#A stupidly long essay that nobody will ever read but I want to get this off my chest

[worldssmallestghost]

Pendragon and being an adult.

So, I've been making a lot of Pendragon Adventures posts while I'm here. I found the series when I was in middle school. I started with the first book and got hooked pretty quickly. I've always been a sucker for, well, for lack of better terms, isekai stuff.

I spent the next few years chasing the books down, being there when books nine and 10 were released. So, if I was a teen when I read these books, why am I talking about them now, as a thirty something year old? I've grown to read more adult series, I've begun even writing my own dark fantasy novel. Why am I here?

I was in a dark place during 2020, but who wasn't? I didn't have much going for me aside from a job that had only one perk; being able to listen to audiobooks while performing my menial tasks. I decided, after finishing A Song of Ice and Fire, that I'd move onto something more light-hearted. In hindsight, yeah, maybe as an adult reading a book meant to deliver darker themes to kids was a bit of a weird decision.

I started listening and begun to pick up on themes I hadn't in my youth. Sure as a teen, I noticed the themes of hardship and found family and friendship pushing through even the darkest times.

But as an adult during these... Quite frankly, uncertain times...

Book six is what made me think. The themes of fascism and disease and humanity's stubbornness in the face of what's right, being blinded by hatred...

I envy my younger self for not being able to identify with those messages. With finding them to just be fantasy elements made to raise the stakes in the story.

I finished Raven Rise recently. I'm on Soldiers of Halla currently.

Ravinia is real, to an extent. Not literally, Halla and Alexander Naymeer and the travelers and Saint Dane aren't real. But the fanaticism? The very real levels of approaching fascism that humanity is speeding towards, despite the fact that some people who *lived through that* are still alive?

God.

I wrote earlier about learning to appreciate Soldiers of Halla's ending. As a teen, I hated it. I hated the idea that Bobby would throw away his friends and memories. I hated that everything had just gone "the way it was supposed to be". I wrote about how as an adult who's gone through some really hard times in my life, I can see why Bobby would throw all that away. Throw his trauma away. He lost a lot, but gained peace. Something I, an adult with stress and trauma disorders, wish I could do.

"Hobey ho" has stuck in my mind all these years as a triumphant "I CAN DO THIS!" hail Mary. As dorky as it sounds, on my wedding day, I had planned to say it in my vows to the person I love more than life itself, someone who has never read these books. Nobody in the room besides me ever had. I wanted to take this next challenge in my life on with the same enthusiasm as an over-energetic aquaneer about to take on a space fascist.

It brings me back to a time I was more care-free, where my biggest problems were if the girl I liked wanted to say she liked me back. While also reminding me of a grim future lurking around the corner, and that there are good people out there who just want the human species to make the right choices.

Once I'm finished book ten, I'm gong to listen to them all again in a row and then leave the series for a while. Until I feel I've reached another turning point in my life worthy of looking back at Bobby Pendragon's struggles through space and time.

I'll ride down the flume again someday and face whatever comes next with two words in my heart.

Hobey ho.

[a-simple-imagine]

Day 12 - Adolescence Syndrome pt. 1

Synopsis: Being the daughter of a murderous death eater can be a lot of work and one day something really weird starts to happen but luckily you strike up a friendship with the brightest witch of your age and she’s determined to help.

Pairing: Hermione Granger x LeStrange!reader 

Words: 1.2k+

A/N - The anime this is based off is called ‘Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai’ but you don’t have to know anything about it to read the story. It’s a little weird but should work out as a sweet story

Warnings - mentions of bullying and curses

The name LeStrange was praised by many and feared by many more. A name that was both a privilege and a curse. Your family was part of the sacred twenty-eight but with your mother locked up in Azkaban for being a loyal death eater who used the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottom family, you didn't receive a lot of respect. In fact, it was pretty much the exact opposite. Whenever you mentioned your last name or mother, things always got awkward. Often described as eccentric or just straight-up psychotic; you were the weird girl with the insane mother. In turn, it was no surprise that you ended up isolating yourself from others. It was simply easier than dealing with the names and funny looks. Stupidly at the grand old age of eleven, you were convinced things would change when you received your letter in the mail inviting you to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. These kids didn't know you or anything about your family.

A cloudy dull sky cast the alley in dim light as you were dragged around Diagon alley in search of supplies for school. A few paces behind your aunt and uncle and their eleven-year-old son who couldn't stop asking for things. As distinguished as your family was, they didn't stop the odd looks and creepy side-eye from other shoppers. Did they even know who you were? A long sigh passes your lips as an old woman measures the length of your arms for your new Hogwarts robe, she drones on about how exciting it was to be going and how much fun she had back in her day. You weren't in a particularly chatty mood but you could hear Malfoy chatting to someone while he was getting fitted for his. He seemed excited to be going to school; he was bragging about how he was going to be put in Slytherin. Oh how you were hoping he'd get Hufflepuff or something, that would destroy him. It was a long process in Olivanders trying to get a wand; you went through at least twenty before a wand finally chose you. Your Aunt, Narcissa, held your hand as you walked along feeling less excited as the day went on. As Lucius took Draco somewhere else, she let you pick out a pet to take with you. They had never seemed to be pet people but you guess this was their way of cheering you up; you decided on a pure white cat with shimmering blue eyes. They assured you before leaving for Hogwarts that everything would be fine but they overestimated your confidence. The train to the school was long and lonely so you buried your face in a book and thus your Hogwarts journey began. Everything was fine until they called out your full name; of course, you were put in Slytherin as well as Draco who had been ignoring you since the train. Nobody was surprised. Your mother was also in Slytherin. Probably your father too but whose to know. Once students discovered your name they immediately started treating you differently just like everyone else in your life.

Looking back you probably could have done more to counter the rumours and sly comments that were being spread around. Maybe if you had tried to be more open and friendly than you wouldn't be so alone now. Shunned by other students, you spent all your free time by yourself. Obviously, you have classes with other students but they all had their own friendship groups. Discovering the joys of the school library, soon enough you started spending a lot of time looking through the shelves and reading different books. You could spend hours and hours in this dark and dusty place hidden away in the corner. That was actually how you ended up meeting her, or more like, how you ended up first talking to her in a social manner. Hermione Granger. The two of you actually shared a lot of classes but it wasn't like you had ever talked properly. Nowadays you talked more because over your time at Hogwarts the two of you had bonded in the library and started studying together. She was pretty much the only one who didn't back away at the mere mention of your name.

"So are you going home for Christmas?" You ask softly as you turn the page of your history book.

"I am," Hermione confirms with a small nod. "Are you?"

"I'm not too sure yet," The Malfoy family weren't particularly bad towards you but they almost always asked about school and it was very awkward having to admit you didn't really fit in. Your Aunt says you should be proud of your name but it's hard when it's the reason everyone seems to think you're gonna do something bad towards them. "Might try Christmas at Hogwarts this year."

"If you don't mind me asking, since you're mother is... do you stay with your father?"

That's right, nobody in this school knew anything about you. Did they know that you were related to Malfoy? It wasn't like he ever talked to you unless he was forced to. "No. I actually stay with the Malfoy family."

"The Malfoys?"

"They're the only side of my family, I know. They're nice enough people, if not a little strict. My aunt really cares though and I appreciate them taking me in."

"Wait, so Malfoy is your cousin?" She seemed a little surprised by the revelation. You assumed most people knew that Narcissa was related to your mother but guess it was still weird to say out loud.

"Yeah," you nod. "Sadly.".

"Now that I think about it, it makes sense but you two are nothing alike despite being raised together,"

"Yeah... to be honest, his parents aren't as strict when it comes to me," A gentle sigh left your lips. "I guess it's because I'm not their child plus growing up as a LeStrange instead of a Malfoy meant we were always treated differently by those around us,"

"People have always treated you differently?"

"Pretty much. The name LeStrange is like a bad omen has been for years now- everyone thinks I'm exactly like my mother."

"That's hard to believe considering how quiet and shy you are." Hermione looks to you for a moment before going back to working through her equations.

"Is that a compliment?" You wonder, continuing to flip through your textbook. Unravelling some parchment, you grab your quill to start working out a plan.

"It's certainly not a bad thing," Hermione offers a tiny smile. "I'm sorry that people are so awful to you just because of who your mother is."

"No need to apologise, It's not your fault," You assure her. "I'm sorry that Draco and his friends are so awful to you."

"I can handle Malfoy and his minions but you have to deal with everyone."

"I don't mind," Was that a lie? You couldn't be sure. Over time you certainly had grown used to it but that didn't necessarily mean that you were just okay with it. Sometimes it got to you more than other days. "Nowadays people have sort of just started ignoring me all together which means I can study in peace."

"That's a bonus," That was one way to look at it at least. In big block letters, you write the word 'Plan' and start writing some notes to help with the introduction to your essay.

"I wish everyone would leave me alone when I try to study." No, You don't. You think but don't say. It wasn't like you wanted everyone to completely ignore your existence.

"Stuck with me then," You nudge her a little. "Everyone else will run a mile."

// NEXT

[ghostietea]

I would love to hear those Akito headcanons! (Also your Akito metas are amazing :D)

Thanks!!! As requested, here's some of the Akito headcanons from my masterdoc:

-Akito slowly and intimidatingly slinks around the estate because she is a powerful and scary God certainly not because she will pass out if she stands up too fast

-at the end of Furuba Akito should have permanently ended things with Shigure and then walked around acting like a 50 year old twice divorced woman even though she's like around 20 and they weren't even formally dating. Ex: Akito, wearing a huge vintage fur coat she found in some closet over slacks and a blouse, taking a sip from a glass filled with a beverage comprised of like one drop of wine and a bunch of cranberry juice: "Just kicked my ex out for the second time. Good riddance, you see-"

-Stole an eyeliner from Kagura one time when she was like 13 and promptly stabbed herself in the eye with it on accident and blamed Kagura.

