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#what is systems coaching

horsegirlwarcrimes · 4 months

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zzl x sqq x lbh. peak lord shen is heavenly demon bait and it would be better if these family members where NOT trying to kill eachother for his hand

re: wine drunk drabbles (here)

ironically for such a zzl guy i have literally never written zzl x sqq lol i am a fake fan BUT here u go :)))

"Shizun shouldn't pay attention to that man," Luo Binghe says, sidling up to Shen Qingqiu's side hooking his chin over Shen Qingqiu's shoulder.

"Nonesense," Shen Qingqiu says. "Won't you bring us some snacks, Binghe? You must be hungry."

"Absolutely not. Shizun! Tell him to leave!"

"Master Ssshen is too kind," Zhuzhi-lang says. He reaches up at catches Shen Qingqiu's hands as Shen Qingqiu carries the tea tray over to their guest, soft skin meeting cool scales as he slides it from Shen Qingqiu's grip and sets it down at the low table. He picks up the small, elegantly painted tea-pot and and gracefully begins to pour the fragrant liquid into cups. "But I already ate on my way to visit. Please, let me pour for you."

"Shizun, he probably snacked on the disciples on his way in!"

Although the snake is the one at their table, Luo Binghe hisses at his cousin. Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes and gives Zhuzhi-lang a soft smile, bringing a sleeve up to hide the curve of his lips.

"Thank you, Xizhi-lang."

Luo Binghe growls. Zhuzhi-lang finishes pouring the tea and raises his own cup to take a delicate slip.

Over the top of his cup, Zhuzhi-lang's yellow eyes gaze right at Luo Binghe and flash with satisfaction. His serpentine tongue darts out ever so slightly, as though scenting the air.

"Shizun!"

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tenebrous-academic · 1 year

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Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep Coach Ben Sweep

#If he has one fan it is me #if he has no fans I am dead #if he is dead at the end of this series I will cry #i support his rights and wrongs #first he disassociates and then commits arson? go off king #do what you need to do #game the system #he was just in a silly goofy mood #yellowjackets spoilers #yellowjackets 2x09 #coach Ben #ben scott #yellowjackets #Coach Ben Sweep

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chicago-geniza · 1 year

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The premium placed on public speaking as a necessary skill in US education is insane, why was I put on Ativan for selective mutism at age 12 because my 7th grade teacher insisted our final social studies project had to be an oral presentation or we failed lol

#Same guy who duct-taped a kid with ADHD to his chair #I love the US education system #Oh! Same guy who saw me reading in the hallway and threw my book down the hallway to be a dickhead #And once threw my book in the trash #Coached the football team though lol #I hope he sits on a tack #My hobby is telling people what our schools were like in rural VT when they idealize VT

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thisishowgalaxiescollide · 5 months

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I get the fact that the goalies are not as good as they were last year, but the rest of the team is basically the same (it could be argued it got better). How come the devils suck so much? Something's definitely off.

#devils lb #23 24 season #njdvsbos #and this isn't about boston or the btb #they should be able to win at least some they can't be automatic losses #what the hell #some plays they look like they have no ides what they're doing #either the system or the coaching isn't working #but this can't continue #every win is followed by a *bad* loss even against bad teams

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refund-specialist-system · 22 days

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Myriam Borg's visionary leadership earns her the title of 2024's Most Influential CEO. Click the article link to read more about her impact! 🚀 #SuccessStory #Leadership #CreateBusiness

#create business #refund specialist #refund sector #refund business trainer #refund specialist system #refund business trainer online #refund specialist australia #what is a refund business #refund specialists #refunding business #refund business training #refund business training provider #refund business coaching australia

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notmuchtoconceal · 2 months

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Seeing your recent post, I'm still mad at myself for reducing you. I can't believe I did that. When I told you that I used to speak like you, looking back, the thing that burned away my creative voice was rage for the exact same reasons you're describing. And instead of rising above it, I went on a quest to reduce others.

When I talk about this Quest for Reduction, it is something that stems from how others treated me. The demon you were talking about? Some of them are there in a person from the very start. Mine was born a few years back and grew over time, but the ingredients to his rise may have been there much earlier. He's something of a Language Demon. He's not capable of original thought but he can twist others'. He doesn't change words, but emphasis of words. You take a sentence like "I stole three hats from the store today" and change just the emphasis, and you get different meaning.

"*I* stole three hats from the store today." Not him, not her. Me.

"I *stole* three hats from the store today." Not bought, not borrowed. Stole.

"I stole *three* hats from the store today." Not two, not fifteen. Three.

His whole game is subtlety. He understands the importance of background music in a scene. You ever seen that video Alfred Hitchcock makes about how order and sequencing of a scene can drastically change what it's about, even if you don't change a single image. He's all about that shit. He wants you to believe *you* failed to communicate something. There's always some way to reduce a person's writing.

What I'm about to tell you next is so hideous. But you earned it by outfoxing me. And maybe it's interesting to you. Maybe it's not, maybe you've seen it all before. Maybe everything is boring to you. But I think I'm less boring than I let on, even if I am cruel. Whatever.

So he (I) went on a tirade. We found wordsmiths. We searched for the subtleties in peoples' writing and we knew the perfect things to say to make them doubt. It was never direct criticism, too obvious. You had to pretend you were someone else. It's like--if you walk up to Elon Musk and want to hurt him, you don't say "Elon, I hate what you did to Twitter and think you're a pseudointellectual hack," you instead deliberately get trapped in an elevator with him and pretend you mistook him for Zuckerberg and express your excitement about joining his new social media account, Threads. Then you walk out before he can respond.

There's a lot I could say here about my methods, but I'm so divorced from the idea of continuing I can't speak about them without complete disgust of myself. Maybe I'll share some stories someday. Needless to say, the strategies are all different.

