#‘JV how’s my hair’

[boltwrites]

I need a Logan/Wade/Reader fic where reader is dating Wade (before movie) and meets Logan, sees how he acts with Wade, and makes a ton of “just fuck already” jokes that Wade (ofc) encourages and it pisses Logan off until he does one day (reader included lol) 😏

A/N: i'm going to have to make a part 2 for this, since this is pretty much solely humor and reader making fun of wade and logan. i will be making a part 2 for the smut, though. mark my fucking words.

some things to note: reader is stated as polyamorous and LGBT (no specific label is mentioned). also, lots of sex jokes and fourth wall breaks lmao.

You were used to Wade bringing around some strange characters. Usually, they thought he had drugs or something (which he did, most of the time. Until they all mysteriously went missing right before his birthday party. Almost like his unsavory lifestyle was suddenly sanitized for wider consumption. Hm. Weird.) Sometimes they wanted money - other times it seemed more likely that Wade was holding them for ransom and relapsing into his merc days. But that wasn't really your business.

The point to your opening statement was: you didn't really want to fuck Wade's friends. Astonishing, really - you went to high school with a group of weird kids that all turned out to be some flavor of L,G,B or T and as such, you either wanted to or did fuck most of them. But Wade's friends? They just lacked a little something-something. Al was too old and too high most of the time. Yukio and her gruff girlfriend were far too young for you. Colossus was too Russian. Vanessa was Wade's ex - which would have been hot, honestly - but you weren't the biggest fan of how the two of them handled the post-breakup, and therefore she was off limits. But Peter... maybe...?

No. No, if you fucked Peter, Wade would never let you hear the end of it.

So, you were typically relegated to Wade, and Wade alone, which was more than fine by you. That insane healing factor meant the man could go all night, and he was naturally (or, unnaturally. Mutantly?) ribbed for your pleasure. Nice.

So when he came back from his most recent world-saving (multiverse saving?) adventure, you expected him to bring back maybe some kind of bright-eyed teenage sidekick, or a wacky off-the-wall team up, like Dopinder.

Ah, right, Dopinder. God, you would have fucked him. Sadly, the man was staunchly monogamous like some kind of fucking freak.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, when you walked into Wade's unbirthday party? He had company. And the company? Hot. Old. Man.

Oh no. Your fucking weakness.

You'd really never forgive Wade for evaporating Cable before you had a chance with him.

Maybe this was his make-up present.

And said present - or, man, shouldn't objectify - could not take his damn eyes off Wade. Glaring at him, huffing a little half-chuckle when Wade insulted someone with a joke, rolling his eyes as Wade recounted some story of their conquests with exaggerated arm movements and wild, unnecessary additions.

Oh my god. Oh my god? Did Wade fuck him before you could? That bitch!

You scoffed to yourself as you threw your jacket on the coat rack - or was that Peter? Who gives a shit. You were on a mission. You sauntered straight up to Wade, no greeting or preamble, and tossed your arm around his shoulders, setting your ass down right in his lap.

"Oh, hell yeah! There's my sugar ass-" Wade grinned at you, and you just rolled your eyes and planted a big kiss on his bald forehead. Thank god, he'd stopped wearing that dumbass hair. It made him look like a social studies teacher. And not a good one - like one of the ones that just took the job so that he could coach the JV boy's soccer team, and he's not even very good at that. Anyway.

Wade wrapped an arm around you, and you adjusted yourself on his lap, hazarding a glance over at the man sitting next to him. His eyes flit from Wade to you, then to Wade again, brow scrunched a little closer together than when you'd first seen him.

"Wolvie, meet my little discord kitten. And you-" he broke the fourth wall, just to look you straight in the eyes. "This, is the big bad wolf. Er-ine. Yeah. Yeah, that works."

"Wade," you replied, trying not to think about the fact that he just looked into your eyes like you were a camera on the Office. "You never told me you were bringing home a third. I would have brought the nice strap."

The man - Wolvie? Wolverine? Whatever - choked on his beer, and shot Wade a confused, accusatory glare.

"What about the-"

Wolvie gestured in the direction of Vanessa, and Wade's eyes widened, his mouth actually fell open. And this time, it wasn't fake or sarcastic shock, but actual, genuine emotion.

"Oh, no no no - that metal skull of yours really is dense, isn't it, peanut?" He knocked on Wolvie's forehead with way more force than he would use on any normal human, and the man batted Wade's hand away like a pissy tom cat, lip curled over his teeth in a growl.

That was. Hot. Ok.

Wade continued talking anyway - as he always did.

"No, Vanessa? Lovely lady, don't get me wrong - but that ship sailed loooong ago, my temporally-challenged friend," Wade sighed, squeezing the arm that was around your shoulder. "No - that relationship was, as the kids say - 'lacking in communication and emotional openness' - oh, and she made me feel like chicken shit for not being a superhero!"

"Babe, you did that to yourself," you shook your head at him. Really - Vanessa and Wade had just grown apart. She'd looked into more gainful employment, and Wade had followed, struggling to integrate into whatever the fuck "proper" society was. What really happened was that Wade blamed himself for her death and tied way too much of his self-worth to their relationship. And Vanessa - well, she just didn't feel safe with him anymore. It wasn't her fault; it was the PTSD. But it still hurt him. It was better for the both of them to part ways. You always knew Wade still held a torch for her, but you didn't mind much in a relationship sense. You were polyamorous - your man loving multiple people didn't bother you. What did matter was the fact that for Wade's mental health - or what little of it remained - he shouldn't be trying to get with that woman again.

"Yeah! I know! I was getting to that - shh," he pressed a finger to your lips and you kissed it, which made him go "aww" before returning to his rambling. "Anyway, while I was on this beautiful journey of self-discovery, I realized so many things, buttercup."

He sighed, cupping your cheek. "The Avengers are absolute booty ass - without their mainstay former drug addict, I'm afraid they lost out on the crowd of little white girls that want to fuck older men, and we all know that demographic is vital to the longevity of a franchise. Furthermore, the Honda Odyssey fucks hard, which means I have to re-examine my vehicle-related inherent biases. Oh, and also - I'm not a hero. Can't pretend to be some kind of 'normie.' So I'd rather be a freak with the rest of the rejects."

Wade gestured to the rest of the party, and your grin widened, arms wrapping tight around his neck and pulling him in for a stupid, sloppy kiss. God, that's what you'd been trying to tell him for goddamn ages. Thank fuck, the whole multiverse just had to be threatened for him to realize it. You should have expected it - that's just kind of how men are.

Wolverine cleared his throat, and you pulled away, patting Wade on the chest. The older man looked at the both of you with trepidation, like he might be interrupting something. Your heart skipped a little - he really did like Wade, didn't he? Well -

"That's great, baby," you patted Wade's cheek. "Glad you had to experience whatever is closest to death for you to realize what's really important. That's so incredibly healthy and absolutely viable in the long-term."

Wolvie chuckled, grinning at both you and your boyfriend. Oh no - not only was he hot, he was pretty. That stupid little cat ear hair wasn't helping, especially not when he was laughing at your joke.

You took the opportunity to raise your leg just enough to brush your calf along the inside of his knee, and his eyes immediately flicked to yours, smile faltering as he calculated whether to lean into it or shy away.

"Thank you, I so appreciate you, baby-boo-" Wade nuzzles his nose against your cheek and you giggled, biting your lip to quell your laugh as you tried to watch both boys. "But if I remember correctly, before we went on this plot-hole addressing rant, you said something about the good strap?"

He waggled his hairless brows, and your gaze flicked between the two of them again - Wade, eager and grinning; Wolvie, tense and most certainly blushing.

"Yeah," you sighed dramatically, waving your hand in the direction of the refreshments table. "Unfortunately, the food at this party isn't bottom friendly. Shame."

"Fuck!" Wade cursed, head snapping forward in frustration. "I knew Peter forgot something! That insensitive metrosexual!"

You snorted, shook your head as your gaze pulled to Wolverine, you dragged your leg just a little higher.

"Oh, don't worry about it. If your friend here wants, we could recreate your favorite Lonely Island music video."

Said friend's brow knit, his jaw clenched as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, as if you'd translate your Wade-speak for him.

Thankfully, your boyfriend did it for you, with an exaggerated gasp for comedic effect.

"3-Way (The Golden Rule) (Featuring Lady Gaga & Justin Timberlake)?" He cried, leaning over so that he could smush his face closer to yours. You waggled your eyebrows suggestively.

He all but squealed, kicking his feet to the point where he almost launched you straight out of his lap.

"You hear that, Logan-boy? It won't even be gay - with a honey in the middle there's some leeway," he gestured to you dramatically, jazz-hands and all.

"It might be a little gay," you whispered in Wolvie - Logan's? - direction.

Either way, it seemed like something one of you said made the poor man short-circuit. He was just looking at the two of you like Wade was regrowing a baby head.

"It is, like, a genuine offer," you clarified for him. "We're not fucking with you - well. Wade's always fucking around."

"Oh, but I am so serious about this, babygirl. Wanna find out if that 207th bone is also adamantine, let me tell you-"

"Shut your whore mouth," Logan hissed at Wade, and you heard the man's teeth click as Wade's jaw snapped shut. What?

"Hey, did he just listen to you when you told him to shut up?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, but gave you a curt nod as answer. Your head whipped from one man to the other.

"You two definitely fucked already!"

"Oh-"

"What did he tell you?" You cut in, finger raised as Wade tried to speak. His eyes widened, and his lips closed like he had no control over them. Your jaw fell open. You turned to Logan like he was some kind of evil sex magician. Which - maybe he was. Or maybe that was a different man from the same movie that no one knows how to write because someone actually gave him an accurate accent. How would you know?

"We didn't fuck," Logan clarified. "We fought. Hard."

"It was the only way around the Hays Code censor!" Wade cut in, words spilling out like he only had a few seconds before Logan shot him another look that had his mouth shutting and his pants tightening.

You rolled your eyes. "Sweetie, the Hays Code was abolished in 1968," you patted his cheek like you were talking to a child.

"Tell that to the mouse!"

"Well," you did your best to get this trainwreck back on track. "Anyway. What do you think, hmm?"

You directed your question at Logan-Wolvie-Wolverine. It was so hard to learn somebody's actual name when Wade just threw nicknames out like candy.

But still, the man frowned, lips pursed as he considered the proposition. His lips twitches as he swirled the bottle of beer in his hand, like he could find the answers in the foam that swelled there. He shook his head, then took a sip, smacking an "ah" before the bottle hit the table with a thump.

"Eh. What the hell."

Oh. Fuck. Yes.

[starrvsn]

` ִ ꔫ ۫ ⊹ D.HUME ࣪ ˖ TWO HALVES OF ONE HEART.

﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚

PART 02 OF HEART AND MIND! READ PART 01 HERE.

PAIRING ⠆don hume x fem!reader.

WORD COUNT ⠆3,756 (well spent!)

ON ROTATION ⠆cheek to cheek by frank sinatra, head over heels by tears for fears, my heart it beats for you by grent perez, how deep is your love by bee gees.

CATEGORIES ⠆very fluffy!!! a long awaited lovers reunion!!!! the boys on crew being the biggest supporters as always, joyce being lovely, very comforting. loved how it came out... though i feel like it kinda dragged but i digress.

𝟒𝟏𝟏. a much needed reunion between two lovers.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen lake washington look so alive, there were swarms of crowds surrounding the lake. the day was sunny and bright with a slight wind whistling through the air.

full of supporters and spectators from both cal and washington alone. your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you followed followed your parents through the crowd but ultimately separating from them as you made your way to the viewing deck. the thought of seeing don again— being in his presence again made you so excited yet so nervous. you were elated he made the JV rowing team, knowing how effortlessly he knew how to do things; basically being good at anything. you had a fairly good spot over looking the water; not realizing it’s a student only viewing deck (did those even exist..). you looked for a spot not to close to the front in case don ends up seeing you, you didn’t want to throw him off from their first race of the season. as you were getting settled in your spot you accidentally bump into someone.

“oh! i am so sorry!” you apologize, pushing your hair away from crowding your face as you watch the girl in front of you stumble a bit.

“no! no it’s totally okay.” a blonde with short hair instantly assures, noticing as her eyes scanning over you.“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you around school before.” she adds, you found it bit odd she would say such a thing.

“ i don’t actually go here.” you affirmed, clearing your throat a bit. still confused on her sudden interrogation, she nods. taking in the newfound information before continuing.

“where do you attend?” you hesitate, suddenly noticing how everyone on the deck had UW flags and you didn’t have that, instead a berkeley flag that someone had given you after recognizing you from school. if she had seen the flag tucked behind you it would’ve given you away immediately.

