can no longer be swept under the rug. A lot happens in the secret hideout raid revealing lots of stuff with the plot, including All-for-One’s direct involvement, but it doesn’t add anything more to our notes besides the fact UA is once again blamed and heroes are thrown under the bus instead of the organization overseeing them.

Fast forward to the Provisional License Arc. This is the first time we see the HPSC acting explicitly. It’s noted that they passed significantly more students this year than previously. Yokumiru Mera, the tired proctor, is overworked. The HPSC has a reason to urgently pump more students into the “working force” now than it had before, though at the moment it’s written off as a result of All Might’s retirement.

During the Shie Hassaikai arc the only suspect detail we get is the fact that the raid on compound is inexplicably compromised, and somehow the yakuza knew the heroes and police were coming. We’ll come back to this and to the leaks in UA again later.

Skipping the remedial courses and school festival arc, we get to the Pro Hero Arc. Big lights, pomp and circumstance, and a massive powerful Nomu attack that nearly kills the freshly crowned #1 Hero. From this point forward, what we get of the HSPC is mainly through Hawks and his experience with him. After the fight, we get a flashback of the President of the HSPC herself telling him to ignore civilian casualties in his mission to infiltrate the LoV, that he has to do it solo, and that he can’t tell anyone. Briefly in the next chapter he says that despite his objections he can’t actually tell them no.

Hold up!

Did a government agency just tell a hero to secretly get in with the villains no matter what, and when he objects and asks whether he’s just supposed to ignore collateral damage in the process is told, “You can and you will”?! (That’s a verbatim quote from chapter 192.) I thought this agency was supposed to hep people and keep them safe!

We get smatterings of interactions between Hawks and the HPSC, and though we don’t get anything from there side we’re getting that every questionable or deplorable thing Hawks does or needs to get on the LoV’s good side is acknowledged and endorsed by the HPSC. “I’m in contact with the shady guy who loosed that monster in the middle of the city with no warning. He wants me to kill the other top hero who just recovered and to join the definitely-dangerous doomsday cult, and maybe THEN he’ll let me in on what’s going on.” Ok, sure. Nothing morally questionable about any of that...

Jump to chapter 267. Up to this point, this note about Hawks’ past has been hinted at, but is here finally confirmed with a chilling detail. Kids who enter hero work may get special coaching by their families when they’re young, but the threshold for entering formal government-regulated training isn’t until 14/15 years of age in the last few years of their education. Chapter 267 shows a little Keigo Takami no older than about 8, at best, being told by the HPSC that he doesn’t get to call himself by his own name anymore. From now on, he’s going to be a hero, and only a hero, and it’s going to long and hard. Back in 192, two mysterious figures promise the same boy, shown at the same age, that his family will be taken care of.

Whatever circumstances led Keigo’s family to end up in the situation they did, they accepted an offer from a government agency, the HPSC specifically - you can see their headquarters in the flashback - to take away their very young son, take away his identity (and implicitly his family), and groom him to be government tool for the rest of his life - a commitment he had no true say in and that he could not understand at the time.

And it gets worse.

Endeavor works with the HPSC regularly as all heroes have to, but his relationship with them and what they’ll let him get away with gets put into greater question the longer we look at it. He turned to eugenics to create a hero he couldn’t be and surpass All Might for the sole purpose of satisfying his own ego. He bought a girl from her family and forced her to have his kids, then subjected those kids to cruel training - passing over each one until he got to one he felt he could work with -, beat his wife as well, and some kind of action he was involved in lead to the death of his oldest son. While the domestic abuse could be hidden, the death of his child cannot. What’s more, shortly after (very shortly if timelines add up), his youngest son received a permanent burn scar on the heat-resistant side of his face and his wife was locked away in a mental institution for a decade.

And the HPSC never bats an eye. They could take away his license. They could call the police. They could have exposed him to the public or at least ordered an investigation. But they didn’t. On some level they knew, and they did nothing.

But it might be even worse.

I skipped over this detail chronologically, but it’s the linchpin for just how corrupt the HPSC might be if all this lines up. Looking at the Endeavor Agency Arc, we get a seemingly random confrontation with a guy called Starservant (chapter 243) who prattles off a prophecy about the Dark Lord returning and his Dark Stars conspiring against humanity which will bring the world to ruin. He calls out Endeavor specifically as the shining light that beckons the darkness, but this sounds an awful lot like the deranged wailing of some crazy old man, right?

Let’s jump over an entire series now to the spin-off serial Vigilantes. This series takes place in the same universe at an earlier point in the timeline of the main story - and take an extra little note that there’s an underlying subplot about unusual drugs meant to enhance quirks (that often result in mutating the user) and that someone may be using them to clandestinely run experiments on humans from the shadows.

In chapter 59 we get flashbacked to Eraserhead, Midnight, and Present Mic’s childhood experiences at UA, and we’re also introduced to Oboro Shirakumo - their fellow classmate and dear friend. We get a few chapters establishing their relationships and their goals and dream for the future until chapter 63 where things make a drastic turn in tone. On what should be a routine hero training exercise as third-year seniors a giant, monstrous villain shows up and attacks while the UA kids are escorting a class of preschoolers around town.

In the scuffle, though Aizawa is able to single-handedly come out victorious, in the fight and debris Shirakumo is struck in the head by falling concrete as he tries to lead the children to safety and dies on the scene. Go back to main series, chapter 254-255, the villain Kurogiri is detained but the police are having no luck questioning him. They get a sliver of a lead and call in Present Mic and Eraserhead to interrogate him, and it’s confirmed that Kurogiri was a human experiment of Doctor Ujiko - the mad scientist bio-engineer responsible for the Nomu and outspokenly faithful servant of All-for-One - created from the corpse of their dearly departed Oboro.

Here’s the kicker, though, in Japan they don’t often bury their dead. Funerals next to never include an open casket - the loved one is cremated first, their ashes placed on an funeral shrine with their picture, and the loved ones mourn there. That means Ujiko needed to get to the body before it was cremated - which requires some fast work; but that’s not even the worst of it. Jumping one last time to chapter 270, Ujiko recognizes Mic as a friend of Shirakumo and boldly admits the entire time he was after Aizawa for his quirk.

That attack more than 10 years ago was premeditated. This goes back a long ways. How did he find this information - about their quirks and their movements and where to find them? How did Ujiko get the body out of the morgue without anyone catching him? Could it be the same way his fellow servants of All-for-One were able to get into the USJ? And the Training Camp? And the Yakuza raid? All-for-One has a lot of connections for his faithful servants to move about freely in this world of heroes despite every effort being take to stop them.

Somehow, these shining lights can never seem to outrun the dark no matter how hard they try, as if there’s a conspiracy against them. But a conspiracy of that level would have to come all the way from the top! If you wanted to get poetic about it, you could even say the stars themselves are conspiring against us. But that old man was crazy, right? If he wasn’t crazy - if he was right at all - then no matter what way you slice it:

This is bad.

#I'm not the first one to comment on this meta #but that old man looks a little less crazy every chapter #bnha meta #mha meta #mha manga spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #hpsc meta

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tackyink · 3 years

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Last and longest, 1600 words. Manga spoilers.

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The lack of footsteps at night is disconcerting.

Jujutsu High isn’t that different from her former residence, in the sense of being nested in a forest and built in a traditional style. Sleeping on a bed instead of a futon took some time to get used to, but it was fine. The sounds coming from outside are just what she’s used to — the odd night bird, the crickets and cicadas taking turns to compose a strident symphony that, she learned a few years prior, does bother many city people — and would effortlessly lull her to sleep was it not for the lack of percussion from inside.

The Tatsumi manor is a hub of activity day and night, a natural consequence of being an extense family with servants. It is the latter who mainly move at night, while the family members are asleep, either finishing their work for the day or getting an early start for the next. Shiho didn’t pay them any mind when she moved to that residence, but as she grew up she learned to distinguish the regular footsteps of the staff from the occasional interruptions in their routine. Once a pattern broke, it meant that something was happening in the house, and if that was the case, it was best to stay still and listen until the storm blew over. Chiaki, on occasion, hid in Shiho’s room at night, and Shiho played along if Chiaki was questioned about it. Their story was that Shiho had nightmares and was scared of sleeping alone, and since Chiaki’s job was to be at her beck and call day and night, they didn’t think anything of it.

Shiho’s used to waking up at once when a floorboard creaks too close to her room, but having no noise at all? It is unnatural, and the empty space where all the noise should be doesn’t feel any better than the constant, familiar state of vigilance.

If she’s lucky, she’s so tired that the lights turn off the moment her head hits the pillow. But excluding the days when she’s sent to get field experience, the moments of absolute exhaustion are less and less frequent the more her physical condition strengthens and she doesn’t have to exert herself so much to complete her daily tasks.

It’s the end of the second semester and she’s staring at the ceiling of her room for the second night in a row. Suguru expressed concern that morning when he saw her sleepy face, which was very sweet of him, but then the others poked fun at how gross she looked and nobody paid her any mind anymore. She isn’t looking forward to running on three hours of sleep again, but she hopes that at least that means that she’s going to sleep like a rock the next day. It often works like that.

She’s lost count of how many times she’s turned in her bed when something hits the deck outside and she jumps out of her skin because she didn’t hear anything approaching.

She waits, ear trained outside, when the same thing happens. Confused, and perhaps the slightest bit scared, she leaves her bed to check through the curtains. It takes her a while to notice the two small pebbles sitting on the deck. Long enough, in fact, that another one collides with it before she can open the glass door and look at the direction from which it came.

Four empty rooms down the row, Gojo Satoru is lying on the floor with half his body inside his room and half on the deck, undoubtedly the sniper Shiho was looking for, and she replies to his hostile advances with the universal arm gesture for what are you doing?

“Can’t sleep,” he says.

She blinks very slowly. She’s probably grimacing, but people shouldn’t be required to be self-aware in the wee hours of the night. Morning? So she thinks what the hell, backs into her room to get a jacket, and she walks the length of the deck towards him.

It is so tempting to step on his face that she gives in.

“You’re so mean.” He’s grinning when she removes the foot from his face because, evidently, she hasn’t been able to touch him.

“Couldn’t resist,” she says, or at least tries to when a huge yawn makes its way out at the same time. He chuckles. “Trying to wake up people while they sleep is mean too.”

“You weren’t sleeping, though.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you spying on me?”

“Not intentionally. All the rooms between yours and mine are empty. I see your cursed energy.”

“You could look at Suguru’s.” Who is adjacent to him on the other side.

He pouts. “But he’s asleep.”

This time he moves to push her away when her feet starts to descend on his face again.

Satisfied with that, Shiho sits cross legged next to him. “Why are you here?”

“The Six Eyes make it hard to sleep.”

Oh. That made a lot of sense. “That’s shitty.”

He laughs good naturedly, but there’s a tired edge to it. “What’s your deal?”

“Not enough noise.”

“...Seriously?”

“Yeah. I guess I’m not used to it yet.”

“I didn’t take the Tatsumi manor for a lively place. Every time I’ve met the head of your family he looked like was trying to dislodge a pole from his ass and failing.”

Her mouth twists at the memory of the man. “He’s not trying, I assure you.”

“Not fond of him?”

He takes her lack of response as a valid answer, though it isn’t as though she didn’t want to talk. She just didn’t know how to word what she needed to say.

“Not fond of him.”

She settles on what she thinks is a good enough response to an audience who will appreciate it. “He and his sons can choke.”

It’s the closest he’s seen Satoru to wearing a scandalized look. Not quite there, though, but he was not expecting that comment from her.

“They’re awful. Very… traditional, in the worst possible sense.”

“Hmm. So I’ve heard.”

She wonders how much, but she doesn’t ask.

“Sometimes I stargaze when I can’t sleep,” he suddenly says, and she welcomes the distraction.

Looking up, she understands what he was doing on the floor. “Oh.”

The idle thought that it makes sense, since his eyes look a lot like a lighter version of the starry sky above the school lingers for a bit in her mind before she realizes what she’s thinking and frowns. When has she developed a flair for the artistic?

“The eaves get in the way, though. Wanna go up?”

“Up where?”

He points at the roof. “Duh.” He gets up and smiles in that way of his that says he’s going to get his way and he knows it, and extends a hand towards Shiho. “Are you coming or not?”

Shiho regards the hand as a contract she should meticulously read before signing. Logically speaking, he is the fastest way to the roof, and she is unwilling to climb, so it’s either his hand or resuming her contemplation of the ceiling. Of course, accepting the offer also means a measure of trust that she’s not sure she should give to anyone grinning that way, much less this guy. “Fine.”

She’s taking his hand at the same time she gives her reply, and the word is barely out of her mouth when she’s suddenly standing barefooted on inclined singles.

After a brief second of panic in which she grasps his hand painfully tight, she regains her balance and says, “You’re a menace.” She hears him laugh and suspects he takes it as a compliment. Maybe he should.

They do their best not to slip as they sit down, but their shuffling around must have been louder than they thought, or maybe their neighbor is a light sleeper, because no sooner than they’ve made themselves comfortable, there’s a sound of sliding doors below and Suguru walks out of his room. Uncannily coordinated, they stay very still and quiet and watch their classmate inspect his surroundings to locate the source of the noises, but the moment he looks up at them Shiho’s face is split by a sincere smile and she waves at him.

He’s confused, and frowning, but mostly confused. “What are you doing?”

“We can’t sleep! Come with us?” she asks, hopeful.

“Yeah, what are you waiting for?”

For a second before Satoru opened his big mouth it looked like he was going to say yes, but instead he retorts, “Are you stupid? We have class in the morning!”

Shiho gets it, because Satoru’s face always makes everyone want to say no. It’s hilarious and annoying, depending on what side of the conversation you’re on.

“Bring snacks!” he says at his friend, and Shiho lets out an unladylike snort that makes her cover her mouth.