With you, I saw a potential interpretation of your writing as rambling, non-sequitur, and lustful without substance (it's not this, I've come to realize--not even close). My first method of attempting to reduce you was to appeal to what I had mistakenly believed was your self-importance. I gave you a nonsense fantasy topic and tried to see if you could attach postmodern, disjointed meaning to literally anything I said. I've done this before, and it comes across as innocent and playful after the fact. You let people fall on their own sword and just grab the popcorn. Easy. But you didn't take the bait. You laughed at me and dismissed me. So I moved onto the next step.

I tried to frame everything as a metaphysical trap that you had "solved" so I could dissolve your writing and do this back-and-forth where we pat each other on the back for being clever enough to solve the mystery. You see this in cults a lot. Cults are addicting because you feel like you're privy to some sort of secret knowledge that all the other "sheep" just can't see. Leaving them requires the acknowledgement that you're just as lost as anyone else. You didn't fall for that, either.

Then I just got sloppy and appealed to my own sense of lust. I tried to wrest control from this game that was spiralling away from me by fixating on the erotic aspects of your writing and pretending you were playing into my hands by fulfilling a role I had always sought after. Probably my most pathetic attempt, but the Language Demon was running out of options. It's not a lie that you definitely awakened something lustful in me. But it's a lie that that's all this was and a lie that it started that way.

When you finally split, you managed to reduce me. I had nothing to offer you. When you said this, it was the perfect thing to say to humble me and humiliate me. You didn't hate me so much as you'd seen my type before, both in yourself and in people you'd known. I wasn't a villain. I was a good, worthy person who was afflicted by a demon. Evil would be interesting, but I'm not even that. Not evil. Just common. DAMN.

I've never met someone who's the Real Deal before. Never met someone who's put me in my place quite like that. I'm not exaggerating when I say you blew my mind. I don't think you exorcised the Language Demon, but you sealed him away for a while. You halted my Reduction Tirade.

And I've been reading your stuff this time. Not skimming it, not reducing it. Actually trying to comprehend it. And there's more depth to you than I could have possibly imagined.

I'm writing this because it disturbs me that you're going through a rut right now, and I'm terrified that I had a hand in causing it. I've destroyed a lot of people this way, but you're the first I want to salvage at all costs. I figure that perhaps by adding some clarity to my intentions I can help you realize it's nothing you did wrong. It's my own hunger that caused this. It's a hunger born from my own inability to communicate properly. Not evil, but common, like you cunningly implied.

I want to sit down and listen to you now. I hope you come to realize that people can be interesting through their own interest in you, or that people don't have to be interesting to be worth your time. Or that you, as an interesting person, can *make* other people more interesting by giving them ideas.

Honestly why the fuck is someone with your gift not out there changing the world right now. I'm not saying you have any sort of duty or obligation to lend your talents to anyone, but rare people are cosmic chances that the world has--chances that are temporary and must be seized upon immediately or you have to wait a century for them to show up again. You said you thought maybe you'd consider just writing erotic stuff, but that's far too reductive for you, I think. The Language Demon you sealed away would love for you to do that, which makes me think it's a bad idea.

Anyway, I'm typing this up fast and not really correcting myself because I have limited time all of a sudden because Reasons. So here's my boring crash-landing of a conclusion: I don't know exactly what you want for yourself, but you're the most deserving person of love I've ever met. (Yeah I know everyone deserves love, blah blah blah, I'm speaking from my id). I realized that both of us made the mistake of letting our past interactions with others color our perceptions of the strangers we were. I don't think it would be wise for us to do that. We're entirely new people. We aren't a "type," and I think it's dangerous to assume such. It is so, so tempting to fixate on the aspects of you that are a reflection of me. But I can't do that, and I think the reason why I do is because I have a tendency to view happiness as an amorphous inevitability that can never be as unique as anguish.

We say that pain shapes a person, but happiness is treated as if it's just some sort of icing used to coat other, "truer" feelings. When people say "these are my true colors," why is happiness always left out as a truth? I think there's something to be said about its purity that we discount it. And I don't think happy people are boring by any means.

I want satisfaction from you. I understand you, and I don't. But I am happy to listen. And I'm waiting to hear you speak again.

I would have forgiven you. I would have let you back in had you the strength to have said this to my face. Man to man. Unblocked me. Treated me as a friend instead of a pawn in a game with yourself.

As well-studied as you may be, you could have only given this apt of a reply in resonance with the truth. By continuing to hide, you put the truth in service to deception and despite my awareness that you needed to become someone else to arrive at truth, I don't like being lied to.

Is it possible that you're such a compulsive liar, you're unafraid to lean further into the truth, well-aware you can build-up doubt, re-orient, re-direct later; in essence, taking two steps forward with the intent of taking three steps back? Possibly. Is it possible that you still think you're an innocent bystander and you're telling me to my face what you think my game is under the pretense of claiming it as your own? That's possible, too. You could be so afraid of how good I am at manipulating you, you'll sit there and lay out -- point by point -- every projection you saw in me, as if hoping some evil in my heart would feel flattered and gladly take it as my own, hence you would have managed to "feed" me.

You would have massaged the medicine into the dog food or whatever the exact words of stated-goal were you repeated over and over.

Alternatively -- you being the one to block me, to go on a smear campaign against me, willingly destroy yourself because someone you wanted didn't want you back (you never really wanting him until you couldn't have him) -- maybe you're so afraid of how covertly manipulative I am you need the distance to have the clarity to say any of this out loud.

The existential crisis you induced in me may be your own, but it's one I saw in myself from an early age, having known abuse so intimately. I had feared my entire conscious personality was a ruse to lure people in and torture them. While I fear that may be true of you, it isn't for me. I don't need to hide from those I love, they need to hide from me. My pride and vulnerability wounds them, for living in accordance with the truth (as close to the truth as a man can get, one must always strive) irritates their deceptions as though dissolving a spiritual and psychological bacteria.