“cal.” a slight cough out of the school name; there was no way in lying to her, suddenly feeling small amongst the groups of UW students. the short haired girl piques at your response “cal as in cal state berkeley— the rowing team the boys are going against?” you nod for her in clarification “how come you’re rooting for the opposite team?” fully facing you now. before you can tell her your reason she interrupts saying how rude it was for her to bombard you without asking your name, you weren’t offend at all and introduced yourself instantly as she does the same immediately after.

“my boyfriend is on the team actually.” you felt awkward telling her but also relieved, you don’t remember the last time you outright told anyone you had a boyfriend. ”oh really! who?” it crosses in joyce’s mind that it could be joe but she knows joe would never keep something like this from her and there was a massively rare chance it would be him so her mind briefs through the rest of the roaster. though she only knew their faces and not their names.

“don, don hume. you know him?” joyce ponders for a bit, the name sounding very familiar.

“i think joe mentioned him before…” you assume ‘joe’ is on the rowing team with don, further assuming she was here to root for joe but would’t say that of course… insisting she’s here rooting for everyone, not just joe.

“its okay, he’s not much of a talker anyways.” laughing it off, don wasn’t someone to put himself in the lime light, finding comfort alone or with you. a part of you hoping he’s getting along well with his teammates as he isnt the easiest to get along with because of how reserved he could be… you just want him to be happy.

“does he know you’re here?” you shake your head in response but mention to her that you sent him a letter recently entailing that you were coming over to visit but it was safe to assume he hadn;t gotten it since he hadn’t called (knowing he only calls when he needs to respond immediately). an idea suddenly sparks in your new friends mind. she tells you there is supposed to be a party if the huskies win and she insists you surprise him then, it was such a spur of the moment proposition you accepted. she squeals excitedly, grasping your arm. she was so happy to meet someone new who wasn’t from washington, excited to make your acquaintance as she stays close to you, cheering on the boys.

the race was nothing short of a spectacle, no one was sure that the huskies would win but they had defied odds and won with an astounding outcome. you see dons face as their boat pushes to the finish line, time seems to slow when your eyes land on him. his hair is shorter and face slimmer from the last time you saw him, your heart swells seeing him so happy from winning, splashing the water and celebrating with the rest of the team. you don’t think you’ve seen anything more attractive, his muscles taught and defined in that fitting uniform he wore. a faint blush creeps up you neck as you watch his muscles flex under the sunlight, you couldn’t wait to be with him again, talk to him, be in his arms again. you eyes don’t leave him until joyce drags you away from the your spot, immediately talking your ear off about how well they did on the way to her dorm. don lingering in your mind the whole way.

the hall was loud and in high spirits after the win of the JV rowing team, don watches as george walks off hand and hand with a pretty brunette. sitting alone as the other guys sit in the paired tables in front of him, having their own conversations. don didn’t mind to be alone or away from the group; it would probably be expected of him to go off and talk to others but he really isn’t much of a talker and preferred to observe the scenes in front of him. he didn’t need to be apart of the fun to have fun- he was content knowing the guys were having a good time. it did get lonely at times though the guys kept him company and included him in conversation for a part but his mind kept lingering at the thought of you; being here with him— having fun of your own if you were here. he’s been thinking about you more lately, missing you more than he usually did. it was rough the first few months but he eventually got used to the fact that you weren’t around anymore and he had to carry on with his own life. its not to say he didn’t think of you at all; you were the muse of his dreams and he’d think about how you were sometimes and at times where he’s out, he’d something that reminds him of you. most of all, the jewelry you gifted him. he’d fidget with his ring and he’d think of you. ever since the night he told roger and bobby about you it feels like he’s back a year ago when you freshly left for california feeling incomplete without you, unbeknownst to when you’d retuen, wondering if you got his letter or if you wrote back to him.

your heart pounds in your chest as you walk with joyce towards the hall, her arm laced with yours. your heart races, full of emotion. memories of when you last saw don flooding your mind, you couldn’t wait to see him. you were nervous he wasn’t going to recognize you, it had been a year since you saw him and you weren’t sure if you look the same you did when you left, what if he didn’t feel the same way anymore after seeing you? what if he regrets waiting for you after a year of being apart? what if— as if she could sense your overwhelming nerves, joyce immediately assures you— insisting that don is gonna be elated to see you, especially after a big win. what worried you was the fact that you had sent him a letter, unveiling your news that you were coming up to washington. you were unsure if he’s received it yet and it drags your heart at the thought of him reading the letter and not caring; content with having a life of his own away from you. he would he awaiting your arrival wouldn’t he? looking for you. but there was no news up the grapevine about him from the passing hours as you got ready in joyce’s dorm but if you didn’t find out for yourself you’d never know. you can hear the music grow louder as you get closer, excitement bubbles as joyce squeals skipping towards the hall with you in tow, already feeling the warmth from the hall.

at the doorway is a tall blonde with his eyes fixed on your short haired friend, you look at her and see a faint flush on her cheeks. unlocking your arms she walks a few steps ahead greeting the man with a hug. standing a bit awkwardly before them as they speak, a mere moment later she turns around gesturing you over. from there you meet joe, the man she mentioned earlier during your first interaction. she introduces you fondly as a new friend, locking arms as she leans against you. she continues to tell joe how you’re visiting from california and she’s love to introduce you to the boys. joe has a hesitant look on his face, as much as he wasn’t opposed to the idea, he knew the boys would eat up a pretty face like yours without the slightest bit of hesitation. he wasn’t convinced from her persuasion but the look she gives him? how could he say no to her? heaving a small sigh, the blonde nods. further exchanging pleasantries as he tries to get to know you a bit better before gesturing for the two of you to walk inside, him following behind. you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness as you walk into the bustling room, eyes instinctively scanning for don. your heart skips a beat when you finally spot him, sitting alone at a table. he looks even more handsome than you remember, you’ve never seen him in a suit before and he looks better than you could ever imagine. breath catching in your throat as you realize this is actually happening, the man you've missed so dearly, the one you've been yearning for since you moved to california. you’re so close to being in his arms again, in his presence again. before you can take in more of the lively atmosphere, joyce is dragging you to the refreshment table. you weren’t sure what she had in mind, she hadn’t told you anything beforehand and you were dying to know. she guiltily admits to you how unsure she is about her plan, though there wasn’t much to it in the first place. you immediately reassure her that whatever happens, you appreciate her effort, without her your surprise reunion with your lover could have gone completely differently.

don doesn’t know why or how but he feels as if you’re here, somewhere (his spidey senses are tingling) especially when joe had them gathered so closely, being sandwiched between roger and bobby as they all ask whats going on. joe casually relays that joyce had someone she wanted to introduce to them, making the advanced effort to note that the person is a girl. the group suddenly becomes boisterous and are quick to fix their suits and appearances. don has half the mind to entertain the thought the the person is you, though he thinks you would come straight to him if that were the case, so he makes himself comfortable sat down with his hands in his pockets awaiting their new guest- ready to watch what’s to come.

your heart flutters with nerves, as joyce tries are best to calm you down. there was only so much she could stall and soon joe approaches the two of you stating how impatient and restless the guys were, your mind is in a frenzy now trying to imagine how seeing him again will be, what you’ll say, how he’ll react. it overwhelmed you so, wringing hands and deep breaths as you gather yourself. it was now or never.

you pass through the throng of people, the atmosphere is charged with an electric energy, a complete contrast of the feelings that consumed you as joyce holds your hand comfortingly through the crows. joe walks ahead, gathering the boys as you approach them. trying your best to hide behind the small frame of joyce. for a moment don thinks he’s right, eyeing the girl standing behind joe’s girlfriend, as the boys stand ready to impressed. he also thinks he’s become delusional drowning in the thought of you— he can’t see the person well but with her frame peaking from joyce it makes him think its you, he tries to deny the thought in his head— trying to not physical head palm himself at such a stretch.

clearing her throat, joyce speaks “i made a friend from california and i just wanted to introduce her to the team that beat hers.” a small wave in her voice, seeingas don snaps his attention to her as she silently hopes she does this right. her words cause an immediate stir in the boys, ready to impress with their chests puffed. roger and bobby immediately share a look before looking down at their friend who’s now sat upright and at attention.

it can’t be…

you feel your hands tremor and a slight ring in your ears as your friend speaks but you can’t help the surge of adrenaline that runs through you knowing at any moment you will be face to face with your lover.

you feel a tug on your hand and soon enough you’re faced in front of your boyfriend among a sea of unfamiliar faces.

“this is y/n.”

before any of the boys can approach you, the sound of a chair screeching against the wood floor causes a pause through the group. turning their attention they see don stood up, eyes wide. all at once it feels as if time begins to slow, you’re stood before him looking beautiful as ever, like an angel sent from heaven. he feels like he’s dreaming— as if at any given moment he’ll be woken up from a painfully realistic dream. it isn’t until he feels a pat on his back, he breaks his gaze. looking over at roger who whispers a ‘lucky man’ with a giddy smile on his face. bobby and roger pass you last, having a small conversation with you telling you how you have a good eye for jewelry and realization on that you’re actually real, the locket on your neck further proving that. the group moves else where but close enough to see the lovers reunite.

his gaze is back on you, unbelieving the sight before him, you’re actually here— standing in front of you him with a wide smile on your face. you slowly walk towards him, meeting him until your inches apart. your hands comfortingly grasping his hands, thumb grazing his ring. you eyes take in his features that matured from the time you were away, he does the same drinking in the sight of you— guess his feeling wasn’t wrong. you were afraid he wouldn’t recognize you or look at you the same the same way he did before but the loving gaze is still strong through his iris’

"you're quiet. do i look bad?" trying to break the ice, words unsaid whilst you took in the sights of each other. you missed him more than you can recount, now that he’s in your hands again you cannot imagine being apart now.

"no. no, god, no.” shaking his head, gathering himself ”you left me speechless. in a good way, of course." (prompt from @novelbear) he would have never thought you could leave him speechless in a way you did now, looking breathtaking under the warm lighting of the hall, a soft laugh leaving you before giving his hands a gentle squeeze. your nerves dissipates into comfort as you look at him, a sudden wave of emotions coming over you. tears wake at your waterline and chin trembling as you look at your lover, your hand moving to his cheek caressing it gently— all your worries and doubts disappearing, grateful to whatever being upon the universe that brought you together again. don immediately noticing your change of emotion and he pulls you into a tight but comforting hug. the rest of the world fades away as you share that familiar embrace, the connection you once thought lost rekindling in an instant. your arms tightly around his neck, as his rest on your waist and a hand soothing at your back. he tries his best to hold back tears of his own as you softly sob into his blazer jumbled out “i missed yous” between hiccups and sniffles, he softly hushes you, comforting you the best way he can as he tries to keep it together but all at the same time reciprocating the same words to you like a soft lullaby letting your crying subside. you part from the crook of his neck, eyes puffy and tear stricken cheeks. staring down sheepishly at your sudden outburst. don takes it with open arms, grasping your face as he wipes the tears away and tucks fallen hairs from your face. so glad to have you back in his arms again.

“so, were you surprised?” you ask, straightening yourself up acting as if nothing happened— brushing your hair to your back as your hands go to fix his blazer, hand lovingly gracing his tie, evening the two pieces together. he looks at you with a crooked smile—

“surprised? honey you blew me away.” mimicking the way someone would be blown away from strong wind. his effort of making you laugh fruitful, as you giggle with hand coming to cover your mouth.

“but seriously, i’ve missed you so much. there wasn’t a day where i didn’t think of you, you’re the reason i tried out for the team..” his words coming out soft and sincere, standing close to you again. your heart swelled at his words, looking up at him with loving eyes. all while finding the words to describe how much you missed him.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you when i was in cal, adjusting to the school was difficult; i felt like it would’ve been so much easier if you were there with me… i struggled so much but eventually i fell into a routine that felt empty because you weren’t in it. that’s why i came up to visit you; i didn’t mean for it to be a surprise— i wrote to you about it but judging by your reaction you haven’t received it yet.” don processes your words, thinking how the week has been so busy that he hadn’t had the time to go to the mail room to check for any response from you. you can see in his eyes a shade of guilt swirling through them, comfortingly you run a hand over his chest. grounding him. “but regardless, surprise or not. i’m happy to be with you again and to see you win.” you gleam, now filled with pride, squeezing his bicep gently. don flushes at the thought of you watching him win, in such tight and little clothing as well. you tease him about how much fitter he’s gotten and how he must give you a personal lesson on rowing soon. cooing at his flushed cheeks with proud words of praise as he thinks of taking you on a boat ride before you leave, when you leave.