Suguru looks so affronted by the assumption that he’s going to join them in their nonsense that they’re convinced that he’s gone back inside to sleep, but he surprises them when he reappears right away and throws a bag of crackers at Satoru that does hit him smack dab in the middle of the face, and Shiho’s still vicariously celebrating that little victory when he steps on the roof with the help of a curse and sits between the two of them.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on you,” he says to Satoru with a smile of his own, taking back his bag of crackers and opening it.

Shiho doesn’t get her three hours of sleep, but she thinks the tradeoff’s been worth it.

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olivia-studyblr · 3 years

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Organizing your entire semester

As a New Jersey college student, I don’t start my semester for another week. I know that some of you have been in school for a few weeks already, but this post still applies to you! We are going to talk about how to organize your entire semester in one day to make you feel organized and ready to conquer the semester.

The topics we will cover are: - printing your syllabus & color coding - getting a planner - writing out all due dates - breaking down each assignment - filling in your days

Printing your syllabus & color coding Printing your syllabus is one of the most important steps you can take toward a successful semester. Personally, I am taking 6 classes this semester and keeping everything organized is going to be difficult, but not impossible, especially if I print my syllabi and color code my classes.

Printing your syllabi is important because, as you know, a syllabus is basically your Bible for a class for the entire semester. Also, printing the syllabus means you can have a hard copy to annotate, highlight, mark up, and anything else you need to do to stay on track.

After you print your syllabus, you’re going to want to color code your classes. This basically means that you’re choosing a color for each class that you will associate with it for the entire semester. This is important because whenever you’re using a planner, which we will talk about in the next section, it will be easy to tell which class’ assignment is due on a particular day because you will have used that class’ color to write it down.

Getting a planner In order to stay organized and on track, you will definitely need a planner. I’m not just saying this because I am a planner addict, but because it will genuinely help you throughout the semester.

The key in choosing the right planner is the type of planner it is. There are so many different types, including teacher planners, horizontal planners, vertical planners, and so many more. I personally love a teacher planner because it is so easy to keep your assignments in order. The exact planner I use is linked here for you to look at and maybe even order!

Planners can be expensive, so know exactly what type of planner you want and where to find the cheapest options. My favorite brand is The Happy Planner because they’re not outrageously expensive and they have a disc bound system, making it easy to take out and add pages if you want.

Writing out all due dates Keeping your semester organized and staying on top of assignments requires you to write out all of your due dates. This is where all of the previous sections in this post come together. You will need your printed syllabus, your planner, and colored pens, markers, highlighters, or whatever you’d like to write with.

First, you’re going to take one syllabus from one of your classes and find the course schedule. Then you’re going to start writing all the due dates on their respective days with the color you chose for that class. It sounds like a lot of work, but once you get a groove going, you’ll breeze right through it.

After you’ve written all of your due dates for one class, repeat with your other classes. Make sure to include university holidays and breaks in your planner.

Breaking down each assignment This is an important step to take when planning your days, which we will go over in the next section. The first thing you’ll have to do is figure out which assignments will take the longest, and schedule those first. Be realistic in your timelines! One small homework assignment will not take a whole week. A 10-page paper will not take 3 short days. See what I mean?

Breaking down your assignments will take some time, but putting the work in now will be beneficial to you later. Set realistic timelines, write them down on your syllabus, then go to the next section in this post to pull it all together.

Filling in your days As soon as you break down each assignment, you’re going to want to fill in your days in your planner so you stay on track. My policy is to finish each assignment at least a day before it’s due. This way there’s no way you can forget about the assignment and you can be relieved of stress you can experience by doing something at the last minute.

Doing a little everyday is so much better than cramming it all in at the last second. Therefore, you should use your timelines you made to plan your days in advance. Make sure that when you’re planning, you don’t have something to do for all of your classes on one day. That can become overwhelming. Instead, space out your work so that you only have, say, three classes worth of work to do in a day instead of six.

This all seems like a lot, but when you get the hang of doing it, you’ll never want to stop! It’s so satisfying to see a planner completely filled in. It’s also very satisfying to do all of your work on time so that you get the best grades you possibly can.

Happy planning!

#college #school #planner #happy planner #organization

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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Lesson In Love (Gigi x Jackie) - Mina

A/N: So excited to participate in one of these challenges again, you treated me so well last time so I’m so excited to release this! Ty so so much to @dollalpaca for being an angel and betaing

Summary: Gigi may or may not be failing her music studies class. She also may or may not have caught feelings for the pretty Persian woman that offered to tutor her. Maybe. She’ll never tell.

“Janet,” Gigi groaned, narrowly avoiding falling off the couch as she rolled over and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. It was leopard-printed, a gift from Jan to themselves from when they moved into the apartment. “Do you think ‘Intro to Floral Arrangement’ sounds like an easy class? Or do you know anyone who’s taken it?”

“Isn’t it an evening class? I feel like we went over that one like… twenty minutes ago.” The blonde hummed from the floor, not bothering to look up. She was probably right, too. She had her own laptop in front of her, in the process of color-coding her online calendar. Blue for lectures, green for labs and purple for choir practices. Gigi had seen her do this enough times - every semester since they met on move-in day their first year - to be able to recognize the blocks in her schedule at a glance. Sometimes it motivated her knowing that Jan could be so on top of things while also being the most chaotic person Gigi knew, other times it made her want to die and be reborn into someone who could organise her sock draw by diameter.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She frowned, letting out a deep sigh and closing the tab. Goodbye, department of nature studies. So long, her potential florist career.

The thing was, Gigi knew she couldn’t really afford to be particularly picky with only five days before the registration period ended, but still. At least, she thought, she’d long been enrolled in all her textile-related classes for the semester. She was looking forward to most of them too, especially the design ones. Really, it was just that one additional stupid arts gen ed course she needed to get out of the way, and then she’d be free for good.

“How about ‘Art of Listening’?” Gigi asked a few minutes later, reading over the course information. She heard the sound of Jan typing on her keyboard come to a halt. “That kinda sounds like a class for people that want to become therapists or something. Or marriage counsellors?”

“Maybe people that are gonna need marriage counselling, sure,” Jan replied, her typing picking up again.

Gigi laughed, running a hand through her hair and looking back at her screen. “It doesn’t seem too bad, y’know. Just two papers and a final.” She hummed, scrolling through last year’s syllabus. “And it’s actually about music, I could totally do that.”

“Wait, who’s the prof for it?”

“Uh… something-Nguyen I think?“ Gigi paused as she scrolled back up. “Yeah, Andrew Nguyen, why?”

“Oh, that’s the one!” Jan nodded happily. “Rock took it last semester, I think. I remember her talking about it when we first met, she was always complaining about the prof who—”

“Great, you should have just lead with that.” Gigi rolled her eyes as she closed the tab. Rock was one of the more easy going people she’d ever met when it came to that stuff, so she couldn’t imagine what a prof that annoyed her would be like. Probably awful, or at least had a bad taste in anime. A soft but slightly damp piece of fabric hit her in the nose before falling down in front of her, disheartened. She scrunched up her nose in distaste when she realised what Jan just threw at her.

“Why are you throwing your dirty socks at me?” Gigi screeched, picking it up and throwing it back in the blonde’s general direction. “And why is it wet?”

“If you’d just let me finish!” She rolled her eyes pointedly, leaning to grab the sock again. It was a little too far for her to reach, and Gigi watched her stubbornly wiggle to the side until she could close her fingers around it. She smiled victoriously, huffing a little as she leaned back against the couch and made herself stand up straight. “As I was saying,” she started again, enunciating carefully.

“Before I rudely interrupted you.” Gigi grinned down, picking at her nails.

“Yes, before you did indeed do that,” Jan huffed, “Rock took it last semester. And she was always annoyed because the prof didn’t always let them use their laptops in class, but she also said that it was really easy. Most of the time they just had to listen to some music and write about how it made them feel, that sort of stuff.”

“That sounds pretty easy.”

“Right?” Jan nodded excitedly, “And I think she mentioned one of her friends is taking it this semester too. A senior, so she’s probably in the same boat as you.”

Gigi didn’t think that’d make much of a difference, but she didn’t bother telling Jan that. It wasn’t like the class had group projects anyway, so she could hopefully get by with just showing to most lectures and turning in the assignments.

“I really should have done this over the summer, you were right about that,” she exhaled, shutting her laptop and falling back into the couch. She could have gotten those mandatory art electives outside of her major done as a freshmen, or even last year, like most other students in her program did.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,“ Jan chuckled, moving closer until she could rest her head comfortably on Gigi’s shoulder, blonde hair falling all over her face. “You’ll do great, because you always do; you’re talented, but you also work hard. So you’re gonna ace all your actual photography classes, pass this one, and be done with all your dumb degree requirements. And then next year you can take all the textiles classes you want, I’ll take all the music production classes I want, we’ll go to each other’s senior showcases, and barely even remember all the time we wasted on the ugly classes we didn’t care about.”

When Jan put it that way, it sounded pretty easy. *** After three weeks of classes, Gigi felt like she could safely conclude that the class was… Not that bad. If she had to give the class a grade it’d be a solid C-, bordering on a straight-up C. It was mostly filled with freshmen from the arts faculty trying to get an easy A, a solid half of whom had already stopped showing up to lectures. And yes, it was weird being back in a two hundred-person room when most of her other classes were forty at most. She had to turn in weekly written assignments, which was also not fun, but writing five hundred words once a week wasn’t a time commitment she couldn’t handle. The problem, though, was that as far as she could tell from those three first weeks, that supposedly-easy class would also n’ot rate the level of effort Gigi had put in as anything more than a C either. Which was definitely not what she wanted out of it. Far from it.

The class did have one major saving grace, a light in the dark and a minor help in stopping Gigi from quitting the class on day one, in the form of a fellow student.

Gigi didn’t know her name, or her major, or anything tangible about her, which was a little unfortunate. She did, however, know that the girl had legs. Long and strong, with toned thighs that suggested at least some form of semi-regular exercise, and looked equally good in the kind of wide-legged, loose cotton pants Gigi herself favoured as they did in denim cutoffs. She had really nice hands too, which the brunette found out about when they accidentally reached for the same assignment sheet. They looked soft, strong and capable and careful. They’d be nice to hold, or to have holding her down tightly, or tangled in her hair while she sucked bruises into her equally-beautiful thighs.

So yeah, you could say Gigi was kind of enjoying the course, sure.

The girl usually sat at the front of the room, in the very first row from where you kind of had to strain your neck upwards to see what was on the board. Gigi knew, because that was also where she sat during the first two weeks, until she realised this wasn’t going to be the kind of lecture where she could talk all the way through the lesson without the professor caring, not if she wanted to do more than just pass, anyway. The girl usually brought her laptop to class too - covered in political stickers and pictures of cartoons Gigi didn’t know. One time the brunette walked past her, only to see a video of a crab walking up a pile of sand playing in the corner of her screen.

Gigi could remember that she made a point about the role of music in religious movements when prompted, and how that connected to society’s idea of liveliness within places of worship. Gigi didn’t really remember the details, mostly because some of it had just flown way over her head, but their professor had been very impressed. When he had said so, instead of the self-satisfied smile that the brunette had been expecting, the girl had looked down at her notes, one arm twitching like she was resisting the urge to scratch at the back of her neck in embarrassment.

Gigi thought she’d even blushed a little, and really, no one should have had the right to be both this attractive and adorable at the same time. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the crab video, which was definitely weird, even by art faculty standards. But for her, she thought she might be willing to overlook it.

geege ok this girl at the front of listening class? so hot she’s like 90 percent leg and 40 percent sexy aunt energy

janjanjan sounds Hot

geege i’d let her walk all over me and say ty she’d just be like :] and tell me about the periodic table or smth

janjanjan okay maybe let’s stop there like keep the rest for when you’re alone at home

geege or in the shower

janjanjan thanks not like i use that shower too The thing was, Gigi wasn’t new to having crushes. At all. So perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to herself that she ended up developing crushes on more than a few of the people she met. Most of them were great, a lot of them were cute, and a few left her heart beating that much faster as she found herself wishing for their conversations to never end.

What was new (or disconcerting, if she were to listen to the Jan voice in her head), was Gigi feeling that way about someone she’d never talked to. Gigi still didn’t know anything about her, other than what she looked like and the sound of her voice - but god did she want to know.

And it felt like it’d been years, so many years, since Gigi had felt too shy to just go up to someone she wanted to know better and introduce herself. She’d felt anxious before, maybe a little self-conscious, but not the kind of shyness that turned into complete inaction. She found herself looking forward to the class, though not the actual work. *** She, Gigi thought, was currently winning at life.

She was done with classes for the week, had no plans that required her to get out of her sweatpants for the next twenty four hours, and was currently sitting back on the couch surrounded by food and two of her favourite people.

So yeah, life was pretty fucking great right now.

She leaned back against one arm of the sofa, a forgotten ball of yarn and half knitted almost-scarf in one hand and the other casually playing with Jan’s hair. The blonde was laying down on the couch, the only one out of the three of them that could kind of do so without most of her legs hanging off one end. Her head was resting on Gigi’s lap while her feet were in Rock’s.

Friday evening was their unofficially -designated group hang out time, a tradition that developed the last few months without any of them being aware of it, but now it was something that she wouldn’t miss for the world. It usually just meant Thai food, bitching about their classes, and whatever booze one of the other two decided to pick up. When Rock made grabby hands at her, Gigi grabbed an unopened can of sparkling water she brought for today and passed it on.

“Thank you,” Rock chuckled as she cracked it open, leaning forward to catch some of the foam that came out before it had a chance to further stain the couch. “Y’know,” she started, as she watched Gigi reach over for the mostly-empty bag of popcorn on the table. “I could just ask Jackie to help you out with the class.”

The brunette’s fingers closed on thin air, the bag of popcorn she was aiming for remaining just out of reach. “Who’s Jackie?” she asked absently, shuffling forward gently and trying not to dislodge Jan’s head from her lap.