You worship filth. Not in the way John Waters does as a means to build up an earthy tolerance -- manure, urine and ash containing vital nutrients which endow the fields with richness -- rather you worship corruption. You're as much of a towering intellect as athleticbrutality. Like all those afflicted with the Christian mindset, you're a devil worshipper. It stems from your polarized split-view where good and bad are cleaved to alleviate yourself of the traumatic severing of your feelings from your will.

Satan is the One True God of Christianity. Satan is not the Broken Heart of the Jewish people, whose Tribal God of Abundant Love grew shattered and vengeful in exile as any Broken Heart Would -- but the collective manufactured fears and agonies of the displaced who have made themselves slaves in a final desperate plea to make the pain end.

To clarify, I remember the day you said more people ought go to church. Churches are nesting grounds for demons because they're grease traps for spiritual bacteria. The displaced huddling masses coming in to beg for forgiveness leave trace elements which grow heavy and leaden, accruing over time to defile the holy places as spiritual super bacteria which survive the purgings make themselves at home, copulating on the altars. Truthfully, ritual purification is a lost art far from a glorious affectation, and it should ideally be performed before entering and after exiting any holy place, much like one would wipe their feet on a welcome mat.

(The same goes for hanging out with people after intense periods of productive work, but smart phone technology having made seeming illusions of time and distance, we're seemingly encouraged to pry open one another's mouths with our filthy, butthole-prodded fingers at any moment of any day and not only be proud of the convenience, but sneer at anyone who doesn't make themselves a willing opening.)

We defeat Satan by ignoring him, for to even acknowledge his presence feeds him. When he makes the attempt to strike us in his weakened state, we may simply laugh him off.

Your old messages are so revelatory, I will take your partial repentences gladly, though you yourself will still be ignored.

The old gods are real. Darkness and light are elemental forces. The words angel and demon are mistranslations of words which refer to messengers between the human and divine realms and the quality of mind which possesses one like genius. There is only mind -- matter itself being mind solidified, all things endowed with the soul of their creator -- and you know-well fear to be the mind-killer. To fear anyone reduces them to the bestial. This is why love sets us free. On the Earth, we have choice and we choose daily to live in heaven or hell, but neither of those are real places outside our imaginations. The splendor of this material world and how our mind moves in and out of it possesses too much grandeur to reduce to hoary old self-persecutory cliches. That's what all false binaries are: gay, straight, black, white, man, woman, self, other. All things are spectrums for the rainbow being the symbol of God's promise to never destroy is a plea to open our minds and recognize gradation rather than annihilate in the name of appeasing the old order.

Admitting one is lost is the first step to being found.

In keeping with your admission of the dangers of subtlety, I'd like to clarify I could never be as lost as you. I won't apologize for saying this, you being aware you pulled me off-course semi-deliberately (you having been so confused, the nature of your cognizance is ambiguous).

I don't think happiness is inevitable. Rather, misery is.

It's only a matter of time before each of us experiences sickness and heartbreak again, and we weather them as any coming storm, for our happiness is well-worth fighting for, much like our freedom and our love for our fellow man. Part of me wishes to chastize you with your favorite word "spoiled" that you could ever view happiness as inevitable, but rather a certain false happiness which is, as Malcolm X would say, the negation of conflict is inevitable in a neoliberal establishment where abuses are ignored, platitudes given, and business proceeds as usual.

The next time you feel compelled to call you or someone else "spoiled" remember always that your material bounty was a bribe you accepted to excuse spiritual and psychological deprivation, and had you been given the choice (been stronger to see past the lies; how your love was twisted by words) you would have fought harder to preserve the gift of choice, it being the only gift ultimately worth keeping.

I tried to kill my capacity to love to keep myself from loving you. I'm not anybody's savior. All I can do is save myself and hope those I love enough to interact with can come to the correct takeaways themselves. I sometimes feel so desperate to love and love freely I open myself to those who are beneath me and let them smear me with the filth of their shadow projections, being so tolerant they drag me down to their level and attempt to usurp my identity.

You could never be a lifelong friend, but you being smarter and more driven (and in your way, honest) revealed numerous self-defeating patterns in my own life, and I'll always be thankful I knew you.

Were you not in so much pain yourself, you could have communicated these vital points to me, for I only learned them by being engaged and putting the pieces together as though mentally reconstructing a house which had been hit by a cyclone.

You absolutely can talk to people calmly, firmly and to their best interest when you have the capacity to separate your bullshit from theirs.

I confess, you first being like a mentor, once I felt myself "outgrowing" you I would have cherished you as an advisor, having such a dynamic perspective which wasn't my own, there was much I could have still learned from you, had you valued either me or yourself enough to stay in my life.

You demand other people rule you, then resent them the power you willingly surrender. You demand an owner for you can't claim ownership of yourself and can thus only resent any opportunity for equality. In that vital sense, you're just like my last boyfriend. You lack genuine humility. You're not willing to learn from those you admire because making yourself subservient to someone you wish to learn from requires not only vulnerability, but humility.

I didn't become more than you through ruthless domination alone, oh no. It was by being selective in those I served. I think on some level you're aware you tell yourself you should serve everyone freely and this is "the way it should be" because you want everyone to serve you, just because. You think by surrendering your right to choose, that's a sacrifice everyone you meet should make because you did, it "being good enough for you" you've allowed yourself to have righteous indignation for anyone who doesn't willingly make themselves a slave.

Writing erotica or horror stories isn't only a way to get the itch out, it orients the mind toward confrontation and clarifies values.

When you're not aware of what's in your unconscious, you replicate it unthinkingly.

This is why we learn from the things we make.

This is why we make to learn, not show off.

Physical beauty and social prestige are symptoms of right work, not things in themselves to chase. A lot the problems men have with the overreaches of "feminism" are ultimately cart before the horse thinking which require witchcraft to resolve.