“how long are you staying?” his face falling a bit but you lighten up.

“well… if you read my letter you’d know i’m transferring here as of next semester.” you say proudly, biting at your lip as you await his reaction. you watch as he tilts his head, a breathless chuckle of disbelief leaving him. then suddenly he wraps his arms around you, twirling you in his grasp making you squeal in surprise. he puts you down before pressing his lips to yours before you can catch your breath, chaste and content but relayed feelings and emotions not expressed through words said.

“you’re not joking right?” praying this wasn’t just some sick joke you were playing to get a rouse out of him, you wouldn’t do that to him right? the moment you shake your head no as a massive smile graces your face, he swears he’s never been happier. nothing could damper his mood, not even the words you said next.

“i’m staying for 2 more weeks starting today before i leave back to cal. but we’ll only be apart for a few more months before the semester starts again.”

he was elated at the news, once again pulling you into a content embrace telling you a few months was nothing. it was only a few months, if he could get through a year he could get pass a few months.

well, he better make the most of the two weeks then.

the rest of the night plays in a high note as you and don join the rest of the group, them getting to know the lover don had been hiding from them. bobby and roger seemingly more interested in the stories you told of don before college, even the most embarrassing ones and eventually convincing him to play a song other than the washington fight song when the party had died down, instead playing the lighthearted tune of cheek to cheek ( the original version was released during the 1930s but feel free to reference the sinatra version :] ) with soft hums of singing along as he plays. he watches as his friends dance on the floor beneath him, ever so often looking at you— watching him from the height of the piano, eyes full of love with your chin resting in your hand. content as ever.

the other half of his heart came back to him and he couldn’t be happier.

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[solo-pitstop-vibes]

Rowing Pair | Don Hume

Don Hume x Original Character

Hiya! This is my first story in quite a while, so I hope you enjoy it. Part two coming soon!

Part two here!

......

One of Washington's rowing assistants takes a liking to Don Hume, and he takes a liking to her.

......

Allie is late. She is normally 10 minutes early to her student job in the library, and now she only has a few minutes to spare and make it all the way across campus. Her heels clicked rapidly across the concrete, carrying her as fast as she could go. She wouldn’t resort to running… yet. Her mother would scold her for it being unladylike. However, this job is important. It paid her tuition at Washington State, and it allowed her to have an opportunity that she couldn’t normally afford. This, and the nursing assistant position with the rowing team.

Looking down at her watch, she read eight fifty-eight, as she climbed the steps into the library. Breathing a sigh of relief, Allie slowed her pace as she made her way behind the service desk.

“Morning Margie!”

Margie responds to the younger girl, “Everything okay this morning? You’re stepping a little hot.”

Allie places her things down in her cubby underneath the desk and stood to face the dark-haired girl. “Just missed the first bus this morning, knocked me off my routine. That’s all,” she sighs. Satisfied with her answer, the older girl nods and instructs Allie on her tasks for the morning.

After gathering what she needs, Allie sets off with her cart of returns and makes her way to the tall shelves to start her reorganization. Working quietly to herself, she hums softly as she works to place books back in their rightful place. She makes her way through several stacks when she makes her way to one of the last shelves in the row. As she rounds the corner, she finds a tall, broad, dark-haired student browsing the shelves, looking very clueless. Glancing at the small paper in his hand, his frown grows deeper.

“Do you need any help?”

The man’s head snaps to Allie, his eyes wide in shock, but he doesn’t speak. His hand raised, pointing inward at his chest as if to say me?

Allie giggles softly. Taking a few steps closer, she motions to the small paper in his hand, “I can help if you’d like.”

He nods quickly, gingerly handing over the paper to the smaller girl. Quickly reading the information, she determines he is on the wrong aisle. She motions for him to follow her, and she leads him to the previous aisle, walking right to the correct spot. Plucking the book from its spot on the shelf, she hands it and the library card to the young man.

He clears his throat, taking the book from her hands, “Thank you.”

“Of course. My name is Allie if you need anything else.”

“I’m Don,” the boy cracks a soft, crooked smile. Allie mirrors his smile,

“Nice to meet you, Don. I’ll be around if you need help again.”

With a small smile and a wave, Allie steps away, heading back to her cart of books. Leaving Don in between the shelves, thinking about how Allie had to be the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

…

Being an assistant for the rowing team had a few perks, one of which was a brand-new Washington State sweater, which Allie smooths down over her blouse as she exits Coach Ulbrickson’s office. Now wearing a pair of pants and sneakers, and her hair is held back by a thick headband to battle the wind coming off the water. This was not her first time at the row house, having spent the last few months with the varsity team. She was not new to rowing either.

Allie thanks Coach Bolles as he hands her a clipboard and a pencil. Her job is to help evaluate the health and athleticism of the young men trying out for the JV team. She would evaluate both on land and in Old Nero the training boat, to make sure she collected an accurate assessment. Stepping in line beside Coach Bolles and Coach Ulbrickson, she looks out at the sea of young men waiting patiently. There’s a short spill from Ulbrickson before the activities for today are called out.

“You’ll be divided into groups and rotate through training stations. As you work through these stations, we will be evaluating your performance, while Miss Allie here evaluates your health and technique.” Coach Bolles’s strong voice carries easily through the airy boathouse. “When you hear your number called, follow the coach.”

As the groups are called, Allie glances down at the names on her clipboard. Only one stands out.

Hume, Don #22

She couldn’t hide the small smile that crept to her face, as she quickly scanned the crowd looking for Don. Ever since their meeting in the library earlier that day, Allie could not stop thinking about him. Finally, she finds him in the crowd. The same frown from this morning is painted on his face.

Everyone scattered as soon as the groups were called, moving swiftly around the boathouse, and Allie lost sight of Don. Time to get to work, she thought. For the first half of training today Allie would be in the boathouse, observing the groups doing exercises. Walking slowly through the groups of young men, Allie takes notes on as many as she can as they do sit-ups, push-ups, and jacks. It’s a strong group, but there are far too many of them for the 8-man crew. Over the next few days, there would be a few that set themselves out among the rest. After several rotations, it was time for another group to take Old Nero out. Making her way to the boat dock, Coach Bolles and Coach Ulbrickson are waiting for the next group to settle in their seats. Allie notices Don towards the middle, lacing his feet on the stretchers. Now she had the chance to see him row. One of the other assistants helps her onto the front perch of the boat.

Looking up, she scans the rows taking a mental note of some of the familiar numbers as the boat is slowly taken out. Coach Bolles gives some quick instructions to those who had never crewed, and they set off down the water. After a few minutes of practice, Tom started laying into the young men, calling out,

“There’s four parts to a stroke, gentleman, not three, okay? Catch, drive, finish, and recovery!”

Allie was furiously jotting down notes about each rower, just glancing up when she needed to.

“You can’t skip any of ‘em, and you know why we’re not going in a straight line? ‘Cause number 22 here is the only one that’s listening to me!”

Allie’s head shoots up at Tom’s comment, her eyes quickly finding Don in the row of young men on the left. His head was straightforward, eyebrows creased in concentration. Coach Boles is right, his form was spot on, and he is keeping a perfect pace. She makes the note beside his name and number, a small smile sneaking its way onto her face.

…

Two weeks had passed since the first day of training camp, and this afternoon was one last gathering to announce the team. Yesterday, Allie turned in her final evaluations to the coaches, sharing her top 15. Of course, Don was included. All due to his ability, along with Rantz, Morris, and several others who had stood out. Allie had a feeling Bolles and Ulbrickson approved of her choices, but in the end, they had the power to choose who they wanted.

Allie and Don had not spoken in the last two weeks, and other than a few blushed glances at training, they had not seen each other outside of rowing. It had been hard to keep her little crush under wraps, but she had done well. Thankfully no one had caught her staring on the days they took the sculls out, she just couldn’t help it. Don propelled himself over the water with amazing precision and coordination, and he looked damn good doing it.

This morning’s scull practice with the varsity team was the opposite, a complete snooze. It made Allie even more anxious to see the new crew besides the varsity one. Thankfully, her day would be preoccupied before this afternoon’s announcement, keeping her nerves at bay. Between classes, her library job, and the rowing team, she barely had time to breathe, but she liked keeping busy. The library is where she found herself after crew practice this morning.

Humming lightly to herself, Allie busies herself with some homework. Margie was tasked with putting the returned books back today, leaving Allie behind the front desk. Immersed in her notebook for some time, she doesn’t look up until she hears someone softly clear their throat. Her head snapped up, a smile blossoming on her face when she saw Don in front of her.

“Hi, Don! What can I help you with today?”

A large hand slides his book across the desk, “I need to re-check this out. Not quite done with it yet.” The boy shrugs. Allie nods, flipping open the cover and stamping the new due date in its designated spot. Sliding his book back across the counter, she looks to him again,

“Are you anxious about the crew announcement today?”

Don gives several little, small nods in quick succession. “Very. There’s a lot of guys going for it,” he breathes out. Allie props her head in one hand,

“Well, Don, I don’t think you should be too nervous. You’re outperforming almost everyone, and you’ve got a very good chance. I’ve not seen someone row like you in a long time, you’ve got great rhythm on the water.”

A blush flares up Don’s neck, a shy smile following, “Thank you, Allie. I’ll, uh, see you this afternoon, then?”

“I’ll be there,” Allie’s shy smile mirrored Don’s. He gives her a small wave before turning and making his way out of the library.

…

“Gentlemen, I want to thank you all for comin’ out and giving your best effort. Every single one of you left standing has performed admirably. Unfortunately, only a few of you can be chosen to continue,” Ulbrickson speaks to all the anxious young men standing in the boathouse. His tone is soft but carries easily through the quiet building. “Coach Bolles,” Al hands the attention over to Tom. Tom held up his notebook and started reading the names off, in no particular order,

“Hume, Hunt, McMillin, Day, Morris, White, Adam, Rantz. Coy, you’re the reserve.”

A flash from a camera accompanied each name, capturing the group. A few reporters are scrambling to write all the names down. Allie is tickled, her predictions were spot on. The boys who made the team gather amongst the group, congratulating each other as the other young men, who didn’t make the team, filter out of the boathouse.

Allie stays in her spot on the wooden steps, waiting for the boys to disperse. Catching Don’s gaze, she gives him a toothy grin and a cheeky wink, as if to say I told you so. A sheepish smile finds its way to Don’s face, but only for a split second before he’s whisked away with the group to take a group picture. Al and Tom follow along with the boys for the picture, but Allie stays put. Tom already knows what she’s thinking from their few short months of working together, calling out over his shoulder, “Come on, Allie! You’re a part of the team too!”

“Oh! Coming!” Allie exclaims, scrambling down the steps to catch up with everyone. Tom knew Allie was struggling to see herself as an asset to the team, that’s why she was included in the evaluations for the crew decisions. Even as a first-year nurse, she already knew things that senior nursing students were still learning, and Al and Tom learned that early on. When they posted the assistant position, no one applied except Allie. She applied with extreme enthusiasm, despite being fairly shy when sharing her knowledge. She knew nursing almost as well as she knew rowing. Growing up with a father who rowed at Cal, he had taught her everything, and she had a keen eye for technique.

Catching up with the coaches, Allie maneuvers herself on the very end of the group beside the coaches. For the next few minutes, several photographs are taken, and they’re all released for the day. The boys head to the locker room to change, the coaches retreat to the office, and Allie gathers her things. Heading out to the dock where the crew launches from, she takes off her shoes and socks and rolls up her pant legs. Slipping her feet into the water, Allie pulls out a book and flips to where she left off. After a short time, soft footsteps hit the dock behind her.

“Mind if I join you?” Don’s soft voice rings out. Allie shakes her head, a soft smile tugging on her lips,

“I don’t mind at all.”

Don toes off his shoes and socks and rolls up his slacks like Allie had earlier. Sliding his feet into the water, he leans back on his hands. Allie closes her book and turns towards Don, mirroring his position to one side. Her voice is soft, almost timid,

“Congratulations on making the team, you deserve it. You’ve got a lot of talent.”

“Thank you, it’s a huge relief. Don’t have to worry about as much now with tuition and the part-time job and all that.”

Allie heart clenches, she knows that feeling too well. “I understand. Without the rowing team or the library job, I wouldn’t be able to attend. These last few years have been tough on everyone.”

Don clears his throat, “They have, but something tells me things are turning around for the better.”