-Can't even use a microwave. Don't let her cook your kitchen will burn

-When she was a baby Ayame tried to recreate the presentation of Simba with her and dropped her on the floor

-The one time she broke a bone it was because she got pissed off and punched a wall really hard

-Didn't like lit class. Likes reading but hates things like "effort" and "critical thinking." Payed someone else to write the essays she mailed in to school.

-Lesbian but doesn't know what a gay is. Doesn't think anyone suspects anything when she's climbing all over Kureno and Shigure not just because she's generally clingy but because she doesn't know gay people exist. Someone (Hana) has to stage an intervention to inform her that she is gay years in the future after months of everyone having to listen to her talk about how pretty and neat girls are as part of what she thinks is her unlearning being a raging misogynist.

-Demigirl she/they nonbinary but doesn't figure it out for years after she stopped presenting as a man

-Gets anxious about how clumsy Tohru is because of… that incident. One time saw Tohru fall down a flight of stairs and panicked and now she links arms with her anytime they go on stairs.

-Actually sorta likes dressing androgynously when it's her choice. Chronic dressing like a gay person syndrome. 

-Didn't keep her hair long. Cut it off after like a month in a moment of passion with a pair of kitchen shears and then had to reluctantly slink off to have someone make it look presentable.

-Secretly loves plushies but is too embarrassed to buy them for herself. Slowly acquires a hoard postcanon and can bury herself in a pile of them.

-She's very light and can be easily picked up and carried around by any of her friends that want to

-Googled "is hitting people bad?"

-Hana can call Akki over by pspspsps ing at her like a cat and Akki HATES it but still falls for it every time

-Doesn't get anything more than a flip phone and work laptop until postcanon. Generally REALLY sheltered, would get addicted to the first video game she got to play. Probably Animal Crossing.

-Secretly read every book of Warriors as a middleschooler but it became unsecret when she got into a fight with Haru about who could do a better human!Scourge cosplay.

-As an adult Kisa is taller than her.

-Mega lightweight with pretty much everything. Will either LOOSE IT and have an anxious breakdown or space out staring at the wall for 3 hours if she drinks coffee. Would probably be strongly affected by too much sugar. Strictly prohibited from drinking alcohol.

-As a child tried to convince the boys that the zodiac girls all had cooties

-Either can't swim or taught herself in her stupidly large tub.

-Sensory issues, does badly with bright lights, loud/annoying noises, non neutral temperatures, ect.

-Has perpetual cold icicle hands

-Crashes through several rebellious teen phases as an adult trying to find herself postcanon. Bleaches her hair and dyes it some unnatural color in the bathroom, immediately regrets it and dyes it black again. Nobody ever knows.

-One time ate a leaf because she was bored and has -10 impulse control

-Makes other people order for her at restaurants 

-Postcanon she has a pencil box FULL of animal shaped squishies Tohru gave her

-Was one of those kids that got A's without studying (also canonically homeschooled and ik that crowd)

-Starts painting her nails black after she meets Hana. Likes the symbolism 

-Called Hatori her brother by accident once and they both silently agreed to never speak of it

-Rin anonymously mailed her the "I'm sorry women" hat

-Realized she had almost no interests and started ping ponging between hobbies as she tried and then ditched them upon not being immediately amazing at said hobbies. Eventually is given encouragement to keep on trying instead of giving up because she believes she won't be good at it. One of the things she liked was doing stuff with flowers, but she initially ditched it after she killed all the plants she tried to take care of (@ Akki, lying flopped down on a windowsill: Why is everything I touch destroyed… @ her dead flowers: *are dead*). She goes back to it though when she realizes accidentally offing some plants is not a universal statement about her morality and eventually figures it out. Is told to get a personal creative project to work on by her therapist and she sits in the garden and makes a little journal with entries about the flowers and their symbolism complete with illustrations. 

-Connected, has a weirdly large amount of flower symbolism and lore memorised postcanon because of this (@ Tohru: wow a pretty flower! @ Akito: Ah yes, the poppy, did you know it symbolizes death, dreams, an eternal sleep… though is an eternal sleep not as good as death? Are dreams a small taste of what's to come? Also did you know they contain opi-" @ Tohru, confused but likes listening to her friends talking about their interests: 😶)

-Would probably do good with a pet cat for emotional support once she gets over the Sohma biases and can be trusted to take care of an animal.

-The Sohma mansion is always out of hot water because Akito uses it all taking hour long angst baths in the giant tub. 

-Uo+Hana+Akito have a sleepover were Uo and Akito are talking and are just like wow we both sure had a thing for the same dude because of varied ulterior reasons haha that certainly doesn't mean anything and Hana just sits there wanting to bang their stupid heads together like rocks

-Due to general isolation and probable lack of exposure to "memery," I believe that Akito Sohma would fall for the "updog" trap, in this essay I will-

-Akito full on doesn't remember how old she is. Someone's just like "how old r u?" and she's just like (internally) "How long have I endured existing in this wretched world? Hmm" *sweats in the passage of time doesn't seem real when you dissociate in a dark room all day*. Nobody else remembers exactly either. (That's why Shigure put an "I think" on the end of his "he's in his 20's" lol) Hatori can remember if he needs to but that's because he has her medical records. One time one of the younger juuni is like how old is he??? And they talk for 30 minutes and only come up with "has to be close-ish to but older than Yuki and Kagura. Didn't go to school. Was he born or does he just exist??? 

-Akki would be that one person that's always cold and has to be lent sweaters by their friends when they're out. You go into Akki's room postcanon and there's a pile of sweaters on a chair that where SUPPOSED to be washed and returned but just haven't been yet

-If Akito was an animal she'd be a cat... claws, dramatically lounging around all day, climbing all over people, attacking and then being like??? But I want love??? I did nothing wrong??? She's got the vibes.

[flintsjohn]

if you're still taking prompts, how about one where michael realizes how fondly alex looks at him?

uhh so i didn’t proofread this and also almost forgot to post it so i’m sorry if it’s messy? also very canon-divergent with a hell of a lot of oblivious!michael and all of their friends being awesome :)

I.

“But do you think he likes likes me?”

Max heaves out a sigh and lifts his eyes from the worn copy of War and Peace he’s reading while chewing on an apple. Michael returns the look nervously, biting down on his thumbnail. His eyes fleet to Alex, sitting on a table not too far from them, laughing with Maria and Liz.

“Yes, Michael,” Max finally says after he swallows. “I don’t know why you keep asking me that, bud. You know how he looks at you.”

Michael takes one last moment to look at Alex, all smiles and shining black-lined eyes, and then turns back to Max with a pout. “He never looks at me.” Not once, in three years of high school together and one that Michael has been crushing on him, and not in that way anyway. “I had to steal his guitar for him to even look my way.” That had been a good day for Michael, crush-wise, even though he had been accused of being a thief which in that case, to be fair, he had been.

Max doesn’t seem convinced, by the state of his raised eyebrows, but Michael shrugs and goes back to his sad little salad, trying not to think of Alex Manes or his stupid eyes, rings, outfits, whatever.

II.

Michael has a physics essay to turn in for which the deadline is in three hours and if he doesn’t finish this now he’s going to be fucked, but Isobel doesn’t seem to care. He’s not even sure why she’s here, because visiting for the weekend doesn’t count when she’s at fashion school fifteen minutes away from his dorm on the UNM campus.

He’s only half listening to her latest rant on her relationship problems with Rosa as he writes his conclusion, but when he’s finally sent in the damned thing, cracked his back and focused back on her, she’s apparently moved on, because she’s now asking, “Why don’t you just ask him out?”

“Uh?” he says stupidly, eyes burning from being focused for so long on the computer screen. He rubs at them and yawns, reaching for a cup of coffee that is now lukewarm.

“Alex, dumbdumb. You know, your life-long crush.”

Michael snorts because yeah, right. Like he’s just going to gather up the courage like that after three years spent pining dramatically. Besides, Alex is always being swarmed by admirers nowadays, college having given him the freedom he’s never had in high school under his father’s thumb. He’s going on dates left and right with guys far more deserving of him than Michael is. He’s tried saying as much to Isobel, but she apparently hasn’t heard a word of it.

“You know, and I can’t believe I’m saying this because God knows I’m the only functional human being in our family, but Max is right.” She sighs, flicks him on the forehead, and finishes her sentence as she moves to the door like she’d come into his dorm just to tell him that. “You should take the blinders off and see how he looks at you.”

III.

It’s not like Michael and Alex aren’t friends. They are, ever since senior year of high schol, when they bonded over shitty childhoods and music. They still hang out in college – living in the same building, it would be weird if they didn’t – and their friend group has remained pretty much the same since high school in Roswell, so they can’t really avoid each other. So Michael knows, on a logical level, that Alex likes spending time with him. It’s just that he doesn’t think Alex will ever see him that way, and by now everyone but Alex knows about Michael’s crush and they’re not subtle about it.

“So, you two fucked yet?” Rosa asks as she drops on the free chair next to him in the middle of the busy café as Michael waits for Alex’s shift to finish so they can have their study-session. He rushes to shush her, even though Alex is so busy behind the counter that he couldn’t possibly have heard her. He blushes as Rosa rolls her eyes, and goes back to his text book, drumming the page with his pencil.

“Sooner or later you’re gonna have to talk to him,” she reminds him, not unkindly (she’s never as insolent as Isobel is, though her crass language would suggest otherwise). She takes a sip of her latte and stares at the busy crowd, probably waiting for her girlfriend’s blonde head to pop up.