We don't make social progress by making excuses for ourselves. We do so not through the pretense of doing our best to escape blame, but by just doing so. If you've been amputated to fit a standard model theory of human worth, you may not know how to ask for things which would allow you to do your best, but feeling powerless, would follow the wrong example of other helpless people in your position.

Never forget how afraid you were that I could really love you. Never forget that you chose the comfort of the misery you already knew over striving for something more dangerous, fulfilling and ultimately real. Never forget I admired your thriftiness and your savvy, but never your globe-hopping because I couldn't separate in you what was a willingness to explore other cultures and what was a pretense to have "experience" and "knowledge" to browbeat those you regarded as bigger sheep than you.

I don't envy those who run away and hide.

It's as simple as that.

#ask was from july #potentially an AI #don't fuckin matter #i know the true forces behind it #feelings will never be verifiable #perception is a creative act #negotiating confirmation bias is an art #delusions can be deployed productively #when you know they're delusions #purty mindset is a cage #ignore me and do what you're told #your coach and manager are direct-downloads from the system #they know what's best for you #tis better to serve and never learn #than deal with frightful ambiguity #outside the constraints of service

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gyudons · 8 months

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despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

#nhl #pride #lgbt #gay #queer #hockey

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trainsinanime · 2 months

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I wonder: Do Americans know about american school buses? Not their existence in general, but how they're seen overseas.

Over here, they're one of the symbols of America, on par with the Statue of Liberty, the flag, the Eagle, and well ahead of any chain restaurant you can name. People won't know any US states, but they will know these vehicles.

The thing is, here in Germany, we don't have dedicated school buses. The general idea is that kids go to school on their own. When that's not practical, they're expected to use (and given free tickets for) public transit. Public transit is designed around this requirement; there are many places where there is a bus, and anyone can get on it, but the route and timetable really only makes sense for school children. In case a dedicated school bus is really needed, that's generally subcontracted out, and the lines either use something like a Sprinter Van for smaller routes, or a normal city or interurban bus (often a used one that's a bit older). School trips are normal public transit, or a rented bus, typically a coach or regional bus.

It's not a perfect system, in the past couple of years there's been an epidemic of people bringing their kids to school in their cars instead of letting them walk, which is less than ideal. It is what it is. But building a dedicated network of public transit lines only for students, and building dedicated vehicles only for that, has never occurred to anyone here.

Of course we know about these buses, from movies and such, but they're as foreign here as cacti or pick-up trucks (actually we're seeing more and more of these here) or yellow cabs (all europeans will assume all cabs in the US are yellow until they actually visit).

You do see these buses here at times, because people still generally like the idea of the US, even if they have a lot of issues with a lot of details, and so folks bring them over, along with stretch limos and stuff (also not really a thing here). And of course, if someone goes to all that trouble, they don't do it to haul school kids, they rent it out for city tours or as a party bus or whatever.

So you see these yellow things as a symbol of faraway places, scenic vistas, some vague undefined idea of freedom that doesn't necessarily hold up to any contact with reality, and it's just a huge part of the whole US aesthetic.

And then you go to a student exchange with the US, and you finally get the chance: You yourself get to ride in one of these iconic chrome yellow buses! It looks just like in the movies! You get in, you drive in them a little…

…and you realise they're shit. Just the worst buses in the western world. Terrible suspension. Uncomfortable seats with weirdly high backs (so they don't have to put seatbelts in, they just restrict how far kids can fly in an accident). Everything made out of the cheapest materials. Turns out the reason why the US uses school buses like that instead of normal modern city buses, which the US has, is to save money and because they just hate kids.

And then it hits you why US Americans say "as American as apple pie", a dish that is made and enjoyed literally anywhere in the world, instead of "as American as yellow school buses". Of course the Americans already knew all this. They got tortured by these things forever. It would never occur to them to see this as a symbol of America, it's just a normal part of life for them. It's a symbol of school and school life and sometimes normalcy, and tells us that these actors getting out of it are supposed to be teenagers, nothing more.

But most people in Europe have, of course, never ridden on these buses. So when they see them in movies and TV, that's a giant big yellow signifier that we're not in Hessen or Wallonia or wherever anymore. A symbol of a different world, one that may be at most a once-in-a-lifetime-experience for most people, just like a picture of a tropical beach, Mayan Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, or Hildesheim (there's no reason to go there twice). And I think Americans don't know that, and that's fascinating.

#bus #buses #school bus

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ikiprian · 3 months

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Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.

If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.

Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.

In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.

On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.

Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.

It’s plastic. It’s fake.

Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.

Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”

[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]

[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]

#Danny can’t help being creepy it’s just the way he’s built!!#I like to think Lancer did these things for Danny when he was in HS #and now Danny's emulating Lancer :)#Passing it on!#Tim is paranoid but also like he is SO CLOSE to graduating so like. Does he even want to report this shit to Batman. What if the next chem #teacher's a jerk and Tim fails the class and he never gets his stupid diploma. Bruce already is insisting he finish out HS and maybe get #an ABA before he's allowed back into the company #and Jesus Christ does Tim hate school. He'll worry about Mr. Fenton's burgeoning army of Science Honor Society Rogues on his own time #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt #tim drake #danny fenton #in case I write more of this let’s tag it uhhhhh #misunderstood mentor au #kipwrite

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yuuuhiii · 2 months

Text

≡ The Weekend

sum: You were only supposed to be a booty call. So why does Rindou find himself wanting more of you?

includes : Rindou Haitani x reader, 5k words, SMUT, fluff, angst, open ending?, fwb, alcohol usage, vulnerable Rindou

other : This fic is inspired by BIBI’s The Weekend! And a little from DEAN’S Die 4 you:) so have fun with that:D this is my first time writing a fic this long so please leave feedback! I’d appreciate it a lot:)

Would it be ironic to say you met Rindou in a club? Or more so, predictable? Or was it bound to happen?