Jan flicked her on the thigh regardless. “Rock’s friend, the one I told you about when you signed up! And, y’know, the one that’s also taking the class right now.”

“Oh,” Gigi realised. She totally remembered that, right. Her fingers grazed the bag of popcorn again, but in her haste she just ended up pushing it a few inches further away, balancing precariously on one edge of the table. “That Jackie.”

“I think she tutored, like, half her contemporary fiction class last year. So you know she’s gotta be good at actually teaching things, and not just smart,” Jan continued, as though Gigi’s attention was mostly captured by the pursuit of academics. One more inch, she leaned in a little further, balancing her weight on one arm. She just needed to get one inch closer and the bag would be hers. She could already taste the powdery, buttery, amazingness on her tongue.

“And Rockie’s always talking about how her old professor still basically cries about not being able to convince her to stay in the department. I’m pretty sure she’d totally still take him on as a grad student if Jackie just asked, nevermind that she transferred out more than two years ago.”

“So what do you think?” The blonde finished, a little more loudly, like she realised Gigi had tuned her out a bit. And Gigi had, yes, but she could finally feel her fingers closing in on the bag, triumphantly reaching in and stuffing a handful of popcorn - fat free - into her mouth. “Do you want Rock to ask Jackie when she has some time to meet up with you? Or maybe just give her your number, if that’s easier?”

“What? No, don’t do that. I’m not doing that bad.” Gigi laughed slightly, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m all good.”

“It’s too late anyway,” Rock laughed, all faux-casual. “I already messaged her.” She shoved her phone in front of Gigi’s face, and yeah, right there, that was a message saying just that, complete with her own number at the end.

“Why would you do that?” She complained loudly, tapping at the screen furiously to try and make it delete. It wasn’t that she was against the idea of getting help with the class, but mostly she was reluctant to have it taking up more of her time than it already did. Especially when she didn’t even know the girl.

“You need help!” Rock said with a yelp, avoiding the kick Gigi aimed at her. “She can help! It’s a perfect solution, why are you trying to hit me!” The last one landed just under her armpit, drawing out a higher-pitched squeal. “Besides, Jan agreed with me that it’s a good idea,” she added, turning expectantly towards her. “Tell her how you were the first one to even suggest it.”

Next to them, Jan had indeed been suspiciously quiet. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Gigi asked, poking the older woman in the chest.

“Don’t you want to see what your soon-to-be tutor looks like, Geege?” Jan giggled, ignoring her question.

“Oh, you’re right, let me show you her insta,” Rock butted in, her thumbs moving on her phone screen for a moment before handing it to Gigi with an evil smile.

Jacqueline Coxx, the profile read, next to a very familiar, grinning face. The same very familiar, grinning face that Gigi had spent many a lesson fawning over. This had to be a mistake, there was no way. “You should really be better at Instagram-stalking people,” Jan laughed as Gigi felt her mind going blank. “I think it’s the only skill that’s going to save our generation from lifelong unemployment. Or underemployment, for that matter.”

The brunette didn’t give it a second thought before she pushed her off the couch and onto the floor, screams of unacceptable betrayal and terrified excitement echoing loud in the room.

*** geege hiiiii is this jackie cox? this is gigi, roxanne’s friend from the listening class she said she’d told you i would message you geege but in case she didn’t i wanted to ask you about some tutoring if you could tutor me i mean geege but if you can’t that’s all good !! don’t feel like you have to say yes just bc of rocks stupid puppy eyes oh and sorry about the triple-text ***

“I more than triple-texted her, but three separate times,” Gigi groaned, burying her face in between the couch cushions.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Jan comforted, running a hand through her hair. Gigi would maybe feel a little bad about how much complaining she’d been doing over this, but everytime she thought of stopping, she reminded herself that Jan was at least forty-five percent to blame for this in the first place.

“It’s been more than two days. When’s the last time you went forty-eight hours without checking your phone? And be honest.”

Jan’s silence was enough of an answer. *** Jackie Hey Gigi! Rock did tell me about you, it’s all good Do you want to meet up after class on monday to figure out the details? Oh and sorry for such a late reply My phone was broken after i dropped it in a lake while i was hiking *** In an ideal world, Gigi would have planned things so she could get to class nice and early on the day she was supposed to properly meet Jackie. She’d have maybe put a little more thought than usual into her outfit, and made sure her hair looked good. Worn that red headband she knew did great things for her forehead and her eyebrows, maybe. Not that Gigi ever looked like a slob, but she definitely had clothes she liked more than others, and that she thought served her better for seduction purposes. Or even for just ‘making a decent first impression’, which she’d really settle for right now, as she ran up the final flight of stairs. Nothing said ‘I’m serious about needing help with this class’ like showing up late, especially for a course where attendance was actually recorded.

She spotted the door to the classroom still cracked open at the end of the hallway and slowed down a little, trying to catch her breath. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping that’d tame the mess a little and her cheeks wouldn’t be too red from the unexpected burst of athleticism. At the front of the room, their professor has already started talking, and Gigi quietly slipped into the first free seat she spotted, grateful to have avoided drawing everyone’s attention to herself.

It was only minutes before the class ended that Gigi thought to look around for Jackie, peering across the middle rows of students before she accepted that she wouldn’t dare sit anywhere but the very front row. She tried to lean forward to glance at the first row once or twice, eventually accepting that there was no way she could be subtle and standing the slightest bit up from her chair. The first row was mostly empty, as it usually tended to be. Gigi recognized a girl from the Image Composition class she took last semester, and thought about saying hi to her after class when she remembered she had a goal here. As she let her gaze move through the other students in the front, it eventually landed on Jackie, although Gigi had to do a double-take to make sure it was definitely her.

The thing was, she’d gotten to see - unknowingly, at the time - Jackie often enough since the semester started to get a sense of her style. And from Gigi’s weeks of casual observation, she tended to favour loose, comfortable clothes, and mostly neutral colours. She liked floral patterns too, especially on shirts, which the brunette could appreciate.

However, the first thing she noticed today was Jackie’s hair. And really, Gigi thought that if it wasn’t for the bright smile and the longest legs known to humankind, she wouldn’t have even recognized her.

The messy dark brown hair that Gigi had gotten used to, and maybe dreamt about running her hands through once or twice, was now four inches shorter and numbingly straight, effortlessly falling over her forehead and almost into her eyes when she looked down. Something about the flawlessness of her hair combined with the white hoodie she was wearing seemed to make her face glow, skin tanned and radiant with pearly teeth glinting through a bemused grin as she laughed at something her friend was saying.

Damn.

She was brought out of her daydreaming by the sound of students around her packing up their things, and Gigi realised that she most likely missed the professor dismissing their class. As she struggled with the zipper of her bag, the same one she’d been meaning to get fixed for the last three months but still hadn’t, she felt a hand hesitantly tap on her shoulder, warm against the thin material of her shirt.

“Hey, Georgia right?” A voice asked right behind her, and when Gigi turned around Jackie looked just as good as she did the first time she saw her at the beginning of the semester.

“Gigi. I’m— my name— Yep, hi, that’s me. What’s shaking?” The brunette chuckled awkwardly, “Thank you so much for agreeing to help me out, I really appreciate it! Or at least agreeing to consider it I mean, I know we really just said we’d talk about the details today, so you technically haven’t agreed to anything yet. And you don’t have to, obviously.”

Jackie didn’t seem thrown off by the sudden explosion of words and gratefulness, which Gigi took to be a good sign. If anything, her smile only grew less hesitant, the tiniest dimple appearing on her left cheek.

“We could, like, go to that library around the block? It’s a nice place to study, so.” Gigi nodded, following Jackie and making awkward small talk until they made it inside. She learned in those quick minutes that Jackie liked crabs, and geography, and obscure movie references no one else understood.

“It’s been a while since I was here to be honest.” Jackie grinned, swiping at her phone casually. “I missed it.”

"Right, Rock mentioned you’d transferred out of the faculty.”

The brunette hummed in agreement, looking a little surprised at Gigi’s knowing about this. “Yeah, I swapped my major and minor back halfway through my second year. Geo major with a minor in stage production now.” She made little jazz hand motions as she said it, and the brunette really wished she didn’t find it half as endearing as she did.

“Okay, so, tell me more about what you’ve been struggling with so far,” Jackie asked with a tilt of her head, and they got down to business. *** Maybe it was a little self-sabotaging (or self-serving, she could never quite decide), but part of what Gigi quickly found out she liked best about their bi-weekly tutoring sessions, was how much time she got to just stare at Jackie. She’d finish writing up the draft of her weekly listening assignment and pass it on for the older woman to read over, and get a solid five-to-ten minutes of ogling out of it.

Not that she was ogling her per se, that sounded bad. She was just… appreciating. Appreciating Jackie’s arms, and her neck, and her cheekbones, and her brain as she read through Gigi’s outline. Every now and then, Gigi would catch her frowning slightly, bringing her pen to the paper and tapping over the words as she read a section a few times over before making a quick note and moving on. It was kind of embarrassing how devastatingly cute Gigi found the whole thing, honestly. Like how the way she was resting her head on one hand, her fingers accidentally creating a gap that just perfectly framed the dimple on her left cheek.

“Hey, Geege,” Jackie suddenly smiled as she turned towards her. Fuck. Gigi really hoped her face wasn’t making what she was just doing incredibly obvious. “What did you have in mind for this part here?” She asked, shuffling her chair to bridge the space between the two of them.

“Which part?” Gigi shakily replied, leaning in a little. The paper she wrote her outline on was on the table, technically close enough for both of them to read, but just barely. Gigi told herself that was her excuse for moving in a few inches more, until their hands were almost meeting on the sheet of paper. Almost.

Jackie was making it hard for Gigi to focus, leaving her stumbling through the start of an explanation of the admittedly somewhat unclear point she’d made in her outline about the sudden change in rhythm. As she got into the meat of her point, she could feel herself getting more confidence, gesturing with her hands as the words started coming out more easily, and Jackie nodded in wordless understanding. It only took a few sessions to realize that if there was one thing Jackie was good at, it’s listening. It never felt like she was trying to put answers into Gigi’s mouth - letting her explain her perception of the music instead, and asking questions when needed. She made Gigi feel like even if writing about how she experienced music as an art form would never come all that naturally to her, not in the way sewing or even most visual arts did, it was something that was still within her reach. Something she could understand and relate to.

“So, are you saying it felt expected to you?” Jackie asked eventually, after Gigi paused. “Like it was building up to this in the previous parts? Or that it caught your attention specifically because it was sudden? Or out-of-place, maybe.”

The brunette took a moment to think, replaying the lead-up to that section in her head.

They weren’t even touching, but she could feel the heat radiating off the older woman’s skin. She could feel the warmth, could see it in Jackie’s gaze as she looked softly back at her, she could smell it even. And Gigi knows that didn’t actually make sense, that all she was probably smelling was laundry detergent and sweat and maybe coffee. Gigi didn’t even like the smell of coffee. But right now, sitting side-by-side in the library and alternating between emphatically talking and listening to each other, Gigi felt like all of those things.

It was only when they both moved on from that particular point, a few messy notes from Jackie hastily written to Gigi’s own words, that she realized just how close they’d gotten. She was well into Jackie’s personal space, their shoulders no longer content just brushing against each other occasionally but rather aligned against one another. No wonder she could smell the coffee.

She started to move back slowly, not wanting to draw attention to how close she’d gotten, but a sharp sting on her ear stopped her mid-motion. She let out a small cry of pain, Jackie immediately turning to face her. The older girl felt impossibly closer than a moment ago.

“I think my earring got caught in your shirt,” Gigi said quietly, a pained and nervous giggle leaping from the back of her throat. She remembered putting them on this morning, long and dangly strips of silver shaped like eyes, and thinking about how they might get stuck in her hair. If the lack of distance between the two of them went unnoticed earlier, it was definitely no longer the case. Gigi felt incredibly conscious of every exhale of her breath, of Jackie’s face only inches away from hers. The guy in the seat in front of them threw them a dirty look, like he was annoyed at how wrong Gigi’s flirting attempts had turned out. She couldn’t really blame him because, what the fuck, they had turned out pretty bad, huh.

“Hold on,” Jackie breathed, “let me untangle it for you.” Gigi knew she was speaking quietly because they were in a library, and so close to each other anything above a whisper was unnecessary, but she was struck hard by the intimacy of it nonetheless. She couldn’t decipher whether choosing to wear those earrings today was the best or worst decision she’d ever made.

Jackie reached for the end that got caught, carefully lifting it away from the threads of her sweater. It was the kind of tangle no one could probably ever manage to achieve if they tried, and yet happened without either of them realizing it. When she moved to grasp at the fabric a little more firmly, her fingers brushed against Gigi’s neck, unexpected. And maybe it’s stupid to feel so thoroughly destabilized by the mere touch of a fleeting hand, but Gigi found herself forgetting to breathe for a few seconds.

“There,” Jackie chuckled as the earring finally came free, looking in Gigi’s direction without directly meeting her gaze. “I think you’re all good now.”

Gigi thanked her politely, but she’d be the first to admit she found it hard to focus during the rest of their session, every brush of air or clothing against her neck making her shiver at the memory of Jackie’s fingers. ***

“Wait, Jackie Coxx?” Crystal asked the next time Gigi met up with her to catch up over some drinks in their favorite dive bar. Crystal had technically been Jan’s friend first, but she and Gigi had gotten a lot closer over the years, bonding over a love of what their friends would lovingly call ‘loud’ and ‘confident’ clothing choices. “‘Trips on her own feet’ Jackie Coxx?” Crystal continued, the grin on her face widening as Gigi felt her cheeks heating up. “Follows at least three Twitter accounts dedicated to Star Trek? Rockie’s junior year baby crush? The same—”

“Rock is still a junior, Crys,” Gigi interrupted, laughing, because— what. What. “And wait, she has a crush on Jackie? My Jackie?”