“We talk.”

“Not about things that matter, Mikey-boy.” She grins at the glare he directs her way at the nickname and continues easily, “Like the fact that you love when he smiles and lovingly bats his eyelashes at you while you go on and on about science facts nobody else cares about.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, dropping his head on his book and slamming it down a couple of times. Sometimes he wonders why he’s friends with people like Rosa, who won’t know when to drop some topics, but then he always remembers that Isobel would have his balls if he didn’t make an effort with her girlfriend, so all he ever does in the end is shrug and try to change the subject or deny. “And he doesn’t do… That.”

“Dude. I’m in a band with him. He talks about you all the time.” He picks his head up just in time to catch yet another of Rosa’s patented eye-rolls, and then she’s squealing and jumping up to throw herself into Isobel’s arms. He makes a gagging sound as they kiss as he does every time he has to see that, without fail, but the thought of Alex talking about him when he’s not there keeps nagging him for the rest of the afternoon, even when the man himself joins him with complimentary coffee.

IV.

“Maria, please,” he begs, tugging at her arm for her to stay.

“Jeez, Michael, it’s just Alex. You’ll be fine.” She shakes her head and drops a kiss to his cheek before waving at him and going back to the bar to join the rest of the girls. Hell of a night for Max to be busy and leave him at the mercy of the meanest group of ladies he’s ever met. And, well, Alex.

It’s just Alex, Maria says. Michael snorts and shakes his head, thumb rubbing at the condensation on his beer bottle. Just Alex is always Michael’s problem. He gets tongue-tied and stuttery around Alex, the last four years of shared life experiences forgotten when Alex as much as looks his way.

Which is what happens next, more or less. Alex gets back with his drink and an added sway to his hips which Michael knows, because he’s had to witness it countless times before, means he’s already been hit on by the first guy of the night, and Michael settles in for a long, long night of sulking in his beer.

Thankfully, around the third guy that strikes up a conversation with Alex and offers him a drink, Liz comes to save him. Michael really, really loves Liz, and he hopes Max will pull his head out of his ass and ask her to marry him sooner rather than later so he can have her as his sister-in-law, because Liz is awesome. He tells her as much, because he’s tipsy and loose-tongued enough now that he’s not alone with Alex anymore. She laughs and wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him to the dance floor.

Five minutes later, however, Michael feels like taking back everything he’s just stated about Liz, because she’s swaying with him so she can yell in his ear. “Why did you let him leave?” She draws back to catch Michael’s reaction, which is just a frown, before she continues, “We left you two alone and with alcohol! It was the perfect opportunity, Mikey!”

Scratch awesome, all the girls he knows are downright evil.

V.

Pool night with the boys becomes a thing in college, and they bring it back to Roswell when they all end up moving back. No matter how busy Alex gets with teaching, or how swamped with deadlines for his current writing project Max is, or how tired Kyle is from shifts, or how forgetful Michael gets with new projects in his lab, they try to keep their one night a week going.

Michael is getting drinks at the bar, making small talk with Mimi, when Kyle joins him, clapping him on the back before he takes two of the glasses from him. He’s coming off a double shift and almost missed boys night, though he refused to force them to reschedule, so Michael guesses from his crazy hair and shining eyes that he’s still running high on caffeine. Unfortunately, a caffeinated Kyle is a chatty Kyle.

“So, tell me, what did I miss? It’s been a while since our last night out.” Michael throws a look his way and shrugs at the expectant look on Kyle’s face, which earns him a pout. “C’mon, man, as your best friend outside of your siblings-“

“Liz is my best friend.”

“As your best friend,” Kyle repeats more forcefully, glaring at him until Michael accepts the statement with another shrug, “You should talk to me about this stuff.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Kyle.”

Kyle’s expression drops at that, and he stops to put the drinks down on a random table so he can turn on Michael, even though they haven’t reached the pool table they’ve commandeered for the night yet. “What do you mean nothing?”

“I mean,” Michael sighs, running a hand through his curls. He throws a glance Alex’s way, but he’s deep in conversation with Max and doesn’t seem to notice Kyle is holding him hostage, “Nothing happened.”

“But you went on a date.” Michael nods, taking a sip of his beer since it looks like Kyle isn’t going to release him any time soon. “And you kissed. He told me you two kissed!” Another nod, and Kyle frowns again. “So?”

“So what? He doesn’t want a relationship, Kyle.”

“Did he tell you that?” Kyle crosses his arms over his chest, studying Michael as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet. Alex hasn’t actually said that, not in as many words, but Michael can read the signs, and he knows that date was a mistake. Kyle doesn’t seem to agree, because he mutters, “Por Dios, que idiota eres.”

“I speak Spanish.”

“I know! I want you to understand what a dumbass you are!” Kyle pushes a finger into his chest, and Michael barely has time to mutter an ow before Kyle’s hands are on his cheeks and he’s forced to look into the other man’s eyes, which is weird because he hasn’t been this close to Kyle’s face since they drunkenly made out at his graduation party.

“Now, you listen to me, Guerin,” Kyle says determinedly, “You go there, free Alex from Max, and ask him out again. I will not lose the bet because of your obliviousness.”

VI.

“Oh,” Michael breathes as the pictures pop up on the big screen set up appositely for the slideshow. He tried to avoid it, of course, worried about what photos Isobel would be able to unearth, but it was non-negotiable in Isobel’s wedding plan, and unfortunately Alex had been on her side. Alex, who now sighs happily and cuddles closer to him with an inquisitive noise. “That’s- That’s what they always meant.”

“With what, babe?” Alex presses a kiss to his cheek and entwines their fingers, both of them smiling sheepishly when their rings clink together. Three hours haven’t been enough to get used to that (Michael isn’t sure a lifetime will be enough to get used to the fact that he’s just married the love of his life).

“The way you look at me,” Michael whispers, just for them to hear. He nods at the screen, which is now showing a picture of them in college, a guitar in each of their laps, heads bowed together as they play. Michael’s eyes are focused on his fingers in the photo, but Alex is looking at him, an incredibly fond look in his eyes. He has the exact same look in most of their pictures together, and Michael gasps as he looks down to find it replicated on his husband, eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Yeah,” Michael breathes, pressing his forehead to Alex’s, “That look.”

Alex hums, pressing closer to Michael like he would want to fuse them together if he could. He smiles as he drops a kiss to the corner of Michael’s lips, causing him to shiver when his next words brush against his skin like a caress. “I never look away.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @kayefraser!

I hope you like it and sorry for the rather elaborate storyline lol. It kind of got away from me. Updates will be weekly as fic is completed.

Read on AO3

*****

Step Into The Circle

Chapter 1

: The AcademyChapter Text

The bell rang and but Stiles was so engrossed that he didn’t realise he’d be late until Scott appeared next to him and grabbed him by the sleeve of his uniform.

‘Dude!’ His huge brown eyes were pleading. ‘We’re going to be late!’

‘Shit.’ Stiles dropped the book he was scouring through and made a face. ‘Harris already hates me. He’s going to take pleasure in turning me into something unnatural if I’m late again this week.’

‘I know.’ Scott bundled him out of his chair and towards the library exit. ‘Come on, if we cut through the back quad we could still make it on time.’

‘The back quad.’ Stiles skidded to a halt. ‘No way, man. That’s where the seniors hang out.’

‘So?’ Scott frowned. ‘It’s the quickest way.’

‘Yes, that’s true.’ Stiles squirmed while he tried to come up with a reasonable answer. ‘It’s just…’ He looked at Scott and saw the judgement written all over his face. ‘Oh, come on. Like you’ve never made an ass out of yourself in front of Allison before.’

‘Allison at least knows I like her, which is why she’s my girlfriend.’ Scott countered, folding his arms. ‘You’ve been pining over Derek for an entire five years and all you’ve managed to do is electrocute him and avoid him in the corridors.’

‘Ugh.’ Stiles hung his head. ‘I know. It’s just he’s got those stupid eyes that change colour and shoulders for days and legs that don't quit…’ He trailed off, his eyes glazing over a little in the face of the unhuman hotness that was Derek Sebastian Hale (and Stiles was definitely not telling how he’d broken into the admin office to compulsively read Derek’s student record and so find out his middle name).

The second bell rang and they both nearly jumped out of their skins.

‘Crap.’ Stiles’ shoulders drooped. ‘We’re so fucked.’

‘Speak for yourself, buddy.’ Scott grumbled, dragging him down the corridor. ‘If Harris gives us detention, you’re doing all my laundry for a week.’

-

Harris did indeed give them detention, his pale blue eyes gleaming when Scott and Stiles attempted to sneak into the back of the lecture hall unseen. Now he stood in front of them, an unpleasant smirk on his face as he handed back their assignments from the previous week.

‘Stilinski.’ His lip curled in a sneer. ‘You’re lucky that your acceptance to the State Academy of Alchemy was not my decision to make or you’d be bounced out of here so quickly you wouldn’t even hit the ground for a hundred yards.’ He unceremoniously dropped a sheaf of papers on Stiles’ desk and kept moving and Stiles picked them up. He glared at the red ‘F’ at the top of his paper and fumed. Next to him Scott gave him a sympathetic look.

‘Sorry.’ he whispered. ‘I know you spent most of the time helping me with mine.’

‘It’s okay.’ Stiles muttered back. It was true though. Scott was an appallingly untalented military alchemist, his powers more in line with natural influences. He excelled at biological alchemy used for healing and making things grow but because his father Colonel Rafael McCall was a high up in the State Alchemy hierarchy, Scott had been forced to enroll instead of taking up a position in the medical arts he’d been offered by the hospital Melissa McCall worked for. Thankfully, he’d been taken under the wing of Senior Medic Alan Deaton and Stiles desperately hoped that he’d be allowed to apprentice to the older alchemist because Scott made a terrible soldier.

