#Chemistry is boring? Not for you if you learn with these periodic tables!

[zeedist]

DOODLING .ᐟ — ALHAITHAM

little doodles﹕a little interaction in a boring class. sfw .ᐟ fem!reader x alhaitham, students / academic setting, short & sweet. word count: 1k proofread: yup.

“Can I ask what exactly are you doing?”

Low and whispered, dragging below the speech of your professor, Alhaitham questions you. Peaking up, you can catch a glimpse of his relaxed eyebrows, slanted pale teal eyes looking at yours —he keeps doing that often now, as if he always sought for your eyes anytime, anywhere, anyhow. There’s warmth in them, you caught on that a time ago,  in the way his loosened jaw and softened look even when coated with confusion. 

Before replying, you scoot closer, murmuring, “Drawing.” It sounds like a confessed secret in a way, a little intimate exchange in a classroom full of students and a disseminating professor. You focus more on his ragged breathing than on the lesson for today’s class. 

“I can witness that firsthand with my perfectly functional pair of ocular apparatus through their retinal mechanisms,” he deadpans, but in the low tone he uses, it sounds like he pouts through it. You can only stifle a little laugh, not wanting to be kicked out together like last time. 

“But in my hand?” He points out, lifting said member slightly as if the weight of the question rests within his palm, his fingers curling in subtle confusion. You place your fingers above his, pulling them back down to the table, fixing the hold on your pen before adding another line.

Not giving him a verbal answer, you hum instead, dragging the ballpoint over his knuckles, adding little leaves and flowers occasionally. It’s routeless, a simple doodle of a vine growing all over the extension of his hand and slowly inching closer to his palm. He doesn’t enquire again, instead taking some notes for the both of you with his free hand. All while you entertain yourself trying to draw every flower you know from memory to add it to the growing vine doodle in your boyfriend’s hand. So entertained with it at times that you don’t notice the fluttering fond smiles on the corner of his lips as he takes glances of you so focused, so utterly adorable. 

Finalizing the last touches right as the bell rings to announce the end of this period, you look proudly at your work as he extends his fingers, taking in with detail every curse and crevice of your carefully crafted creation. He can’t even muster words for some seconds, too distracted, too enamoured. His silence makes you speak up, asking instead: 

“Isn’t it cute?”

“It’s more than cute, it’s precious... Just like you are.”

You smile, so beautifully and endearingly, that his heart's skipping a dangerous beat or two. Oxygen catches in his throat, momentarily trapping his breath in this overwhelming rush of emotions. His chest tightens. For a fleeting moment, he’s convinced that the world stopped spinning, sounds around him fading to nonexistence. And all that existed was you —the warmth of your smile, the curve of your lips, the pure joy in your face. Every fiber of his being is captive of you this instant. 

Oh, how stunning you are.

Alahitham accompanies you to your dormitory, with an ongoing conversation carrying short debates about the topics you each learned today and gentler talks about both of your future plans regarding your individual educations. It’s one of those things that transcurs so naturally between you two, a well-spoken and clear exchange of ideas, the ability to stand on different ends and still be able to respect one another, and the wish to remain together. The chemistry simmering slowly into a deeper bond of affection with the help of time. 

Even as you made it home, the exchange continues on your doorframe about tomorrow’s plans, and it only ends because you insist for him to get home before it gets too dark. You hug him, the heat of your farewell gesture burning into his skin, pumping straight to his heart as his mucles relax and he holds you, tight and lingering, until you are the one to part reluctantly. 

“See you tomorrow, my dear,” his breath brushes your forehead, leaving a kiss there. 

Other more tender words lingers in the tip of his tongue, however, Alhaitham swallows them to join the bundle of butterflies squirming in his stomach. Wings fluttering violently as you press a goodbye kiss on his lips —blessed, he’s utterly blessed. He returns it, lingering a little longer, holding your waist for a second too long. And when he parts, heart drumming on his chest, he spends a while too long reminding you to eat dinner, to brush your teeth, to not stay up too late, and more little things he thinks about all the time regarding you —he worries for you, now, always. 

When the separation finally does occur, his walk towards his own living quarters fills with silence. Your perfume still lingers on his nose, lips still tingling and he’s unable to pull his eyes away from the drawn vines in his hand. He’s able to figure out some flowers, among them, your favorite ones —he reminds himself to get you a bouquet after class tomorrow. 

Later that night, he somehow manages to shower without soap and water dissipating the ink from his hand. Don’t question how he pulled that off, just know he struggled doing so with only a hand. 

He skips his usual reading before bed, taking time to admire every curve and leaf you doodled in his hand again. Your soft touch buzzing in his fingers, your warm breath brushing against them when you leaned closer to add extra details to a sunflower, and the sweet smile you gave him. And he dozes off while looking at his hand, your precious grin engraved in his memory. 

He wishes, as he drifts in a dream —hopefully about you—, that parts of you like this would forever remain with him. So that he could always carry you with him in a way. 

[dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd]

Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Two - Feels Better In My Head

Warnings: Child abuse, domestic violence, alcoholism

Chapter Summary: Jack hates school and his father. Life sucks and nowhere feels truly safe. He desperately wants a way out...

Author’s Note: I finally got this done! It took me forever. I kept getting stuck towards the middle part. Also, I felt like the last chapter was way too short so this one is a little longer. Anyway I hope you enjoy! <3

Do you guys want a taglist for this series? I'd be happy to add you.

< Previous - Next >

Jack woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon frying. His mother always got up early to cook breakfast. That was his alarm clock.

He yawned and crawled out of bed to get dressed. He kept on the same black t-shirt and pulled on a pair of khaki green cargo pants. He glanced over at his backpack tossed carelessly on the floor next to his nightstand and groaned. He knew he should probably go to school today. He’d already missed so much this year and his mother would pester him about it if he didn’t.

Jack picked up the backpack and stuffed its contents that fell out back in. He grabbed his sketchbook and his Polaroid camera from his dresser and packed them as well. There was no telling when inspiration would strike. He zipped the bag shut and slung it over his shoulder.

Cautiously, Jack walked from his room into the kitchen just in case Scott was still home. Jacqueline noticed him out of the corner of her eye. 

“It’s okay. He’s at work.”

Jack relaxed and sat down at the table. It was a sad fact that he felt the most at ease when his father wasn’t home. Jacqueline finished off the bacon and brought it over. Jack snagged a few pieces as she turned to the refrigerator to get something to drink. She returned to the table with a carton of orange juice and sat down next to her son.

“Please go to school today, Jack.” Jacqueline said as she poured him some orange juice.

“I will. But I have to leave early because Mike needs me in the shop today.” Jack told her as he gulped down the juice. 

Jacqueline sighed and swept her frizzy blonde curls out of her face. “Okay. At least you’re getting some education today. I just wish you would apply yourself more.”

“I don’t need school, mama. It’s dumb. I’m never gonna use any of it in the real world.”

“It never hurt anybody to be educated,” she kissed his forehead, “Now get going or you’re gonna be late. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Jack replied through a mouthful of bacon as he grabbed his stuff and went out the door.

He climbed into his black pickup truck parked under the carport and started off to school. He mentally prepared himself as he drove. It had been three days since he last went. He was really enjoying the small break but his mom wanted him to go and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

Jack made it to the school and walked in, keeping his head down and avoiding people. He didn’t have any friends. There were a few acquaintances sure, but no one he really hung around or talked to regularly. He was a loner. On days he did attend the whole day, he spent the lunch period by himself and his breaks drawing in his sketchbook.

As depressing as it seemed, it didn’t bother him. He liked being alone.

Jack entered his homeroom and sat down at his desk in the back. He took out a pencil and the notebook he needed and sat them in front of him. This was his first period class, boring as usual. He had no interest in algebra. Too many formulas and confusing rules. So he did what he normally did and doodled in his math notebook instead of taking notes.

His next class, chemistry, was just as hard for him but slightly piqued his interest. Learning about different chemicals and how things worked fascinated him. Especially when they got to talk about radiation and explosions. But today was just bookwork and Jack was bored out of his mind. 

Two more hours and I can get out of here…

The last class before lunch was English. Jack hated this subject. It was the most boring out of all his classes, his teacher was awful, and he wasn’t good at reading. 

To pass the time, he actually did his work but it was half-assed. He really could care less about schoolwork. Some things he genuinely didn’t understand but he still could’ve put in a little more effort. 

Finally, the lunch bell rang and Jack didn’t hesitate darting from the classroom to the parking lot. He made it back to his truck and left the school grounds in the dust, eager to get to work.

He loved his job. Mike was an awesome guy to work for. It didn’t pay much but it was a good first job. Jack helped out in Mike’s repair shop by sweeping, moving equipment, handing him parts, etc.

Jack arrived at the shop and parked out front. He walked around back to the garage where Mike usually was. Mike was a middle aged guy in his late 40s. He was bald, stout, and a little on the shorter side with a graying, bushy brown beard. He had become somewhat of a mentor to Jack over the years. 

Today Mike was underneath a small red car fixing something. He noticed Jack and slid out, chuckling. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” 

“I was but Mom said I could leave early for work.” 

“Now why do I feel like that’s a half truth? Eh, it doesn't matter to me. It’s not my education you're screwing with.”

“Pfft. I don’t care about school. It’s so dumb. I probably learn more here than I do there.” 

Mike shrugged. “I got some stuff for you to do. There’s a few boxes out front with the new tools in them. Move them back here and put them where they go. Then I need you to sweep around the garage. It’s getting filthy.”

Jack nodded and got right to work. He went back to the front and found the boxes sitting at the door. They were unopened and quite heavy but nothing Jack couldn’t lift. He brought them back to the garage and set them down next to the metal cabinets. After opening them, he put all the tools where they belonged and threw away the boxes. Then he grabbed a broom and started sweeping. Dust, dirt, debris, trash, leaves, etc. littered the concrete floors. 