Allie is already looking at Don when he glances over at her. She’s quick to look away, playing with the hem of her sweater, trying to fight the blush rising to her cheeks. The two fall into a peaceful silence, Allie returning to her book and Don flipping his open. The one she helped him find. Sitting for an hour or so, only a few soft words were spoken in between pages as the sun dipped in the sky.

Finally, Allie closed her book, slipping it into her bag, “Well, we’re losing reading light. Might be our cue.” Don nodded, and both slipped their shoes back on. Don makes it to his feet first. Reaching down to Allie, he offers his hand to help her up. Blushing furiously, Allie graciously takes his hand. Now standing, Don still towers over Allie’s short frame, their hands still linked together.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

The pair starts the trek back towards the dormitories, hands swaying softly as they walk. After a few beats, Don speaks up,

“What got you into rowing? From what I can tell, you seem to know a lot about it.”

“My father rowed at Cal and kept with it as a hobby afterward. He would take me out as a child and teach me everything he knew. He’s very happy I’m an assistant, even though it’s not at Cal,” Allie explains.

Don nods, “Do you think you’ll be able to see them at the Cal meet?”

Allie shrugs, “Hopefully. I haven’t written to them yet about attending, but I’m sure my father will at least come, if both my parents can’t. What about your family? Do you think they’ll come to a meet?”

“I don’t really have anyone anymore, I started taking care of myself a long time ago,” Don sighs, eyes drifting to his feet. Squeezing his hand gently, Allie reassures him,

“Well, you’ve got the crew now. They’re all you need, and they’ll always have your back.”

A shy smile creeps up on Don’s face, hesitating on his next words, “You’re right.”

No more is said until the pair step up to the doorstep of Allie’s dormitory. They stopped awkwardly, not sure of what to do or say next, and not really wanting their walk to end. Allie acts first, softly unlacing her fingers with Don’s and turning to him,

“Thank you for walking me back. I’ll see you in the morning at practice?”

“I’ll be there,” Don smiles, mimicking their conversation from earlier in the day. Allie giggles at his response, catching his joke.

Leaning up, Allie presses a quick kiss to his cheek, “Goodnight, Don.”

“Goodnight, Allie.”

...

[iridescentpull]

Pac can’t move, body frozen in fear as he stares at the two people in front of him. His hands tremble as he tries to hold himself up, but the pure fear running through his veins causes him to keep slipping to the dirty floor of the hallway.

“Keep watch.” Murmurs Cell, giving Felps a look that screams ‘don't test me’. “If anyone gets too close, your job is to make them go away. We can't have anyone interrupting.”

Felps hums, a neutral expression on his face as he holds his arms behind his back. He stares at Cell with a look that’s guarded, but Pac can see that the few times he glances at him, there’s a touch of something hidden. Pac would say guilt or apologetic, but he knows better by now. The moment Felps walks further down the hallway and stands on the end, Cell fully turns towards Pac.

And Pac freezes.

His blue eyes look like those of a crazed animal, wide and unblinking as they stare at him with the intensity of a predator. The smirk on his face grows as he takes a step forward, and Pac lets out a whimper.

He wants to run, but he can't move. His hands are too unsteady, his knees are shaking, his entire body feels like it's going to collapse, and all he can do is lay there from when Cell pushed him earlier as the other gets closer.

"Oi, queridinho." He says with that sweet as honey voice of his. Pac's eyes flutter and his breath catches in his throat, and he almost forgets about how dangerous Cell is.

Almost.

Cell kneels down so he's face to face with Pac, and leans over to whisper in his ear. "You and I have some talking to do."

Pac doesn't want to talk. Not now, not ever. He hates talking. If he didn't have to speak, he wouldn't have to talk, and that means he wouldn't have to lie or explain himself. It's better for him if he never talks.

"You wanted to trick me." He murmurs, voice soft.

Pac doesn't have a choice. "I didn't- I- I- I-"

Cell hums and runs a hand through Pac's hair. "I know you did, queridinho. You and that other friend of yours wanted to escape behind my back with JV–" He says the last name with so much venom, like the mention of JV is something to be detested. "–and leave me behind. Thankfully, a new spot opened as you know."

And Pac shivers, because the reminder of what happened is still fresh on his mind. The way JV's body laid on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood (so, so red), the way his cold eyes stared at the ceiling with no life left in them, the way his skin turned paler and paler as the hours passed... Pac wishes he could forget about that day.

"I-I- I d-didn't–"

"You wanted to." Cell says, tsking, flashing apac a toothy grin that makes his skin crawl. "I thought that killing him would be enough, but I think some other punishments are in order. What do you think, queridinho?"

And he leans down again, and whispers in his ear, voice deep and low and threatening. "I think it's time you learn some respect." He says, and suddenly Pac feels the sharp end of a knife poking his arm.

He freezes.

"I've been holding back, but I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." Cell says, pity in his voice. "I was hoping you'd come to your senses and stop being such a nuisance, but it seems like you're too far gone for that."

Pac feels the knife dig a little deeper into his skin, and he bites his lip to hold back a scream.

"So I thought of a fitting punishment." The other says, and his voice sounds so gleeful and excited, and that only causes Pac to shiver. "Something that'll hopefully teach you some manners."

The knife drags across Pac's skin, and he gasps as a trail of blood follows after the blade. Cell smiles as he brings his bloody knife away from the male, and then looks down at him. "I've also been feeling a bit hungry, queridinho." He says, licking his lips.

And Pac can feel the way his body shakes in fear, the way the cold air surrounds him, the way his breathing slows, and the way his heart pounds in his chest, beating so fast it's a wonder it doesn't burst.

Cell pushes him, causing him to lay completely on the floor. The other hovers over him, the smile on his face widening as he places the knife under his chin. Pac feels tears welling up in his eyes. "Now, since I'm such a nice guy, I thought I'd let you choose."

The prisoner clenches his eyes shut, trying to block out everything around him. He hears Cell chuckle and the knife drags against his neck. "C-Choose what?"

"Hm, well, what leg do you prefer the most?" He asks, knife tapping Pac’s thighs.

Pac opens his eyes, confused and a little scared, but also very much aware of the knife digging into his thigh. He doesn’t understand what the other means, but the words he says next make his blood run cold.

"It'll have to be one, or the other." Cell murmurs, a sick smile on his face. "You have two options here, queridinho. Your left leg, or your right leg?"

Pac's mouth is dry, and his eyes are wide, and the knife is still digging into his skin, and he can feel a wet substance trailing down his legs and oh god, he doesn't want to think about this. He doesn't want to choose, he doesn't want to be here. He just wants to go back to his cell, where it's safe and the only thing he has to worry about is how he's going to avoid getting attacked.

"C-Cell, please, I'm sorry." He begs, voice hoarse and tears falling down his face. "I'm sorry, I-I-I'm really sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. Please, Cell, please."

The knife digs in deeper. "Choose." He says, voice dark and cold, and Pac feels his body trembling. "Or I choose for you."

His breathing hitches and his vision blurs, and his body goes rigid as he looks up at Cell. "I- I-" He tries to speak, but his words get caught in his throat. "L-Left." He chokes out. His right leg is the one he has the least control over.

Cell grins, and the knife is lifted off his skin. "Thank you, queridinho. " He coos, and he brings the knife up and licks the blood off of it. "I will make sure to be gentle with your right leg."

What?

"C-Cell what do you mean right–"

And suddenly he feels the sharp blade digging into his right leg, and he screams.

The blade is brought down, over and over and over again. He feels sharp teeth and a wet tongue against his skin, and his hands are held down so he can't move.

Cell's eyes are crazed and hungry, and Pac can't look away as the other bites into his skin. The adrenaline and the pain cause him to go numb, and he can feel his body growing colder and colder as time passes.

"Don't worry, queridinho." Cell says, voice thick and sweet. "Once we're done here, I'll make sure to get help for you."

Soon enough, Pac loses consciousness.

[badcaseofcasey]

Steddie Soulmate/Met as Kids AU - Part 3 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: you guys are all too sweet - I'm so glad you're enjoying this little idea of mine, that has now grown into a 5k+ fic - so there's more to come!

Steve started high school with a chip on his shoulder; he’d done well enough in middle school sports that he’d be a shoe-in for JV, if not Varsity. He, Tommy H, and Carol had risen to the top of the pile, and even though they were back to being the new folks on campus, he was fully assuming that high school would be just as easy for him as middle school, at least as far as social standing went.

But as he got used to the new environment, he couldn’t help but notice the feeling of electricity that shot through his veins every so often. At first, he thought he could chalk it up to the sensation of being in a new place surrounded by new people, the hustle and bustle of it all, the independence of finally being a high schooler. It took until lunchtime during their third week of school to realize what the buzzing under his skin really meant.

Steve, Tommy, and Carol had just sat down to eat when Steve’s attention was drawn to a commotion on the other side of the cafeteria.

One of the other students (a sophomore, he thought?) had stood up on one of the tables and was speaking loudly to anyone who would listen. Steve was too far away to make out any of what he was saying, but he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the buzzing sensation felt like it had been turned up to its highest setting.

“Get a load of Munson,” Tommy scoffed. “What a freak.”

“Munson?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, Eddie Munson,” Tommy explained. “He just moved here to live with his uncle - apparently his dad got thrown in jail and his mom didn’t want him, so he’s with his uncle in the trailer park. My mom heard about it from one of the secretaries at City Hall. Social Services brought him into town.”

“My sister says he’s so weird,” Carol added on. Her sister was a year older than them and Carol had taken to repeating whatever her sister had told her so they could start out high school quote-unquote the right way. “He wasn’t here last year, but he’s already been in detention like, six times for talking back to teachers. She says he’s the definition of trailer trash.”

Steve frowned. He tried to catch a glimpse of Munson’s face to see if he recognized him. Something about the way he captivated a crowd felt familiar. The buzzing sensation under his skin picked up again as Munson’s face turned their way. Steve snapped his eyes back down to the table.

“Whatever,” Tommy said. “He’s not worth our time, anyway.”

“Except for… you know,” Carol whispered, very poorly miming smoking a joint. “Apparently he sells drugs.”

Steve let their conversation wash over him as he pushed the food around on his tray. He had been waiting for the day when he might get to see his soulmate again, desperate to see how he’d grown up, if he still felt magnetic the way he had at the park. Now, it seemed, here he was. But could it really be him?

Part of Steve - the part he hated sometimes - was hoping it wasn’t the same person. The way Tommy and Carol talked about Eddie Munson made it clear that there was no way they’d ever want to hang out with him, even if they did find out that he was Steve’s soulmate.

“Steve?” Carol said. “Are you hearing us?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Munson’s a freak. Not worth our time.”

From then on, Steve was determined to see Eddie as little as possible. He convinced himself that maintaining the status quo and staying on the top of the pecking order was more important than anything else - soulmate or no soulmate.

Sure, he would still see Eddie around. He had a habit of showing up at parties he wasn’t invited to, there on business, as Tommy would jokingly say. Every time, Steve would feel that same rush of energy flowing along his side, where he knew the words hey, you want to fight a dragon with me? were scrawled. But every time, Steve held himself back, resisting the pull of Eddie’s magnet.

Even when Eddie flunked his first try at senior year and they ended up in some of the same classes, Steve did his best to stay away from him. Every so often, Tommy would try to get under Eddie’s skin, making snide comments as they passed in the hall, but Steve made sure they never lingered, reminding Tommy of his words in the cafeteria that day - “he’s not worth our time.”

By the time Nancy Wheeler came into his life, Steve fully believed that he could make a relationship work with someone other than his soulmate. Nancy had her words, too, though she also claimed not to know who they were from. For a while, dating Nancy was easy. It made sense: the handsome jock and the girl next door. If they just tried hard enough, Steve was sure they could have a good life together. People got married who weren’t soulmates all the time. And besides, Nancy made him a better person, and wasn’t that what everyone said your soulmate was supposed to do, anyway?

But then came Halloween, the word bullshit spat out in between sips of punch, and the revelation that Nancy’s words had come from Jonathan Byers, of all people. And Steve was back to being alone.

Or well, not really; because along with Nancy had come a gaggle of kids and the knowledge of things that he thought only existed in horror movies. And even after he and Nancy broke up and all the fighting was over - for now - he still had the distinction of being the best goddamn babysitter in Hawkins, Indiana.

So he had Dustin, and the other kids, and eventually Robin, and he was happy. Content. Eddie was still there, but almost in the same way he had been there before Steve had seen him again in the cafeteria. For now, Eddie was back in his memories. Steve was fine if he never saw his soulmate again - really, he was fine.