There was a smug noise a couple of seats down from them and Stiles leaned forward a little to see Lydia Martin giving her assignment a pleased look, flicking her perfect strawberry blond braid over one shoulder. He didn’t need to see it to know that she’d scored a perfect A+. Lydia was arrogant and beautiful and rumoured to be more brilliant than anyone else at the academy. She specialised in particularly complicated alchemy and the darker rumours hinted at forbidden transmutations. Stiles had thought she was the most amazing creature on the planet all the way through school. Of course that was before he’d joined the Academy, Lydia had ended up being his best friend instead of anything else and he'd discovered that terrifyingly brilliant was actually his type.

Next to her was another young woman, this one with a long dark braid and dimples that could serve as water wells in their own right. Allison Argent was another legacy. Her father and grandfather were both high ranking state alchemists, as had her mother when she was still alive, and while she only managed general transmutations, Allison was a very skilled fighter and expert marksman. She could transmute practically anything into a weapon and Stiles had seen Scott actually cry over how perfect her martial form was. Thankfully she was also sunshine personified and their friend, otherwise the two of them would never have passed their weapons module the year before.

Stiles sat back and regarded his essay. He knew Harris hated him and was used to poor grades. His own alchemy was something quite unique, unlike Harris’ relatively poor attempts at chimeric magic that he never got quite right. It had come from his father’s side of the family, although Noah Stilinski was better known as a soldier than an alchemist. His father was a brilliant man in his own right, even without magic, and he ran the City’s Watch with an even handed fairness. It was widely said that he was the most honest man in the State Military and very much respected, which was why Stiles always felt like he was a colossal disappointment. He was considered a troublemaker and upstart, his electrical alchemy thought to be highly unstable and a danger to those around him.

Class was finally over and he trudged out, the others following him. He was so morose, he didn’t even try and stop Lydia from snatching his paper.

‘Oh my.’ Her dark green eyes were narrowed as she read the scathing comments Harris had left. ‘You do realise that you could absolutely have him for bullying with this bullshit.’

‘Don’t.’ Stiles took it back from her. ‘I’m not even a qualified alchemist yet. You know they’d take his side if I made a complaint.’

‘It’s not right through.’ Allison’s mouth turned down. ‘I could talk to my dad if you want?’

‘Oh no.’ Stiles shook his head vehemently. ‘That is definitely not happening.’

‘Fine, we’ll drop it.’ Lydia said. ‘For now.’

They walked along the long cloistered walk towards the gymnasium and Stiles got lost in his head about what he should do about Harris. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t see the person in front of him until he walked right into a solid wall of muscle and fell over on his ass. He gasped when he looked up into a pair of kaleidoscopic eyes surmounted by dark bushy eyebrows that could convey I will end you without uttering a word.

‘Oh God.’ He tried to scoot back on his ass, flailing very unattractively as he did so. ‘Please don’t kill me.’

Towering above him and dressed immaculately in the black braided greatcoat that indicated a recently qualified senior student, Derek Hale rolled his eyes and made no offer to help him up. The exasperated expression on his face was spectacular and inherently genetic. Their Offensive Alchemy professor was his uncle, Peter Hale, and he had the exact same eye roll as did Derek’s younger sister Cora, who was in First Year. Stiles had never met the celebrated war hero, youngest major-general of the State Military and current Hale pack alpha Laura Hale, currently away and defending the Northern border, but he’d heard she could cow an entire battalion with a single eyebrow so it would stand to reason that the eye roll was probably also part of her repertoire.

‘Get up, Stilinski.’ he drawled. ‘You’re embarrassing yourself.’

‘No, leave him. This is the best entertainment I’ve had all day.’ This came from the willowy blonde next to Derek with a razor sharp smile. Erica Reyes was an elemental alchemist that specialised in air alchemy, a notoriously difficult form that allowed her to manipulate its density to produce concussive waves and also create impenetrable shields. She was also one of Laura’s pack, a werewolf as were his other two friends that stood behind her. The more cherubic of the two was Isaac Lahey, a specialist in manipulating time to move quicker than sight and Vernon Boyd, Derek’s best friend and a steel alchemist that wore his strength enhancing semi-gaunts inscribed with his transmutation circle openly and who roughly the size and shape of a tank. There were many running jokes about the four of them and some unsavoury rumours as well, not helped by the fact that Derek was said to be an elemental alchemist although nobody was actually sure what his true power was because he only ever used general transmutations, although Stiles probably knew more than most because he’d seen the notation in Derek’s student record that alluded to a sealed part of the documents that was classified.

‘Erica.’ Boyd rumbled before he sidestepped Derek and held out a hand to Stiles. ‘Come on, get up. You look ridiculous.’

‘Thanks.’ Stiles muttered but he took the hand and tried not to look horribly impressed when Boyd lifted him as if he weighed nothing. He was stupidly strong and people had a tendency to compare him with the fabled Alex Louis Armstrong, except with more hair and far less self-regard.

He dusted himself off and the pack swept past him in a swirl of black greatcoats. Derek was the last to leave and when he did it was with a glint of fang as he gave Stiles a smile that looked way beyond predatory and equal parts boner inducing and pant shittingly terrifying.

‘Try to look where you’re going in future.’ he growled and Stiles curled in on himself.

‘Whatever Sourwolf.’ he muttered under his breath and then nearly shrieked when Scott’s hand came down on his shoulder.

‘Damn.’ He looked as relieved as Stiles felt that he’d not been eaten. ‘Dude. You really have a knack for getting yourself into it.’

‘No kidding.’ Stiles glanced at Derek’s path through the cloister corridor, scattering junior students in his wake. ‘It’s like dancing with death, if death were a grumpy gorgeous asshole. Apparently bathing in the blood of your enemies gives you a glowing complexion and perfect stubble, in spite of it being against regulations.’

‘I don’t why know he intimidates you so much.’ Lydia buffed her nails on the front of her jacket. Fifth years wore short jackets with red braid instead of the black braided greatcoats that the qualified senior sixth years wore and she made it look as elegant as any evening gown, maybe even more so.

‘That’s because you’re both beautiful people.’ Stiles snorted. ‘The only reason you hang out with us plebs is because we make you look even better.’

‘Not a lie.’ The chuckle behind him made Stiles roll his eyes. It was Jackson and Danny, the only other couple in their year that could even match up with Allison and Scott for cuteness, even though their relationship was based more on mutual insult. Jackson was the adopted son of General David Whittemore, Noah Stilinski’s senior officer in the Home Guard, and he was forever trying to prove that he belonged in the Academy on his own merits, which were pretty damn good. He was a transformation alchemist, able to change his shape and take on the appearance of something else. His current alternate form was scaly and able to walk on the ceiling like a lizard, a sharp contrast to his human looks, and something Stiles enjoyed mocking on a regular basis. It made for an odd friendship but Jackson was an excellent sparring partner.

‘You’re just pissed you’re not Derek’s type so he never even acknowledges your existence.’ He retorted.

‘I could care less about attracting the attention of a known psychopath.’ Jackson sniffed, nose in the air. ‘And for your information, I’m everyone’s type.’

‘Now, now.’ Danny grinned. He could match Allison in the dimples department, his tanned skin and ability to manipulate rock into liquid forms a hallmark of his island ancestry. ‘You know that he was found innocent of all charges.’

Ah yes, the elephant in the Academy that nobody ever talked about. The last time someone had mentioned the deaths of almost the entire Hale family, Derek had grabbed the offending student, a sneaky little bastard called Matt Daehler that Stiles didn’t trust an inch, by the front of his uniform and hoisted him right off his feet before he’d threatened to rip his throat out with his teeth. Matt had promptly wet himself and then been quietly transferred to the State Military version of Administration, where he was now wading through paperwork as punishment. Talia Hale had been well-loved. Her time as General of the Northern Quarter had seen great improvement in relationships between the citizens of Beacon Hills City and the Military that ran every aspect of public services. She had been renowned as being fair and just, a far cry from the power hungry echelons below her. She’d favoured negotiation over conflict and her resistance to slaughtering her foes was through to be the reason she had been assassinated, along with almost her entire family, including her husband and twin sons, her parents and sisters and brothers and their children. Their pack had been large and the impact of their deaths had been far reaching, especially when the one put on trial for their deaths had been twelve year old Derek Hale, seemingly the only survivor of the fire that had incinerated his family. Laura and Peter had both been at the Academy and Cora had managed somehow to escape and lived feral in the forests surrounding the Hale estate for a year before she’d been found. By then, Derek had been cleared of all charges and enrolled in the Academy where his family could keep an eye on him.

That had been six years previously and the mystery as to who had killed the Hales was as enthralling as it had been right at the start. Stiles knew his father had a suspicion as to who it had been but he’d mentioned that he had no proof and so was unable to launch a proper investigation. So life had gone on, Gerard Argent had taken Talia’s place as General and the military action had stepped up. The soldiers fighting on the Northern Border were used as cannon fodder for his ambitions but whenever someone had objected, they ended up being transferred out to the furthest reaches of the empire or floating in the Beacon River. People knew not to go against the Argents, which made it all the more improbable that Allison had grown up to be as level headed as she was.

Stiles threw one last look in the direction Derek had gone. He could understand how being treated like a murderer and ostracised by almost everyone else at the Academy could make you hard and suspicious and hostile, reluctant to connect with anyone outside of his immediate pack.

He just wished his poor heart could take the hint.