Man, I can’t even remember the last time I swept. This is disgusting. Jack thought as he tossed the dustpan on the floor and swept the pile of filth he created into the pan. 

Mike’s radio played in the background and Jack nodded quietly along with the music. For over an hour he swept and swept until the floor was finally clean. He dumped the last pile into the trash and propped the broom against the wall, admiring his work. He knew having the shop clean and organized would help out Mike a lot.

Mike looked up from his work and laughed. “Done already? Well, I guess I could teach you how to put in a new transmission. Come here and I’ll show you.”

After an interesting lesson from Mike and a few more hours of odd jobs around the shop, it was time for Jack to go home. He glanced at his watch as he walked back to his truck. He was about to open the door when a glimmer of light caught his eye. 

A brown glass bottle was laying in the ditch near the road. He paused for a moment, lost in thought. Suddenly a childhood memory hit him at full speed and there was no stopping it.

Crash! 

Glass was sent everywhere as Jack tumbled to the floor. He clutched the back of his head, blood pooling into his hands. He burst into tears as any eight year old would in this terrifying situation. His mother, hearing the commotion, came running into the kitchen. She ignored her seething husband for once and knelt next to her son, peeling away his hands and accessing the wound. 

Jaqueline whipped around to face the man responsible, unusually fearless. “Did you do this to him?!” 

“Pshhh. So what if I did? The little brat deserved it.” The drunk slurred. 

“He needs a hospital, Scott!” 

“You ain’t taking him nowhere! He’ll live.” Scott bellowed.

Jacqueline huffed, picked up Jack, and whisked him away to the bathroom where she could treat the wound to the best of her ability. She took a washcloth and ran it under some warm water. Then she fanned out his curls surrounding the gash and cleaned it up with the washcloth. She wiped his bloody hands clean and picked what glass she could out of his hair and the wound. Jack whimpered in pain.

“Shhh. It’s okay, sunshine. It’s okay. Mama’s got this taken care of.” Jacqueline reassured him gently.

Once she got the wound clean, she bandaged it and carried Jack to his room. She put him to bed and kissed him goodnight. Jack’s memory of that night faded from there.  

Jack blinked and brought himself back. He sighed and got in the driver’s seat. Before he went home, he wanted to ride around for a bit. He went straight through town and then took a few backroads. He ended up on the main road again out in the countryside. Nothing was out there except the forest and occasional billboards. His hometown truly was in the middle of nowhere.

A nice photo opportunity came up so Jack pulled over in a field nearby. There was a beautiful view of the sunset with the trees underneath. He fished his Polaroid out his backpack and hopped out of the truck. He lowered the tailgate and sat down, positioning his camera into the perfect place. When he got the shot he wanted, he set the camera down and laid back, gazing at the sky. 

He wished he could stay here forever lost in his head instead of going home. He dreaded school and he dreaded his house. The only true safe place was going out alone. The streets were once again his safe haven. 

Jack finally got a hold of himself and realized how much had passed. As much as he hated to, he really needed to get home. He put the tailgate up and climbed back in. The drive back home was the same as every other day yet he cringed at each familiar landmark he passed and every curve he rounded. Today he was feeling particularly uneasy about going home.

He turned down his street and pulled into his driveway, parking under the carport. His father wasn’t home yet. 

Thank God. 

As he walked up to the front porch, Jack noticed a pair of glowing yellow eyes underneath the deck. He smiled, knowing exactly who they belonged to. 

“Luna, come on out girl. It’s okay.” He coaxed the creature. 

A gray cat shimmied out from under the porch and stretched. She meowed and rubbed up against Jack's legs, purring contently. 

The neighborhood Jack lived in had a lot of stray cats. He loved animals and they loved him. He enjoyed all the cats he came across but he had a special bond with Luna. She wasn’t technically his cat since she moved throughout the neighborhood but she always found her way back to his house at some point.

Jack reached into his backpack and produced a plastic bag filled with cat treats. He always kept some on him in case he ran into a stray. He grabbed two treats out and sat them down in front of Luna. She nibbled at them gratefully and meowed her thanks. 

Jack pet her a few more times before walking up the stairs and entering the house. Jacqueline was in the kitchen washing dishes. Jack could smell dinner cooking. His mother turned around and her face lit up when she saw him. 

“Hi sweetie! How was your day?”

“Eh, it was alright. School was pretty boring.” 

“Ha. I figured you’d say that. Here, wash up and help me with the dishes.”

…

After Jack helped with washing the dishes and set up the table, the food was ready. Jacqueline took it out of the oven and placed it on the table. As soon as they sat down, Scott came stumbling through the door. The atmosphere in the house suddenly became tense and Jack could feel the temperature drop a few degrees.

“H-hi honey. Dinner’s ready.” Jacqueline said meekly.

Scott smirked. “Heh, you did something right for a change.” 

He sat down across from his wife and fixed his plate. Once again Jack was stuck in the middle. He felt his blood boil at his father's haughty attitude. His mom worked so hard for her no good husband only to be treated like dirt. 

“How was your day, son?” 

“Fine.” Jack replied shortly. He was repulsed by that horrible man calling him son.

Scott nodded half heartedly and turned to Jacqueline. “I’m glad we didn’t have a repeat of last night, dear.”

Jacqueline just looked down timidly. How could he be so cruel? Jack couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

“Last night would never have happened if you came home on time instead of going out drinking.” 

Jacqueline's eyes widened in fear. She glanced at Jack, silently pleading with him to be quiet. It was too late. Scott stood up, knocking his chair over, and loomed over Jack. 

“What was that, boy?”

Jack just stared back at him unafraid. Scott slapped him hard across the face and sent him to the floor. It all happened so fast, Jack could barely think. Before he knew it, Scott was kicking him in the side until his surge of rage subsided. Jack gasped as the wind was knocked out of him.

Finally Scott stopped and glared down at him angrily. “Don’t you ever question what I do with my time again! It’s none of your business.” 

With that he sat down again and went back to eating, completely ignoring his beaten son lying on the floor. All Jack could do was lay there and cry silently. He couldn’t wait until he could finally get away from this hellhole. It would come at a cost but to him it was worth it.

[sciencestyled]

Quantum Kangaroos and Space Unicorns: How Creative Writing Makes Science Absurdly Awesome

Ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary pals, buckle up your seat belts, because we're about to embark on a wild ride through the wacky world where creative writing meets science education. Imagine you're at a rollercoaster theme park that's also a laboratory run by mad scientists hopped up on Red Bull and pixie sticks. Yep, it's gonna be that kind of crazy.

Let's dive right into the swirling vortex of chaos, starting with the absolute bananas concept of creative writing in the realm of science. Picture this: you’re in a class and your science teacher morphs into a fusion of Shakespeare and Bill Nye. Suddenly, you're not just reading about the periodic table; you're reading about atoms throwing a rave, with electrons DJ-ing and protons busting out some seriously sick dance moves. Now that's how you make chemistry unforgettable!

Historically, science fiction has been the original OG in blending creative writing with science education. Let’s talk about the granddaddy of all sci-fi, Jules Verne. This guy was like the Elon Musk of the 19th century, except without Twitter and questionable business ethics. His "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" didn't just tell us about giant squids and steampunk submarines; it fired up the imaginations of kids who would grow up to become marine biologists and oceanographers. Verne was basically saying, "Hey, kids, the ocean is cool and also, maybe, a little terrifying!"

Fast forward to modern times, and we have writers like Andy Weir, the guy who wrote "The Martian," basically a survival guide for anyone accidentally stranded on Mars. Not only did he make botany seem like a rockstar profession (seriously, who knew potatoes could be so thrilling?), but he also managed to weave in real scientific principles with the flair of a Hollywood blockbuster. You can't read that book without feeling like you’ve just completed a crash course in space farming.

And speaking of space, let's dissect a specific piece of science fiction that exemplifies this marriage of creative writing and scientific education. Drumroll, please... I give you, "Jurassic Park." Now, we all know Michael Crichton wrote a novel that turned into a movie franchise that turned into a global obsession with velociraptors. But beyond the dino-mania, Crichton was sneaking in some heavy-duty genetic engineering concepts. He made DNA sequencing sound like something you could do with a MacBook and a YouTube tutorial. It was like Bill Gates met Steven Spielberg in a lab full of T-Rex bones. Jurassic Park taught us that science can be thrilling, terrifying, and maybe a little bit murderous if you’re not careful with those cloning experiments.

Now, you might be wondering, "Why should I care about learning science through creative writing?" Well, hold onto your hats because we're about to take a detour into the benefits of this brain-melting blend. First off, creative writing turns your brain into a cognitive Swiss Army knife. It sharpens your ability to understand complex concepts by wrapping them up in stories that are easier to digest than your grandma’s apple pie. Imagine explaining the theory of relativity not as a boring lecture but as a love story between two particles separated by space-time. Sounds like a blockbuster hit waiting to happen, right?

Moreover, creative writing makes learning science feel like you’re unlocking secret levels in a video game. It's not just about memorizing facts; it’s about using those facts to solve puzzles, defeat bosses, and maybe, just maybe, save the universe from impending doom. It turns the classroom into an escape room where every clue you find gets you one step closer to understanding the mysteries of the cosmos.

And let’s not forget the imaginative boost. When you’re writing about quantum kangaroos hopping through wormholes, you’re not just entertaining yourself (and possibly confusing your English teacher); you’re training your brain to think outside the box. You’re setting the stage for the kind of innovative thinking that leads to real-world scientific breakthroughs.