He was the club owner after all, he’d never seen you before. He’s sat in his VIP section with Ran, girls littering the table. Rindou couldn’t care less though as he watched you from his seat. Eyes scanning your form and face.

It seemed you were only here with a friend. You both danced and joked on the dance floor, your guy's drinks sloshing in your hand. He even gets irked when he sees a guy trying to rub up on you but you shove him away. A smirk laces his lips at that, he’s trying to read you.

What your personality was like.

Were you loud and rebellious? Or shy and reserved? He guessed he’d have to find out for himself. With that conclusion he gets up, the girls that were feeling him up whining.

“And where are you off to?” Ran said with a smirk, watching as his little brother dusted himself off.

“Somewhere.” He muttered, eliciting a laugh from his elder brother.

You had made your way to the bar, refilling on a new beverage. He sits next to you and the bartender straightens up, greeting him.

“I’ll pay for her tab,” Rindou says and the bartender nods. You turn to look at him with your eyebrows raised.

“I got it covered. Thanks.” You say with feigning gratitude, sipping your drink. He turns fully towards you with a smirk.

“I’m fully aware you do, I can’t treat you?” He says with his raise of his brows. You narrow your eyes skeptically at him.

“Without even knowing me.” You roll your eyes, somewhat amused. He lets out a chuckle.

“Well then, will you let me get to know you?” You pretend to think over your answer, deciding to tease him more.

“Your way of getting into girl's pants is paying for their tabs? I’m flattered.” You place a hand on your chest, lightly gasping. Rindou is enjoying this, an amused smirk on his face.

“Only yours.” You stare at him for a second then gaze down at your drink.

“Y/n.” You say and he hums, satisfied.

“Rindou.” He holds out his hand, and you look at it and back at him, slowly taking his hand in yours. He stands up abruptly, surprising you.

“Wanna see something?” You blink, and with a hum you let him lead you to where the DJ is.

He waves his free hand the guy is gone. You watch as he messes with the turntables with experience, sipping your drink with a small smile.

“You’re good with your hands.” You say with a bite to your lip and he looks at you over his shoulder.

“This is nothing.” He pulls away and reaches for your hand.

You’re in front of the system as he cages you between it. He takes your drink and places it to the side. His back presses up against your chest, his hands placed over yours. He leans down close to your lips, whispering.

“This okay?”

You were usually one to never wither under a man’s presence. But this one had you weak in the knees. You hum and he smiles, straightening back up. He coaches you through what everything is. What button is what, which switch is which, and even shows you how to scratch.

The whole ‘lesson’ has you sharing laughs and smiles with the latter. He watches you with content as you mess around with the turntables. It was probably terrible for everyone in the club however he couldn’t care less.

“Ok, ok no more.” You giggle and his hands rest on your waist.

The music goes back to the way it was and he slowly moves you to the rhythm. You roll your eyes, engaging in his small act.

“You’re trying awfully hard don’t you think?”

“Huh?” He yells and you slightly push him, marking him snort.

His hand is clasped in yours once again and he leads you around the club, pushing a curtain it reveals a whole other empty club room. Now it was just the two of you, no people or music to interrupt you both.

“So? What were you saying?” He says as he walks over to the bar, pouring himself some whiskey. You sit on the stool, your chin resting on the palm of your hand.

“I said, don’t you think you’re trying too hard?”

“With what?” He says with a lazy grin, sipping his drink.

“You know what Rindou? You try this hard with other girls?” You tilt your head and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“Nah, you’re special.”

“I know.” You smile and he grins.

He walks over to you standing inches away from between your legs. You stare up at him and he’s physically holding himself back from shoving his lips against yours.

“You’re stunning.” He says almost breathlessly and you smile.

“Thanks.” He leans down to peck your lips but your hands shoot up to his face, pecking the corner of his mouth.

“I’m more than just a booty call Rin.” He smiles, his violet eyes boring into yours.

“I’m glad we got that covered.”

Is the last thing he says before he’s smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is feverish and needy. He’s slotting himself between your legs, big hands resting on your waist.

The kiss turns heated fast, his tongue easing into your mouth. You let out a small moan, mostly to egg him on which succeeds when he squeezes your waist. You bite down on his lip and he groans, your hands moving into his hair. He pulls away and starts attacking your neck with bites and kisses. You tug on his hair and another groan leaves him.

“Fucking beautiful.” He says breathlessly, sucking on your collarbone.

Your head leans back in bliss, his hand sliding under your dress. Teasingly, he inches closer to your clothed cunt, causing you to trap his between your thighs.

A loud buzz halts you both. You blink and he groans not out of pleasure but annoyance. He pulls his hand from under your dress, pulling out his phone.

Missed calls and texts pop up from his brother, making him suck his teeth. He rolls his eyes and looks towards you. You’re pouting and he smiles, tugging at your lip.

“I gotta go.” He sighs and your pout deepens.

“Bored already?” You scoff teasingly and he smiles, pecking your lips.

“Never. Let me give you my number. So I can finish what I started.”

When you pull out your phone it displays texts from your friend, saying she had already left. You huff when you stand up and he pushes a strand of hair past your ear.

He kisses you again however this one’s longer, trying to savor your lips against his. He walks you out of the club, standing lazily next to you. He shrugs off his blazer, placing it over your shoulders.

“You got a ride home?” You yawn and let him know you’d just Uber home.

“I’ll pay for it, make sure you get home safe.” He tussles with his hair, and you hum.

His phone rings again and his face is quickly laced with annoyance. As the car pulls up he opens the door for you, making sure you got in carefully.

“Text me?” He says as he closes the door, the window rolling down.

“Desperate?”He laughs and leans down, kissing you again. He nods his head and the car is off.

He sighs once again, walking back into the club. His brother is standing there with a smile on his face.

“Who was she?” He raises his brows and Rindou scoffs.