He could date, and hookup, and when he needed that feeling of something he would have forever that he could depend on, he could remind himself that he had the kids, and Robin, and Joyce and Hopper, and even Nancy and Jonathan, after a while. It was better this way, to keep that one perfect afternoon with Sir Eddie safe in his head, where no one could touch it.

Steve should have known that befriending a bunch of teenage D&D nerds would eventually come around to bite him in the ass.

Part 4

taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @infinitetrashbag @vampireinthesun @swimmingbirdrunningrock @maya-custodios-dionach @thev01dd @obsessivlyme @a-little-unsteddie @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @spectrum-spectre @red-panderz69 @magpiemuseum @minjintea @finalmoondragon @thatonebadideapanda @estrellami-1 @freyaforestafay @biatcgh @sadcanadianwinter @im-sam-fucking-winchester @bidisastersworld @justanothergirlwithobsessions @anaibis @thing-a-ling

[steddie-island]

Just Because We Get Around

Part one of Fuck His Dad. A fic based on this post.

Summary

Eddie pulled Dustin’s hands away from his ears and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Seriously, Dusty, I’m not gonna sleep with your dad. You have nothing to worry about.” ...Maybe Dustin had something to worry about.

Steve had been feeling it for a while now. He felt it in the creak of his joints when the weather changed too fast, felt it when he noticed a new silver streak in his hair. He was still in good shape, he wasn’t decrepit or anything like that. He still played ball with Lucas when he came over, he still swam a couple mornings a week, and coaching the girls JV basketball team meant he got some exercise running up and down the court with them. Still, sometimes he would just have a few days in a row where he felt it more than others, and it kind of got him down. 

Steve Harrington was getting old. He wasn’t nineteen anymore, he was forty-five now. He had a job, a 401k. He had a kid in college for Christ sake. 

Dustin was maybe the thing that made him feel the oldest, though. Not because of his age, but because he was always talking about some new game, new trends, using some new lingo. It drove Steve crazy . He tried to keep up, but it was hard when things seemed to change at the blink of an eye– and then he felt like even more of a fucking geezer for complaining about the speed of the way things changed, too. 

He was trying to listen to Dustin and his friend Eddie, who had been bouncing ideas off of each other for the better part of an hour for what they could do to get more attention on Eddie’s band online. The more they talked about tiktok trends and their social media presence, the more Steve felt in over his head. 

“You’re leaving, Mr. H?”

Steve turned around to look at Eddie and Dustin again. “Yeah, figured I’d go catch the end of the game.” “Oooh, you’re ditching us for sports ?” Eddie shook his head. “I’m insulted.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I think the two of you have this under control. You don’t need help from an old man.” “Old?” Eddie shook his head and looked at Dustin like Can you believe this guy? “Mr. H, you’re not old.” “I am, too,” he laughed. “Yeah, he is,” Dustin agreed. He made a face. “He’s my dad , of course he’s old. Now–” “No he’s not.” Eddie moved to rest his elbow on his knee, and he gestured towards Steve. “You’re not old, you’re still, like, hot. ” 

Steve’s face heated up while Dustin just gaped at his best friend. “Dude, what? Gross.”

“He is!” Eddie insisted. “Look at him!”

“I am! That’s my dad! ” 

Steve laughed again and moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “I– you’re sweet, Eddie. Thanks.” He meant it, too. Eddie was probably just being nice, but it still felt… good. Especially coming from the pretty boy with the curls and the tattoos and eyes so deep that anyone would have a hard time not getting lost in them. 

He managed to not stare, but only just barely. This was his son’s best friend– one of them, anyway. Sure, Dustin hadn’t been friends with Eddie since he was a kid, like was the case with Will and Mike and Lucas, but still. He didn’t want to stand here thinking about how hot the guy was like an old creep. 

Eddie wasn’t the first guy Steve had noticed. There had been Tommy Hagan when he’d been in school, who was mean but had freckles that stood out when he laughed or when he was pissed. There had been Billy Hargrove– who was pretty but a complete fucking asshole, and Steve hadn’t given him a second look when he found out the kind of person Billy turned out to be. 

There were guys in college, too. A professor whose shirt sleeves had hugged his biceps, a teacher’s aide whose pants had hugged his ass in a way that had given Steve dreams that still made him flush to think about. 

He leaned back against the refrigerator, his eyes on the countertop. “I think if I was born in your generation that I might’ve been bisexual.”

Eddie and Dustin both stopped talking. Dustin was staring at him like he didn’t recognize the man in front of him, and there was something like curiosity in Eddie’s eyes. The boy gave him one of those crooked smiles. “Mr. H, it’s not too late,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“Not too late to be in your generation?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised. He was sure he was missing something, but he was only half processing the conversation. His mind was back on the teacher’s aide, on the team members he’d had crushes on and just hadn’t realized it yet. 

That crooked grin grew into a smirk. Those dark eyes raked over Steve, going from his head to his feet and then back up again. “I meant that it isn’t too late for you to be bisexual, but uh. Yeah, you could be in my generation if you wanted to be.”

Dustin smacked Eddie’s shoulder with the crown of his cap. “Dude, shut up !”

Steve nearly choked on his water. “I– yeah, I– thanks,” he said again. Dustin looked like he was ready to spontaneously combust where he sat, so Steve gave a wave, a rushed excuse, and he left them alone in the kitchen. 

Finish reading on ao3! 😘

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Greg Owen at LGBTQ Nation:

Fox News host Jesse Watters continues to impress with his imbecilic takes on gender, anything gay, trans issues — and now what he’s mischaracterizing as “gender season.” In a recent Fox News segment which Watters calls “DEI Thursday,” the one-time “funny” Fox contributor and now pale imitation to Tucker Carlson twisted a nuanced personal video narrative, made by U.K. nonbinary activist Dee Whitnell, into a mocking takedown of a concept way over the JV host’s head. In Whitnell’s video, released earlier this month, they talk about how their gender expression is affected by the seasons. “I feel more masculine in the summertime. I wear more masculine clothing, I wear shorts. I normally have my hair up more and I just feel more ‘boy’, whereas in the winter – for some reason – girl mode comes out and I’m loving skirts and dresses and having my hair down.”

“This isn’t saying that all trans individuals experience this because that’s just not the case, or that seasons determine your gender identity or expression. However, it can influence it,” Whitnell explained. They described the concept as “genderseason”. For Watters and the far-right outrage machine, the video was music to their ears — and an invitation to ridicule. With a Grinch smile spreading across his pancaked face, Watters snarked with glee. “Bonfires, sandy beaches, pool parties, barbecues. Don’t you love summer? I love summer so much I’m thinking of identifying as it. It’s called gender season,” he said. “My pronoun: spring. But I might transition to summer.”  Like notorious takes on kids identifying as cats and classrooms filled with litter boxes, Watters’s lame comedy twisted Whitnell’s sincere and worthy thesis into an object of derision, mischaracterizing it as young people identifying as seasons.

Jesse Watters: unfunny moron.

[just-a-creep-babe]

https://www.tumblr.com/just-a-creep-babe/746325322948067328/okay-first-that-criminal-investigator-reader?source=share

AHHH, I would totally read your books!! I am also actually working on a book too! (got three chapters done!!) here is the first couple of paragraphs and chapter 1 bc I think you'll like it!!! <3👀

-🎥

. . . . . . . . . . . .

It’s her first day; we all look at her when the gym’s large doors open, our heads tilted. The New Coach.

She has tanned skin, chestnut brown hair, tall but still looks like a pigeon-toed dancer. She holds her head up, proud, as she makes her way to the middle of the gym.

All of us are slouching, afraid of giving her anything but eyes glazed. Our heads slung down, making our shoes appear more interesting than anything. 

I hear mumbling from Collen Otis and Carmen Hodek. 

“How old do you think?”

“Can’t be more than thirty, maybe? She looks like she just graduated college.”

With her back straight like a drill officer and wielding a rough gaze, her eyes scanning the staggered line, she’s judging us. She’s judging each and every one. trying to find a weak link.

Hands behind her back, the whistle dangles between her fingers. “Hello,” she says in a firm voice.

 No need to raise it, of course, she already proved to be a force to be reckoned with. 

“I’m Coach Maybank.”

Before she can even continue, she spots the JV Freshmen, Stacy Hitch, on her phone. In a flash, Coach is right there, grabbing Stacy’s phone and throwing it. The phone skitters across the floor, spinning madly before stopping right when it hits the entrance doors. 

I can see Stacy’s jaw shaking.

Coach doesn’t look angry exactly, it looks more of a look of boredom. No, It’s a dismissal.

“You girls, twirling your hair, on your phones with your sad little texts.” She shakes her head. “Ten, twelve years ago, it was still folding notes, passing them in class. This is just as fucking sad. No, this is sadder.”

After her semi introduction, she drills us. Hard. We run tumbles and keep our claps tight and our roundoffs smooth. The bleacher springs are the worst. Almost punishing. I can feel my whole body shuddering, almost like I might die from the pain of it but I don’t stop, I keep going.  

When she decides we have had enough, she lines us up again. She goes down the line, looking at all of us before stopping at Aria Jennings. 

Coach’s suddenly reaches for the spot on Aria’s stomach and plucks the baby fat. “Fix it,” Coach says, “we don’t do this.”

Aria sobs in the locker room after as she is keening over the toilet bowl. Jodes Perks and I rolled our eyes at the sight.

“She can’t say things like that, can she?” Aria stutters through tears. 

Surely Coach can’t tell a girl, a sensitive, body-conscious, barely out of her teen, girl, to get rid of a little baby fat can she?

Oh, but she can. She does. She did. Coach can say anything.

After minutes of Aria wheezing, I give her stomach one hard kick with my right foot. 

“Got no gag reflex,” I say, coldly.

Jodes nudges me, grinning. “That’s not what her boyfriend says.”

HOLY that coach and I would have MAD beef irl frfr 💪😤

And the headcanons are so cute! I feel like they’d be such a chill friend group uwu

[tulipsnflowers]

I don't think you know what you just did @call-of-the-wayward-wolf

Obviously, we have to cover the gap between n1 and n3 because, he is for some freaking reason, not in n:e

So first things first, that one post JV made about him being the Landlorn in n:e when housing was a think. Or how he worded it, "It was supposed to be a Nexolord with a mustache". Considering I'm pretty sure he said something about housing in n3 I am keeping my fingers crossed. Please JV it'll be so fricking funny.

I don't want to derail this to be about where James is in n:e, ask that if need be, but that's not what this is. But if he's just casually the landlord that implies that either a) Sols revived him or b) he was alive from the start. Which. Press X to doubt on that one. I don't think he's the type to be all quiet n stuff who does he think he is.

Or, like I'm head cannoning, protag in n3. This has no base other than black hair with a blue streak = normal type with blue streak = James. Legit none. I think not even the eye color matches. But it would be really funny if he was tbh, he sucks at being a villain so bad he became the protagonist

Or, he's on the antagonist team. It's to nobody's shock I think Deena might be evil, and if they're on the same team that's very fun. Like cmon give it to me. Plus it might potentially be him against all of his siblings. JV be damned those guys care about him so I'll grab popcorn.

Or, a secret 4th thing, being that either the protagonist or the other girl character with a blue streak are somehow related to him but he isn't there. Which I doubt but hey, would be fun.

Or he's just not there at all. None would shock me but I would be shocked if it's none of those

[artistsonthelam]

In honor of the Summer Olympics, fun fact about me: I was on the swim team* in high school. 🏊

Here's a poster my mom made to cheer me on during Senior Swim Night. 💛💚 (She took this photo of it back then.) I remember being so moved by how cute it was and her attention to detail; my hair looked exactly like that because I was growing out my childhood bangs, and the frog and duck are stuffed animals I had (and I remember they were SO soft), and they looked exactly like that as well 🦆🐸

*As you can imagine by just looking at me, I wasn't particularly good, at least for swim team standards (and if you think I'm small now, I was even smaller back then—when HS began I was scrawny and 4 ft.-something). Sure, I'm faster than normal people, but we're talking competitive swimming here.

I was the textbook definition of a bespectacled nerd. I had no hand-eye coordination (which is ironic as someone who can draw, I know) so forget about any other sports that required me to catch or hit flying objects.

Pretty much everything else I did, I excelled at naturally and without any effort: art, writing, piano, foreign languages (in jr. high I won the Best Spanish Student award and my freshman year German teacher called me a "German prodigy" which I didn't even know was a thing that existed but apparently it does). But athletics? That was the one activity I actually had to work hard at, which made the sense of accomplishment I got whenever I finally mastered a new swimming skill even sweeter. There's value in doing something just because you enjoy it, regardless of your ability.