So, how can we integrate this method into science education without turning every science class into a circus? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. We start by encouraging students to write their own science fiction stories. Let them create worlds where gravity works in reverse or where plants have debates about photosynthesis. The key is to make science fun and accessible, like a TikTok dance challenge but with more neurons firing.

Teachers could also use popular sci-fi movies and books as teaching tools. Want to explain the concept of a black hole? Why not show a clip from "Interstellar" and then have a discussion about the science behind it? It’s about using the hook of a good story to reel students into the deep waters of scientific discovery.

In conclusion, the intersection of creative writing and science education is like a supernova of awesomeness waiting to explode in a burst of creativity and knowledge. It’s a way to learn science that’s as thrilling as a Marvel movie and as thought-provoking as a TED Talk given by a cat in a lab coat. So, let’s unleash our inner mad scientists and wild storytellers, and watch as our understanding of the universe expands faster than a speeding neutrino.

Alright, folks, that's all for today. Stay curious, stay weird, and remember: in the world of science and creative writing, the only limit is the edge of your imagination. Now go out there and make some scientific magic!

[spideyspeaches]

Gold Rush ↬ t.h

Gif by @parkeraul :)

A/N: I'm in love with that song 🙈 also here's my super late contribution of professor!tom 😋 cause I've been procrastinating on the wandavision au (in my defence though, it's taking a lot of brainstorming 😂) anyway here you go-

Wc: 2.6k+

Warnings: lemme know if you find one :)

Summary: He taught British History and you chastise yourself for not auditing for that subject earlier.

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Waking up with a start, you groan at the shrill sound of your alarm. With a sigh that was more of a grunt of annoyance, you tried to reach for your phone at the side table, hissing when you felt the corner of your elbow hit the table, pain shooting up to your shoulder. 

Great, you weren't even up yet and your day was already going shitty. You just hoped that your professor won't be grumpy about you being late for the millionth time this semester. 

You hated cultural architecture. You had nothing against the course, but You hated your professor with a passion and wished that you could burn your textbooks for all you cared, right in front of your teacher's eyes, watch him writhe in fear as you banished the very existence of your material. 

You were being dramatic, but in your defence, your professor was an old bastard who never left an opportunity to reprimand you, going as far as letting you know how uneven your margins were on your latest project. 

He wore birkenstocks with a three piece. You wouldn't trust him with your assignments. 

Getting out of your dorm room was work, hard work. But you got out, brushed your teeth and wore what you hoped were presentable clothing. 

"You look hungover." Your roommate, Stacy, commented, spitting in the sink as you scowled at her. 

She was straightforward, outspoken and somehow managed to look like one of those Victoria secrets models that you loathed, even at seven in the morning. You hated her. 

(You didn't.)

"Thanks, I hope I smell too. Want that son of a bitch- what's his name, Wilson, to suffer for giving me that C minus on my thesis." You grumbled, rubbing your hands through your hair to flat them out. 

"You really hate him, don't you." She snickered, popping off her shirt. You tried not to look, not wanting to come off as a pervert, but damn, she was fit. You contemplated her words, frowning at your own reflection. 

You looked disheveled, the dark eye bags under your eyes very apparent as you tried to mask them with foundation, setting your hair for the millionth time. Oh well, you were presentable enough. Sweatpants would have to do for your only class today, you could binge Netflix after this wretched class. 

"I do. I hope his third wife divorces him and he loses his thermos of coffee in the subway." You said, adding your look finally before wearing your shoes. 

"That's cruel, didn't know you had it in you." She snickered, patting your back and following you as you closed the door, "Well I have to go to my boring science lectures now so, see you later hun." 

"Yeah, enjoy your chemistry period with your boyfriend!" You cheered sarcastically, rolling your eyes and hugging her to tell her that you were only joking. Your relationship was this, of jokes and hugs and kisses. You considered her your best friend. 

Rushing towards the gates of your university, you hastily tightened your loosening hair tie, adjusting the straps of your bags. You were pretty sure you had broken your record of being late to your class. You may hate the professor, but you actually enjoyed the subject. 

Wheezing as you ran past the late comers, you nodded at the receptionist, hastily signing yourself in. You would blame your clumsiness for what happened next, because one second you were fixing your sande on the foot of the fountain, and next thing you knew you were crashing into a firm body, your nose hitting the random stranger’s chest.

"I’m so sorry! I’m kinda late to class and I wasn’t looking and- whoa, ow.” You rushed your words, groaning when you felt blood rush from your head to toe, nose throbbing with double vision, a reminder of your clumsiness. 

“Whoa, hey calm down, it’s okay, I wasn’t looking either.” The stranger said, his thick South Western accent snapping you out of your self pity. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks instead, not anticipating your face in a flush this early in the morning, when you got a good look at the stranger. He was good looking, in his black high turtleneck and brown checkered pants. He had a small leather satchel clutched in his hands, face looking as flushed as you felt when you realised that you had been gawking at him.

He was probably no older than his mid twenties, making you wonder what he was doing in your university. He was too old to be a student, and too young to be a professor. But then again, you wouldn't judge him for joining college late.

Right? 

"S-sorry, you um, you must be really late, you should go." He stuttered, your heart fluttering at his dimpled chin and thick accent. His eyes were gleaming in the morning sun, captivating in a way that left you in awe. 

"Um yeah, I am." You nodded, composing yourself, hoping that you didn't look too sleep deprived or disheveled, "where are you going, if you don't mind me asking."  

"Um, the architecture wing?" He said, unconsciously stepping besides you.

"Oh, I'm going that way. Is it your first time coming here? Haven't seen you around." You asked, trying not to stare at his sharp jawline and the way the morning sun hit him just right, illuminating and accentuating his curly brown hair. 

"Yeah, it's my first lecture, so um, looks like I'm late too." He smiled. It was infectious, you noticed as you mirrored his expression. 

"Oh, you're a student?" 

"Actually, I'm a professor. Just transferred from UCL." 

So you were right, he was a professor. He looks so young though. You thought, nodding at him, your thoughts interrupted by his laugh. Looking at him with confusion, you raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, everyone says that. I started right after finishing graduation so, I guess I'm not much older than you." He smiled, kicking the small pebbles littered around the set grassy ground. It had just rained, the smell of wet ground still fresh. 

"I said that out loud didn't I?" You smirked, ducking your head to hide. 

"You did." 

Entering the building, you realised that you hadn't asked which subject he taught, crossing your fingers and hoping that he would replace the old bastard that taught you cultural architecture. 

"I forgot to ask, which lecture do you teach?" You asked, looking for your class in the end. The hallways were empty, it was way past your first lecture and all the students were already in the auditorium. 

"Oh, uh, British History." He answered. You didn't let disappointment show too much on your face, smiling shyly before gesturing towards the class, "that's you." 

"Oh, um thank you." He smiled, pursing his thin lips together as he walked towards the class. You could hear screaming of the students as you both neared the classroom, you still standing by the door, "I didn't get your name." 

His question snapped you out of your disappointed gaze, 

"Oh, it's Y/n. Y/n L/n." You said with a smile. 

"Pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Thomas Holland, but you can call me Tom." He said awkwardly, before turning back to his class, who had yet to notice him.

"The pleasure's all mine Professor." 

For the first time in your college life, you didn't feel like tearing your hair off during your lecture, your thoughts wandering around. You wanted to berate yourself for not paying attention, but your thoughts kept going there. 

It was funny, how you met him not long ago and he was already taking up residence in your brain. You could not control your feelings after all. Something akin to nausea or excitement eased into your stomach when you pictured his smile, his black turtleneck that accentuated his biceps and pectorals. The little rebellious eyebrow and the tiny scar above it. 

It made your heart flutter, everything seemingly seemed to stop around you. It scared you a bit, how You had managed to envision the little details of his face in your brain after such a short duration. 

You didn't realise that you were smiling until you felt a nudge on your side, making you nearly jump on your seat. 

"What?!" You hissed, scowling at your classmate. 

"Who're you thinking about?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned towards you. You had known her long enough to know her name but never bothered learning, and you were too scared to ask now. 

"It's none of your business." You muttered, glancing up to see your professor scowling at a student as they stood up. 

"Well okay, but did you hear about the hot new professor? Apparently he's teaching British History, I regret not taking that as a subject now." She said, her cheeks flushed with excitement. You furrowed your brows, feeling a pang in your chest at the realisation that you were probably just another girl with a stupid crush on the hot professor, that there were already girls who would die to feel his touch. 

"How do you know about him?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you try to act nonchalant. You weren't being subtle, apparently, because you could see her snapping her bubblegum with a smirk, leaning forward as if trading secrets. 

"You kidding right? Everyone knows about him, you got a crush on him or something?" She suggested, scooting close enough to make you squirm. 

"I literally just met him, and ew, he's a professor, why would I see him that way?" You whisper, willing your heart to stop palpitating at the thought of said professor, your gut twisting in anticipation. 

"I don't know girl, he's hot and young and so much better than this bastard." She sighed, leaning on her palm with a fake dreamy expression. 

You went back to ignoring her after that, noticing how her notebook said 'Eloise'. At least you didn't have to ask her her name now. 

Your class went surprisingly well, or maybe it was because you weren't paying attention and thinking about him again. You really needed to get a grip on yourself. 

Walking out of your class, you decided to go to the cafeteria, your stomach begging for your attention.

Setting your things on a table, you took out your phone to scroll through Instagram, before switching it off and looking around the cafeteria. You didn't know what you were expecting to see, but your stomach was gurgling with hunger and nothing made sense when you were hungry. 

Walking to grab something to eat, you pick up your bag, hanging it over one of your shoulders before getting in the line. 

Just as you were about to turn with your bun and cup of coffee, you crashed into someone for the second time that day. Cursing your clumsiness, you heard a familiar British accent curse not very colourful words, making you stumble over as you tried to wipe off the hot coffee off his shirt.