*****

Chapter 2

: Trouble AfootChapter Text

The weekend came mercifully soon and Stiles bounded out of bed with an exuberance that he normally didn’t demonstrate during the week of confinement that he was subjected to. Thankfully as fifth years, they all had permission to take day leave on the weekend. It wasn’t as good as being in sixth year when the leave was extended until midnight curfew but it was better than nothing and Stiles grabbed it with both hands. He also did not have to go out in uniform like the sixth years did and he had a quick shower, luxuriating in being able to use as much hot water as he wanted because the communal showers were but empty at eight o’clock on a Saturday. He loped back to the room he shared with Scott and dressed in khakis, t-shirt and plaid overshirt before sitting down to tie his sneakers. A quick glance in the mirror told him he looked like any normal college student and he grinned. Scott muttered a goodbye as he flew out the door and galloped down to the mess hall, hoping to grab some coffee, a bowl of cereal and maybe a piece of fruit before he escaped and made the long tram ride to the city centre and the Watch HQ to see his dad.

He found Lydia already there, sipping herbal tea and eating a bowl of chopped fruit with delicate stabs of her fork. She had her hair twisted in a knot on top of her head, her face was made up and she wore a dress in emerald green print that made her eyes sparkle and Stiles knew there was no getting away from her. She’d developed a romance with one of his father’s junior officers and as much as Stiles was loathe to admit, Parrish was very good for her. He wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Lydia’s brilliance and loved her ardently enough for everyone to realise that they were more than likely in for the long haul. Jordan was an elemental alchemist and able to sustain being lit on fire as he was immune to its effects. He wasn’t particularly good at manipulating it though, hence his posting in the Watch, but he was very capable of rescuing people from burning buildings and a boon to his father’s department.

‘Good morning.’ She regarded him over the brim of her cup. ‘Do you have to dress like you have no idea how to press your clothing?’

‘Yes.’ Stiles went to inspect the buffet line. He made up a bowl of oatmeal, liberally dousing it in honey and cream, and then returned with an apple in each pocket, a banana clenched between his teeth and his precious coffee. He ate like a man possessed and glanced up to see Lydia pursing her lips in disapproval. For someone who purported to be his best friend, she was awfully judgy of him at all times so he made a face at her.

‘Where do you want to go today?’ he asked and she shrugged and set her empty cup aside.

‘Just to say hello and then Jordan’s taking me for lunch.’ she replied. ‘We’re going to visit my mother this afternoon.’

‘Ooh.’ Stiles grinned. ‘Meeting the family? It’s getting serious.’

‘A lady never kisses and tells.’ Lydia replied primly. ‘Are you spending the day with Noah?’

‘Yeah.’ Stiles drained his cup, the remains of his breakfast now scattered around him. ‘You ready to go?’

‘Sure.’ Lydia got up and he helped her into her coat and fell into step beside her.

They made it to the side door they both preferred to use and then Lydia caught his arm, pulling him into a side alcove where they were out of sight. Stiles was about to ask why when he heard the sound of footsteps and the low murmur of voices. They both peered out and saw Peter Hale coming down the corridor. He was unmistakable and every bit as handsome as his nephew was, coupled with an intellect that rivalled Lydia’s and an ability to phase through matter that made him a formidable opponent. Seeing him going out of the Academy meant that something serious must be afoot because he never left unless pressed, preferring his laboratory and library to the outside world.

There was someone next to him and when Stiles saw who it was, he sucked in a breath. If Peter was reluctant to leave the Academy that went double for Derek. He never used his passes and never left the Academy walls and so seeing him accompanying his uncle was like spotting a unicorn in the Botanical Gardens. Not to mention the fact that they both out of uniform, which was against regulations what with them both being qualified State Alchemists. Stiles had to admit though, Derek looked good in faded jeans. He was also sporting a black henley and a leather jacket that was too long in the arms for him, his inky dark hair styled in a distinctly no-military fashion.

It was like being sucker punched and Stiles bit his lip to stop the whimper that came out. Lydia glared at him and yanked him back as the Hales stopped and looked in their direction. There was no mistaking the sound of someone drawing breath and Stiles winced, knowing their were both scenting the air.

‘Stilinski and Martin are around here somewhere.’ Derek said, his voice deceptively soft and light and completely at odds with his appearance.

‘Hmmm.’ Peter sounded nonplussed. ‘Come on, we need to get there by nine. Leave the children alone, Derek.’

There was a rumbling growl but Derek followed his uncle, the sound of the steps fading as they left the building through the side door.

Lydia waited until the door was closed again before she stepped out of the alcove, a thoughtful look on her face.

‘Now, where do you think they’re going?’ she asked and Stiles got a sinking feeling.

‘No.’ he said. ‘Lydia, don’t even think about it.’

‘Like you’re not the slightest bit intrigued.’ Lydia grinned. ‘I mean, Derek and Peter going off by themselves and dressed as civilians doesn’t make you the slightest bit curious?’

Stiles huffed and let his head drop.

‘You’re not going to let this go until we find out what they’re up to, are you?’ he asked and she gave him a brilliant smile.

‘No.’ she replied, grabbing his arm and dragging him outside just in time to see a sleek black car leaving the side courtyard. ‘See? That’s an official staff car. Now if Peter was reporting to HQ I could understand, but Derek’s not even a graduated officer yet. Why’s he tagging along and why are they dressed like that? This is something hot, I’d bet your ass and mine on that.’

‘You’re the worst.’ Stiles grumbled as she hauled him down the stairs.

‘No I’m not.’ she replied easily. ‘I just like to be in the know and that’s why we’re going to go interrogate your father. If something’s happening, he’ll be the one to know about it.’

‘Ugh, I hate you.’ Stiles had to admit she was right though. If anyone knew what was happening in Beacon, it would be Noah. He hadn’t been Commander of the Watch for twenty years and survived the transition to Gerard without being astute. ‘In that case, we’ll need donuts.’

-

Derek looked out the window, his stomach churning. He hated this, the feeling of dread that was making him feel nauseated and the way Peter kept tapping his fingernails against the window sounding like thunder in his ears.

‘It’s the same MO.’ The seat opposite them was occupied by a lean man with greying blond hair and ice blue eyes. His uniform was immaculate, the braiding and epaulettes marking him as a Lt General. ‘We are pretty sure it’s her.’

‘Interesting.’ Peter leaned back and crossed his legs at the knee. ‘You do realise that it’s going to be very difficult to bring her in, not to mention the political fallout should she be identified.’

‘I am very aware of that.’ Chris Argent replied, his face perfectly neutral. He was angry though, Derek could smell it as clear as day. Then again, admitting that your own sister was a serial killer and child rapist had to be hard on one’s sense of wellbeing.

‘I’m guessing that’s why the need for secrecy.’ Peter smirked. ‘Not to mention the fact that your father would be more than happy to have us both out the way should this little venture go south.’

Derek couldn’t help himself. His eyes flashed blue and he growled deep in his chest, only relenting when Peter put a hand on his thigh and calmed him with a subsonic growl of his own.

‘This wasn’t my idea, Peter.’ Chris replied, looking pained. ‘And yes, everything you say is true. You know how it is. But the truth is, you two are also the best trackers in the city and we need to find her as soon as possible. She took out two alchemists from the East side just last night, burned them alive and dumped their bodies in Central Park right by the East Gate. The guards at the Ministry saw it so we were able to cover it up and suppress any information getting out about it.’ He handed over a pair of brown folders and Peter took them, studying the faces of the men inside.

‘Unger and Reddick.’ he mused. ‘Both low level grunts. What would she want with them?’

‘We think they may have had links to the incident.’ Chris’ eyes flashed to Derek. ‘The first victim was also connected. He was an inspector that falsified records as to the cause of the fire to make it look like Derek killed your family. Him finally confessing was one of the key testimonies in having the charges expunged.’

‘Garrison Myers? I see.’ Peter’s eyes also flashed blue for a moment and Derek felt the way the tension coiled and then released as Peter got control of his temper. His uncle was somewhat of a loose cannon with Laura so far away. He’d lost his mate in the fire and hadn’t been the same since. Derek thought that had been the saddest thing. Sasha Hale had been the only person to completely understand Peter and his death had caused a descent into madness that had seen Peter destroy a good half of the research facility that he’d been working in by simply blowing every molecule apart with devastating efficiency. It was yet another thing the Military had covered up, but Peter was now banned from field work.

Except of course, in extenuating circumstances like this one.

‘There will most certainly be others.’ Chris sighed. ‘She’s nothing if not thorough.’

‘She’s insane.’ Peter said and his voice held no trace of mockery. ‘You should have had her put down the last time. Instead, you and your father let her walk away.’

Derek closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window and trying to swallow down the sour taste in his mouth.

‘We had no idea the extent of her actions.’ Chris replied and, to give him credit, he reeked of remorse and guilt and shame. ‘If I’d known what she’d done...Peter, you have to believe I would have. I have a daughter and to think that anyone would have touched her like that when she was twelve...I would have ripped them to pieces.’

There was no blip in his heartbeat and Derek believed him. It didn’t stop him from shrinking back into the seat though, fighting his own pain and guilt and wanting to open the door and throw himself out the moving car and escape.

‘Good.’ Peter replied, his voice steely. ‘Then you’ll have no complaints when Derek does.’

-

The tram made its way through town and Stiles pondered the situation. Lydia was right, there was definitely something fishy going on.

They got off at the Watch stop, stopping to buy a dozen chocolate cream filled donuts before heading to the HQ. It was blocky squat building of red brick, the shiny six pointed star hanging outside showing its use. Stiles tripped inside and nearly faceplanted into the front desk. Grace was not one of his attributes. Lance Corporal Tara Graeme grinned at him when he righted himself, her dark eyes twinkling with humour at his expense.