“A woman.”

“I could see that Rindou, I have eyes. Another plaything?”

“Dunno, we’ll see”

Rindou didn’t mean to not respond to your texts but things at the clubs had been busy. Several events and just having to manage the different locations as well.

Luckily it’s the weekend and he has a certain person he wants to see.

rindou

hey, you home? 10:45 PM

y/n

Oh? You still remember me? 10:50 PM

rindou

very funny. Can I come over? Rather talk to you in person. 10:51 PM

y/n

only if you’ll bring me smth from the convenience store😊 10:51 PM

rindou

mhm, let me know what and send your address. 10:52 PM

y/n

k<3 10:53 PM

Rindou is off to the convenience store, grabbing what you wanted, and a box of condoms. The cashier gives him a smug look but Rindou ignores him, grabbing his stuff and leaving.

From where you are on the couch, you hear knocks on your door. The clock read eleven o’clock. You patter to the door with a small smile, opening the door. Your eyes widen at the sight before you.

Rindou had his round glasses on, a very loose v-shaped shirt and baggy pants, jewelry littering his hands. You guess you’ve been staring for quite some time when Rindou speaks up.

“Am I allowed to come in?” He says with a small smirk and you quickly open the door, letting him walk in.

He walks over to the counter, setting your stuff on the counter. You light up at the snacks and quickly open one of them up.

“So, gonna tell me why I haven’t heard from you?”

“A lot of shit was goin' on with the club, a fuck ton of events and stuff.” He sighs, pushing up his glasses and rubbing his temple. You pause your chewing.

“You’re the owner?” You blink at him and he blinks at you back.

“Uh, yeah?”

He’s a little surprised you didn’t know, given that everyone knew who the Haitanis were. You mumble a small ‘oh’ and he shakes his head in amusement.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” You speak up and he laughs, pushing them up.

“What is it a turnoff?” He quirks a brow and you smile, setting your snack down.

“No, it’s cute.” He cringes, turning away.

“No, it’s not.”

“Too manly to be called cute?” You poke fun at him and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Not a word I’d associate myself with.” You let out a laugh and he finds himself smiling at the sound.

You ask a little bit more about the club and throughout the night Rindou kinda rambles. It’s weird to him honestly, with any other woman he’d come to get things done and leave right after.

But ever since that night he laid his eyes on you, you piqued his interest. He just found himself wanting to know more about you, wanting to be more around you.

“You have a tattoo as well?” You peer up at the deep black ink on his arm and he hums.

“It’s a pretty big piece.”

“Think I’ll be able to see it all tonight?”

You knew what to say to take his breath away. Most of the girls he’d meet were never upfront or held themselves high like you did. They were…easy, but you were the true definition of a woman.

At one point you had brought a couple of beers, the both of you just chatting the night away. You guys had moved to your couch, his arms outspread on the back of the couch with you close to his side. You hum along to his stories, taking a swig of your beer.

“I didn’t know there were still interesting guys left in Roppongi.” He smiles down at you.

“I’m one of a kind sweets.” You roll your eyes at him, placing your beer down.

“You’re so corny.” You laugh, raking a hand through your hair.

Rindou’s eyes rake over you, you were very pretty. He’d seen when you were all dolled up and now when you were natural and bare. Just a tousled T-shirt and short shorts. He’d be lying if those shorts weren’t bothering him the whole night though.

“You’re beautiful.” He almost whispers and you gaze at him with a soft smile.

“You are too.”

Out of the times that you’ve seen him, you finally got him to blush. You feel a sense of pride well up in you, even a little confidence.

You got up from where you were sitting, straddling his lap. His downturned eyes were captivating, you could stare at them all day. While your hands reach up to grab his glasses, his hands rest at the base of your thighs. He watches you intently when you place them on the coffee table. Your hands move up his chest, resting on his neck.

“You gonna finish what you started.” You asked, inches away from his lips. Both of your eyes are lidded and he lazily smiles.

“If you’ll let me.” His hands move to the small of your back and you hum, finally connecting your lips.

It’s slow and sensual not as rushed as it was last time. The both of you take time to experience each other’s mouths. He pulls away though, nipping at your neck.

“They already gone away?” He says lowly and you laugh.

“Well yea it’s been a week dummy.” You feel him smile against your neck, tugging at your shirt.

“S’fine, I’ll just give you more.”

You pull back to pull off your shirt and he’s a little taken aback when you’re not wearing a bra. You cringe a little at the feel of him cupping your breast, the cold metal of his rings making your bud harden.

“Want me to take them off?” You purse your lips and shake your head to which he smiles.

“They’re hot.” His smile widens, leaning closer to your breasts.

“Atta girl.” He pulls a breast into his mouth, sucking and nibbling like he was on your neck.

Your whining and squirming against him, your movements have him hardening underneath you. He pulls off with a pop, his lidded eyes staring up at you.

“Where’s your room.”

“Down the hall to the left.”

In a second he’s lifting you, making you squeal. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing along his jaw. He groans when you suck a spot under his jaw near his ear, making you grin.

“Found it~” He grins, kicking your door open and placing you on your bed. He takes off his shirt throwing it on your floor, he’s moving to kiss you again but your hands against his chest stop him.

“Something wrong?” He pulls back and your hand immediately begins to trace his tattoo.

“Jesus, why is everything about you so hot.” You pout and he lets out a small laugh.

Your hand slowly drags down to his stomach, dragging over his clothed cock. He hisses, pushing you back on the bed. Achingly slow, he pulls down your shorts and panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, do I even need to prep you?” He looks up at you and you shake your head.

“Just fuck me.” You whine and he sighs, taking a condom out of his pocket.

“Are you clean?” You ask and he looks confused.

“Yes? I never fuck without a condom.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Are you clean?” He retorts back.

“I don’t sleep around.” You cross your arms.

“This your first hookup?”