“So not the point,” Crystal answered, still smiling like this was the best news she’d heard all week. “My Jackie huh? God, you’re such a simp—”

“No.” Gigi groaned, dragging out the ‘o’. “Back to Rock. My best friend, Janet fucking Sport, is head over heels, stupidly in love with Rock. And I don’t care how adorable she is, if what you’re telling me is true, she’s just been… been using her! And that really this whole time she’s just been waiting and pining for Jackie! As if Jan didn’t—”

It was Crystal’s turn to interrupt this time, the smile having faded away from her face to leave way for a confused expression. “Gigi, Gigi, stop for a second,” she repeated, a little more forceful than the brunette was used to hearing her speak. “Come on, think of all the time you’ve spent with Rock, with both of them. Have you ever gotten the impression that she was anything that a hundred and ten percent in?”

The brunette closed her eyes for a moment. She thought of Jan ditching her and Nicky to go hang out with Rock every Friday. Of Jan dragging her to go shopping on the weekend before Valentine’s day, an itemized and color-coded list of stores and potential gifts saved on her phone. Crystal definitely has a point, Gigi let herself recognize, deflating as the potential anger left her body as quickly as it had arrived.

“Rock did a tour of the university, back when she was still in high school and she wasn’t completely sure what program to apply for. Jackie was the one doing it apparently.” The red head paused to take a sip of her drink, grimacing a little at the taste. Why she kept ordering those novelty IPAs everywhere they went despite knowing full well she didn’t like how hoppy they were, Gigi had no idea. “I think she just made Rock feel comfortable, you know? Like, it was fine that she didn’t have everything figured out already, and made sure she knew she wasn’t making a decision at seventeen that she could never walk back. So Jackie gave her her number in case she had any questions, and then they actually started hanging out together once Rock started this year.”

“Oh,” Gigi realised, “that does really sound like her, yeah.” She could imagine it in her head, Rock a little younger and more unsure, not all that dissimilar from how she behaved when Jan first introduced the two of them to each other.

It was strange, remembering that a few months ago she would avoid directly meeting her gaze or spending any one-on-one time with her, when she could also recall the ‘u up’ and ‘netflix? :)’ texts she received from the shorter woman last night. It also really sounded like Jackie, although she didn’t tell Crystal so. It was just as easy to imagine her taking the time to reassure a worried high-school student without making her feel like she was being talked down to.

Crystal was still looking at her expectantly, and Gigi couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed at how strongly she reacted. “So, not an actual crush then?”

“Nope, she just thinks Jackie is really cool. God knows why, because based on what I’ve heard, she’s kind of a giant dork.”

“Hot giant dork.” Gigi rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should have asked you that first.”

“Uh-huh,” Crystal replied, giving Gigi’s shoulder a squeeze. “You should ask her for the full story, actually. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before, but she tells it much better than I do. And maybe you want to spend some time thinking about why you reacted that quickly, because we both know Jan is a pretty flimsy excuse.”

The brunette sighed loudly. “It’s just a crush, it’s nothing.” It didn’t sound convincing even to herself. Back when Jackie was just the hot girl in her class, that would have probably been true, but it felt like a long time ago now.

Crystal rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile. “That was a lot more believable five minutes ago, but sure.”

Gigi made sure to hit her in the leg for that, laughing easily and sputtering mindlessly about how she had it all wrong.

“Wait, what did Rock used to want to study, back when she was in high school?”

There was a long pause, before Crystal finally cackled., “Video game design.” *** geege do you think it’s weird

rockstar YES

geege … to ask someone if you can platonically caress their cheeks kiss them on the forehead at least wait till i finish to be mean

rockstar u know what this is both not as weird AND weirder than i expected ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

geege what do I do roxanne she’s not gonna tutor me forever. the final is less than a month away how do i tell her i wanna date her without seeming like i wanna date her

rockstar go up to her and be like ‘if we played pokemon together, we’d be a pokematch’ ;)))

geege what

rockstar will you be the nidoking to my nidoqueen

geege tf those sound like the names of drugs

rockstar yk it was one thing when you were just thirsting after the hot girl in ur class but now it’s actual feelings how embarrassing

geege u have given me a solid amount of advice. none.

rockstar k fair how about i pick up noodles on my way back? and we can eat that for dinner while you tell me all about ur gay crush without my consent

geege i like the chicken stir fry ones

*** “Do you want to listen to it again, maybe?” Jackie asked, reaching for her headphones. “Then you can tell me the exact part you’re thinking of.”

It was another Wednesday afternoon, but this time they’d ditched the library in favor of a small coffee shop that was closer to where Jackie lived. It was artsy in a way that Gigi was used to, a little hipster, but not actually fancy enough to properly lay claim on the word. The tables were a little worn in and wobbly, the lattes a little too cheap, and the art prints on the wall either too well-known or not enough.

“Sure, just give me a second.” Gigi took the earbud the Persian woman offered her, making an aborted motion towards the computer, before following through as Jackie nodded at her with a soft smile. The older woman’s phone vibrated on the table between them, and she took a quick glance at the screen before putting it back down with a little more force than necessary.

It took Gigi a few tries to find the part she had in mind when mentioning texture, replaying the same part a few times over until she was fairly certain she found what she was looking for. “That part here, until the tempo slows down again—”

The brunette was cut off by the sound of Jackie’s phone vibrating on the table again, lighting up with a missed call notification and some texts.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the Persian woman cursed sheepishly. “This is so rude. I’m sorry, Geege, I should have just turned it off earlier.” She sounded a little annoyed, but mostly flustered, taking a quick look at the screen before flipping it back over facing down.

She flashed the younger woman an apologetic smile, her cheeks coloring a little as she pointedly pushed the phone away from her.

“Are you sure everything is okay? We can take a break if you need to deal with some stuff? Or even just cancel for today, I think I have basically everything I need to finish writing this up, so.”

“No, no, âsemun be zamin nemiyâd,” Jackie protested, mind clearly elsewhere. “It’s nothing, really. Or, well, it is something I guess, but it’s kind of stupid and I shouldn’t let it distract me, you know?”

Gigi hummed noncommittally, not wanting to force her to talk about whatever this was if she didn’t want to, but finding herself unwilling to acknowledge it as something stupid either. She offered Jackie what she hoped was a quick and comforting smile instead.

“I just…” She sighed, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I’ve been waiting to hear back from this prof about a recommendation letter for grad school? And she’d said yes before, but some more students asked her, and she has this thing about not writing more than five letters per year, I don’t know. So she said she’d get back to me today or tomorrow to confirm, and I’ve just been really stressed.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. That sounds really stressful.” Gigi brought a hand to Jackie’s shoulders, squeezing the back of her neck lightly. She tried to avoid doing too much extensive thinking about what she might do after college, but she doubted it was a train of thought that’d ever made anyone feel good.

“It’s okay, I should be used to it.” Jackie shrugged with resignation. “It’s just that every time I remember I’m waiting to hear back from her it makes me think of next year, and what’ll happen if I don’t get in? Or if I do, because it’s like I really know that grad school is what I want to do, you know?” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and Gigi really wished they were close enough friends for her to offer Jackie a hug or something.

“Just call your prof back now. You should have said something earlier, and we could have rescheduled.”

“Oh,” Jackie breathed out, sounding inexplicably surprised as she turned towards her. “No, no, no, no, that’s not necessary. That wasn’t her. I’m sorry I’m a bit of a mess today, let’s just get back to this thing, yeah?”

Gigi nodded, reaching for the headphones and passing one on to her. In a lot of ways, this had grown to be her favorite part of their sessions. Not that she didn’t enjoy listening to Jackie talk about music, which she did; mostly because she was practically tone deaf and found it magical that Jackie was so good at it, or trading ideas back and forth on the pieces they listened to, both of which were rewarding in their own ways. But there was something about sitting next to each other, silent save for the shared music, that just got to her.

They were standing outside the coffeeshop, Jackie struggling to undo the lock on her bike, when Gigi thought back to their earlier conversation. “I know it’s not the same because I’m not graduating yet, but you know I’m here if you ever need to talk to someone, right? Like, no pressure or anything, but I just— just wanted to put it out there, I guess.”

Jackie stopped mid-motion and looked up at her, half of her U-lock in hand. “Thanks, Gigi.” She grinned, all bright and pearly and warm. “I think sometimes I just get too in my own head, you know? Especially about things I can’t do anything about. And yes, I know how stupid it is to stress out over these things so much, I really do.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid, though,” Gigi mentioned, as they started walking towards her bus stop. It was really nice of Jackie to walk there with her, rather than just take off on her bike straight away. It maybe made sense now that they knew each other well enough, but her heart still kind of fluttered whenever she offered it. “I mean, maybe it’s not productive because you’re worrying about things you can’t control, sure, but it also means you care, right? And I don’t think that’s something stupid, even if you wish you could just… not care less, but care better, you know. Still care, but in a way that’s better for yourself. To yourself.”

She thought of her parents, and of the guilt she used to feel every time she overheard someone asking them if they really thought it was wise to let her go to college for fashion, how she overworked herself to the point of passing out alone in the studio her freshman year in a misguided attempt to redeem herself from having failed a class. Like she thought she could atone for her perceived academic failures by working her body into the ground. She thought of the conversations that had started to happen in her periphery, whispers of ‘What are you thinking of doing after next year?’, ‘Have you also applied for the internship at this gallery?’, ‘Have you considered doing a minor in business?’, and how she sometimes struggled with not letting these thoughts invade her brain late at night.

“I just think it’s hard sometimes, but it’s even harder if we don’t let ourselves accept it. Or talk about it. So I guess all I’m saying is that if you need someone to listen, you know where to find me,” she finished with a deep breath.

When she looked up, there was a quiet smile on Jackie’s face, and Gigi felt warm at the thought of maybe having been the one to put it there. ***

geege you know i suddenly understand why you do the shoulder thing like i use to never really get it but that was before

janjanjan the shoulder thing??

geege wait more important how did ur audition go did they love you when are you gonna hear back

janjanjan it went pretty okay i think they’re def looking more for someone that does modern

geege so that’s good! very good!!!

janjanjan and one of the choreographers sort of smiled and nodded at me at the end i think he was on the dance team my first semester but that was before he graduated ig anyway idk maybe it was just in my head

geege no but that all sounds really good!!! look at u go diva!

janjanjan gigi just finished twenty minutes ago she was wearing this stupid ass shirt a really loose tank bc it’s been hot af and one of the straps kept falling of her shoulder

janjanjan oooooooooh oh no that shoulder thing

geege i saw collarbone and so much shoulder and upper arm

janjanjan how tragic tell me, did she lift it back up

geege yeah but it kept falling back down

janjanjan that’s rly good though!!!

geege no it was torture did you know she has a mole on her shoulder? right at the top and all i kept thinking of was that i wanted to kiss it

janjanjan cute also i don’t know how to tell you this but that shit doesn’t happen by itself

geege well it’s not like it was her fault

janjanjan listen a shirt can be a too big sure but you still kind of have to make it happen it doesn’t magically keep falling off

geege hm

janjanjan believe me i would know *** No matter how much she tried to forget about it, Gigi’s last session with Jackie was a thing that was very much happening right now.

It was strange, thinking back to the beginning of the semester, how she almost didn’t sign up for the class. How she maybe would have never met Jackie if she hadn’t, or maybe would have just pined from afar without ever learning her name were it not for her meddling friends. She found herself spending the last half of their session wondering more about how to casually ask Jackie if they’d still hang out once finals are over. Or if their semester-long friendship was, well, just that.

In the end, she just blurted it out as they packed up their things, subtlety thrown out the window.

“I mean, you’re friends with Rock, so I’m sure I’ll at least see you around, yeah?”

Jackie only hummed noncommittally in reply. She was busy packing her things back into her khaki tote bag, checking each pocket like she was looking for something. It reminded Gigi of what she used to do in middle school, every time she hadn’t done the homework or just really, really, really didn’t want to be the one called on to explain her work in front of the whole class. She’d just lean down, and start searching through her bag very obviously, making a show of opening every zipper, her head almost disappearing inside it if she could manage.

“Do you, like, need help finding something in there?” She asked, her voice coming out more harsh than she’d intended, just as Jackie seemed to decide she’d found what she was looking for and decisively slung her bag back over her shoulder.

“Sorry, I— it was—” she stopped and started, letting out a resigned sigh and shaking her head at herself. It made Gigi want to cringe. “Yeah, I’m good now, and yeah, I’ll still see you around. At least for the summer, but after that too I hope! I mean, I’ll still be around and you’ll be around too, so, y’know…” she trailed off. Her cheeks were tinged pink, just barely. Her ears, too, or maybe it was just the white of her sweater making everything appear brighter in contrast. “Besides, you still haven’t shown me any of your work, and you promised you would.” She was right about that, Gigi knew. She usually wasn’t shy about showing her designs to other people, but somehow she’d found himself unsure of what to show Jackie first.

She settled her bag on one shoulder, and they started making their way out in companionable silence until Jackie spoke again. “Hey, actually, do you maybe want to grab coffee before heading back? I have a bit of time before my next class and I could use a pick-me-up.”

They ended up just stopping by Starbucks, because it was on their way and surprisingly empty for a Thursday afternoon on campus. Gigi got a mocha frappuccino (almond milk, extra whip) and managed to sneak in Jackie’s usual cold brew order before she had the chance to protest.

“Gigi…” She sighed fondly, kind of like a grandma would when her grandchildren were doing something they’d regret. She was shaking her head in resignation, which Gigi took as a sign that she’d decided to leave it at that.

“No, I’ve been stealing almost three hours of your time every week since almost the start of the semester and—”

“How can that even be true when Rock only introduced us in what, February?” Jackie laughed in protest, reaching out to grab her drink from the brunette’s hand.