‘Good morning.’ she said. ‘I’m assuming you’re here to see the Sheriff and not attempting to redecorate my desk with your face?’

‘Oh, ha ha.’ Stiles muttered. ‘Make fun of the clumsy kid.’

‘I already do.’ Tara laughed. ‘Hi Lydia. Jordan’s in the break room.’

‘Excellent.’ Lydia replied and strode past the desk and towards the back while Tara gave Stiles a once over.

‘I think you’ve grown again.’ she remarked and he preened.

‘Getting taller all the time.’ he said. ‘Is he in his office?’

‘Yeah.’ Tara made grabby hands at the box of pastries. ‘The toll will be one donut, please.’

‘Here.’ Stiles handed her one, licking frosting from his fingers. ‘Hey, you haven’t heard of anything weird going on this morning have you?’ He got his answer immediately from the shifty look on Tara’s face. ‘Never mind, I’ll just ask him what it is.’

‘Stiles!’ she admonished as he escaped past her. ‘Stay out of it!’

Stiles ignored her, tearing down the corridor to the stairs at the back of the station and his father’s office. Noah Stilinski was afforded the rank of Sargeant-Major but tradition meant he was still addressed as Sheriff by his staff, even though the rank had been defunct for centuries. He found him on the phone, his chair tilted back and his face strained. He caught Stiles’ eye as he came in and made a face and Stiles grinned, knowing without asking that he was talking to someone from Whittemore’s office. He sat and listened to his father make the appropriate noises, sliding the donuts across the desk like a sacrificial offering. Let it never be said that a Stilinski wasn’t a master of bribery.

Noah finally hung up and eyeballed him.

‘What do you know?’ he asked, helping himself to a donut.

‘Just that Peter and Derek Halke left the Academy in civilian clothing this morning.’ Stiles replied. ‘They got into a staff car and took off like their asses were on fire.’

‘Dammit.’ Noah’s voice came out muffled by donut. ‘This is high ranking stuff, kid. I can’t let you stick your nose into this one. I could get actually fired if I did.’

‘Wow.’ Stiles sat back. ‘It’s that serious?’

‘Extremely.’ Noah replied, then narrowed his eyes at him. ‘I also want you to be extra vigilant and no sneaking out the Academy after dark. I’m serious, Stiles. This is a very dangerous situation.’

‘Now, see.’ Stiles waved his hands in exasperation. ‘You can’t say things like that and not expect me to want to know what’s going on.’

Noah rested his chin in his hand and gave Stiles his most infuriating grin. He knew it well because it was the one he used on Lydia.

‘I wonder just how much what I know is worth?’ His grey eyes were twinkling madly and Stiles heaved a sigh.

‘You manipulative old man.’ he fumed. ‘This is the last thing you should be having. You know what Melissa said about your cholesterol. I’ve already gone against my better judgement and brought you donuts.’

‘Which are much appreciated.’ Noah replied, helping himself to another one. ‘But if you want the lowdown, it’s a steak at Mauricio’s or nothing.’

‘This is blackmail.’ Stiles glared at him.

‘I agree.’ Noah licked the frosting off his fingers with relish. ‘But seeing how my son makes more than I do as a State Alchemist in training, I figure he can afford it.’

‘I wonder how much the Fuhrer would pay to know one of his City Watch commanders is involved in criminal activity.’ Stiles muttered and Noah burst out laughing.

‘Not as much as you’re going to for a 24 oz. rib eye with all the trimmings.’ he replied and got up. ‘But to sweeten the deal, I’ll let you tag along on my visit to HQ.’

‘What?’ Stiles was on his feet in an instant. ‘And you’ll tell me what you know afterwards?’

‘Maybe.’ Noah replied. ‘But I’m under no illusions as to what you and Lydia came here for so go downstairs and get her as well. Jordan’s coming with so he’ll be pleased just to be in her presence.’

‘On it.’ Stiles said and bolted out the door, nearly taking himself out as he flew down the stairs. He found Lydia and Parrish locked at the lips in the break room, coughing loudly to get their attention. They broke apart and he gave them both a look.

‘Seriously?’ he asked. ‘That’s your interrogation technique?’

‘It works.’ Lydia retorted. Next to her, Parrish was straightening his uniform. Like the rest of the Military, they were also in black but with gold braiding looped about their shoulders to indicate they were City Watch.

Noah came past, shrugging into his greatcoat.

‘Come on.’ he said. ‘Time’s a wasting.’

‘I should have worn my uniform.’ Stiles said, following him out the back door and to the vehicles parked out back, grinning when he saw the driver jump to attention.

‘Guess you’ll have to just stay in the car.’ Noah chuckled and dodged the swipe Stiles aimed at him.

TBC.....

[disrespectfullcalum]

Walk the line (Pt3/?)

Word count: 2,415

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary:  Being the granddaughter of Peggy Carter, you always try to stay away from spotlight. The lure of Hydra is still out in the world, but you get away from it whenever you work at that small diner a few blocks from the Avengers tower. You even befriend one particularly nice customer and let him help you with your language essays for college. But what are you going to do when your family name collides with reality and you finally realise what past is behind those sad eyes and shy smile from your favourite customer?

Warnings: drinking, angst, explosions, cliff hanger, swearing (I, uh, think that’s it???)

A/N: So sorry it took me so long to update!! But I’m not sick anymore so I had to go to work and catch up and also take care of family stuff. I’m gonna try to update every other day until this is finished and maybe start some shorter stuff? If you want? Anyways - please, please reblog if you like it, I enjoy reading tags and/or comments! 

MASTERPOST

It's quarter past eleven, I'm not in the mood to think Mr. band leader, let's kick out the jam

You knew this was a bit ridiculous. The dress, the shoes, the complete make-up – you looked like a clown, ready for the show. Plus, you didn’t even really know any of these people that would turn up and they didn’t know you. They all were just going to talk to you because of your name. Not your first name, no first name was interesting enough for that. It was your family name that caught their attention. Carter, that is. And if it hadn’t been Steve himself who invited you, you probably wouldn’t even go.

This all had started three months ago. After that weird evening where James had come in with his two… friends, yeah, that’s what you would call them. You hadn’t seen him that much since then and when you did, he was almost always covered in bruises from head to toe. There weren’t too many questions asked because you knew he didn’t like that. You would just place a glass of coke in front of him with his usual menu, he’d smile at you with that damn stupid half-sided grin, and then just eat and drink in silence before leaving with a more than gracious tip. There’s was pretty much no talking anymore, no more correcting of essays or anything. It was like that stupid comment his friend had dropped just – broke everything. It made you feel lost, it made you miss the times you would just throw remarks at each other during your shifts and you realised that he actually had made most of your shifts much more fun. He would hum along to the songs in the background, sometimes writing down the titles and artists in a small notebook. He had you so intrigued with his non-existent knowledge of popular movies (old and new) and you happily lectured him hours on end on your favourite ones.

Like Harry Potter. You probably spent an entire month telling him all about the storylines, the different characters, the canon pairings and possible pairings, the little details – you told him literally everything there was. He was even allowed to borrow your most favourite editions of the books, the well-loved and used versions you had owned since your 13th birthday. That was an honour not too many people in your life were granted and he had thanked you for it with actual notes of his thoughts. He actually wrote down his thoughts of every single chapter and as you read them at night, there was no way you couldn’t smile at them. During the first chapters of the Philosopher’s Stone, he wrote: Snape = suspicious. Probably up to something. Hermione is nerve-wracking, but will likely be useful to the boys in future. The pure thought of James staying up late, reading a children’s book and watching the movies and being so irritably bitchy about their lack of content – that was enough to make your insides warm and fuzzy.

But all of this stopped, and you felt lonelier than before. You hadn’t realised how much you relied on him as emotional relief until you no longer had him around. Sure, you still had your other friends who listened to everything, but you still found yourself missing his presence. He had managed to sneak into your heart without you realising it and now that he didn’t show up anymore – the hole he left was gaping deeply. And as if it was a weird coincidence, another guy had stepped into your life right at that time. And by another guy, you were talking actual freaking Captain America! You had gotten an invitation to S.H.I.E.L.D. which already startled you as you had never actively contacted them. Sure, your family name was like a holy grail and they most definitely had data about anything you did – you had just never expected them to actually contact you. It had been three months before the anniversary of your grandmother’s death and apparently, they had decided to celebrate it. Like, complete with speeches, music, and any other extravagancy they could come up with.

And they wanted you to join. You, as the granddaughter of the legendary Peggy Carter, should hold a speech at this ridiculous event in her honour. You were sure that this was the last thing she had in mind but well, if that meant to get them off your ass, you would do it. You had sent them back a letter in which you were stating you would do it but only under the condition of not being named anywhere. Not on any programme flyers, not on a poster, nowhere. That was the only condition for you and it was funny enough that that one thing made Steve Rogers appear on your doorstep.