I also had a late start in that I didn't learn how to swim until I was 9. (I wanted to when I was 6 but when my dad went to sign me up for lessons they were all booked, and he saw that there were openings for ice skating and asked if I wanted to do that instead. So other fun fact [that's also funny but in a different way because it was so unlike me as a tomboy]: I did Figure Skating when I was a kid.)

I was on the JV team. At meets, I was usually assigned to the slowest heat. (Although to my credit, whenever I was put in a relay, I was always made the anchor.) I could barely ever dive properly. I did open turns instead of flip turns, which slowed me down even more. And you know what? I didn't care. I loved swimming. I loved just being in the water. (Whenever we had dry land training after school I used my other extracurriculars as an excuse and skipped practice (sorry, Coach) because I didn't see the point if I couldn't be in the pool (yes I now realize those skipped workouts would've helped me be a better swimmer).) I wasn't in it to win it; I was genuinely in it for fun, for, well, the love of the game. Giving it my all, beating my own personal bests, feeling strong. The adrenaline rush of standing on the starting block, the Pavlovian response to the beep, the moment the roar of the crowd fades into the background and it's just you and the water. The camaraderie, cheering on your teammates. During practice they'd play music on the speakers (I remember my first time hearing "Sk8er Boi" was in the water doing laps); I'll never forget one random snapshot in time when the sound system was blaring "Heaven Is a Place on Earth," and the girls who were up on the blocks were dancing to it, and I thought to myself, "You know, maybe it is."

// (c) Jenny Lam

[batmanego]

https://www.tumblr.com/janemorris/729013196299567104 can we go full supermarket sweep on jailbird im sso hungry

Yes. We can. but im putting it under a cut because its going to be so long + im taking out the questions i already did

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

THE HAIR. jailbird's hair is a defining feature. i actually made a little list of jailbird's most prominent features recently.

i still think the hair is probably his most defining feature, though it's pretty similar to glory's. i still think their silhouettes are distinct, though -- glory's hair is more coily, jb's is a little looser.

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

still got baby fat. when he grows up, it's a little more angular, especially in the chin area, but he's always kind of got soft cheeks. he's got kind of a perma-scowl going on most of the time. when he does smile it's usually kind of malicious in nature. he has braces.

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

skinny. skiiiiiiinny. jailbird isn't really malnourished, though he could probably stand to eat a little better, but he is scrawny. very gangly. every time i draw him i think his proportions lead people to believe he's much taller than he actually is: at the start of the story, he's about 5'1, and by the end he's about 5'4. in the epilogue, his adult height is roughly 5'7. his civvy clothing is intentionally pretty baggy and layered to give the impression of more meat on his bones.

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

jailbird is extremely flexible. think somewhere between a contortionist and a gymnast. he tends to move very quickly and always seems like he's in a hurry.

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

jailbird is actually very good at sitting still. he has no problems with it. he can sit unmoving for as long as it takes, but only if he's doing it of his own volition. if you ask him to sit still, he gets huffy about it.

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

jailbird has his ears pierced. i'm struggling to think of any tattoos he might want as an adult. he gets a WHOLE LOT OF SCARS during his time as a supervillain, the most notable of which is A MASSIVE SCAR ON HIS ABDOMENT from when he gets impaled on his own harpoon. Best birthday ever!

night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

silk pajama set. monogrammed. Actually im laughing really hard at the image of him getting them monogrammed with "JV" because thats probably not what his "actual" initials are

day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

i've noted this in his character sheet:

generally, any t-shirt over any turtleneck, bonus points if red yellow black and white. this is really consistent in most if not all art of him.

you can even see it in haircut! red outline is apron, blue is shirt, green is turtleneck.

as a fun design note, the school colors were intentionally chosen to oppose he and eugene's natural red motifs. something about institutional repression of individualism... i can't remember my exact justification for it, but i know it was something like that.

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

jailbird's not a huge fan of fancy events. he gets dragged to them sometimes but otherwise wants to avoid the public eye. i'd say the most you'll get him in aside from his school uniform is a t-shirt, slacks, and a blazer.

informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?

he's wearing it in haircut:

bunny socks are a feature that i outlined kind of as a joke while drafting haircut, but i liked the idea so much that they stuck around. anyway, it's his usual upper half with a pair of sweatpants or just loose cotton pants.

outerwear: What's your OC's outerwear situation? Jacket, sweater, cloak? What sort of weather do they deal with most and how do they protect themselves?

depends on the season. most of the time he'll forgo it. in the winter he gets what he's wearing in this picture:

(he's the one in the middle complaining.) he gets cold easily.

footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?

combat boots or converse sneakers. when in costume he has those big knee high platforms. scary!

road: What does your OC wear while traveling? Do they have high-quality equipment, or are they making do? What does their gear look like?

jailbird doesn't really travel that much! if he did, he'd way overpack and use the most expensive equipment known to man. it would piss everyone off.

armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?

jailbird has padding under his suit. it's supposed to be at least somewhat bulletproof, though that's only on the chest and head. he learns after the "harpoon to the gut" incident why full body armor is likely a good idea. he also has elbow pads and the mask functions as a helmet.

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

oh yes. Ohhh yes. one of my favorite jailbird gimmicks is his bottomless pouches -- he can store almost anything that will fit through the opening in them. however, he has only a rudimentary ability to control what he pulls out. the more he uses an item, the easier it is to find which is why his harpoon gun is easy and why it fits -- it's huge, but it's relatively narrow and can fit into the biggest pouch on his side, and it's his favorite weapon, so it's no problem.

roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?

not really? he's sort of loosely inspired by mall goth fashion, but that's more to do with color schemes than anything else. if i had to assign an actual aesthetic to specifically his way of dress, i guess it would be skater culture. which is funny, because he's not the skater of the team! eugene is! and eugene's aesthetics are based more on grunge and punk!

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

jailbird prefers his clothing to be baggier and looser. his costume is built for agility and speed, so he's willing to sacrifice comfort for function. his mental state is also in a pretty different place when it comes to civs vs costume.

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

pretty big. i don't think jailbird buys new clothes very often, and he's really good at sewing and repairs. i think the only thing he probably has to get taken in or buy replacements of are his shoes. everything else he can usually fix on his own.

makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?

yes, all the time. jailbird always has some level of black eyeliner and eyeshadow on. it's heavier in costume, blacking out the space around his eyes, but he wears it all the time. he just likes the way it looks.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

the magen david eugene gives him quickly becomes very important to him. aside from that, it's his fingerless gloves. never seen without them.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

nope. not really, at least. in the epilogue, he's old enough to grow facial hair, and he starts wearing short sleeves. and grows his hair out some. but he's still the same old jailbird. he feels neutrally about it.

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

i've mentioned before the concept of the vey in tremont, which are a type of superhero predestined to die a violent, brutal death usually as a result of their own powers or hubris. when initially writing the basic concepts of new blood, especially for the characters, i considered making jailbird vey, and then decided against it for a number of reasons (mostly because i felt that in jailbird's case, it would lean too heavily into capital punishment), but it's sort of stuck with me ever since. i think it would be a lot of the same, except as soon as jailbird realized he was vey, he would construct and detonate a nuclear bomb.

if i had to put him in any other genre, i think he'd be funny in high fantasy. specifically in any kind of dnd setting. oh man. he'd be the world's most annoying warlock.

while i was typing this, you sent me this message:

and i need it to be known that he would absolutely be like that chris fleming bit about how the stranger things cast are going to convince jimmy fallon to deface an orphanage.

[banannabethchase]

Matt's a senior in high school, co-captain of the cheerleading team, and doing a pretty good job in school. He's also, well. She's also a girl, which is somehow not the biggest deal in her life right now.

Nick's a junior in high school, an MVP candidate for the basketball team, and doing his best. He's also definitely not in love with his best friend, unless he's telling the truth.

~

So for some ungodly reason I decided to do another high school AU for my April Camp NaNoWriMo, and here is the fruit of that labor. It's fluffy and a bit cheesy and maybe unrealistic in parts, but I think we deserve some queer joy in our lives, don't we?

Note: throughout this fic, Matt's pronouns shift depending on her mindset, what others know, and what she has told the other people to refer to her as throughout the story. If you see a pronoun error you think is not narratively relevant, please let me know, and I will check :)

Here is the playlist for the fic, because I can't do anything without making an accompanying playlist: Set the World Alight - an AEW High School AU Playlist

~

Saturday, November 29th

Nick

Matt jumps about a foot when Nick opens the door to his bedroom.

“Holy crap,” Matt says, hand to his heart. “You scared me. Knock next time, will you?”

“I did knock,” Nick says. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” Matt says, adjusting his ponytail. Nick doesn’t get why he fusses with it so much. It always looks right. “I’m fine. You ready?”

Nick nods. “Just have to get the bags in the car and we’ll head over.”

Matt checks his reflection one last time and walks to the door. They make their way downstairs like always – shoving at each other to see who will make it to the kitchen first.

“Would you two stop trying to kill each other to get to the kitchen?” Their mother is mildly amused but mostly tired, coffee in hand as she sips. “It’s like raising two deer with the way you two always lock horns.”

“We don’t lock horns, Mom,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. Nick pokes him in the ribs. “Ow! Nicholas here just refuses to admit that, as the older brother, I should get first pick of the pancakes.”

“You’re just jealous I’m finally taller than you,” Nick fires back. Matt gets him in a noogie.

“Boys. It’s not even eight in the morning. I need you to stop before I lose my mind.”

Matt lets go, Nick fixes his hair, and they eat their breakfasts fast enough that their mom has to leave the room. "I raised two wildebeests," she mutters, making her way to the living room. "Where did I go wrong?"

"You didn't!" Nick yells. "Matt's stole a pancake!"

"Alright, well, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she says. She doesn't even bother to peek her head in. “Drive safe to the game, you two!”

“I will,” Matt calls back. “And it’s a scrimmage.”

“Don’t correct your mother!”

Once the pancakes are gone, Nick muscles Matt out of the way and insists on driving the three miles to the school. Matt is less than pleased about it based on the pout he wears the whole drive, but Matt lights up when he sees the group of players and cheerleaders collecting in front of the bus.

“Looks like we’re riding together,” Matt says.

Nick nods. “Apparently that’s the new plan this year. Cuts down on buses to have you all on the bus with us, and third team and JV traveling together.”

“Sit with me?” Matt asks. “I mean, if you want to.”

Nick nods. “Sure. I always want to.”

Matt beams at him, and Nick doesn’t understand how still, after all this time, he doesn’t seem to believe the people on the cheer squad actually like him.

“Alright, let me check in with coach, and I’ll be right there.”

Matt slides in next to Britt, who is half supporting Jamie who looks like she still hasn’t woken up all the way.

“Nicky,” says Cole, clapping him on the shoulder. “Late. As always.”

“That is entirely Matt’s fault,” Nick insists. “And Mom’s. She made us eat breakfast.”

“Oh, what a tragedy,” Moxley says, pretending to faint. “I had a can of coke for breakfast. I’d kill for, like. Actual food.”

Nick briefly digs in his gym back and pulls out a granola bar. “It’s not homemade or anything, but you can have this.” He tosses it to Mox, who lights up.

“Hell yeah.”

He proceeds to scarf down the granola bar at a speed Nick is mildly disturbed by, and the coach calls them over a second later.

“Alright, boys,” he glances over, “er, and Jamie.”

Half the team rolls their eyes. Coach was getting better with it, but he constantly forgets Jamie’s not just one of the guys. Sure, she’ll take you out harder than any guy on any team, but she’s still a girl.

Specifically, a girl who was kicked out of the girl’s league for playing too hard.

“We’re on the bus with the cheerleaders, effective today. I don’t want to see any hanky-panky on there, you hear?”

“Yeah, Jamie,” Mox says, nudging her with his elbow, “don’t want a repeat of you and Britt in the science labs.”

Jamie blushes bright red. “Oh, shut up, Moxley, we all know what you and Kingston were up to last year at the championship game. You’re one to talk.”

“No one should be talking,” Coach says. Nick wonders when he’ll give up and let the team do their own thing. It’s always what works best. “Alright. Bowens and Caster, you are not allowed to sit next to each other after last week.”

“Aw!” the two of them whine.

“No,” Coach Gunn says, pointing at the two of them. “You two keep it up, I’ll make your parents drive you to and from the games, and you can deal with them.”

The two of them shrink. “Okay,” Bowens mutters.