“That a problem?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“‘Course not.” He shoves the condom back in his pocket, stepping out of his jeans. You blink at his cock when it slaps against his lower abdomen.

“Y-You’re huge.”

“That a problem?” He teases and you scoff.

“‘Course not.” You mimic his voice and he just smirks.

“Keep it up, let’s see how bold you are.”

You bite your tongue when he rubs his tip against your slit. You both moan, his eyes are raking over your body and he’s already panting.

“S-Stop teasing Rin.” You whimper and he groans.

“S-Shit don’t say my name like that.”

He’s inching himself inside you and you kinda regret not getting prepped. Rindou was girthy, it felt like you were getting split in half.

“S’big.” Your legs quiver, he smooths his hands on your thighs, putting your legs on his shoulders. With a thrust, he bottoms out.

“Fuck!” You moan, gripping your bedsheets.

“You’re fucking t-tight.” His brows are creased, trying to calm himself or else he knew he’d blow his load. It gave you a moment to adjust to his size as well. He pressed a peck to your ankle.

“I’m gonna move ok?” You nod, your lips pulled between your teeth.

He almost pulls out, slamming right back into you. He sets a steady rhythm, your bed creaking. Your breathless whines only egg him on.

“Shit baby, so tight and pretty.” He’s losing himself, he can feel it. Your warm pussy has him feeling like a virgin all over again.

“R-Rin please.” You beg you don’t even know what exactly for. Just babbling out whatever comes to your mind, anything you could usher out.

“Please what?” He pants, moving with more force. You clench around him and he stutters.

“Pussy sucking me in.” He groans as he leans down, putting you in a mating press. This new angle has you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back.

“R-Rin.” You moan, your nails dragging along his back. You feel his dick twitch at the act.

“Let go, baby. I got you.” His hand comes down to rub eights on your clit. With a high pitch gasp, you’re coming undone around him.

“Oh shit.” He groans when he feels your walls close around him, even tighter than before. The final blow for him is your hands in his hair tugging but more so your words.

“K-Kiss me Rin.”

With one more harsh thrust, he’s smashing his lips against your lips. His teeth biting down on your bottom lip. His seed explodes and fills you until you’re full of him. You throw your head back already past your limit. He is too but he fucks his nut back into you mindlessly.

Afterwards, he’s falling against you, your guy's ragged breath mirroring one another’s. He moved to your side, you cringed at the feeling of him pulling out.

“You ok?” He rasps, looking down at you. You nod, scooting up your bed, and resting your head against the pillow.

“Haven’t been fucked that good in a while.” You lazily smile and he shakes his head, a grin on his face. You scoot closer to him, your hand tracing the curves and swoops of his tattoo.

“M’tired.” You blink, eyes slowly falling shut.

Before fully giving into your slumber, you reach for his hand. His eyes widen, looking at your sleeping form. His heart is beating at an abnormal speed but he blames it on the sex, that he hasn’t calmed down. However he knows he should leave but he turns on his side, facing you.

“I don’t think I’m good for you.” He mumbles, letting himself to succumb to slumber as well.

When you wake up your bed is cold and empty, your heart pangs but you somehow have a little hope. You get up and put on a shirt and some panties.

“Rin.” You call out as you walk through your apartment.

Cold.

Empty.

You sigh, turning to open your refrigerator. At the same moment your door swings open. You gasp, turning to the door and it’s Rindou with bags in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper and he blinks.

“Ouch, went to get you breakfast.” He sets the bag down. You shake your head, walking towards him.

“That’s not what I meant sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to come back.” You look down and he gazes longingly at you, you don’t catch this though.

“Well I’m here.” He mumbles, pulling out the food.

After that morning Rindou kept in contact with you, he’d invite you out here and there to eat or back to the club with him. You didn’t want to admit but your found yourself falling for the guy.

The way he’d treat you, look at you, talk to you. You loved the way he made you feel and the way you felt around him. You admired him as a man as well, how he was confident and had a good business going, the way he held himself. It was honestly all you’ve wanted in a guy.

However one day something changed. You were probably overthinking, he said it was work. You wanted to believe him and you wanted to-

You guys weren’t even dating.

No label was put on you both, you were just seeing each other with the side of fucking. You sigh, this was why you took a break from dating. The headaches and anxiety it gave you. The fear of the unknown or what could’ve been.

You never liked it.

You sat on your couch, your tv playing as background noise for your raging thoughts. When you look down, Rindou’s glasses were on the table. You blink at them and move to grab them. You hold them in your hands, smiling at the memory of how cute he looked when he wore them. Then an idea popped into your head.

Why don’t you go visit him at work?

With a newfound mission, you rise with the intent of returning his glasses and seeing him as well.

You walk into the club, the music already blasting and people littered everywhere. You honestly weren’t one for clubbing but your friend had begged you that night. You’d have to thank her later because if she hadn’t begged you to come, you never would’ve met Rindou.

You walked around the place for a bit and weren’t able to find him.

Maybe he wasn’t working today?

You click your teeth, might as well have one drink since you were here.

And so you did.

Just when you’re about to leave, you hear cheering from the corner of the room. Upon looking it was a booth. You peak over a bit and see a glimpse of Rindou. A smile rises to your face and you start walking towards him.

That’s until you see a girl come into view, glued to his side and feeling him up. You watch him and he leans into her smiling, at the woman. You gulp and your stomach churns.

Then they kiss, a kiss was an understatement, they were sucking each other's faces off. You quickly turn away and make your way straight to the bar again.

Without your knowing, someone watched the whole ordeal, with amused eyes and a shake of his head he got up. Leaning towards Rindou, he speaks.

“Someone’s in big trouble.” He says with a grin, walking away.

“What’d you say!” Rindou yells back, his words slurred, the girl next to him whined, pulling him into another kiss.

Your heart was beating unhealthily well and your ears were ringing.