It was a late Saturday night, you had been studying your ass off trying to understand this complete ass of a German news article and the whiskey bottle next to you was nearly half empty. Bourbon had been a favourite of yours since forever – Peggy had actually given you your first ever bottle of it when you turned 18 because that was the legal drinking age in England. No other reason needed. It probably also hadn’t helped you that since you still visited your grandparents frequently when you were over 18 and had drunk together with them. It had made you a bit immune to its effects and made you a wonder at every single frat party you had attended. But tonight, you weren’t drinking to feel good or goofy, you were drinking because you wanted to drown that stupid feeling of being lost. This feeling of not really having anyone who knew you. Your parents had died when you were 16 – officially it had been an accident, but you knew they had been working for S.H.I.E.L.D., so it had most likely been during a mission.  And during all this mess, your doorbell rang. Quickly, you wiped your eyes and tried to make your hair look a bit less messy as you walked towards the door. You didn’t even bother looking through the small spy even though you didn’t expect anyone. It shocked you therefore when you opened the door and there was this stupidly hunky man standing there. His shoulders were broad enough to touch both sides of your door frame and his blue eyes felt like they were looking right into your soul. “Hello?” Your voice was a bit smaller than you wanted it to sound, you didn’t want to seem intimidated by his height or anything. “Are you… Y/N Carter?” His voice was calm, a bit worried maybe. And his eyes held a spark of hope that was all too familiar. Your eyes squinted slightly as your head tilted to the side. “I know you. From pictures. I think we should talk about this inside.” And with that, you ushered him inside, quickly glancing up and down the corridor to make sure nobody had seen literal Captain America waltzing over.

He had stayed nearly the whole night. When he left, there had been two more empty bottles of bourbon, a lot of tears shed, and a lot of tissues on your couch table. You two had spent the night talking about your grandmother, him sharing his memories of the younger her during the war and you telling stories about her as a mother and grandmother. It was nice to have someone who could relate to losing someone so close and loved – sure, your friends had lost their grandparents as well for the most part, but none of them had been as close as you and Peggy. Steve met you a few more times and after a while, you grew used to his visits. He reminded you of James in a way: He, too, didn’t know too much about modern movies or music but that was due to him being frozen and you made it a mission to show him your favourite stuff. It also didn’t take you too long to realise that he was dating your only cousin, Sharon. She was unlike you in the most parts, but you both were close nonetheless. And while you had preferred to stay in the shadows, she took part in S.H.I.E.L.D. and worked on the heritage of your grandmother. And bless her, she was good at that.

But tonight, you would have to step out of them. You felt utterly ridiculous and nowhere prepared to talk to all these agents. There was nothing you had in common with them, absolutely nothing. You were a languages and business student, they were field agents who fought one-on-one and some of them had only nearly escaped a certain death. Plus, the fucking Avengers were going to be there. Steve had told you that much about the preparations because apparently, even Captain America himself didn’t know everything. As if the mere presence of Iron Man or the Hulk wasn’t already intimidating enough! Your hands were sweaty, and you wiped them unconsciously on the side of your dress, making Sharon grab them in her own hands and squeezing them. “You’re gonna be alright, Y/N. You have your notes on these cards, you just look at Steve and me the whole time and you’re gonna be fine.” A deep breath escaped your chest. “I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.” She gave you a half-sided grin and patted your shoulder. “Well, you certainly wouldn’t be here. Peggy would be proud of you.” The last part was merely a whisper, but it echoed louder inside of your head than anything else.

The scent and the aroma refuse to breathe It's more like a haze that's trying to succeed It's drawing me in and pulling me to you And every thought I have turns the language blue

His nose crinkled as he tried to get this stupid tie correct. This had been his forte back in the 40ies, but those times – well, they were long gone now. He hadn’t been wearing a suit or a tie for decades and Bucky swore under his breath as he got it wrong for what felt like the 40th time. A quick glance to the watch on his bedside table showed him that he was already late. Annoyed and frustrated, he threw the stupid thing back onto his bed and fixed his hair one last time in the mirror before walking out. He had been excited for this evening because he had met Peggy during the War. She had been strong and beautiful, and it hadn’t been hard to see how much her and Steve had loved each other. Bucky only wished that he spent more time with her back then and deeply regretted his typically-douchebag behaviour from these days. He hadn’t thought much of women in the army, saw them as too fragile and emotional for the job. But Peggy – she had changed his mind. And every time he had met a female agent at the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D., they had reminded him of that strong woman. In a weird way, Y/N had reminded him of her as well. The way she held herself up, this natural confidence, even the twinkle in her eyes.

Y/N. Her name alone made him frown a bit. He had only been down to the diner a few times because he didn't really want her to see him like this. All the missions he went on now, they had left him in desperate need of patching-up and it was a true piece of work to hide all the bruises. Bucky wasn't going to let her see him all messed up. She already worried and if he turned up even more worn-down, she would ask too many questions he couldn't answer - and that was a risk Bucky was not ready to take yet. He liked her, there was no denying that! But he could still remember the person he had been before, he remembered the things he had done, and he was not going to let Y/N anywhere near the danger that came with him.

He took the stairs two steps at a time and had trouble to catch his breath at the top of them. With a quick look around, he managed to spot Steve standing a few meters away together with Sharon. They were giving the thumbs-up to someone up on the stage, but Bucky didn’t give it too much of a thought as he walked towards his friends. “What took you so long, frosty?” The woman greeted him with a bright grin on her face. He gave a dirty look while his hands reached up to fix his hair one more time, but Sharon was quicker and stopped the movement. “You look fine, Buck. Even though a little haircut wouldn’t be a wrong thing to do.” Sharon stated while Steve nodded in consent. But he just shrugged his shoulders and fixed his eyes onto the stage where Director Fury was standing – Bucky had to take a double take because he had never seen the chief in a suit or anything like it, he almost looked unrecognizable. “Next up, we have a very special guest coming. Her family name has been engraved into the minds of all our agents, her very family is the foundation of our organization. Please, welcome the granddaughter of our founder, Peggy Carter – Y/N Carter!”

There was a big round of applause as a young woman walked up the stage, but all Bucky could think of was how funny it was you shared the same name as the granddaughter of Peggy. Before he could make out a face though, there was a loud thud. Within seconds, there was shattered glass, terrified screams, and the sound of guns being loaded. Bucky had instinctively thrown himself onto the ground, as well as Sharon and Steve. Sharing the same panicked and frantic look, they all whispered one thing: “Protect Y/N.”

[spuriousbiped]

People don’t really understand my enthusiasm for K-pop. In celebration of BTS’ 4th anniversary, I decided to write a little blurb about why they specifically are important to me. It turned into an essay. And, I’ve decided to post it here, because it’s the most personal thing I’ve written probably since the start of my transition. Keeping the starting bit from when I posted it on the Discord server. 

OK, everyone: I have a lot of stuff to unpack, so buckle up. This is a lot more about me than BTS directly, I guess, but I need to get this out there. So, here goes:

I turned 26 last month. I didn't expect to turn 15, let alone 18, or 20, and certainly not 26 - so I'm kind of surprised sometimes that I'm still here. But glad, mostly.

It hasn't been easy. On top of horrible depression since I was 12, as well as some anxiety & OCD issues and probably some things that missed detection, I also developed chronic pain for no identifiable reason when I was ~19, which is manageable but has changed my life significantly. I am also transgender (FtM).

To put it mildly, my life is complicated, and has been for years. I never really learned how to plan for the future, because I never saw myself having one. Then, a bit less than 3 years ago, a lot of things fell into place, and I realised I needed to transition in order to live.

This... is not an easy thing to navigate. tl;dr had a lot of baggage and trauma to sort through, horrible dissociation, and a surge in anxiety as I tried to move forward, come out to people, etc. etc.

It was in my fairly early days of transitioning that I met a couple of other guys in a similar boat on the web. One of them was into K-pop and used to post a lot about it on his tumblr. Eventually, I decided to look into it.

This turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made. (I used to be really self-conscious about saying this, but I ran out of fucks to give a long time ago.)

The place I live in is a city, but not a huge one, and attitudes around here are pretty old-fashioned still. I was also extremely uncomfortable with myself, so meeting new people wasn't something I could fathom in my early transition days. But I essentially had to build my identity from the ground up, and had no frame of reference. I was always X and Y's daughter, Z's little sister, a niece and granddaughter; I was "different from other girls"; every aspect of my life was defined by womanhood and I had no idea how to be a man. Even if nothing about my personality had changed, the whole way the world was defined was through a lens that had always made things a little bit blurry, but was at least familiar. With clarity did NOT come confidence; and with my tendency to dissociate, I had a difficult time pinning down exactly what it meant to even be a person anymore.

Discovering k-pop changed that for me. It opened a door to so many different things. Most importantly, it provided role models for me that I so desperately needed.

BTS didn't come onto my radar until I Need U, and it was a little longer before I was really dedicated to them. But once I woke up to them, I signed up in a big damn hurry. Even before I was on board, something seemed different about them. Once I was paying attention, it became obvious.

They move together like a well-oiled machine. Their voices complement one another perfectly. They actually get along with each other, are obviously good friends, and openly & unabashedly admire one another and none of it feels forced. They are stupidly talented, and I was really struck by the fact that their work is truly their own and they are allowed to put so much of themselves into it (since it's extremely uncommon in the industry). Everything about them has such presence. They are extremely professional, but also so personable that they don't feel untouchable. They share so much of themselves with the whole world, and have allowed people such a close look at their lives, their struggles, everything. And right now, they are so on top of the world, and they're staring the future in the face and refusing to blink or back down.

I learned a lot from the exploration of Korean culture that followed my discovery of k-pop. I learned that the definition of "masculinity" is far from universal, for example. But I learned how to be the man I needed to be in large part because of BTS. They are so completely themselves, and each of them is so many different things - and sometimes these aspects seem to contradict, but they don't. They have so much passion for what they do, and they embrace one another so fully. Through them, I learned that all parts of myself - including the ones people read as "feminine", even if I knew on the surface that was bs - were OK, and all I really had to do was just exist as the same gentle, loving, ridiculous person I always was. People would read these aspects of me differently based on the gender they attributed to me, but that wasn't up to me. The only thing I was responsible for was being a good and genuine person.

There are so many other elements that have factored into my sense of self, but it's safe to say that without BTS, I wouldn't have made anywhere near the kind of progress I have. The last year especially has been huge for me and they are an enormous part of that. When Fire came out I listened to nothing but that song for weeks on end, before finally opening up to at least BTS in general, LOL.