"Hey, it's okay." He said, stopping your frantic gestures by holding your wrist with his to cease any movements.

"Professor Holland! I'm so sorry, it's like, I'm just clumsy. I have no excuse." You sighed in resignation, mentally facepalming at spilling your coffee at the hot professor. 

"It's okay darling, I've had much worse spilled on me." He smirked, his hand still holding on to yours. You had started walking away from the location, and yet his hand didn't let go, "You know, I used to babysit during my college days." 

"Oh, babysitting, right of course." You chuckled awkwardly, chest heaving with the sudden close proximity with the professor, dissipating the not quite PG thought that just occurred in your mind at his words.. 

"Sorry for-" You said in unison with him, chuckling. 

"You go first." He said.

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on You, it must have hurt and I ruined your shirt and now there's a big splotch of coffee right in the middle!" You said, circling your fingers around your palm as you walked with your back to the exit as you walked out of the cafeteria, food forgotten and him following your pace. 

Before you could continue your awkward blabber, you were standing in the garden outside, leaning against a pillar with the garden in your view looking golden in the setting sun. He was standing in your view, the shadows around his jaw making it look sharp enough to cut glass. 

Taking a breath, you looked up at his smiling form with confusion when he didn't answer, instead leant onto the pillar next to you.

"You were... gonna say something?" You reminded, smiling awkwardly as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Oh? Oh! Oh yes yes, You know, I was kind of disappointed that you weren't in my class, Mister Wilson talks very highly of you." He said, folding his arms on his chest, it made his biceps bulge. 

"He does?" You looked at him with surprise, guilt panging in your chest when you remembered yourself bad mouthing the professor not long ago. 

"Yes, says you're a bright student with a bright future." He answered, leaning his head back so that his neck was exposed, Adam's Apple bobbing as he gulped, his hair falling into place perfectly against his forehead. The arch of his neck was beautiful, tracing it with your eyeballs as you imagined which other curves of his were as beautiful, immediately dismissing those thoughts, chastising yourself for thinking such a way of a professor. 

"That's… sweet of him. I've never heard him compliment me once in the two and half years I've been in his class." You chuckle, leaning your elbow on the pillar to get a better look at his side profile. 

"Hmm, he says he's hard on you because he wants you to do your best..." 

You stopped listening past that, your breath growing more erratic the more he talked, his smooth voice washing over you like warm honey with a squeeze of lemon. Swallowing a sudden lump in your throat, your heart leaping, leaving you nauseous and in a dream like trance. 

Tom noticed immediately, noticing your slouched posture as you stared at him with a small smile, the upturn of your lips so inviting that he almost dived in, wanting to know the feeling of them what they felt like against his. 

He wasn't the kind to date his students, in fact, he rarely dated after joining uni and becoming a professor. 

He strictly believed that student/teacher relationships should end in only a professional non romantic set up. That was all up until he crashed into you that morning. 

You had been in his mind all day, stirring him crazy as he imagined your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your subject of interest, the say your fingers fiddled with the ring you wore on your index finger. 

He wondered if this feeling would last forever or become a vague memory, an attraction of hearts that didn't last but felt good till it did. If he was rushing, or if you even felt the same way. 

He was smart, of course that's how he became a teacher, but he still couldn't place your feelings. 

So when he saw you staring at him, his heart leaping in his throat at your adorable smile, the only logical answer his brain gave was that you liked him too. Temporary attraction or not, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in it's mouth. 

Next thing he knew your lips were crashing onto his, your chest pressed against his firmly as your hands reached up to the base of his neck. 

Your fingers were soft, tongue swishing against his as he opened his mouth to let you enter. His hands automatically reach for your waist, holding onto firmly as he slammed you against the pillar. 

The sun was nearly down, the last of the rays hitting the garden, lighting you both up in a golden glow that left you breathless with a fire raging in your souls. 

"What do you say that I audit for British history? I'd like to learn more lessons from you, Professor Holland." You said, breathless against his chest, hiding your nose against his sternum, blood rushing to your ears as his warm hand burned against the bare skin underneath your shirt. 

"That would be great darling, anything to see your pretty smile every morning." 

A/N: let me know what you think! :)

[twstdreams]

Can I get sorted into a dorm please? I love learning and can get a bit obsessive when it comes to topics I enjoy like history, science and culinary. I’m also fun loving but according to my friends I can get a bit malicious at times since I do love to tease people. I seem quiet and hard to approach and some even say I seem vain when they first meet me(doesn’t help that I tend to dress elegantly even in a casual scene) but once you get to know me I’m extremely talkative, helpful and friendly. For real though I can talk for hours non stop once I’m given a topic.Though as my personality type is entp I’m not the best at listening to authority, can be painfully blunt and enjoy a good debate but I have tact and know when to keep my mouth shut for the most part especially since I care about my image(that and I’m not a fan of having enemies). I can get discouraged when I do something wrong, be it getting a bad grade or unintentionally hurting someone's feelings too much causing me to sulk around and be a bit petty.I get along well with people who are loyal and stick to their guns as well as open minded people but I get bored quickly if someones too sensitive or has their ideas easily swayed. If it helps, my Hogwarts house is ravenclaw.

The shape of thy soul is ... Diasomnia!

Why you fit in this dorm:

The students of this dorm exceed in general magic, so your love for science is probably a similar equivalent! In a dorm famed for having unusual inhabitants, your obsessive tendencies towards learning topics you like aren’t even considered weird.

Your elegant fashion style is welcomed because Diasomnia was founded on the elegance of the Witch of Thorns! 

Hard to approach is practically the brand of Diasomnia, along with gifted students, through the eyes of the rest of NRC. Therefore, you’ll fit right in and most likely find yourself sitting at the exclusive cafeteria table with your dormmates. You and Lilia insist Diasomnia, and yourselves, are more welcoming than the rumours say but not all will be swayed or have the guts to discover the truth for themselves. 

Your malicious side might even pail to some of your dormmates since most people are scared of even accidentally angering your fellow Diasomnia students. Hopefully, you won’t have to find out who’s scarier when enraged!

Within the dorm, your talkative and friendly personality will be embraced! People appreciate it when you participate in game nights or join the soap opera marathons. If you ever use your culinary interest to create some snacks, your dormmates would be open to trying some! Just don’t leave them next to Lilia’s or else everyone might avoid it to prevent accidentally grabbing some of the vice dorm leader’s abominations 

Being bold enough to debate and bluntly state opinions in combination with having enough tact to know when to stop is key because while there are many opportunities for interesting conversation, there are definitely some dorm members with flaring tempers too! Those rumours did start from somewhere after all because Diasomnia members can’t be dealt with normal means

Your dorm life:

If your culinary passion ever leans towards cold sweets, Malleus is definitely up to taste testing any ice creams you concoct! Custard-based ones, sorbets, frozen yogurt, some swirled with other desserts inside, the possibilities are endless. He might even be open to helping you during the process when he has free time once the two of you get closer

Lilia’s best subject is magical history so you have a great conversation partner for this topic! He has tons of stories, but it’s up to you to discern if any are woven with lies to play a trick on you. Lilia is especially knowledgeable about trends of various time periods so if you’re ever interested, he probably has great insight! 

Your teasing and sociable nature might mean you get to join Lilia when pulling little friendly pranks, but you’re just as likely to be on the receiving end! If you can master the skill, the dorm might end up seeing both you and Lilia pop in while floating upside down. You only do this with those you are friends with or wish to befriend though, being conscientious of your image means you won’t be surprising anyone that’s not already used to you

No worries, you’re hardly the only person in this dorm that goes on tangents about their favourite subject. It ends up being quite common that you exchange info dumps with Sebek or Malleus! Sebek will rave about Malleus or Malleus will explain subcategories of gargoyles along with their history. Once they're finished, you go off about your current interest. It’s mutually beneficial and tends to occur over tea time so everyone has refreshments to sip between excited rambles.

Silver and Sebek fit the bill of people who stick to their ideals! Sebek especially would never waver in his trust and high opinion of Malleus. Silver still faithfully guards Malleus, though he’s not quite as loud about it as his fellow guard. To Silver’s credit, he would adjust his opinion as new information comes in while also observing others and applying lessons where applicable.

Lilia and Malleus can be quite open-minded, especially Lilia who is more practiced when socializing with others. Malleus does try to understand others, but his temper and pettiness sometimes get in the way. However, they’re not so sensitive that they can’t debate with others or get fussed when opinions differ. 

Keeping this in mind, you won’t get bored! Your dormmates are loyal, stick to their ideals, but some are open-minded as well.

Another possible dorm: Pomefiore

At Pomefiore, each student carries a unique sense of beauty. Therefore, your elegant style regardless of the occasion is embraced! The beautiful Queen was elegant and fair, so emulating her is considered a good thing. You can even get tips and swap information about favourite brands with your fellow dormmates

Your love for science will flourish at Pomefiore, especially any interest in chemistry or biology, because this dorm has its own lab! Your interest in culinary skills and cuisine might even intersect when creating poisons and trying to reverse any visual effects or unpleasant tastes.

Appearing vain isn’t even considered odd at this dorm, rather people take pride in beauty! It’s important to take care of your appearance and this dorm demonstrates the power that stems from beauty.

If you want to challenge authority, you’re most certainly allowed to request to duel Vil, but you’ll have to deal with the fallout of failing too! The weak obey the strong at NRC so if you lose, you’ll have to listen and no amount of being petty or sulking will spare you  

Being aware of your image and how you are perceived is considered a good trait at Pomefiore. In addition, tact is encouraged, so you’ll fit right in with your dormmates! 

You may not find people loyal to others, but many are striving to be loyal to themselves while living by their own ideals and beliefs. This is a dorm where people demand duels and throw gloves when they feel disrespected. There’s most likely enough at Pomefiore to prevent you from feeling bored!