“No, not the point!” Gigi replied, moving her arm back until the cup was just out of Jackie’s reach. “You’ve given up a lot of your free time for me, is what I’m saying. And you didn’t even really know me, I could’ve been a total freak.”

Jackie opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but Gigi continued before she had the chance.

“And you were so nice about it. Not ‘nice’ like when you have nothing actually all that good or specific to say. But nice in that you never made me feel like I was being stupid, you know? And you actually took the time to explain things to me so I’d understand them, not just the bare minimum so I could pass. You did all that when you didn’t really have to, so that meant a lot. Means a lot. I enjoyed spending that time with you, and not because it means I’m going to pass the class.”

Gigi forced herself to stop there, even though she knew for a fact that she could’ve easily kept going. She could feel her words coming out a little rambly, probably sounding more confusing than appreciative. At least she hoped that was what they sounded like, because the only other alternative was frightening. The idea that Jackie was in fact hearing everything Gigi was saying, her poor attempt at expressing the warmth she had felt growing inside her all semester long every time she was beside her, was infinitely more terrifying.

“Geege.” Jackie looked away, smiling after a moment, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Gigi could feel her cheeks getting hot, but when she looked up she could see that Jackie’s cheeks were tinged pink, too. It was almost funny, feeling what she felt and seeing the physical reflection of it not on herself, but on the person causing it. She wanted to reach out and let the tip of her fingers brush against Jackie’s cheeks, to see if they felt as warm as her own face did.

“You don’t have to say anything, I wasn’t trying to, like, I don’t know, get anything. I just wanted you to know what I meant, and that I really did mean it, when I was saying thank you.”

Gigi was laid bare, like her body was nothing but a lens, and behind it were all of her feelings jumbled together in a tangled mess, conclusion still very plain to the eye.

It was a surprise, when Jackie stepped forward and kissed her.

Gigi closed her eyes reflexively, but she could feel herself inhaling sharply, her body failing to catch up with what her brain was also struggling to process. When she eventually kissed back, it was only because she could feel Jackie’s body starting to move away, the fear finally pushing her into action. She brought one hand up, resting it on the side of the older woman’s neck, fingers gently brushing against her hair as she kissed back a little more confident. She could feel Jackie’s hand on her waist, warm and solid. Her grip tightened slightly as they separated, not strong enough to keep Gigi anywhere but a reassurance of where she was wanted.

Neither one of them really stepped back when the kiss ended, just stayed standing right in front of each other, breathing the same air. She heard Jackie swallow, loud in the silence of their shared space. She licked her lips, a reflex she didn’t even think about, and it was like the realization that, oh my god, they just kissed, hit her all over again when she found them wet. She suppressed a small shudder, although she wasn’t sure how successfully.

It was Jackie that finally broke the silence and stepped away from her, letting her hand fall away from Gigi’s side, brushing against her wrist and then gone before she had a chance to realize it.

“I,” Jackie breathed, “I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time, Gigi.” She laughed a little, maybe a bit self-conscious, and that was what brought the younger woman out of it.

“I spent hours talking to Jan about this gorgeous girl in my listening class,” she started, words leaving her mouth almost of their own volition. “How I didn’t even know her name but god, I really wish I did. Then I did know, even if I didn’t realize that you were, you know, you, when Rock said he knew someone who could tutor me. And then you were there and still the same person, but also so nice and understanding and just… good? Like, being around you just felt good.”

She paused, forcing herself to meet Jackie’s eyes again. “And I still mean everything I said earlier too, you know. Even if you weren’t interested in me, that’s not why I was saying it, but I still mean it just as much now.”

“Oh.” Jackie’s mouth was gaping so wide Gigi was worried it might actually fall to the floor. Maybe if Gigi were a different person, or if her brain wasn’t currently busy processing and reprocessing their kiss on an endless loop, she would have felt a little self-conscious at her outburst, but that just wasn’t who she was.

Especially not right now. Not when Jackie’s lips were right in front of her, still a little wet, still a little too red.

“That’s, that’s pretty good, then,” she finished quietly. They looked at each other in silence for a moment, only interrupted when Gigi let out a small snort.She couldn’t help but realise they were kind of ridiculous. Her face was taken over by an unashamedly stupidly large grin. Jackie properly stepped back then, far enough that Gigi could no longer feel the warmth of her body. She missed it immediately.

“I really need to get to my next class.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “So I can talk to the prof about her feedback on my draft first, but text me, yeah? I know it’s really shitty timing because we both have finals to take and papers to write, but I’ll make it work. Or I’ll call you, if that’s better? But I’m not running away, I promise.”

Gigi flashed her a bright smile and nodded in understanding. “I have your number too, y’know, so maybe I’ll just be the one to text you.”

“Okay, great, nice.” Jackie replied. She had her bag and coffee in hand, but made no clear motion to leave, kind of like she was worried if she did Gigi might disappear forever. It was so, incredibly, frustratingly cute and Gigi couldn’t help but wonder if Jackie would mind being kissed on the forehead.

“Jacks, it’s fine.” Gigi grinned. “I need to go too, anyway. Just maybe don’t drop your phone in any lake before you text me back this time, yeah?”

She turned away with a laugh of her own this time, and Gigi sipped through the plastic straw like it did anything to hide the smile on her face as she watched Jackie walk away.

“Wait!”

The Persian woman startled, turning back to her with an unsure smile. “What, did you forget something, Geege?”

“My first final is tomorrow,” Gigi said, looking up at Jackie with glinting eyes. “And it’s my first actual written exam this year, because I didn’t have any midterms, so how about another kiss for good luck, huh?”

Gigi’s cheeks ached from the force of her smile as she watched the uncertainty leave Jackie’s face, only to be replaced by a raised eyebrow and deep smile. Her shoulder’s rose slightly, like her instincts were telling her to hide her face in embarrassment at the cheesiness, but her eyes didn’t leave Gigi’s anyway. They didn’t leave Gigi’s, until they closed and their lips met again, and the younger woman thought it felt like more luck than she thought she had the right to ask for.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #jackie cox #rock m sakura #Jan Sport #Crystal Methyd #gigi goode/jackie cox #jan sport/rock m sakura #jiji #jock #lesson in love #mina #lesbian au #back to school 2020 #day 4: lesson #submission

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prorevenge · 6 years

Text

Screw with my grade? Have fun dealing with an investigation from the dean's office.

Buckle in, because this is a long read, but the end is worth it.

Last semester I took an online only ECON-101 class to fulfill one of the requirements of my associates degree. I chose economics because it sounded more interesting than the other options - big mistake. This teacher, let's call him Professor Y., does absolutely no teaching online, takes forever to answer questions, and doesn't really seem to care about actually helping us learn. There was a website, called MyEconLab, which is where homework, quizzes, and tests were taken. Other than that, there were also weekly discussion boards to engage with our peers.

Now I'm not going to lie, I didn't deserve an A for this class, or even a B. I missed some assignments and didn't do so well on others. However, I thought that I earned a C. I got sick in the middle of the semester and missed some assignments, which was totally my fault. I noticed that I was now in danger of getting a D for the class, which wouldn't be good at all. I looked at the syllabus, which was littered with typos and was generally very confusing. I found a passage that says that the final was worth 100 points, and at this point in the class we only had 255 total. It seemed to be worth a big chunk of points. There was also a term paper assigned, which was also worth 100 points.

I focused more on the final than I did the term paper, because I'm better at multiple choice than I am papers. I received an 83% on the final, and I was satisfied that I would scrape by with a C.

The class ended on December 15th, and the final was not added to my gradebook. I thought that it was a little weird, but I didn't think anything of it. The professor had been taking a long time all semester to grade assignments. I checked every couple of days to see what my final grade was, and on January 10th, I was assigned a D. I checked my gradebook and saw that I got a 67% on the term paper, which is around what I expected. However, my final was nowhere to be found. In addition, the only assignment that referenced the MyEconLab website had not been updated since November 6th. Remember, the class ended on December 15th, so there was almost a month of assignments that weren't counting towards my grade.

Thinking that there must be some mistake, I sent my professor an email.

Hello Professor,

I checked my grade on webadvisor and it says that I have a D. I logged into blackboard and it says I have a 67%, but that doesn't appear to be taking into account the grade I received for my final exam, as well as some of the other MyEconLab assignments.

In addition, I'm having a hard time understanding your grading rubric, so any clarifications you can offer there would be most appreciated.

Thank you,

Ceryliae

I did not hear back from my professor for 48 hours. At this point, I called the Dean that oversaw Humanities, Arts & Social Sciences. I explained my situation to her, and she said that she would call my professor, and that there was a chance that it was just a mistake. The next day I received an email back from my professor

HELLO STUDENT, HERE IS A SUMMARY OF YOUR GRADE TO DATE. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED (2) CRITICAL DISCUSSION BOARDS WHICH AFFECTED YOUR GRADE SIGNIFICANTLY. PLEASE REVIEW THE COMMENTS I MADE IN BLACKBOARD REGARDING YOUR TERM PROJECT. IF NEEDED WE CAN MEET TO DISCUSS YOUR GRADE FURTHER.

Yes, it was really in all caps. Below that my professor had included my gradebook, which I already saw. That was the whole reason I was getting in touch with him. My professor didn't actually answer any of my questions. So I wrote him back.

Hello Professor, I appreciate your reply, however this doesn't answer my questions. Where is my final? What about my MyEconLab assignments from the last couple weeks of class?

Ceryliae

He replied

Ceyliae (he misspelled my name), please watch your tone. Your final is located in myeconlab, as mentioned in the syllabus if you reviewed it here is a breakdown of how the grades are calculated. Course Assignments and point distribution approximations:

(3) Chapter Mid-Term Exams (MyEcon lab) = 45 %

(1) Final Exam (MyEcon lab) = 25%

(16) Chapter Quizzes (MyEcon lab = 15%

(1) Term Project (Written) = 100 (points)

(10) Chapter H/W/Video Assn. MyEcon lab = + 15%

(6) Chapter Discussion Forums = 120 (points)

Total Points 100% weighted (plus 220 points)

Underneath that, he included the gradebook from MyEconLab. Which I already had. The grade breakdown that he included in this email was already located in the syllabus, which I read. I'm not sure about you guys, but this is very confusing to read and its actually impossible to calculate your grade from this. Once again, he failed to answer my questions. Not only that, he also asked me to watch my tone? I've been nothing but respectful. Also, he implied that I haven't read his dumpster fire of a syllabus, which I have.

My reply to him was

Professor,

I apologize if I come off as rude, it's not my intention. I'm just very confused. The only assignment on blackboard that is labeled as MyEconLab says that it is for weeks 1 through 11, and was last updated on November 6th. How does that include my final exam grade, which was taken on December 15th. Additionally, how can something that was updated on November 6th include all of my assignments for November 7th through the end of the semester?

Also, I did read the syllabus, and I spent quite a while trying to work out how the point distribution is calculated. I wasn't able to figure it out, which is why I asked for some clarification. I'm sorry if asking for clarification came off as being disrespectful.

I wait four days without a reply, and then I called the Dean again. I told her that I didn't feel like this was a mistake, and that I didn't think this was going to be resolved between the professor and me. She told me she would look into it further, and that she's been following our email conversation, but she didn't have my last email to him, which I forwarded in her direction.

Shortly after my phone call with the dean, my professor emailed me back.

Ok, 1st the points in MyEcon Lab are calculated within the My econ lab system based on the weighted point allotment for the particular assignment. This is why I sent you a copy of the syllabus which expresses all assignments in Myecon lab as a weighted %. Hence, the 92% for example on the final, is weighted with all other exam grades, which represented 70% of the Myecon grade.

Secondly, the Big reason, respectfully, your grade was lower than anticipated was based on the (2) discussion boards you missed in my opinion, with those 2 scores you would have been above a 70%.

All I can say is, we can sit down in Spring 2018, during office hours, and I can explain the grading criteria, as I have designed it based on student work within Myecon lab and Blackboard.

You did miss (2) discussion Board Correct? I just ask this to make sure this point clarification is correct.

Again, email me after February 12th, 2018 when I return from Winter Break and we can over your grade scores again.

Thanks Sincerely;

Professor Y.

So now finally I've gotten an answer on one of my questions. He says that he is calculating my grade by reducing all of the assignments that were done on MyEconLab down to a 100 point assignment based on the weighted percentages in the syllabus. This is ridiculous because there are 355 points in total for the class, so reducing all that work down to 100 points means it's all worth very little. The final ended up being only worth 7% of my grade. I replied back to him:

Professor Y.,

I appreciate your efforts to clarify your grading policy, however I am even more confused than before. If I'm understanding you correctly, it sounds like you're saying that every single assignment for MyEconLab is weighted according to the percentages on page three of your syllabus. Then those points are counted as part of the "MyEconLab (Weeks 1-11)" assignment, which is worth one hundred points.

This contradicts what your syllabus says on page five:

"Exams: there will be 4 exams over the course of the semester, (3) Midterm and (1) Final. These exams are a combination of multiple choice, matching, ordering, and essays. Each Exam is worth 100 points, and the exams are each worth 45% of your overall grade.

Research Paper: you will submit an 8-10 page research paper on a topic approved by the instructor. A separate handout will be distributed to students with details on formatting this assignment. The research paper is worth 20% of your overall grade and is 100 points. Document Requirements Page Located in Blackboard (Term Project Requirements)." (Emphasis mine)

This seems to contradict what you've stated about the final and midterm exams only being included in the MyEconLab assignment on blackboard. Towards the end of the semester, after I missed the two discussion boards, I realized that I might end up with a D in your class. I consulted your syllabus to see what points were remaining, and found the passages from page five that I quoted above. It seemed to me that the final exam was worth quite a big chunk of points, and I was relying on that to bolster my grade. At the end of last semester I was incredibly busy with other classes, performances, work, and illnesses. I believe you are aware of my illnesses, because you denied my request for an extension on the term paper. For these reasons, I had a limited amount of time to devote to studying. If I had known that in reality, the final was only worth 7% of my overall grade, I would have budgeted my time differently. Instead of studying so much for the final, I would have put more time into my term paper, which seemed to be worth less points.