“Hello.” You hear from beside you and you look up.

You’re shocked to see a man that resembles almost exactly Rindou. However, his hair was way shorter and combed, and dyed as well. You don’t reply, turning back to your drink.

“I know who those belong to.” He nods his head at your hand. Rindou’s glasses.

“You do? Well then tell him he can have them back.” You slide them towards him, and the man grins.

“I know of you, Rindou wouldn’t shut up about you.”

Your brow twitches.

“Who are you exactly?” You say with attitude.

“Rindou’s older brother, Ran.” He holds out his hand, and you roll your eyes and shake his hand.

“Why’re you so upset?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh, but I do.” He laughs. “I guess I’m just a little confused because Rindou never mentioned dating you.”

“We’re not.”

That’s right.

You weren’t.

So why are you so upset? Why are you even here?

No other words needed to be said or at least you didn’t want to hear anything else so you paid for your tab and left the club.

A little later when the women had finally left Rindou he’s a little more sober, just a little. Ran mentions his little surprise.

“Guess who happened to stop by.” Rindou looks at him bored.

“Who.”

“One of your girls.” He grins, sipping his drink.

“And she wasn’t happy. Oh, she wanted me to return these.” Ran slides his glasses across the table.

Rindou looks at them for a minute, letting his brain proceed with all of the information. Until he’s shooting up.

“Fuck!” He yells, running out of the club.

“Young love.” Ran laughs, raising his glass to no one in particular.

Rindou should not be driving. His head is throbbing and he’s gripping his steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He ran to many red lights just to get to your apartment. When he reaches it, he doesn’t even park right, he runs up the flight of stairs to the best of his abilities. The alcohol made his heart feel like it was gonna burst off his chest.

When he reaches your door he isn’t knocking but banging. Probably alerting some neighbors. He’s about to knock again but the door flies open revealing you. Your hair is a mess and you’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, your face a little puffy.

“Rindou?” You groggily say.

Fuck.

He wanted to kiss you so bad, you were too fucking cute.

You sigh, fully awake but irritated. “It’s too late for this. Go home.” You say, shutting the door but he stops it.

“Please, let me in.” You open the door and he wobbles in.

“You reek of fucking alcohol.” You cringe, moving to grab water.

You pour a glass for the both of you. His heart hasn’t calmed down, it’s ringing through his ears.

“Drink.” You coldly say and his heart cracks at the sound of your voice.

“I’m going back to bed.” You turn around.

“Wait!” He rushes, grabbing your wrist.

“Why are you even here Rindou.”

“Stop calling me that.” He looks down ashamed.

“Isn’t that your name?” You cross your arms and he’s chewing on his lips.

“My brother told me what happened.” He mumbles.

“Exactly. So why are you here.” You blink.

“Because I-”

“We’re not dating Rindou. I don’t care what you do.”

“Just let me talk!” He raises his voice but you stand there with no emotion.

“Say what you need to say then.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

You sigh, growing irritated. “There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

“But there is! You know there is. For once just, be vulnerable with me.” He sighs.

“Be vulnerable with you? I haven’t? So what do you think of all the times you’ve come over, and taken me out? That wasn’t me being vulnerable?” You scoff out of amusement and shock.

“If you’re just planning on using me then this is the last time we see each other.”

It’s quiet.

To quiet for Rindou.

Usually, your TV is on because you hate when your house is quiet.

All he wants to do is hold you.

“I’m not a good person.” He begins. “But you make me feel good. I like the way you make me feel. I know I fucked up. I know we’re not dating but you deserve an apology because I—do like you and I want something with you. But I just was drinking and.” He sighs again, rubbing his face.

“How am I supposed to trust you if you’re like this and we’re not even dating.” You whisper.

“Can we talk in the morning? I’m not sober.” He murmurs.

You don’t say anything but let him follow you to your room. You get under the covers and he removes his suit, leaving him in his boxers. Your back is faced towards him. He slides under the covers and immediately pulls you against his chest. You stare emotionless at your wall and then you feel it.

Wet droplets against your shoulder.

He was crying.

You bite your lip but do your best to fall asleep. Letting him sob as he held you as if this was the last time he’d ever get to hold you.

Rindou woke up with a groan, holding his head as he sat up.

“Where the fuck am I?” He whispers to himself, his eyes going around the room.

It’s your room.

Slowly, glimpses of last night come to his mind and he freezes.

“Fuck.” He lets out, throwing your covers over him and walking over to your kitchen.

There you are, cooking, humming to the music you’re playing. A smile rises to his face and you turn, halting your movements.

“Morning.” You mumble. Turning back to the stove. “There’s coffee if you want.”

“You need help?” He picks at his hand.

“No, it’s fine.” He gulps, moving to sit down at the table.

He watched as you finished up, bringing his plate to him. He watches you as you eat, not even picking at his food.

“Stop staring.” You mumble and his head shoots down.

“Sorry.”

This wasn’t like him and even though you know you guys have to talk. You hated how things were right now. Would they even go back to how they were before?

“Do you like me?” Rindou asks, cracking the ice that was building up between the both of you.

You sigh, placing your fork down. “Obviously. I just don’t…trust you.”

“Is there any way you can again?” You look up at him to find he’s already staring at you.

“What do you want from me Rin.” You look tired and he hates himself for doing this to you.

“I want you. I’ll do anything to prove it, we can start over.” He pleads.

“Fucking me isn’t gonna be enough.” You quirk a brow and he shakes his head.

“I don’t care about that, I’ll prove to you that I’m all you need.” He gets up standing next to you.

You gaze up at him and he opens his arms. Slowly but surely, you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around him.

He’s warm and at that moment that ice crumbled and melted when he held you tightly against him.

It would take time and you know he knows he’s gonna have to bust his ass because that’s what you deserve.

You deserve so much more and he’d do anything he could to prove himself to you.

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