Dorms to avoid:

Ignihyde

Your sociable characteristics are not going to flourish at Ignihyde. Forget hard to approach, your dormmates go out of their way to avoid spotlight, attention, speeches, interacting with strangers excessively, they’re one of the dorms that are hardest to befriend.

The land of introverts is not a walk in the park for an extrovert. While you could definitely find others with obsessive or intense interests and people who go on about their likes, people here can definitely be sensitive. Also, long interactions can be quite draining as well, so you might not find any talkative dormmates either. 

It’s a pretty private dorm which might not be conducive to your teasing tendencies or talkative and friendly nature. Given that you have enough tact to not pursue topics and make enemies, you’d definitely survive in this dorm. The many avid gamers may also bring you joy but ultimately, even if you’re a Ravenclaw, this dorm is probably not your idea of a fun time.

Heartslabyul

Issues with listening to authority figures? You’re probably gonna get collared by Riddle. Perhaps not as quick as Deuce and Ace, but you’re going to end up with some magic free days whether you like it or not

Furthermore, you enjoy debating but there is no room for it when it comes to the Queen of Heart’s rules, which may frustrate you especially when you’re someone who gets along with the open-minded. You’d have to keep silent quite a bit. There’s no question that they’re sticking to their ideals, but since they’re forced on you as well it can end up suffocating. 

On the other hand, your sociable nature and culinary inclinations mean that you could enjoy it too! From teatime to taking care of the animals, there are lots of opportunities to hang out and talk. You’d probably never get a bad grade either if under Riddle’s tutelage. The real question is if it’s enough to outweigh the oppressive and severe rules

[apparitionism]

First Lines Meme

I generally don’t do memes, but the extremely kind and generous @pers-books tagged me, so let’s see where this goes...

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

All the stories are Bering and Wells, of course, and I’m changing the rules (as one does): restricting myself to completed pieces that I’ve moved over to AO3 and skipping over some to grab a few older favorites.

Santa: “It’s Christmas soon,” Helena said, in that tone Myka had learned, over the past several months (eight of them, plus two weeks and three days, but who was counting… okay, Myka was counting, but could it really be considered counting if you didn’t multiply it all out and narrate for yourself an entire relationship day-by-day ticktock, which of course she did not do?), to read as “I am saying something of significance to our relationship, but I will not make that significance immediately comprehensible to you because why would I do that when I could make your life difficult.”

Secret (AU): “You didn’t come to the party.”

Helicobacter (AU): A hellscape: blood everywhere, coating the office buildings, apartments, streets, sidewalks, the park with its capacious square and inviting fountain…

Sugar: A year ago, Myka wouldn’t have imagined this Christmas Eve this way.

Road (AU): Myka drinks from her late-afternoon-lukewarm water bottle and wishes she were asleep.

Myrrh: “I’ve got a vibe,” Pete announces, and Myka is gratified when Claudia’s “oh no,” and Steve’s too, echo her own.

Frankincense (AU): “No,” Helena says.

Gold: Pete rarely had expectations.

Pilot (AU): “Double whiskey and soda.”

Streets: It is not, Helena tries to admonish herself into believing, that she minds seeing Pete and Claudia.

Ascertaining: Helena reads labels.

Release (AU): The world, or at least Helena Wells’s corner of it, seems beige.

Flap (AU): “Here, turkey, turkey, turkey,” Myka muttered.

Timekeeper (AU): Once, in an eddy of a history that might be yours or mine, there lived a timekeeper.

Wings (AU): It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a bored angel is a dangerous angel.

Beekeeper (AU): “Stupid bees!” says the orchardist, swatting at his neck.

Pajamatory (AU): The main entrance to the Sleep-Tite Pajama Company headquarters and factory seemed designed to appear industrially forbidding—a towering, steam-belching edifice of dark brick.

Quicksilver: Myka’s tenth-grade chemistry teacher, in the course of a lecture on the periodic table, had removed a vial of mercury from a shelf near his desk.

Travel (AU): Helena thanks the good lord that just as the rain starts to fall, a cabbie sees her raised hand and stops.

And for #20, here’s my all-time favorite (it may not be lyrical, but it has the virtue of being true):

Soon (AU): It is January of 1952, and in Washington, D.C., the temperature has been rising for four days.

I’m not seeing a pattern, but if anybody discerns one, let me know. And I’m disinclined to tag, so playing is up to any writers who want to give it a go!

[maxwell-grant]

Thoughts on the Shadow's Doppelganger, Lamont Cranston

The funny thing about Cranston in the original stories is that, yeah, one of the most famous scenes across all Shadow media is the “Lamont Cranston Talks to Himself” chapter in The Shadow Laughs, where we learn that The Shadow is not Lamont Cranston, but has usurped his identity, and now shows up at his bedside looking like him, talking like him, knowing more about his own life than he himself does, and ordering him to leave town, effectively blackmailing him into letting him use his face. It’s a very iconic scene that exemplifies a lot of what makes The Shadow unique as a character, and you can imagine why so many adaptations have gone with the idea of Cranston being either a hapless stooge bullied into submission, or an actual villain, because that whole scene is very much a horror movie scenario. 

Thing is, none of them seem to remember how Cranston and The Shadow’s relationship developed past this. I’ll post this excerpt from Atoms of Death:

"Good morning, Cranston," came a quiet tone from the foot of the bed.

"Good morning, yourself," returned Cranston, rubbing his eyes without noticing the visitor.

"You should say: Good morning, myself," chuckled The Shadow, dryly.

Cranston was pulling down the sleeves of his pajama jacket. He sat bolt upright, staring. Then a slow smile showed on his lips; one that was almost a replica of The Shadow's.

"So it's you," remarked Cranston, sleepily. "Well, I knew that last night. It was about time we crossed paths again. Well, old man, you landed me in for plenty this trip."

Cranston shoved bedclothes aside and perched on the edge of the bed. He found cigarettes on the telephone table; The Shadow supplied a flame from a lighter before Cranston could ignite a match. The millionaire noted that The Shadow's lighter bore the initials "L. C." 

"You handle every detail, don't you?" questioned Cranston in admiration. “Jove! I remember the first time I met you. In this very room. You dropped cloak and hat and left me looking at my own face as plainly as if I had seen it in a mirror. Just as it is today."

"And I advised you," recalled The Shadow, in Cranston's own tone, "to take a trip abroad, while I used your identity. You were a bit exasperated at first."

"I must admit that I was. I threatened to have you arrested, as an impostor, until you proved that you knew more about my affairs than I did. I really believe that if it had come to a showdown, I would have been proven the impostor and you the genuine Lamont Cranston. Jove!"

"Jove," repeated The Shadow, quietly, "You have acquired that expression recently, Cranston. I shall remember it for future reference. You have a penchant for acquiring anglicisms during your sojourns in British colonies. Jove!"

"Bounder and blighter," laughed Cranston. "Don't forget those. I still use them occasionally."

Or this excerpt from The Hydra, which is an incredible book where the chemistry between the two really shines:

Lamont Cranston woke up and wondered why his head still whirled. It took him about half a minute to learn that the motion came from the fact he was riding in his limousine. Someone must have put him back in the limousine and Stanley was driving him home. 

He didn't have to guess who had helped him on his way, for at that moment Cranston heard a low-toned laugh beside him. He turned to see the black-cloaked figure of The Shadow.

"What did you hit me with?" asked Cranston. "All four of your automatics?"

"I'm only carrying a pair tonight," replied The Shadow

Look at these two dorks, just palling around and getting into shenanigans and The Shadow outright joking around Cranston, like they are just two old chums having a laugh at the weirdness of their lives. The “real” Cranston didn’t show up very often in the original stories, especially in the last stories when Lamont Cranston essentially became the real identity of The Shadow, but when he did, part of what makes him stand out as his own character is that he’s funny. Gibson gets a lot of mileage out of Cranston as this guy who is completely nonchalant and chill about all the weird shit that happens to him, even in The Hydra after he kills a man with an elephant gun, he’s still more or less the same, he largely just walks out of it with a newfound realization. 

Relieving Cranston of the elephant gun, The Shadow steered his friend into the closet. Hauling the big weapon with him, The Shadow opened the door to meet and dismiss arriving servants who had dashed upstairs when they felt the house quake. 

"Whenever I see this gun," began Cranston, coming from the closet, "I'll remember what I did with it -" 

“Quite right," interposed The Shadow approvingly. "What you did to Mance will make amends for any elephants you may have killed. Too bad Mance didn't bring along a few more Hydra Heads.”

Slowly, understanding dawned on Cranston. He'd never compared his big-game hunts with The Shadow's quests for men of crime. He felt that The Shadow's cause was justified, but it had seemed outside the field of sport. It still was, but Cranston, now that he had dealt with a murderer who deserved to die, was realizing that his game hunts were more deserving of rebuke.

His encounters with The Shadow gradually changed Cranston from a useless millionaire wasting his resources and talents on idle pursuits, to...still largely a useless millionaire, except his resources and talents are no longer wasted and he’s gradually grown into a useful ally and friend to The Shadow. The Shadow tends to have that effect on people who work by his side and even Cranston, the guy whose main role in his organization is to just stay away and be useless somewhere else, can’t help but change a little into a better person when he appears. 