You keep asking me to reference your syllabus, and in a previous email, you stated that if I had read your syllabus, I would not have questions about my grade. However, your syllabus seems to contradict itself in several places. I saw the quoted passage on page five, and assumed that it was correct. Was I incorrect to rely on your syllabus to guide me in how to approach your class?

Furthermore, I have asked a direct question in three separate emails, and I have not received a direct answer:

There are several assignments which were turned in after November 6th at 2:34 PM, this includes three chapter quizzes as well as my final exam. How are these assignments included in my overall grade, if the MyEconLab assignment was last updated on November 6th at 2:34 PM?

I would appreciate an answer, because it doesn't feel fair to me to receive a grade without all of my work being included in my grade. MyEconLab says that I spent over 4 hours working on assignments that were turned in after November 6th at 2:34 PM. Was that all for nothing?

I am sorry to keep bothering you during the winter break, however this is a time sensitive matter for me, as I receive a hefty discount on my car insurance for maintaining a 3.0 GPA. For that reason, I would like to resolve this as soon as possible.

Please be aware that I have CC'd the dean to this conversation.

Thank you very much, Ceryliae

The professor emailed me back the next day:

Well, I will address these issues within the next 4 weeks with you when we Meet. Again, did you miss (2) discussion Boards?

I am aware you have spoken with my Dean, and Chairman, however, this does not change my position or your grade until further review.

I will be back in the office starting February 13th, 2018 and we can revisit these issues 1 by 1.

Please just reply back for my records if you missed (2) Discussion boards or you can defer until we meet and I will use what I have in blackboard as my answer.

Please, no more emails until we meet, to keep perceptions and frustrations to a minimum.

Thanks.

So not only is he refusing to answer my questions, he also asked me a question about the discussion boards I missed, which I actually answered in the previous email. That means he didn't really read my assignment. Additionally, I can't really afford to wait 4 weeks to resolve this situation as my car insurance will literally go up hundreds of dollars.

I email him back:

Professor Y.,

I am disappointed that you are unwilling to answer my simple questions about my grade at this time, because this situation is very time sensitive for me.

As I stated in my previous email, yes, I did miss those two discussion boards.

I appreciate your offer to meet with me once the spring semester begins, however I don't think it is in my best interest to meet with you alone. I am uncomfortable meeting with you without the dean in attendance.

Thank you, Ceryliae

The next day I hear back from him with this short email:

Grade was changed to a C.

Best Success.

So now I've gotten what I was trying to get a week earlier. However, I'm not satisfied. So I call the dean and tell her that since I've been given the C I'm dropping the matter. However, I still think that Professor Y. should be investigated for how he grades assignments, as well as the confusing nature of his syllabus. She tells me that she is already investigating, and then asks me to put all this in an email to her so that she has a written account. She also tells me that she was calculating my grade and she thought I earned a C. She also didn't think that I had any issues with my tone, and said that I was nothing but respectful.

Here is that email:

Hello Dr. E.,

Professor Y. informed me that he was changing my grade to a C. For this reason, I would like to put this matter to rest. However, there are still some lingering concerns that I feel should be addressed going forward.

It still appears to me that not all of my assignments were calculated into my grade, due to the MyEconLab assignment on blackboard last being updated on November 6th, and the class ending on December 15th.

The syllabus has many inconsistencies as well as flat out missing quite a bit of information. Page three has the grading breakdown and mixes points and percentages, which makes it very confusing. Furthermore, the grading breakdown is contrary to what it stated on page 5:

Along the same lines, there are typos littered throughout the syllabus, including stating that the four exams are each worth 45% of your overall grade, which adds up to 180%. If the Syllabus for Econ-101 is confusing, there is a good chance that his other classes are equally confusing. How many students have not had the confidence to come forward after they were misled or confused by Professor Y's syllabus? I have attached all three revisions of Professor Y's syllabus to this email.

You have been exceedingly helpful with this matter, and I appreciate all the help you've given me.

Thank you,

Ceryliae

So now the professor is under investigation for how he grades assignments as well as his syllabuses. None of this would have happened if he had assigned me the grade I earned.

TL;DR Professor screws me over with my grade. I get the dean involved and my grade is changed to a C. Not satisfied, I also get him investigated by the dean's office.

(source) (story by Ceryliae)

#pro revenge #by Ceryliae #prorevenge #pro revenge stories #revenge #revenge stories

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bloodroseknight · 5 years

Text

House Keeping

No this is not a spicy maid inspired story. This is me talking about what is going on with my updating schedule.

Alright, so its time I addressed what the hell is going on with some of my stories in light of all of the events in RWBY and my own life. And since I have somehow managed to stress myself into being sick this past week along with it being about 3 weeks since the season finale of RWBY now was probably the best time.

So if you aren't invested in my RWBY stories or are content to just wait with no explanation then you can go ahead and stop reading now. Though be warned there will be some opinions I want concerning my stories. If you are interested in knowing more go ahead and click read more and join me on my illness-induced thought process.

So let’s start with general reasons why I’m not updating and then break it down by the story. Since some stories have individual reasons on top of the base reasons.

So the general reason: School is trying to kill me.

Not literally of course but while last semester, I had the issue of my job not understanding the concept of being a full-time student and scheduling me 5 days a week (the shift length wasn’t the issue it was how many days and at what times I was working) this semester I am taking a basic sociology class, which is the least of my issues but still sometimes like a fly that likes to buzz too close and ends up irritating you anyway.

The main issues are the other three classes. my Japanese 102 class, which was previously a normal lecture in 101 and is now a Hybrid class which means it has more out of class content I need to do.

My two literature classes are a Dystopian Literature class and a Graphic Novel class. My Dystopian class likes to make me read half a book for each class and my Graphic Novel class has me reading a whole novel (like watchmen or maus) and I am also having to work on a comic of my own for the class while doing the normal workload.

So you can see why that ends up stressing me out alone.

Now for the main story issues, I promised

Till Ashes do we Part: No issue with this one, just don’t have time but I’m hoping to have at the next chapter up over spring break and then back to a normal update schedule this summer. I’m just hoping I don’t fall out of the RWBY Fandom

Written in Blood Red Ink: Because this is a companion story to Till Ashes do we Part I’ve decided I want to wait until I’m done with the first so I don’t accidentally spoil something in the former with the pacing in this one, but I also don’t want the pacing to suffer in this story because I’m trying to prevent spoilers so it’s just going to be on hold till then. It won’t be a rehash of events from the former and will go beyond the events of the former.

Running with the Wolves: I’ve started to lose interest in this story as much as I don’t want to I can’t deny it’s happening. I’m hoping I get more into it again by this summer so I’m avoiding deleting it but I’m also not holding my breath. It would just be a shame to delete something I’ve put so much time in already.

RWBY: Next Hunters/Ever After: Since these two suffer from the same issue I combined them. They are also the biggest issue and the one I need help with. When I wrote this story I really thought Rooster Teeth was going to go with Black Sun but now, with the events of Volume 6 I’m not so sure and the possibility of Bumblebee being cannon is greater.

The fatal flaw to my fanfiction writing is I’m a stickler for canon. Its why I almost always write AU’s because the story doesn’t have to follow the events. But these stories were supposed to be an after story and it's not enough of an AU that I can ignore the possibility the pairing has changed.

So I have 4 options.

1. Delete the stories and be done with the idea of a future au (what I was going to do but I was convinced by babe to at least ask everyone's opinion before I did that)

2. Continue on anyway (my least favorite option and most uncomfortable for me because I want to represent characters as truthfully as possible)

3. Delete the old and start over with a new one featuring Bumblebee instead of Black Sun (doable but also requires me to reshape pairings, teams, and overall plot outlines)

and the last option 4: write two versions of the same story with different pairings to cover all my bases (the most time consuming and stressful but also satisfies the most people and I’m a glutton for punishment)

So that is the end of this over the top rant. Leave your opinions in the comments or whatever it is Tumblr calls it. Thank you for putting up with it and I will now be on my way.

until next time. Later!

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kallura-icedcoffee · 6 years

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kind of random but could please you write a prompt about Kallura in Paris? i feel like that would be really cute! and i could totally see keith on a vespa with allura or allura eating macarons/shopping 💖

A/N: You got it anon! Also shout out to google translate. You’re the real MVP as my ass clearly did not retain a damn thing from 3 semesters of French in school.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Come in.”

“Good morning Princess I have your schedule for the d-”

The rest of the sentence died in Keith’s throat as heentered the princess’ bedroom to find her sitting cross-legged on her bed innothing but the button down dress shirt she wore the day before, sipping coffeeand reading from her tablet. Her hair was still tousled from sleep.

“When you said ‘come in’ I assumed you were decent.” Heblushed as he turned around.

“I am decent.” She smiled as she took another drink from hermug.

“Your lack of pants say otherwise.”

“Oh did I forget those?” she asked with a feigned innocence.

“Can you please get dressed? Your father is waiting on you.”

He could hear her getting up from the bed, but kept his backturned out of respect. There was some rustling followed by sudden darkness asher shirt flew through the air and landed over his head. Heat rose in hischeeks as he snatched it off.

“Allura!”

“Sorry, sorry…getting dressed.” He heard her giggle beforeshe disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.

Keith waited in the living room of her suite, leaningagainst the couch until she finally emerged, showered and dressed and done up.

“Happy now?” She spun around in the doorway letting herblush tulle skirt twirl.

“Very. Let’s go, you’re already late.”

As they walked down the hallway of the hotel she ran up andhooked her arm around his, eliciting another blush.

“Princess, your father wouldn’t approve of this kind ofcontact.”

“Then my father should have picked an older less attractivebodyguard.”

“Allura…” he hissed in a whispered tone.

Keith opened the door to King Alfor’s suite and Alluraimmediately removed her arm while putting on her best smile.

“Morning father!” She placed a hand on his shoulder andkissed his cheek.

“You’re late.”

“So I’ve been told. My apologies.”

She sat down at the table and joined her father forbreakfast.

“I’ll be blunt, some meetings have come up and I cannot takeyou out today like I promised.”

“But father…” She pouted.

“These things cannot be helped my little flower but don’tlet that stop you from enjoying your day. It’s your first time in Paris, youshould have fun.”

“Alone?”

“You wouldn’t be alone, your bodyguard would be with you” hestated, spreading jam on his bread. “Keith has joined me on diplomatic tripsbefore, he’s somewhat familiar with the city.”

Allura was disappointed to be missing quality time with herfather, but exploring Paris with her handsome protector wasn’t exactly aterrible alternative. She finished her breakfast without further protest.

“What is this?” Allura stepped out of the hotel entranceslipping on her sunglasses.

“I figured this might be a nice way to go sightseeinginstead of cooped up in a town car.” Keith smiled as he sat perched on a creamcolored Vespa scooter.

“It’s absolutely darling I love it!” she exclaimed, skippingtoward it.

Allura pulled a scarf from her purse and tied it around herhead, securing it under her chin so her hair wouldn’t budge. She climbed onback.

“I’m sorry your father couldn’t come with you todayPrincess.”

“It’s all right,” she slipped her arms around his waist andheld tight with a satisfied grin, “I’ll manage.”

He took off, zooming through the city with his princess intow. They would occasionally stop to shop (she loved teasing him by asking howshe looked in very tight fitting dresses) or grab a bite. A bakery with brightcolor confections in the window immediately caught her eye and she dragged himinside.

“I’m not really big on sweets.” Keith crossed his arms.

“Nonsense,” Allura scoffed before turning to the woman atthe counter. “Une douzaine de macarons s'il vous plait.”

“You speak French?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m required to speak lots of things,” she smirked, “andknow the distinction between three different forks at the dinner table as wellas the American, International English and Viennese Waltz.”

“Wow, being a princess is boring” he quipped.

“Terribly, now say ahhh.” She pulled a macaron from the bagof recently purchased treats and held one out.

“Allura…”

“Ahhhh.” She opened her own mouth in example, persistent asever.

He sighed and did as he was told, letting her feed him. Hechewed thoughtfully.

“They’re ok” he muttered.

Lies. They were delicious.

She shook her head with a chuckle and wiped the crumbs fromhis mouth.

“Vous deux faites un couple charmant” the cashier said witha warm smile as she watched them.

“What did she say?” he asked then pursed his lips.

“She said we look good together.”

Keith immediately became flustered.

“We’re not…I mean um…I’m not her boyfri-”

“Merci!” Allura replied to the woman while cutting him off,taking him by the hand and pulling him from the shop.

“You love to frustrate me don’t you?” he asked once theywere outside.

“A little.” She grinned proudly as they walked down thesidewalk toward the Vespa.

“You realize your flirting with me is highly inappropriateright?”

“Mhm.”

“And we could both get in a lot of trouble if your fatherwas aware of even half of the things you say and do in front of me.”

“Yes of course.”

“And whatever my personal feelings may or may not be, asyour bodyguard it is my job to protect you, nothing more.”

“Uh huh.”

He stopped walking and turned to her.

“Are you even listening to me Princess?”

“I am, and I’d love to take you seriously, but you’re stillholding my hand.”

He looked down and sure enough he hadn’t let go when theyleft the shop, in fact their fingers were now intertwined and had been theentire two blocks back to the scooter.

“…Shit…” he grumbled before looking back up at hersheepishly, still not releasing his grip.

“So,” she beamed, giving his hand a squeeze, “where tonext?”

#kallura #juniblade #ficsbyKIC #drabbles

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hotelbones · 5 years

Text

Chocolate-Dipped Brain Bites

This post was written as an assignment for Parsons Design & Technology Thesis 1 taught by Liza Stark and Ethan Silverman. It contains a self-bio, questions I generated over the summer, and prototypes I made before the beginning of the semester.