Of course it's still hard. My body still hurts constantly, and my brain is honestly pretty bizarre. As of now, I've been on medical leave since the end of March, and I'm not convinced I'll be able to go back to my job because the physical and mental strain of retail is more than I am capable of - yet I'm not qualified for much more. It saps all my strength and leaves no room for me to pursue hobbies, or much of anything. I have so many things to do in order to get my life on track that if I let myself think about it and what I'm going to do for income, I get very very anxious. 

But, I have a future. I may have had to burn out before I took time off, but now that I've been able to rest, I can feel my own passions lighting up again. Instead of drifting, hanging on to the only job I figured I'd be able to keep, and just surviving, I'm actually making plans. I still can't see that far ahead, and I have no idea where I'll go with what I'm going to do, but what I do know is that I have to live for me, for now, and do something I love in the best way that I'm capable of. BTS is 90% of why. I have never seen anyone more in love with what they do than these seven men. They belong together, and they are meant to create, to perform, and to be exactly who they are.

There is no way I would be where I am now without BTS, and I will be forever grateful to them. I used to be defined by what I was missing. Now, I'm slowly getting back into dance, something I haven't done seriously since I was 22. I'm working through the long agonising process of updating an absurd number of things after finally legally changing my name & gender marker, which sucks but I'm getting it done. I'll be applying for a textiles & apparel design program once I have the paperwork I need from my former university. I haven't started yet, but I plan to learn Korean - it'll be the 5th language I've studied, and while I know how hard it is to maintain foreign languages with nobody to speak to, I know how good I am at this, and I have fought to maintain a certain level of competence with German, which I've studied the longest formally and with the most passion (another story for another day), so I know that if I maintain that same kind of drive, I'll be able to learn it just fine. I have no idea what's coming for me, but I'm sick of being afraid to do things because of what might come. I still struggle to plan long-term, but I'm much more flexible about rolling with the punches, making necessary changes even without a clear outcome, and just doing things. Even if the future is a haze, and I don't know where I want to be, at least I know I'll be somewhere, and I want to still have a future. I may not know exactly how I managed to live this long, but there are still so many years to come, probably, and I'm at the least OK with it, if not actively overjoyed.

Thank you, BTS, for being instrumental in my continued will to exist authentically and as unflinchingly as my various ailments allow me to be. I am so, so lucky to be here at the same time as a group of people so incredible. I owe them a great debt. 

[daemonmatthias]

"Get to know me" meme! 1, 65, 69, 91

1. What images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers?

Well, my desktop is set to rotate between several images that represent my nerdy interests. I’ve got 2-3 Beauty and the Beast ones, 2-3 Kingdom hearts ones (and there is one overlap between those two), some Harry Potter/Hufflepuff ones, and 1-2 Studio Ghibli ones.

My cell phone lock screen is My Neighbor Totoro, and my wallpaper is Belle and The Beast dancing (from the new movie).

65. Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus?

Definitely the dictionary. I can do the thesaurus stuff in my head, but sometimes I have to check the connotation of the word to make sure the synonym I’m thinking of works in the same way. Also, I have to google words to see what phrasing my students are going to find when they look up a word so that I can make sure my answer choices are not too far off from or too close to what google tells them.

69.  What’s the most memorable class you’ve ever taken?

You know what? That’s actually a really hard question…. I knew by my junior year of high school that I wanted to be a teacher, so that perspective has always caused me to focus more on the teacher than the class itself when it comes to memories…. and I’ve had a LOT of memorable teachers over the years. Here are just a few…

There was the professor I took two classes with in college. He was a Doctor Who nerd since like the 60′s/70′s and would slip in references (like “wibbly wobbly timey wimey” while talking about a book not in chronological order) even though I was the only one in the class who knew what he was talking about. His Literary Theory class changed my whole perspective on life/literature in the best way possible, and he fucking tore every paper we wrote to shreds to make us better writers. (He made it up grade-wise with stupidly easy reading quizzes with tons of bonus point opportunities- like fill-in-the-blanks for his favorite joke, which was “a skeleton walks into a bar and orders a beer and a mop”, btw- and we could keep turning in the essays for better grades as many times as we wanted.) I worked my ASS off on his last paper and got a B on the first try. I have never been prouder. I also took his American Novel class where I read some of the best and absolute worst books I have ever read. Rabbit Run was the WOOORST, but I never ever would have read Winter’s Tale or The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao without that class. And, I certainly never would have read Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chaing without him. It’s something I never would have found/noticed on my own, and I loved every single word of those stories. I still haven’t found another writer that can mix science/math, literature, and psychology in the same ways. I’m currently re-reading the entire collection, as I’ve been wanting to since I heard Arrival was coming out.Side note: You should have seen me when I first heard of Arrival. I hadn’t heard anything about it until the trailer came on while we were watching TV. Poor Robert. I cocked my head to the side like a dog and started to say, “Why does this seem so much like that story I read?”, but only got as far as “Why does-” before BASED ON THE STORY BY TED CHAING flashed across the screen and I just fucking lost it. “IT IS, ROBERT, IT IS!!!” “Is what?” “THAT WAS MY FAVORITE ONE IN THE WHOLE BOOK!!” He was so confused and I had to backtrack and explain because that class was like the first or second semester we knew each other and this was the first time I had been remotely excited by anything in months.

There was also that Short Story class where the prof told us she wanted it to be a discussion class even though she’s terrible at discussion classes (her own words). That whole class was a hot mess. We discussed things so thoroughly that she couldn’t figure out how to write tests because she wanted them to be over what we hadn’t discussed about the story. We once had an essay test that asked us about “male enlightenment in Kate Chopin’s “The Storm”.” She started passing them out and everyone was like, “typo?? female??” “No. Male. Like the boy characters.” And we were just like…. uhhhhh ok then….” and when we left three of us got barely out of earshot before one asked us, “so what shit did you make up???” (I had bs-ed something about becoming enlightened to the fact that if mamma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy.) The entire class pretty much bonded with mutual sarcasm over how awful the class was. It was a very unique environment because we all did actually enjoy discussing the stories with each other and we really got to know each other because the bond made us share more than we usually would with strangers. 

In high school I had the same teacher for AP Psych and APUSH. He was exactly my kind of sarcasm. I kept a “quote book” in high school, which was about 10% inside jokes and stupid shit we said, and about 90% Mr. A quotes. It was stuff like, “So we had the Triple Alliance and the Triple Entente. What does “entente” mean? Alliance. So we had the Triple Alliance and the Triple Alliance- BUT IN FRENCH.” I had both classes with him the same year, and he always connected the two by drawing on historical people for examples in Psych and mentioning (or using!) the Psych to teach us history. It helped me a lot in both classes. We also had to watch Phillip Zimbardo videos in Psych and we complained every single time because “He looks like SATAN and he scares us!!!!!” 

The was also the AP English teacher my junior year who most people hated because she was mean. (My friend who knew a bunch of upperclassmen said, “Oooh, you got The Wass. I’m sorry.” when he saw my schedule.) Only I got in the class period with the like 10 most sarcastic people in the entire grade and it seems like we were the only class to figure out that she wasn’t really mean- she was just one of the most deadpan sarcastic people I’ve ever met. We had a lot of fun because we realized she was really just sarcastic and would be sarcastic back. She asked us one day, a test day, after absolutely refusing to tell us how she was going to test us since we all read different books, “Do y’all wanna… draw a picture or do an interpretive dance for your test?” One kid immediately jumped up saying, “I wanna do an interpretive dance!!” and doing some kind of weird wiggle-dance. Her response was simply, “Too bad; you’re drawing a picture.” (And we really were.)

My senior English teacher was also pretty awesome. He completely scratched the normal AP Lit reading list and made a new one. It was full of awesome literature that I probably never would have read on my own and I loved most of it (especially The Tempest). He was also sarcastic and I’ll never forget how he would let us explore the literature as a class. I’ll also never ever forget his first poetry lesson. It was early in the year. He passed out copies of John Donne’s “The Flea” and read it to us. Then he goes, “what does this mean?” *Silence* “What is it about?” about half us are like ?????? while the other half are like uhhhhhhhh. He goes, “It’s ok, you can say it…” so one kid finally goes “….Sex?” “YES! Now how did you know that?” and the half that hadn’t been confused started pointing to certain lines, which he used to make us backtrack until he could give us a name of a device or explain about rhyme scheme or whatever. John Donne became my favorite poet because of his class. (We also read several of his holy sonnets later in the year and watched clips of Wit in class.) There was also the day he gave instructions for a timed write and then said, “OK? And while you do that, I’m gonna keep looking for a care bear costume that isn’t sexy.” We all laughed except one kid who goes, “How do you have a sexy care bear costume????” We all just looked at him until my teacher finally said, “…you know, it’s like lingerie with bear ears?” He also taught me the limited value of page minimums in writing. I didn’t quite make the page minimum once and got like and 85 on the paper or something. When we conferenced he walked me though all his comments about my organization and whatnot. I asked, “Ok, and just for my own reference, how many of these points were taken off for not meeting the page requirement?” He said, “Huh? Oh, none. None! You covered everything effectively and I don’t want to read the extra half-page of fluff.” Absolutely changed my perspective on writing papers and I aspire to make my teaching style much like his (when I’m teaching somewhere that can handle class discussions anyway…).

(Sorry, not sorry. You had to know that one was gonna be long! lol.)

91. What is your favorite word?

I think my favorite word is “persnickety”. It’s fun to say and applies to soooo many situations in the education world. I learned it from A Series of Unfortunate Events and have loved it ever since. :)