There’s an interesting article written by Bob Sampson called “The Third Shadow” which refers to the Bruce Elliot run of The Shadow Magazine, which is incredibly maligned by fans and not without reason, the stories all largely suck and the Shadow bears little resemblance to his former self, instead mostly feeling like a diet take on the radio show Lamont, more of an average detective. The theory Sampson puts out is that, during this period, it was actually Lamont Cranston who became active as The Shadow while Allard was busy overseas, and I definitely like this theory. It makes sense specially considering The Hydra sets up for Cranston to become more pro-active and serious:

While not the towering master-mind of Allard, he does become the next best thing: A post-war sleuth. He even indulges in wearing the cloak and slouch hat from time to time (to varying degrees of effectiveness), while trying to laugh like Allard (also to varying degrees of effectiveness) as if to fulfill that forbidden fantasy until he finally gets it out of his system. After all, The Shadow pretended to be him, why not the other way around?

As Bob Sampson put it: “It is always Cranston who explains all and takes the credit”. 

Probably very cathartic for Lamont, who for the last 18 years was relegated to being a distant supporting player in his own life. Cranston is still in contact with the agents however. He even receives "assignments" from Burbank. 

This entire arrangement could only be with The Shadow's tacit approval. Let us remember, Cranston was not merely some insipid fop. He certainly had done his own share of exploring and was indeed a hunter. He could handle a variety of firearms, was familiar with exotic peoples and their customs, knew how to stalk dangerous animals through the jungle and veldt, but he was not, nor ever claimed to be, a master secret-agent and soldier.

I think it is fitting that the writing is completely different for this period as well. Not the enigmatic journalistic style of Allards exploits, but the witty, modern champagne fizz of Cranston's odyssey in a Post-War world. He feels a full range of emotions. In the Gibson stories, The Shadow is at arms length. In the Elliott stories, Cranston is sitting right next to you on a train or an airplane or roadster. 

It’s also interesting to consider how Lamont Cranston has basically become the true name of The Shadow in pop culture. Often times it’s the name people use when they specifically want to reference The Shadow, the supposed “Ghost of Gay Street” hauntings in Gibson’s former apartment took the form of Lamont Cranston, and even in the stories, more and more people became aware of it as the years went by (which also helps reinforce the idea that the “real” Cranston eventually took to acting as a fill-in for The Shadow, to draw attention away from the real Shadow’s operations), and Gibson even mentioned a few times that Cranston was The Shadow’s “favorite” identity along with Arnaud. Which is kinda fascinating to think about and does hint at some weird underlying aspects of The Shadow’s psyche, that his favorite identity is one not his own.

And at last, there’s these passages from The Whispering Eyes, a book that does not mention Allard once, and the very last Shadow novel: 

From beneath the seat he was taking his black garb. Cloaked and hatted as he stepped from the cab, Cranston merged immediately with the darkness. He had become The Shadow. 

Cranston's switch to his other self could well be attributed to a hypnotic mood. The mental lapses produced through hypnosis were the sort that would often cause a subject to revert to habit. Now, as The Shadow, Cranston was still in what might be termed a haphazard mood. He was skirting through darkness, pausing, changing direction, behaving generally as though avoiding something that did not exist.

Lang had flung away his glasses; his eyes now showed the shining, hypnotic force that the lenses normally softened. He recognized the eyes that met his above a leveled gun muzzle.

The Shadow's eyes, yet strangely Cranston's, for this was one time The Shadow did not care to disguise them.

Which begs the question: Did Cranston succeed in fully becoming The Shadow? Or did The Shadow succeed in fully becoming Cranston?

[thetypedwriter]

Firekeeper’s Daughter Book Review

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that all of my in-depth reviews contain spoilers. 

Firekeeper’s Daughter Book Review by Angeline Boulley 

Well, this book review came quicker than I thought it would (which after weeks since my last published review for an actual novel that may sound absurd, but I promise it isn’t). 

There’s a lot of great things about this book and a lot of really important representation, but I also found it to be an incredible slog to trudge through. 

Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley is the story of a girl by the name of Daunis Fontaine who finds herself stuck between two worlds: her Fontaine side, also known as her zhaaganaash or white side, and her Native side, or known as her Anishinaabe side, or even more specifically, Ojibwe side. 

The debut novel from Boulley mainly describes Daunis’ struggle between these two worlds, the important people in them, and the war within herself to follow her heart, her gut, and her mind. 

In the background of this identity struggle, or perhaps largely influenced by it, Daunis finds herself inexplicably tangled up in a secret federal investigation into a specific type of meth being produced in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula that affects people not only in her community, but other Native communities as well. 

Suddenly finding herself becoming a spy, Daunis starts to learn and keep secrets, those in regards to the investigation as well as those regarding her feelings for fellow investigator-Jamie Johnson-an undercover narcotics cop posing as the cute new highschooler in town. 

As Daunis deals with her own internal struggles, her community, her relationships, and her burgeoning romance, her past, future, and present all collide and come to a head in this new novel. 

Now. Reading this summary, you might be thinking: this book sounds awesome! Love? Undercover cops? Drugs? Mystery? It has everything. 

And you’d be right. 

When I first read the jacket cover for this novel I knew it was a book I was inevitably going to read. Everything from the gorgeous cover art, to the intriguing summary, to the representation of Native Americans, I was completely drawn in. 

Too bad I didn’t like it very much. 

I will start off by saying that I think this book is incredible in its realistic depiction of the Ojibwe experience and I know how important it is to increase representation of all kinds of people and backgrounds in literature, especially YA literature. 

Boulley did an absolutely stunning job of relaying the nitty-gritty of the Ojibwe community-the elders, the geography, the food, the stigma, the finances, the politics, the reputation, the racism, the prejudice, the community, the love, the healing, and so much more. 

I always am in awe when authors utilize the golden rule of write what you know. Per the back jacket of the novel, Boulley herself states that she is an enrolled member of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians and an active storyteller of the Ojibwe community. 

This is beyond incredible. Having an accurate and active portrayal of people writing and drawing from their own experiences are powerful and significant. I could taste, feel, and see how clear and how real Boulley made the novel. 

I questioned a lot of things during this read, but the Ojibwe community in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was not one of them. From vocabulary to the extreme details depicting Sugar Island to the care and craft when talking about specific ceremonies like funerals, Boulley did an outstanding job of bringing in what she knows from her own experience and that of her community in order to breathe life into these pages. 

This was by far the best part of the novel for me. 

On the back jacket, Boulley also states that she was a former Director of the Office of Indian Education at the U.S. Department of Education. While I did not know this until a few minutes ago when I sat down to write this review, I am in no way surprised. 

The book was extremely intelligent. I could viscerally tell that Boulley knows her stuff and does her research. Everything from biology and chemistry processes and vocabulary, to mushroom identification, to legal matters like having an underage informant, politics regarding becoming a member of the Ojibwe Tribe, and due process of the law regarding FBI cases was very clear cut, very detailed, and obviously very accurate. 

I appreciated how much time and effort was put into this, even if I did find a lot of it bone dry and dull, I still could appreciate the time, effort, and knowledge to make sure that everything in the novel was precise and correct. 

That being said, it also made the book come across almost like an informational pamphlet at times, or like I was reading non-fiction. I understand being accurate, and I applaud her for that, but I don’t need or want five pages of in-book description of how one of these processes work. Just give me the bare-bones outline and I will go from there and look it up more if I so desire. 

This brings me to my first critique of this book and a large reason it was so tedious to get through: it was mind-numbingly long. 

Now. I just read a 2,000 page fanfiction not that long ago. That is long, you could argue, and you would be right. But, none of All of the Young Dudes was a bore to get through (sad, sure, but not boring), whereas whole sections of Firekeeper’s Daughter were too dragged out and too explicitly explained that I inevitably got bored and nodded off. 

The pace was too slow and too bogged down with unimportant details, like Daunis’ daily visits to the elders or her overthinking every single thing, or her making lists of all the things she doesn’t know (these are long lists). 

She often spends whole pages grieving about her Uncle David as well as her best friend Lily, and while understandable and realistic in real life, it was not fun nor productive to read about over and over and over again. 

Take for example, the very beginning of the book. It takes over 100 pages for Daunis to realize the new-boy-next-door isn’t who he says he is and that he’s actually an undercover cop here to investigate a new strain of meth and asks for her help. 

Over 100 pages of set up. 

It was so goddamn boring. 

It got better once she became involved with the investigation, but then so did the whining, the overthinking, and the reflecting. The first 100 pages could have been condensed to 20. No joke, I would have gotten the same exposition out of that I did. 

In addition, despite things taking so long or not serving a purpose, I was often confused about what was happening, which is an overall unpleasant experience. Boulley simultaneously describes everything and yet nothing at the same time.

 The reason for this discrepancy is because she often used native language to describe feelings, events, people, etc and while some of the words I learned over time, often the words left me confused or bewildered. 

I appreciate the use of native language, but it also left me with big gaps while reading or made me struggle to put pieces together as they were happening. 

The pace of the novel overall was incredibly bad. Things either took 12 years or two minutes. The actual plot to show up? 12 Years. Daunis and Jamie to fall in love classic YA style? Two minutes. Daunis to find Uncle David’s notebook? 12 years. The final confrontation of the bad guys? Two minutes. 

With any event, it either felt sluggish or way too quick and mashing these two together in one novel was disorienting and frustrating, not to mention it made me not want to read. 

Additionally, while I generally thought the plot was very interesting, who doesn’t like undercover cop stories? I thought all of the characters were very forgettable or downright shells. 

Daunis was...a textbook female character in my eyes. The way she spouted off knowledge like the periodic table to fall asleep or reciting the scientific method wasn’t cool or new, it was irritating.

To me she wasn’t real. 

She was someone’s idea of a female character who seemed cool, but wasn’t. Nothing about Daunis made me think of her as a great character. If anything, she just seemed like an empty vessel I was reading the book through, like the book was happening to me instead (cough cough Mary Sue). 

Some of you may be upset with this statement, and that’s fine, but other than her love of science, her knowledge of geography, and her ties to the community, nothing about Daunis was a real person. 