Being

Last night I reserved tickets for a queer games meeting happening in Brooklyn on Sunday, August 25. As I finished writing my name and information I was prompted with two boxes asking the following: “Are you interested in showing a game?”, “Are you interested in giving a talk?”

I spent two days with this page open, unsure how to answer before leaving them empty and hitting ‘submit’.

You may be wondering how this is relevant to my thesis assignment at all, but its this moment that defines a lot of where I am at right now. I came to DT to make games on top of the theory I studied in undergrad, but instead, I only dug further into thinking about games alongside making them. Except I am not making normal games anymore, that is what makes things so difficult.

Over the course of the last year, I explored games in a variety of fashions. I made games involving venting your feelings to your friends, games for me to explain my own trans trauma, games that questioned the act of play, and games that ask what a game really is. So, yeah I am at a pretty different place from when I came here hoping to make some cool video games. But the thing about the games I have been making lately is I am not sure where they fit in, and where the future of my work should fit in. I won’t figure that out in this blog post, but at the moment my games just feel a bit lost contextually.

Outside of my work, I like organizing community events. This comes into form in the DT community most of the time but I am trying to figure out how to expand that range as I won’t be in DT much longer. I also really enjoy thinking critically about the worlds objects, and watching the reality TV show Terrace House.

Part 1: Questions

How have the hegemonic ideals of game definitions limited affect, bodies, and expression?

The games encyclopedia has completely stagnated under the powers of capital and computers. Now we think that games must exist as an aesthetic of “fun” or “rewarding” within a magic circle separated from the world that results in no consequences. By continuing to think of games with these beliefs, the military-entertainment complex maintains some form of control over who gets the ability to feel and why.

Is conceptual art an avenue to continue experimenting in making games or should I depart from that area?

The past year I dove heavily into thinking about art, specifically conceptual and relational art. I saw a lot of parallels between the ways that games are constructed and those artifacts, and I wondered why games couldn’t be created in a similar manner. However, I’m starting to wonder if conceptual art isn’t the place where this conversation necessarily fits.

Is queerness a lens I want to continue thinking about in my work?

I came to DT hoping to explore queer design and games but I hit a lot of roadblocks over the course of the last year creating queer works. My games 54 More and Immanent Blocks, both taught me that creating identity-dependent work is an entirely different form of emotional labor added on top of communicating a project itself. My MS1 project Game Changers also taught me that creating work as a minority in a community that isn’t focused on said subject means that it's hard to find valuable criticism to move you forward, and administrative figures typically won’t understand. Finally, if I make queer work is it isolating a larger conversation I want to have about the systemic constrictions games cultures have maintained? Guess I will find out.

Part 2: Design Process & Prototypes

Prototype 1: Toilet Game (Huck Fuizinga)

For my first prototype, I decided I would try to create a game that does the opposite of everything Huizinga said in his book Homo Ludens. Why Huizinga? Because there are a lot of concepts I find in modern game forms that are constraining and prohibitive and I think that this book contains a lot of those ideas as it is a seminal text in the game studies field. That being said, Homo Ludens is a book about play. But, many of the things said about play in this book can be considered when thinking about games as well. So I pulled some quotes from the book and distilled them down to some values related to games then I created my design values from the opposite of these values. These are the values I came up with.

So, due to the limited amount of time I had for this prototype, it was impossible for me to create a game that satisfied every one of these design values. So I decided to use these design values as guides, instead of requirements. I ran into the problem of considering what an action truly “integral” to life could be, but instead of overthinking it I decided to go with an easy one. Pooping.

So I went to the bathroom for about an hour to two hours and sat on the toilet. During this time I thought about what could be an interesting experience to give players that fits within some of the other design guidelines. I wanted to make sure that the game was not something to be a tradition and something that may communicate moral values to the player. But how can you communicate morals through the act of doing your business? It is a very lonely act. I decided a way for the player to do this would be to leave an object behind for the next player to consider. I ended up with the following rule set. (You can find more of the document here https://1drv.ms/w/s!AiehfsctWGCih8MneP0PaMnK5PH4ew)

I decided the best place for this game to be played would be inside of a public restroom. So I got shipping labels and went out for a night on the town.

A downside to this being a bathroom based game is that it is a lot harder to gather feedback on how the users feel about the game. And honestly I didn’t from this one. It didn’t feel like it would be appropriate. But there are improvements I would make if I iterated on it such as the actions the players take, and the headspace the game asks them to be in.

Prototype 2: The Nonbeing

For my second prototype I didn’t want to read through a bunch of theory again so I decided to make something more emotional. I took inspration from Avery Alder’s Variations on Your Body and Yoko Ono’s Grapefruit to create a game about feeling disconnected from your body. Essentially being de-embodied. One may say that these two prototypes are vastly different from each other. One is in a public restroom, another is a more poetic experience. But that’s fine. It really all is to help answer my questions.

This game isn’t something that really works through pictures....because the game is just text. That is the thing about my games at the moment. They don’t necessarily need immediate forms because the forms are the people playing them. Yeah people could buy those toilet stickers or reprint them. There is definitely a form of this second prototype that could be fancied up and packaged. But the design is the embodiment of this specific headspace.

Also note this game isn’t finished, I spent 3 hours and decided I had already gone over the allotted time so I stopped myself. A finished version of this game would need a back half that finishes.

You can find the game “The Nonbeing” at this link. https://1drv.ms/w/s!AiehfsctWGCih8Mo-EPa51zOGxL4eQ

#thesis #parsons #mfadt

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thechemistrynerd · 7 years

Note

Hi! :D Love your blog's design, it's so cute and informative! I currently have a low GPA in college (due to some personal things, I had to stop attending and got F's in two classes as well as multiple W's). One of the F is in a course irrelevant to my intended major and the other is in College Calculus course (which is also higher math than required in my major). Should I take an easier class or retake College Calculus? Should I retake the irrelevant course as well to rid myself of the F? :(

Thank you very much! I actually just changed it last night so I’m glad you like it. :-)

&& No need to explain your low GPA, it happens to a lot of people and you should never feel defeated by it! It’s all about HOW you work to improve it and get it to where you want it to be! So, here’s my take on the situation:

What to Do About Failing Grades

So everyone fails a class or two along the way in their academic career (It was physics for me), but the real question is: Should I retake the class, settle with the failing grade, or withdraw?? Well consider the following checkpoints and see what your option is.

Is the class in your major. Let’s be real, I’m not going to do so hot in a class if it doesn’t mention the word chemistry. So if you fail a class that isn’t in your major, then don’t put too much stress on it! In the end, your major GPA is what many graduate schools/potential jobs look at. They also put emphasis on extracurricular activities and how much you put back into your community.

Limitation on grade replacements. Does your school/university have a maximum amount of credits you can retake for a grade replacement? If so, then neglect the idea of retaking a class if it’s not in your major. Keep those grade replacements for higher level classes that you might actually need them for!

When in doubt, take the “W”. Withdrawing from a class can be scary. I withdrew from my first class last semester and it took me 3 days to finally hit the button. A “W” does place a flag next to that class when graduate schools/potential jobs see your transcript. Though if you interview with them and the topic comes up, explain why withdrawing was the better option than continuing with the class or retaking it. (Sell yourself, show that you still work hard even though you had to take the “W”.) Note: some universities have limits on the number of credits you can withdraw from. So keep that in mind!

What if I Have a Low GPA?

Yes, your GPA does make a lot of difference if you get into a prestigious graduate school or get a job offer at a well-known business. Though, a few bad grades won’t bring your GPA down from a high 3.0 to a 2.0 Trust me on this one. Currently, I have a 3.7 GPA and this is with my TWO C’s. Yes, I have two C’s and somehow my GPA is still pretty dang high. Will I ever reach a 4.0? No, but I won’t put unrealistic expectations on myself like that. So keep your head up high and work hard so you don’t repeat your mistakes. Sometimes life will get in the way or your mental health won’t be the best. Though don’t let that get in your way! Work with yourself and push yourself (but not too hard!) to get that A or B!

So anon, do what you think will make you satisfied. If I was in your shoes, I would only retake one of the classes that I feel has a higher impact on my (your) future or is more beneficial. In which, if you feel like calculus was too hard for you, then why retake it? If you don’t need it and can take a lower math class instead then do that! Just please don’t be upset about a low GPA. You’ll always see people post stuff about having a 4.0 or amazing grades, but don’t go and compare yourself! You can do just as good if not better but at your own pace. :-) Good luck and message me if you want any other help. I believe in you, xx

#ask ash

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towine · 7 years

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[prompto/noctis] breaking free

~4k / high school musical fic (YEP.)

from the kink meme: Noctis and Prompto audition for the spring musical.

ao3: [x]