“Yuta, you sit with Caster,” Coach Gunn demands. “Nick, you’re sitting with Bowens.”

“Wait, what?” Nick asks. “I already promised Matt –”

“Your brother will figure it out. I need somebody responsible to sit with these two clowns.”

Nick texts Matt to let him know, and gets a frowny face in return.

You can sit with Britt or Willow, you’ll be fine.

Willow’s sitting with Riho!! And Britt’ll be with Jamie!!

Nick exhales. Okay, sit with literally anybody. Nobody’s gonna kick you off the bus.

He gets back a panicked combination of emojis, and Nick begins to wonder why Matt’s so frickin’ weird.

They pile into the bus and Matt’s on his arm in a second.

“Everybody else has a bus person,” Matt mutters. “You are my bus person.”

“I have been assigned Anthony Bowens duty,” Nick says.

“Hey!”

“I am not wrong,” Nick tells Anthony over his shoulder. “Just, Matt, sit wherever’s a free seat. Everybody knows you. You’re fine.”

Matt’s eyes flicker around the faces in line. “But there’s nobody else I want to sit with!”

“Just – figure it out!”

Once they get on the bus, Nick peeks around to make sure Matt’s not crying on the ceiling out of panic or anything. To Nick’s surprise, Matt’s plopped down in the first open seat, right next to Danny Garcia. He doesn’t look any kind of comfortable, but he’s seated and not crying or anything, so Nick considers it a win.

Interesting choice he texts to him. Bowens slides in to the seat a few behind Matt and Danny, and Nick moves to follow.

Matt turns around as Nick’s shoving Bowens further into the seat and glares.

He was pouting because Yuta’s stuck with Caster, so we both will be miserable together.

Nick rolls his eyes.

“What?” Bowens asks. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Nick says, getting comfortable for the bust ride to the game. “I’m existing on a bus.” He closes his eyes, tries to relax. “You aren’t going to do anything weird, are you?”

Bowens makes a sad little sound. “No. Caster and I planned on putting silly putty in somebody’s hair, but it doesn’t feel right to do it without him.”

Nick is awake and alert the entire ride.

~

Matt

He resists the urge to text Nick frantically the whole car ride, and instead settles for trying to start his English essay. They’re finished with the personal narratives, finally, but he’s now stuck analyzing Salome and that whole poem is a lot to deal with.

He’s also been assigned the role of Salome in his all-boy group to present, and, well. He – he thinks this might be reminding him of something he’s been trying really hard not to think about.

Something she’s been trying really hard not to think about.

Matt isn’t sure, is the thing. Sure, he feels like a girl, but doesn’t everybody, sometimes? Doesn’t everybody sometimes convince themselves that they don’t belong with the certain body, the certain presentation they were born with?

Glancing around the bus, nobody is paying attention to him. Danny’s snoring, mouth open as he leans against the window. Jamie and Britt aren’t not making out in the seat next to him, and the rest of the bus looks otherwise occupied.

So he googles it.

how do you know if you’re actually trans and not just faking

hhat does trans feel like

how do you know if you’re a girl

He’s thankful for the two hour bus ride, for once in his life, because he’s able to read testimonies from so many people – from trans women in their thirties, nonbinary people in their forties, trans men at sixty-five. He’s baffled – he didn’t know this many people existed. He takes a deep breath. He didn't know this many people who think the same as he does existed.

He also is a little baffled at a common theme that keeps popping up: if you think you’re trans, you probably are.

The bus stops and he’s – well, he’s not sure he’s “he”, is the thing, but he has some other things to focus on right now.

Matt’s pretty sure the first game of the season has never felt so exhilarating, even though it’s not really the first game. His team does a pretty good job of keeping the energy going on the sidelines, but, even with the modifications from the football seasons in place, they put on a great halftime show. Better than the other team, if he’s being realistic.

“I’m not bragging, Wills,” he says to Willow, “I’m being objective. Our routine had, like, four times the difficulty of theirs.”

“Matt, you know this one isn’t a competition, right?” Willow throws one of those smiles his way, the kinds where he’s glad he’s gay so he doesn’t fall in love with her. “It’s okay that they weren’t as good as we are.”

“That’s all I’m looking for,” Matt says, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder. “An – an agreement.”

They do their cheering duties for the team through the second quarter, and Matt cheers extra loudly when Nick gets something like eight points in four minutes, which Matt knows enough to know it’s impressive.

“Hey! Jamie didn’t punch that guy!” Riho says, leaning over to look at Britt. “That’s good, right?”

Britt nods, a proud smile on her lips. “Yeah. She’s been doing so good with not punching people. Well, during games. There was that time at the movies.”

“That asshole deserved it,” Matt says.

“Ooh,” Riho says, “Matt’s swearing. It must have been quite the problem to earn that.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “I swear.”

“Like, almost never,” Britt says. “But, yeah. He deserved it.”

The game finishes up around noon, and Matt is starving.

“I told you to bring a snack,” Nick says, devouring a protein bar.

“Can I have a bite?”

Nick turns, cradling the bar and glaring at Matt. “Starve.”

“Oh, that’s cold.”

Matt turns to see Jon Moxley, grinning. “Right?” Matt says. “He’s so mean to me.”

“Am not!”

“I don’t know, Nick,” Mox says, eyes flicking to Matt. Almost like he wants to make sure Matt’s still watching. “Refusing to give your brother food? That sounds pretty mean.”

Matt grins, a little smarmy. “See? You’re so mean to me. Even Mox knows it.”

Nick looks between both of them. “I’m walking away now.”

Matt throws his best smile at Mox, because why not, and gets something a little sweet, a little not so sweet back.

~

He spends the rest of the bus ride trying and failing to do his math homework. Somebody decided to sing 99 Bottles of Jizz on the wall and, while funny, Matt’s kind of sick of it at 84 bottles and it’s only going to get worse.

“This is hell,” Danny says, staring straight ahead of him. Matt thinks he looks a little like a person in that zoned out state in movies, like when they’re trying to show a flashback. “I’ve never heard the word ‘jizz’ said so much in my life.”

Matt tries a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “You can borrow my headphones, if you want? The basketball team is full of some…interesting people.”

Danny shakes his head. “No, I got my own.”

“Oh,” Matt says, moving his hand. “Then – then why aren’t you listening to literally anything else?”

Danny shrugs. “I really don’t know.”

They stop at a gas station about an hour into the ride, and Matt flies into there, desperate for a snack and some caffeine.

“Don’t get distracted in the snack aisle!” Coach Gunn hollers after him. “You either, O’Reilly.”

Nick bumps his shoulder as he walks to the candy aisle. “Don’t get lost, dork.”

“Oh, shut up,” he calls as he hops his way to the wall with all the coolers. If the universe is in his favor, there will be plenty of double shots available for him to shove into his face. He’s still got an entire math assignment to finish on the bus.

He snags a bag of Chex Mix on his way to the cooler, and spots the coffee drinks. There’s only one can of his beloved Double Shots left. He picks up the pace to grab it, only to reach the door at the same time as a familiar face looks down at him.

“You like the double shots, too?” Jon Moxley asks, his grin wide. Matt’s heart starts beating at an unreasonable speed. “That how you cheerleaders keep up all the energy?”

Matt giggles a little. He can’t help it. “Well, one of the ways. You should see the way we have to train for splits.”

He didn’t mean for it to be…well, suggestive. But, from the way Mox’s eyes widen, it was. “Oh. Well.” His laugh is a little close to a giggle too. “All yours. I can grab, like, a Coke or something.” He brushes the side of Matt’s hand. Just gentle. Just barely. “See you on the bus, Matty.”

Matt doesn’t move until Nick comes up behind him and pegs him in the back with his basketball. “Dude, your coach is about to kill you if you don’t get out there,” he hisses. “Buy your dumb coffee and let’s go.”

Matt nods, a little dazed. “Hey, um,” he says as he hands the cash to the cashier, “what – has Mox said anything about me?”

Nick groans. “Oh, god, you have a crush on Moxley?”

“Shh!” Matt says, looking around nervously. They’re the only two from the high school left in the store, but still. “Look, sort of. Shut up.”

Nick sighs, spinning the basketball on his fingertip. Like it’s easy. Jerk. “He hasn’t. But I’ll…” Nick pauses, takes a deep breath like whatever he’s about to say is going to hurt. “I’ll put out feelers.”

Matt feels like he’s filled with lightning as he bounces out to the bus. He sits next to Nick, as always. But Mox’s eyes follow him as he walks down the center of the bus, and it makes the lightning spark, something like possibility.

[vanjrsstuff]

Astro Invite, Ancient History

LARGO

My first race as an Astronaut War Eagle was the 1978 Astronaut invitational at the Old Horse Arena in a hot, humid Thursday afternoon in early September (which in Florida is essentially August!). We had endured two weeks of two-a-days and two team time trials. A freshman, I was one of the top JV runners on the team. Not "the" top, but one of several. I had prepared as well as I could. I had even gotten a hair cut the week before the race to help with the heat.

Most coaches and teams barely consider JV races. Nick Gailey, our head coach was not like most coaches. Indeed he was unlike any coach I had ever had or would have in my high school or college running career. He was intense. He cared about the JV race. He even noticed that I had gotten a hair cut and said something about it to my dad. He made mention of how our JV team had fared in recent years in this meet in general and against one team in particular.

Nick also had the highest respect for one of our opponents that day. Largo. I do not remember Coach Gailey dissing any team. But Coach talked about Largo with a degree of respect and admiration that dwarfed every other program in the state. And I should add that we did not have a cross country team, it was a program. Twenty five to thirty plus male runners, summer track meets, pre-season letters, a pre season team booklet, a post season results booklet, Gailey girls, Space Coast track club officials, strict in season dietary requirements, strict in season rules (no lateral movement sports, etc), team parties, etc. This was a program with a strong tradition. And Largo matched that and more. Indeed Largo had one thing more than Astronaut. State XC championships. Fortunately Largo was in a different sized school classification, they were largest division 4A while Astronaut was 3A. Maybe that allowed them to be a rival, but not a bitter rival.

If you have read this far, you are probably thinking about now here is the part about some crappy JV race that did not matter. You are right. Nothing but an opening meet JV race on the Florida east coast. A big opening meet with many of the best teams and individuals in the state. Nothing on the line but personal and team pride-and a long summer of training. If you know these schools however you may recognize a name or two on each side. Also by the end of the season Astronaut would have 3 or more JV runners run under 16:00 for 3 miles on legitimate courses. The JV team could realistically have been a top 10 team at the state meet in November.

Both teams were known for a style of running known as "pack running" and for closing fast. Old Horse Arena was a 1.5 mile course so we did 2 laps. After a long opening straightaway of 220 yards or so the first mile was a series of 3 switch backs that worked us back towards the large grass area that has the starting and finish lines and the mile and a half marker. This area also was where the crowds were. Remember, Astronaut has an XC program, not a team. At this meet there were probably over 1000 spectators, not counting XC teams, the Pep band and officials. This was no ordinary high school XC meet. By the half mile mark three Largo runners had established themselves at the front with one War Eagle (Chuck Byrd, rip). I was running with several other teammates a little further back. Phil Stephens, Guy George, ....all runners that would go on to individual and or team state medalists in the years to come. The three runners from Largo were Kevin Crawley, Brian Benedict and a kid named Basil Magee. As we came up to the mile mark we could hear no split times. They were being called, but the roar of the crowd (a JV race mind you!) was too loud. I remember the hair standing up on the back of my neck. The course turned into the back portion of the course, clear of the crowd. The roar replaced by the rasp of heavy breathing. Over the next half mile we ran thru trails to the edge of Sherwood golf course and then turned right down an old dirt road like trail before turning right to the large grass area of the 1.5 mile mark. By this time my teammates and I had closed the gap. Astronaut and Largo packs were firmly entrenched at the front. It was on. Contact had been obtained.

I do not remember the crowd as we went down that long straight past the 1.5 mile mark. The 2 mile mark was around in the grass switch backs at the half mile mark. After 2 miles we switched from pack running to "go for it" stage. We knew those switch backs from many mile repeats run and still to be run (Old Horse Arena had this course for many years; it has a relatively mild change in 1979 she to construction. Further development meant 1979 was the last year of this course). After 2 miles we switched from pack running to "go for it" stage. As we worked out way to the crowds at about a half mile to go, Brian Benedict and I seemed to pull away. I do not remember the crowd at that point as distinctly as in the first lap, but two runners from two programs, a freshman and a sophomore were making this a two man race.