She hardly had friends, I don’t recall learning anything she liked or disliked (other than Jamie, hockey, and running) , and she was entirely surmised of the people who had left her and the identity struggle she had been born with. I don’t mean to undermine people who struggle with their identity, I know that’s important, but there is more to people than just that. 

None of the other characters are frankly worth mentioning. 

You might ask, what about Jamie? The shadowy, scarred love interest?

*Shrugs*

He’s fine. Genuinely that’s all I can say about him. We don’t even learn his real name as Jamie Johnson is a fake. All I know is that he’s got curly hair, a scar, and doesn’t know who he is. It’s hard to like a character when the character themselves have no idea of who they are. 

The other characters either die or are in the background to progress the plot along. 

To be fair, it’s a good plot. It’s intriguing, it’s mysterious, and I learned more than I ever thought I would about meth and mushrooms, but it doesn’t make up for the dead-end characters or the pacing issues. 

I didn’t hate it, but I also didn’t like it. I guess I can say that I feel indifferent about this book, although the representation of Native Americans bumps it up slightly for me from being dead average. 

The storytelling isn’t spectacular, even if the idea is promising, but if you have been searching for representation like this in YA I can see how this book would be much more impactful and important and I’m happy to have it as a part of the YA collective. 

Recommendation: At the end of the day, this novel is a true smorgasbord. I love the representation, the draws from Boulley’s real life, and the intelligence, but I didn’t see any of the characters as real people, the pacing issues made it hard to gain and keep interest going, and the dialogue often came across to me as someone's warped version of what teenager’s sound like. 

Score: 6/10

[svnaslove]

I went on YouTube to learn the Periodic Table because I was just bored and I want to take chemistry next year so like,, I would be prepared ?? and also lowkey so Kuroo would be proud of me 😔✊ and THE ENTIRE COMMENT SECTION IS JUST KUROO AND BOKUTO STANS FLJDSF IM LOOSING MY MIND I LOVE US 

EVERYONES JUST LIKE KUROO WOULD SING THE WHOLE PERIODIC TABLE SONG AND BOKUTO WOULD JUST TAG IN TO MAGNESIUM BECAUSE IT SOUNDS FANCY WHEN YOU SAY IT IN THE SONG SLDJFL

here’s the link !

[navyhyuck]

week one | previous | masterlist | next

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: hi hi hi fellas here’s the first part (technically, since the other one was an intro) <3 uhh a little fun fact! this project mentioned in this chapter was one that i actually had to complete last year (before corona lol) and i thankfully got a good grade on it even tho my teacher swore on all gods that it was very difficult,, he also let me put up nct posters in the classroom <3 enjoy :) [also, i may have missed some tags!!! if you aren’t here and you sent in an ask before, please do so again since it’s been some time since i last updated this!! ty mwah]

wc :: 2.2k

taglist: @childofthecycle @takoyakkun @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cherry-jaemin @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

There have been far too many unfortunate events unfolding in your day so far, starting off with the stupid guy that had parked just a little into your spot (that still had you thinking more than you had to do for any science test, and you were highly tempted to just smash the car instead) and then moving onto your English class where you were given a pop quiz on the third act of Romeo and Juliet, and then finally, the situation you’re in now.

It’s the last period of your day, which is supposed to be the most laid back in certain cases, but you’re slumped in your desk in the AP Chemistry lab room for a new assignment of partners. You’ve already attempted to convince Mrs. Choi to let you continue being partners with Chaeryeong, who was looking equally as gloomy from the opposite side of the room, but she had passively dismissed your request with something that went along the lines of ‘expanding our knowledge as a class.’ Not only did that sound like bullshit to you, it actually was, but you didn’t do anything more than stay put as she called out the assignments of partners.

“...Chaeryeong and Jisoo. Beomgyu and Yuna. Y/N and Jisung.”

You’re frozen at the sound of your partner’s name, slightly expecting your teacher to pair you up with one of the overachievers that usually sat in the back and talked shit about the ‘untalented’ kids, but you’re also pleasantly surprised. Turning your head, you meet the said boy’s eyes from a distance, shining into yours before a smile spreads across his face almost immediately. You return one back (probably forcibly from the shock you’re experiencing of the Han Jisung actually recognizing you and smiling at you) before whipping your head back to the front, gulping deeply.

Fuck.

“Now that we’ve split into pairs, there is a list of chemical compounds on this table. Come up with your partner and choose one wisely. After everyone’s chosen, I will tell you what your assignment is.” Mrs. Choi gestures vaguely with her hands, turning away as the rest of the students move around to find their partner. You stay planted in your seat, eyes barely staying open as you quietly continue to try and calm the beating of your heart. You’re sure that it’s not healthy, the erraticness overflowing to every single vein and artery in your body until you’re filled with the filling remembrance that your teacher just paired you up with the single most attractive boy in the school. Well—you purse your lips, thinking about that Hyunjin guy from yesterday—Jisung still causes more heart palpitations than some new guy could ever.

When you deem yourself safe enough to finally use your legs without thinking about falling, you stand up, meeting your partner halfway in the middle of the classroom. He doesn’t say anything at first, possibly because you’ve found a newfound interest in your dirty Converse, but he chuckles as a few seconds pass by, making you look up. “Hey there, thanks for looking at me. Wanna go choose a compound?”

You blanch at his choice of words, but you nod slowly. “Uh-huh, yeah. Sure.”

You learn later, alongside Jisung, that your assignment was to successfully convert your chemical compound into another, with exact proportions being massed properly. Just as you listen to Mrs. Choi going on and on about proper dilution, you slowly start blanking out into the space of ‘why did my dumbass decide to take this class’ and ‘this isn’t worth the pain that I’m receiving.’ Thankfully, Jisung has an equally shocked look at his face as the explanation continues, and you’re sure that there isn’t a way the two of you would be able to complete the assignment properly. There was no way; it was practically impossible.

“I just want to remind you guys that this is definitely possible! Students have succeeded well in the past years! You and your partner should be working together as efficiently as possible, which is why I mixed it up a little this time. There should not be any distractions, understood?” Mrs. Choi finishes, nodding as if someone had actually answered her rhetorical question. “Also, I’ll be grading you on how well you manage your time, so if there’s unnecessary chit-chat, that’ll be points deducted from your grade. No exceptions. Got it?”

You think maybe she’s referring to the time you and Chaeryoung accidentally fucked up the entire experimental process by forgetting to set a timer (it was because the two of you were preoccupied by a TikTok dance, though you would never admit it to anyone), or maybe the time that Jaehyun guy almost set half the chemistry lab on fire by not disposing of chemicals properly. You’d think the school would be a little more careful considering they’re letting teenage students handle dangerous chemicals, but thinking of the time that your teacher told you it was fine to handle acid without wearing gloves, it clearly was never a practice.

You and Jisung start to prepare, with you carefully reading through the reaction process several times and measuring out the chemicals as precisely as possible while Jisung handles the rest of the equipment, bringing over pipettes and scales. As the two of you continued working for the rest of the class period, only till the very end did you notice that you were, possibly for once, actually using all of your class time properly.

“Are you going to homecoming?” Jisung asks as you set down the beaker on the scale, startling you with a non-chemistry related question. If you were being honest, you hadn’t thought about it; homecoming wasn’t too big of a thing at your school to begin with, plus, there wasn’t even the cliche dance that everyone thought they’d get as kids. It was one of the first home games played by the football team (which was pretty shitty, for the record) and they crowned a homecoming king and queen every year. Honestly, it was usually a bore.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. Maybe constantly reminding yourself every two seconds that Han Jisung was speaking to you would help, but you couldn’t get over it. At least not today. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He hums thoughtfully, taking the beaker from you as you pass it along.

“Have you ever gone to a swim meet before?” His question sounds rather interrogative in nature, and he seems to notice, stumbling over his words for the first time. “Um—I mean, have you gone to any of our swim meets before? You see, I’m on the team and I feel like I’ve seen you before at one of them, and it’s fine if you have gone! I’m just curious.” He holds up his hands in defense as if he’d said something wrong, the chemical splashing around in the beaker as you widen your eyes.

“Fuck, be careful,” you retrieve the object from his hand, placing it down safely on the table to ensure you weren’t going to take after the setting-the-classroom-on-fire guy. Jisung watches as you do so, perhaps overanalyzing the fact that your gloved fingers brushed past his in that moment, now an apologetic look forming over his face. “Sorry, you were about to spill it on yourself.”

“No, it’s fine!” He replies, the volume of his voice attracting attention from the nearby classmates, including Chaeryoung, who gives you a small smirk. You return a pointed glare in her direction, trying to calm down as you realize you’re overheating from the situation at hand right now. “Shit, sorry, that was kind of loud.”

“It’s okay, Jisung,” his name tastes unfamiliar on your tongue, only having been used around Ryujin earlier. Ryujin, you remember, my best friend that’s practically in love with the boy standing in front of me. “I’ve been to your swim meets before, I mean—no offense but—who hasn’t? You guys are undoubtedly the best team in school, who wouldn’t want to watch?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he chuckles wryly, sounding a bit forced. You decide to ignore it and continue working on the project. Thankfully, your teacher gave the class a few days to work on it, or else it would be essentially impossible to finish. “Wait, aren’t you usually there with your friend? The one with the blue hair?”

You raise your eyebrows, somehow already feeling just a little more comfortable around him. He isn’t as stuck up as you expected, and he definitely doesn’t act like a cocky little shit either. Most importantly, he seems to be just as nervous as you. A small smile forms on your lips. “You mean Ryujin?”

“Ah, yeah! Her.”