Noctis is tempted to ditch school altogether for the next two months. Give his theater teacher Ms. Clemens some excuse about absolutely necessary princely duties requiring his attention, then wish her and all the rest of the class good luck in getting the spring production finished without him. There are plenty of other students available, he’s certain they’d be able to manage it. But that would mean failing the final semester of his theater elective class. And even worse, Prompto would be bummed if Noctis wasn’t there. Not bumming Prompto out is pretty high on Noctis’ list of Things He Considers of Greatest Importance, so he suffers through reading the play, suffers through all the students practicing their singing in the hallways, and suffers through all the whispers and giggles about who gets to play opposite Noctis in whatever part their dear Prince of Lucis lands. Well, they’re gonna be pretty disappointed, Noctis thinks, as he makes his way out of the classroom after the bell rings and signs his name on the sheet for “Props/Set Design” and vows never to set foot in front of an audience. - “You don’t even want to try auditioning?” Prompto says, during a day in class where they’ve all been assigned to make posters advertising the spring musical and the upcoming auditions. Noctis shakes his head, carefully painting flower designs around the word SPRING in red. “Wow, that looks really nice, Noct,” Prompto says over his shoulder, to which Noctis says a quiet, “Thanks.” “You know what else you’re really good at besides painting flowers?” Prompto continues. “Singing.” “Hey,” Noctis hisses, “no one knows about that, alright?” “Well I do, and I think the rest of the world is seriously missing out.” “The world?” “Well, the school, Insomnia, all of Lucis. You know the whole country’d turn up if they knew their prince was going to be in a musical.” “All the more reason to save the school from the embarrassment.” “Aw, come on, Noct.” Prompto drops into a chair beside the desk Noctis is working on to meet Noctis’ downturned gaze. “You’re good. And I know you actually like singing.” Noctis sighs as he rounds out the last petal of a flower, then drops his brush back into the cup of red paint on the desk. “I don’t know, Prom. It’s just—it’s just not me.” Prompto is quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and places a hand, warm, on Noctis’ shoulder. “Alright, dude,” he says, “I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to, but for the record: I think you’d make the spring musical a thousand times better than it usually is.” Prompto pats his shoulder one more time before standing up and returning to his own poster on his desk. Noctis doesn’t say anything, just mulls over Prompto’s words as he picks up the brush and gets back to painting. - Noctis’ interest in singing is something he takes great pains in keeping strictly to himself and away from the rest of the world. Prompto is allowed to know because, well, he’s Prompto and Noctis likes him. And it’s hard to keep secrets when Prompto is over at Noctis’ place more often than he’s at his own: it only took one slip in Noctis’ normally carefully maintained vigilance, and Prompto had walked in on Noctis singing passionately along to a rock CD he borrowed from Gladio. Prompto hadn’t said anything at first, only jumped in with an air guitar and joined Noctis in singing, “OOOHH, WE’RE HALFWAY THERE—” Once the song ended and the adrenaline passed and mortification began creeping up in its stead, Noctis had said, “Please don’t tell anyone that I sing.” Prompto said, “Dude, of course your secret is safe with me.” Noctis was pretty sure, in that moment, that Prompto is his favorite person in the whole world. But that was beside the point. The point is: Noctis doesn’t like to sing in public. Even when the sheet music for the upcoming musical starts being passed around in preparation for auditions, even when Noctis hears his classmates humming the tunes or tapping a melody out on the class piano, even when he thinks the songs aren’t half bad and are actually kind of catchy, he refuses to take part and firmly keeps his mouth shut. On the actual audition day, Noctis keeps well away from center stage, instead staying backstage with Prompto and finishing painting the cardboard tree they’ve been assigned to make. Prompto mostly ignores all the singing and dancing occurring onstage and sleeps in the inside cavity of the fake tree, while Noctis paints the leaves and experimentally pokes dots of green paint on Prompto’s arm, seeing if he’ll wake up (he doesn’t). The last person to audition finishes singing through the designated audition song, ending on a high, trilling note that makes Noctis wince, both in slight pain and sympathy at the cringe on Ms. Clemens’ face. “Thank you so much, Diana,” she says, scribbling something down on her notebook with a grim expression. “The audition results will be up within the week.” After the student walks offstage, she asks, “Is anyone else here to audition?” Silence. Ms. Clemens looks around her, double checking that all who intended to audition have done so. “Even if you didn’t sign the sheet, we have time for last minute auditions.” Noctis pauses in his painting and takes a look at the stage. He’s glad Prompto is asleep—were he awake, he may have done something stupid like goad Noctis into getting up there, into singing in front of all these people, however sparsely populated the auditorium currently is. He squeezes his hand around the brush handle, and for a brief, unthinking second, he opens his mouth to say something. “That concludes the auditions, then,” Ms. Clemens says, snaps her notebook closed, and rises from her seat. Noctis closes his mouth, exhaling a breath he had been holding in his chest. Despite not auditioning in the first place, he can’t help but feel rejected somehow. End of auditions means end of class period, so Noctis nudges Prompto awake. “What happened?” Prompto says quickly, snapping to alertness and sitting up so abruptly the tree nearly topples over before Noctis grabs it with his hands. “Nothing,” Noctis says, steadying the tree. “Auditions are over.” “Oh.” Prompto looks around him at the steadily emptying backstage area as students begin putting away supplies and props and heading to their next class. “D’you sing?” “Of course not,” Noctis says, reaching a hand out to help Prompto onto his feet. “Why would I?” Prompto shrugs. “Just in case you changed your mind.” Noctis says nothing at that. As they start walking across the stage to where the stairs are, they pass by the piano set up by the stage for the auditionees to sing along to. The pianist had already left in a hurry to get to her next class, but in her haste, she must have forgotten some of the sheet music. Noctis wanders over to it, ignoring Prompto’s curious, “Noct?” It’s the music for the audition song, expectedly. Noctis doesn’t know what possesses him to take a seat at the piano and scan his eyes over the sheet music, what makes him poise his hands over the keys and play a slow, hesitant rendition of the song he’s heard ten times over in the last hour. When Prompto comes to stand beside the piano and lean against it as he plays, Noctis tells himself it’s the assurance that it’s just Prompto here and no one else that encourages him to part his lips, and sing. “It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see… you were always there beside me,” he sings tentatively. “Thought I was alone,” Prompto joins with a grin, “with no one to hold… But you were always right beside me.” Prompto’s not a bad singer, either. Even though he’s smiling amusedly as he sings, Noctis thinks their voices sound kind of nice together, and it pulls a smile onto his own face as he sings through the rest of the song. It’s different like this—not just him and his showerhead, not just the secrecy of the inside of his apartment, but on a real stage, with his voice echoing and ringing through the gaping expanse of the auditorium. Noctis can almost imagine people sitting in the seats, watching, and thinks maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being heard by the rest of the world. “So lonely before I finally found… what I’ve been looking for.” His fingers linger on the last chord of the song, his voice and Prompto’s voice fading into silence. “Noctis, Prompto,” comes the sudden voice of Ms. Clemens. Noctis whips his head around towards the entrance of the auditorium, where their theater teacher stands with a smile on her face. “Callbacks are next Friday,” she says. “Can we expect to see you two there?” Noctis is too stunned to say anything, suddenly unable to find his voice. Prompto seems to realize Noctis isn’t going to answer, so he says, “You sure can, Ms. Clemens, we’ll be there!” Noctis shoots him a look that Prompto ignores in favor of waving goodbye to the teacher, who leaves the auditorium looking satisfied. “Prompto!” Noctis bursts when she’s gone. “Dude!” “Come on, Noct! Just one callback, okay?” “I don’t—” Noctis sputters, feeling very overwhelmed and a little faint. “I-I—” “Hey Noct, calm down, okay buddy?” Prompto grabs Noctis’ hands, taking slow, deep breaths for Noctis to follow. Noctis does, with some effort, staring at Prompto with uncertainty. “Listen, it’s just one song, I’m sure there won’t be any more people than there were today, and I’ll be there with you, okay? You’re not gonna do it alone.” “You’ll be there?” Noctis says tentatively. Prompto nods firmly, emphasizing it by squeezing Noctis’ hands. If Prompto is going to be there too, then maybe, just maybe, Noctis can do this. - “I can’t do this.” “Okay,” Prompto says, “what is it that freaks you out?” They’re at Noctis’ apartment, sheet music spread out messily on Noctis’ coffee table next to Prompto’s phone they’re using to play the accompanying track they need. Noctis slumps onto the couch beside Prompto, and sighs with a weariness that comes straight from the soul. Prompto says, “Wow, Mr. Tortured Artist.” Noctis pokes Prompto’s side in the exact place he knows Prompto hates because it’s extra ticklish. “Hey!” Prompto yelps and bats his hand away. “Anyway, what are you thinking when you’re up onstage that makes you nervous?” “I don’t know…” Noctis begins, running a hand through his hair. “I just… see everyone staring at me, waiting for me to do something, and I just—” Noctis opens his hands out in front of him, staring at his palms. “Freeze.” Prompto nods sympathetically, patting his hand against Noctis’ knee. “Well, the lights will probably make it hard for you to see, if that makes you feel better? You probably won’t see past the first few rows.” “That’s still a few more rows of people than I’m comfortable singing in front of.” “Just don’t look at them, okay? Look at, like, the back wall of the auditorium or something.” “I guess,” Noctis mumbles. “Or, you know what,” Prompto says, “I’ll be up on stage with you, so just look at me.” Noctis raises an eyebrow. “Stare at you for the whole song?” “Sure, why not? I’m the only one you’re comfortable singing in front of, right?” That makes Noctis flush a little, the simple way that Prompto says it. But it’s the truth. “Y-Yeah.” “So just look at me.” Prompto smiles. “Come on, let’s practice.” Prompto stands and tugs at Noctis arm for him to stand up, too. He picks up two sheets of paper from the coffee table and hands one to Noctis, then reaches for his phone to press play on the accompaniment. “Ready?” he asks. Noctis nods. Just before the music starts, he closes his eyes and pictures himself onstage. The usual fear comes immediately, icy and sharp in his stomach. But then he thinks about turning away from the endless eyes of the audience and looking at Prompto instead, smiling, encouraging. The fear thaws, dissipates. When Noctis opens his eyes, Prompto is the first thing he sees. His eyes are blue as summer, and vibrant. “Eyes on me, okay?” Prompto reminds him, as if Noctis can look away. This time, singing comes easily—Noctis looks at Prompto and doesn’t think about the stage, the people who will be watching, or that this is an audition and a part in the play was on the line. All Noctis thinks about is how happy it makes him to sing with Prompto, how it doesn’t matter if anyone else is watching because he can do anything, as long as he has Prompto at his side. The song ends, and Prompto’s smile is so bright it’s nearly blinding. “That was amazing, Noct!” Prompto says, bouncing with excitement. Noctis can’t help but smile back. “You were pretty good, too.” “Not as good as you though, dude, you’re gonna crush this audition.” Prompto slings an arm around Noctis’ neck, tugging him in for a one-armed hug. The warmth of his body radiates through Noctis’ shirt. “Hey, hey,” Prompto says, suddenly thinking of something. “I’ve also heard that, when you’re really nervous onstage, it can help if you imagine the audience in their underwear.” That only succeeds in making Noctis think of Prompto in his underwear, which has his face heating up so fast Prompto exclaims worriedly about getting Noctis a glass of water. - On callback day, Noctis chews through an entire box of Tic Tacs by the end of second period. At the start of the third, he opens a new box. “You’re gonna get a stomachache, Noct,” Prompto tells him. “Don’t care,” Noctis says around a mouthful of the mint candies. “It’s either this, or bite my nails.” “You’re gonna be fine.” Prompto pats Noctis’ hand. The touch is just comforting enough to make Noctis put away the rest of the Tic Tacs. When the final bell of the day rings, Noctis can’t help but think it sounds a little like a death knell. The halls are flooded with students heading home; Noctis and Prompto have to walk against the flow of people to head towards the auditorium on the far side of campus. Prompto tugs at Noctis’ hand and says, “Come on, let’s try and get there early so we can practice a little.” He doesn’t let go during the entire walk there and Noctis is silently thankful. When they push through the doors of the auditorium, it’s empty. Callbacks aren’t for another thirty minutes, but Noctis is glad for this one moment of peace and solitude before his imminent death. “Dude,” Prompto says as they walk towards the stairs that lead onto the stage, “you look like you’re walking to your execution.” “That’s what it feels like,” Noctis mutters. There’s no Ms. Clemens here to berate them for it, so they sit together on the edge of the stage, their feet dangling over the orchestra pit. Prompto says nothing for a moment, just gazing out at the empty auditorium seats. Then he says, “You can still back out if you want. No hard feelings.” Noctis blinks, surprised. Prompto smiles, bumping Noctis with his elbow. “It’s your choice, okay? I’m here for you no matter what you do.” Noctis doesn’t know what to say, so he looks down at his shoes, instead. Prompto continues, “But if you want to know what I think: I think you love singing and that you’d really like the chance to sing with all you’ve got. I don’t think you would have practiced for a whole week, otherwise.” Prompto leans in so their shoulders touch, and his voice drops a little as if telling a secret. He says, “Also, I really like singing with you.” That startles an unnamable emotion out of Noctis, making him feel fluttery in his stomach for reasons other than nerves. Noctis’ lips curve into a small smile, and he says, “I like singing with you, too.” Prompto’s smile turns into a grin. “We got this, Noct.” - They stay backstage as the auditions go on. Noctis says it’s so they can practice, but mostly he doesn’t want to see who’s come to watch. He was kind of looking forward to seeing the other performances, but the moment Ms. Clemens had walked into the auditorium and auditions began, icy barbs of anxiety shot through Noctis so quickly, it was all he could do to pull Prompto backstage for some solitude. “Deep breaths okay, Noct?” Prompto says to him, hands on Noctis’ shoulders. “Just relax. We practiced, we can do this.” From beyond the curtains, they can hear Ms. Clemens’ voice say, “Noctis, Prompto. You’re up.” Noctis looks at Prompto, who gives him a firm nod and a squeeze to his shoulders. Together, they walk into the spotlight. The auditorium is much, much fuller than it was during the initial round of auditions, thanks to Noctis’ reputation, no less. There are gasps when he steps out, excited whisperings and giggles. There are still students slipping in through the auditorium doors, eager to see their prince. Noctis freezes. “This is unprecedented,” Ms. Clemens says to them, looking amused. “I sincerely hope you two are alright with an audience.” Noctis barely hears her, unable to register much else besides the curious gazes of everyone in the crowd. Prompto pushes him forward so he’s standing more center stage. Noctis realizes a microphone has been put in his hands, that the lighting on the stage is turning a little bluer and darker in preparation for their number. When the opening chords start, just as he’s memorized through hours and hours of practice, Noctis stares out at the endless expanse of waiting, watching eyes, and opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. Noctis’ hands feel numb, cold; the fear is back and this time, it won’t let go. The music stops. Prompto is suddenly in front of him, touching Noctis’ shoulder and guiding him to look away from the audience and towards him instead. “Noct,” Prompto says gently. “There are too many people here,” Noctis says with a shaky voice. “I can’t—I can’t do it.” “Hey,” Prompto says, stepping further between Noctis and the audience. “Just like we practiced, remember? Don’t think about anyone else here right now. Just look at me, okay? Just me.” His fingers touch Noctis’ chin, tilting his head so their gazes meet. When Noctis sees the familiar blue of his eyes, he begins to feel a tentative, fledgling grasp at calm. Like he always does when Prompto looks at him. Prompto turns to nod once at the pianist, and the music starts up again. He lifts his microphone to his lips. “We’re soaring,” he sings, softly. “Flying. There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach.” He lifts his hand towards the twinkling lights strung up on the stage, like so many stars. He gives Noctis an encouraging look. Noctis breathes, and sings, “If we’re trying, so we’re breaking free.” Prompto smiles and reaches out for Noctis’ hand. Noctis takes it. “You know the world can see us—in a way that’s different than who we are.” “Creating space between us… ‘Til we’re separate hearts.” They let go, Noctis’ fingers brushing against Prompto’s in a lingering touch. Their voices join together, entwining, harmonizing in a way that makes Noctis’ heart feel light. “But your faith, it gives me strength—strength to believe...” Prompto grins, and punches the air with energy when he sings, “We’re breaking free!” They jump into the chorus with smiles on their faces, and Noctis forgets that anyone else is watching. Right now, it’s just him and Prompto and the music. Noctis sings with all the love and passion that he’s hidden inside himself for as long as he can remember, pulled out of him by the one person in the world who accepts him for who he is, and who he wants to be. As the song nears its end, Prompto and Noctis come to one another at the center of the stage, the lights focusing on them. They grasp hands as, together, they sing, “You know the world can see us—in a way that’s different than who we are.” The music fades out. The rest of the world comes back into focus; the sound of cheering and applauding reaches Noctis’ ears like a crashing wave. He looks and people are on their feet, clapping and hollering praises. Noctis feels breathless. He turns to Prompto, and Prompto is looking at Noctis and clapping for him too, smiling wide and bright. His cheeks are flushed from exertion, blond hair sticking to his forehead. Noctis thinks he looks beautiful. He leans forward and presses his lips to Prompto’s cheek. When he pulls away, Prompto is bright red all the way to his ears, his mouth dropped open. Noctis grins at him, feeling freer than he has in a long time. He reaches out for Prompto’s hand and says, “You’re supposed to bow.” “Oh!” Prompto stammers, abruptly turning to face the audience. Hand in hand, they take a bow. - “Think you’re ready to be the leading man?” Prompto asks during lunch period, when he and Noctis are sitting beneath the shade of one of the trees in the schoolyard. He steals potato chips from Noctis’ bag of them between every sentence of their conversation, but Noctis has never complained, only started bringing two bags to school instead of one. Noctis shrugs as he unfolds the plastic wrap around his sandwich. “You’re one of the leads too, you know.” “Yeah, but you’re gonna get all the best singing parts. You excited?” Noctis chews contemplatively. “I guess I am,” he says honestly. Prompto smiles. “That’s great, dude.” “Practicing together helps a lot, though,” Noctis admits quietly, looking up at Prompto through his bangs. Prompto’s smile turns a little shyer at that, and he bumps his knee against Noctis’ when he says, “Of course, Noct.” Noctis’ bumps his knee back and lets it stay there, maintaining the warm point of contact. “I’m thinking about inviting Ignis and Gladio to come see. Maybe even my dad.” Prompto sits up straight at that. “No way!” He slaps a hand against Noctis’ shoulder in disbelief. “Yep.” “Oh, we’re definitely practicing a lot, then,” Prompto says, already digging in his bag for the sheet music. Noctis doesn’t stop himself from singing aloud as he reads the music, this time; doesn’t flinch and shut his mouth when people walk by, doesn’t hide. And when he looks at Prompto, he doesn’t stop himself from pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, which—besides singing—is quickly becoming his new favorite thing. And he’s not afraid to show it.

#promptis #ffxv #caiwrites #COMPLETELY SELF-INDULGENT HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL INSPIRED FIC #THATS RIGHT

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