As we ran in the trails and along the golf course The pace began to build. We ran side by side as the course followed a broadly curved "S" configuration with either line trees or palmetto bushes forming outer boundaries. We ran the tangents, side by side, neither wanting to back down. As we approached one pine tree, Brian on my right and the tree in my left i suddenly realized that I had to back off or surge or I was going to hit that tree. I wondered at the time if he was trying to run me into the tree-not maliciously and there was no contact, but there was no giving ground either. I thought that we were two racers fighting for every inch. I also realized that this was going to be decided on the last straightaway and not until then. We turned right to the short, tree covered road which was out of sight of spectators and serene and isolated our struggle. Then appeared from the cave of trees and immediately slowed down to make a sharp, 135(ish) degree turn around one last pine tree and headed to the finish line about 150-180 yards away. At this point I put my head down and kicked for home. I began to slowly pull away. I could feel the slow separation. I thought this race was mine. Within 75 yards to go I began to tighten up. Brian came by me strongly and pulled away for a decisive victory. This was also the first, last and only time I beat Basil Magee who was a fabulously talented runner who was way out of my league and went on to a fantastic high school career. From communication with Coach Haley, Basil is the current (almost 40 years later) school record holder for 880, mile and 2 mile (1:51.8, 4:08.8 and 9:02). I think he ran at U Tennessee in college. Brian Benedict went on to be a sub 4:20 mile in high school and ran at least in junior college at Santa Fe CC in Florida. Third place Kevin Crawely also went on to run sub 4:20 in the mile. Guy George would be 4th overall in cross country at 3A state in 1980 and Phil Stephens was a sub 4:20 miler and state runner up in the mile in 1981 in 3A.

Team results. Astronaut beat Largo 28-31. Per my scrapbook this was the first time in 7 years that Largo boys JV had "lost"- although I am not sure if the is overall or in this particular meet.

Results from the Star Advocate of Titusville: 1. Brian Benedict, L 16:20 2. Van Savell, A 16:21 3. Basil Magee, L, 16:27 4. Kevin Crawley, L 16:37 5. Guy George, A 16:51 6. Phil Stephens, A 16:51 7. Danny Treder, A 16:51 8. Danny Jones, A 16:54 9. Chuck Byrd, A 17:08 10. Anton Smallridge, L 17:13 11. Kevin Reiff, A 17:19 12. Danny Rice, A 17:23 13. Steve Lysnia, L 17:31 14. Rick Higel, L 17:34 15. Randy Settle, Titusville High, 17:35

The last finisher for Astronaut was in 95th place, suggesting over 100 runners in the JV race alone. It is amazing to me as I look at the results that the first 14 all were from only 2 schools. There were 19 scoring teams in the varsity race that day (news papers did not have all teams listed in the results section).

I went on to run many races, state championships, conference meets, regional and national championships (division 2 NCAA_ and hundreds of races over the years. But no race has been mentally re-lived or carried me through tough workouts than my first high school XC race as a freshman in JV against Brian Benedict of Largo High School. No race has captured the purity of competition or the desire of victory of that last half mile in the hot and humid Florida late afternoon in that sultry September race.

[k-ky]

How was Gilles abusive to his family? :o

claps hands tgt OH BOY ok i did have a doc that is like some weird manifesto essay but off the top of my head this is what i rmb.

Towards Jacques: 1) berating him to a point where he gets into some anxiety attack episode whenever gilles is around, the example his mom gave was JV was a careful and coordinated child that never spilt his milk but if Gilles sat at the table he gets so nervous he spills the glass of milk. And then Gilles will berate him for it. JV is not allowed to make mistakes expected of small children his age, he gets scolded by Gilles for anything he did all the time around the clock. 2) JV gets a stress migraine and starts grinding his teeth very hard watching Gilles during race weekends that he needs to be taken away before he has a meltdown. 3) Gilles blatantly plays favorites, being kind and loving to his sister Melanie but not JV, and denies it when everyone around him says so. JV gets berated for the same mistakes Melanie would make but Gilles never scolds Melanie. 4) Rally racing with young JV in his lap and toddler Melanie sleeping in the back seat. 5) Being an absent father busying with his celebrity lifestyle at races (when the family stopped traveling around with him in motorhomes bc the kids need a fucking education at some point lmao) and then being absent also when he does go back bc all he does is ride his boat and helicopter.

Towards his wife Joann: 1) Berates her appearance alot, saying she should go blonde and when she dyed her hair blonde he still didnt like it lol. 2) Selling their house for a stupid racing car when she was pregnant with their second child and had a baby JV to care for without telling her beforehand or even giving her a say (and hes also unemployed lol) . 3) Giving her a motorhome but not bothering with heating so every morning for the sake of herself and baby JV not freezing to death she (PREGNANT) had to climb under the car and use a blowtorch (that gilles so kindly gave her) and heat up the pipes. Sometimes they might explode and hurt her I think. 4) Not being there for most of the visits to the doctor when Joann was pregnant, leaving her heavily pregnant wading through waist deep snow in the freezing Canadian weather also carrying baby JV, with diapers and milk. 5) Constantly complaining about her cooking and publicly berating her about it. 6) Speeding his car dangerously down the highway for a bet when she was pregnant and next to him in the car. 7) HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH ANOTHER WOMAN FOR A YEAR +++ AND IT BEING AN OPEN SECRET THAT HIS WIFE AND HIS KIDS KNEW ABT ANYWAYS.

[thatone16216]

Eustass Kid x fem reader

Chapter 3

I meet up with Bonney and we head to the stadium for cheer practice. The two of us walk down the hill to the stadium with our arms linked, giggling. "Sooooo? How are things going with Red?" She asks me, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously. I groan at her, but smile, already thinking about him. "Amazing," I breathe. I begin to tell her about art class when a flash of red catches my eye. I stop, in case it's Kid, but it isn't. It's the football coach/gym teacher Red-Haired Shanks. He's badly hiding a flask under his jacket. I swear that if the football team did suck, he would have been fired for his alcoholism by now.

But our team doesn't suck. We go to states every year, where we always get second. Not this time, though. 

Kid is captain again this year, and I know that he vowed to not only lead our team to states for the fourth year in a row, but win states. He's the best player on the team, and he knows it. Everyone knows it. Ace, Killer, and Zoro are captains alongside him, and the three of them have good D1 scholarships for college ball, so with the four of them leading this team, we know we're going to win this year.

He made the JV team when we were in seventh grade, and has been on varsity since eighth. He is the youngest captain the team has ever had, and holds the record for most TDs scored in season, which he breaks every year. I know for a fact that he and I will most likely go to the same college, because we both have scholarship offers from some of the top schools in the country. He's thinking Notre Dame, but he hasn't decided yet.

As for me? Undecided. I have no idea where I want to go for college, only that I want to leave. We meet up with Nami and Vivi in the locker room, changing into shorts and matching training bras with our team's logo on them. Today's the day for new members to try out, as well as existing team members. Me, Nami, Bonney, and Vivi have been on the team for years and are the captains this year, meaning we don't have to try out again this year. We make our way to the field where we're training in, walking over to our coach, Coach Robin. 

Coach Robin is also my history teacher, and she's gorgeous. Pretty much everybody thinks so. The people trying out start shuffling onto the field and Robin calls their attention. Me and my friends stand in perfect formation behind her. I scan the faces of the girls trying out. No boys this year, which is disappointing. Boys tend to gather more attention because there aren't a lot of them. They're also better spotters. Tashigi's there, I notice with an annoyed frown. I've never seen her try out before, but she also could very well have been an early washout at tryouts the last few years. I never really pay attention to who's trying out with me, always more focused on the routine. 

"... Captains [Name], Nami, Bonney, and Vivi will teach you the routine you will be following." Vivi claps her hands together, stepping up with a big smile on her face. "Okay guys! So first-"

The sound of guys' laughter cuts her off. We all turn toward a group of eight men, three of them laughing and five of them... not. I study them and let out an amused snort before I could help myself. Ace, Killer, Law, Kid, and Heat were all dressed in cheap cheerleading costumes with pompoms, their hair all pulled into pigtails above their heads. Ace and Law looked the most ridiculous, as their hair wasn't long enough to do more than sprout little poofs through a hair tie, while Killer and Wire looked fantastic, due to their long hair. And Kid? 

He looked like he was gonna murder someone. Specifically his teammates and coach.

Shanks, Zoro, and Wire were all watching with amused smirks on their faces, openly laughing at whatever was going on. Robin raises an amused brow while us girls try not to giggle too loudly. I bite my lip to keep from drooling, because damn, those boys have legs, quads, and asses. Kid in particular looks delicious. 

I glance at Bonney, who I notice is unashamedly checking Ace out, though Ace seems to be looking right back at her. I squash my questions down, but I want to know, when did that happen? I shoot Bonney a look that she returned with a nod toward Kid... who is staring directly at my ass. I flush, because the shorts are admittedly short and tight, and make eye contact with Kid. Kid just grins devilishly and licks his lips.

"Shanks. What have we here?" Robin asks. Shanks laughs. "Well, you see, I have to punish these boys. They were a little late to practice today, due to detentions they got. There was another one too, a hyper little junior, but I seem to have lost him." I roll my eyes, because that had to be Luffy. A nod from Ace tells me that my suspicions were correct. 

Robin nods. "Well we're running tryouts right now. We could always use more members to try out! Of course, they'll be going to the final round of tryouts anyways, regardless of how bad they are. We need to make sure they're properly punished, after all." I grin evilly at the other captains, realizing that we hold the fate of Kid and the others in our hands. We all turn to the boys in the back of the room, where each of them looked back at us with a gulp. I smirk. "All right! Work your splits!"

Tryouts have been going on for fifteen minutes, and I swear, Killer is a natural. Maybe I can get him to participate in winter cheer rather than wrestling this year? The others, it varies. As far as "dancing" and acrobatics, Ace and Killer are the best. Heat's okay, but not great. Law is a good flyer, and Kid is absolutely awful at everything. I have to suppress a giggle every time I watch him.

"You doing okay?" I ask, watching him struggle with the footwork Vivi is teaching. His eyes are scrunched in concentration, staring down at his feet. "Just... peachy," he grunts. I giggle quietly, watching him try to do a back handspring. He stares in disbelief as I do one effortlessly. "Show-off," he grumbles. I smile at him and walk away, being sure to shake my ass a little. I can feel his gaze on me, so I do a backbend into a bridge and blow him a kiss upside down. I giggle at the red on his face. It almost matches his hair.

Tryouts end and we had three new additions, plus the people who were on the team last year and came back. As for the new additions, there was a sophomore girl who's name I forgot, a junior named Kaya who's one of Luffy's friends, and Tashigi. She, surprisingly, made it this year, even though for the past three years she had been knocked out pretty early on. I guess she's been practicing.

I walk to the parking lot, checking my phone. My parents were supposed to pick me up, but a text from my father says that they found something more important to do. I sigh and put my phone away, looking for any of my friend's cars to give me a ride home. As I search, Kid comes up behind me. "Hey, mouse," he greets. I smile up at him. "Yeah?" Kid swallows, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. It's amazing how cocky he can be in one moment, yet so shy the next. "You need a ride?" He asks. I sigh and nod. "Yeah, actually. That'd be great." His face lights up and he takes my hand, gently. "My car's parked in the other lot," he says. I smile and follow him as he tugs me along. 

Neither of us let go of our hands until we get to the car.

[ricearoniaddict]

I fucking love life

That’s something I haven’t felt so fully in forever

For the first time in I don’t know how long I feel alive. Truly alive. I feel so full of love and joy. Love for my family.

Love for my friends

Love for myself

Love for everything

I feel lucky to be alive and be able to experience everything that comes with it

Is this how neurotypicals feel?

It’s a hot summer day and I’m sweating my ass off while my hair falls all over my face and I’m still happy to be alive.

I’m scrolling through instagram and I’m filled with love every time something abt my interests comes up.

I’m watching the new Haikyuu movie and I feel sucked in. I have a loser smile all over my face for at least 85% of the movie and the other parts are either filled with me being on the edge of my seat or crying while still smiling.

I’m playing my dad the new JV&B album as I find out that they’re having a show in Nashville that I might be able to go to and suddenly I can’t wait for September.

I’m listening to HOT TO GO and can’t help myself from dancing through the whole song even if my friends laugh at me.

I’m getting ready for a party full of people I’ve never met and I’m so exited that I just might talk to some of them

I’m sitting outside and can’t help but admire everything around me, welcoming the suns heat on my skin

I’m styling my natural hair and I grin seeing my curls come back after straightening them for so long

And most importantly

I write about love rather than sorrow

I finally want to write about love