“Ryujin and I usually go to watch swim meets together, or at least, she drags me around everywhere and that’s one of the places I’m forced to go.” You chuckle at the memory of her towing you towards the pool, swearing that she’ll buy you a hundred dollars worth of milkshakes for the next month if you keep her company. She never kept the promise, but you still remember the feeling of watching people competitively swim. More importantly, the seven most popular boys in the school at the time. “But I go voluntarily now. I think everyone has to have some sort of school spirit, right?”

You look up at him, your eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights and you don’t notice, but Jisung gulps, avoiding your gaze after a split second. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Totally, definitely.”

The conversation awkwardly ends there, a little weird but better than having to continue talking about how many times you’ve seen him backstroke his way to a medal. You’re not sure if Jisung even knows how popular going to a swim meet is, because when you ask him, he answers with: “I thought all sports got the same audience.” They don’t, that’s confirmed, unless the dance team was performing as well.

The bell rings a few moments later, finally signalling the end of the day with a deep sigh from you. You clean up as quickly as you can, bidding your new partner (and maybe friend) a goodbye to the rest of the day. As you yank out your phone from your bag, going out into the hallway towards your locker, you spot Chaeryoung from the corner of your eye, brushing past you dramatically with a whisper of:

“You’re whipped already.”

dear y/n love,

this is my second letter to you. hopefully, unless you didn’t receive the first one for some reason. but if this is the second one, hi! i hope you had a great day today and if you didn’t, i hope you feel better. i think you probably find this weird, the love letter sort of thing, it’s super cliche and everything so i’d get it if you decided to take this and, like, throw it out or something. but please don’t! please don’t throw it out, i’d be very upset. not that you’d know anyway, but :)

you’re also probably wondering, ‘why is this guy sending me stuff without telling me who he is?’ well, i’m glad to say that i have a purpose. it is, well, just to make you happy. life is hard, ya know, and i don’t think a lot of us would be able to get through everything without someone by their side. not that you don’t have anyone by your side! i’m sure you do, you have friends and family that support you as well, but since i unfortunately do not fall into either of those categories, i have to resort to written letters.

anyway, i’m ending this letter quickly considering my class is ending in hmm, like four minutes? i want to make enough time to get to your locker and give it to you, hopefully without you ever noticing, but if you did end up finding out who i am…just forget about that part. yeah, like my face and all? erase that memory from your pretty head. i’m so sorry, i just realized how much i just didn’t get to a point with this letter at all.

in a few days is the homecoming game, and i may or may not have a little surprise waiting for you there. if you’d like to come, that’s awesome, if not, that’s perfect as well. i know the last thing you’d do is trust someone you don’t know, and it might be a little hypocritical of me to say this, but trust me. in the least creepy way, i will say that yes, you do know me, maybe not as well as i know you. shitttt that sounds so creepy, i deeply apologize. i’m just your secret admirer, that’s it, not a stalker omg. now it sounds like i’m a stalker. okay, anyway.

please come to homecoming, i won’t reveal myself to you just yet (maybe not ever, but it depends) but i have something waiting for you. it’s NOT a death wish, cross my heart, for real.

signed, jay

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 11

Amity allows herself to be led out onto the dance floor and takes hold of one of her date’s hands, the other on her shoulder while their other arms rests on her hip.

If she’s honest, Amity doesn’t expect much. She’s been forced to dance with the children of other wealthy families at these kinds of things before, and while their technical dancing is always superb, it always feels so stiff and wrong. 

She never had, nor ever would have chemistry with them, like she never had with anyone at dancing, except Luz. Again she feels guilty at the thought, right until they start to move.

Luz smiles as she leads them across the dance floor in quick, smooth steps. She could dance pretty well if she said so herself, but she might have also been fitting in some formal practice with Lillith the last two days. Unlike Eda, Lillith is an exacting taskmaster of a teacher, but she won’t deny she learned a lot and moderately well in such a short period of time. 

Amity is looking at her with quiet wonder as they gracefully spin across the floor and Luz grins at her. They don’t need to say much of anything, they seem to be in perfect sync and Amity wouldn’t know what to say even if she did.

The tempo picks up and they follow suit, feet barely touching the floor as they glide around the room.

Luz is deliriously happy at the way they fit together and just the chance to touch Amity without her freaking out or tossing food halfway across a room. 

She loosens her grip on Amity’s waist and she takes the hint, letting go of her shoulder as she spins her away, the skirt of her dress billowing up around her knees before she’s tugged back into her partner’s arms with a flourish that makes her grin.

Their steps are effortless and she feels lighter than she has in a long time. 

She’s not even vaguely aware that people have started watching them or some other couples have moved out of their way. Right now, they have eyes only for each other. 

“Who is that with, Mittens?” Edric asks his twin as they watch the two girls twirl effortlessly around the dance floor. 

“Dunno… but I have a pretty good idea.” She smiles but says nothing else and Edric hums at his sisters’ unusual quiet on the matter. if Emira isn't telling she must have a good reason.

The song is nearing its end, building to a crescendo when the unthinkable happens.

The high polished floor has chosen this moment to make itself known.

Amity knows what happens the exact moment it does. 

She slips.

The heel of her shoe begins to slip forward out from under her and she braces herself for the impact as she falls backward.

It never comes.

Luz sees it happening too and acts with lightning reflexes gained from years of being a klutz. 

Just as Amity begins to fall backward she wraps her arm around her waist and twists them around, redirecting the momentum and straightens out their connected hands, bringing her to a sudden stop just as the song finishes and to the rest of the party, it appears they have just performed the most amazing dip in the history of dancing. 

Amity blinks up at her with wide eyes, their noses almost touching as she’s held aloft and Luz grins and winks before pulling her back to stand.

Several people clap and whistle at the performance and Luz smiles nervously, giving a little bow before they scurry off the dance floor.

“Are you okay?” she asks Amity quietly. 

“F-fine, I’m fine…,” she says, but her heart is pounding in her chest.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Luz asks head cocked.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” she smiles and Luz grins before trotting off to the refreshment table.  

Amity takes the moment alone to try and bring her heartbeat back under control, hand pressed to her chest.

Her fingers brush the brooch, pinned her dress and her heart flutters.

Stars, she's got to get herself under control.

"Here ya go!" 

She jerks when her date has returned and is holding a glass of punch.

"Thanks…" she takes it and their fingers brush.

"Do you like it?" she suddenly asks and Amity is confused for a second before she realizes that she means the brooch, she must have seen her playing with it.

"It's beautiful, you really shouldn't have." She reaches up, fingers brushing the gemstone.

Luz shrugs, smiling.

"When I saw it I thought of you," she explains like it's the most obvious answer in the world, her brown eyes shine in the light of the fire from a nearby sconce and they take on a molten glow.

Amity swallows thickly.

"Thank you, for all of it. The flowers and the tart… it really made my day." She smiles.

"I saw you eating it at lunch," she admits. "I'm glad it made you happy." She smiles shyly as she shuffles back and forth from foot to foot and suddenly Amity is reminded of another brown-eyed girl who can't stay still and instantly feels bad for thinking of Luz, especially when she's having such a good time here with this sweet girl in front of her that she knows likes her.

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure!"

"How did you know about the tarts?" she asks. She's been wondering for days now.

"Oh…," she hums, trying to decide if she should say. She doesn't think there's any harm in it. "Emira mentioned it one day, while we were talking." 

That answered one question but gave rise to several more.

"Are you an illusion track student?" 

"Nope" she pops the 'p' with a playful grin.

"Do we have classes together?"

"Maybe," she drawls, eyes twinkling. Amity finds herself smiling back. So that's how it was going to be.

"What track are you in?" she asks instead.

"Impatient aren't we, Miss. Blight?" She sidesteps the question with a coy smile and again familiarity is tugging at the back of Amity's mind.

Normally she'd be annoyed at the avoidance of her questions but she’s intrigued.

"You're not going to tell me anything are you?" She rests her free hand on her cocked hip and her date only continues to smile. 

Luz is having too much fun with this. 

"Depends on the question, It is a masquerade, ya know?" she teases. 

Amity hums thoughtfully to herself as she tries to think of a question that couldn't identify her date but will give her some information. 

Before she can think of something the current song playing comes to an end and in a puff of smoke her siblings have appeared again on the dais. 

"If we might have everyone's attention for a moment," Edric begins.

"We're going to play a little game," Emira finishes. 

"What's going on?" Luz asks and Amity shakes her head. Whatever her siblings are up to, she has not been informed of. 

Looks like they had decided to take a chance on their parents finding out and have gone off-script. She's not at all surprised.

Her siblings just can't contain themselves at times. It's why they're always in trouble… she definitely doesn't like the impish grin on the twins' faces, she knows it all too well.

She grabs her date’s hand and she looks at her questioningly.

"We should go…" she tugs her away from the dance floor and toward another set of doors.

"What, why?" Luz blinks but allows herself to be drug through the doors out onto a large porch with a short stone wall enclosing it that overlooks Blight manors, large and immaculate backyard, which is bathed in bright blue moonlight.

"Trust me, whatever they've planned is not going to go well." She rolls her eyes. As if to punctuate her words there is suddenly a loud commotion from inside.

"You're probably right…," Luz mutters, looking back in the direction of the party over her shoulder.

Amity leads them over to a large patio set and seats herself in one of the chairs.

Luz opts for hopping on top of the stone wall to face her and Amity smiles.

"You're really not going to tell me anything about yourself are you?" She asks once they're settled.

"I'll tell you anything you want that doesn't tell you who I am," is her reply.

"Oh, how bout we play twenty questions?" she asks excitedly.

"What's that?" 

"It's a game, we just take turns asking each other questions," She says.

"Okay."

"Okay,...um…" Luz taps her chin thoughtfully, wracking her brain. "Favorite color?" She settles on.

"Pink, but I feel like you might have known that," Amity answers, giving her date a sly look.

"I might have had a guess." She shrugs. "Your turn."

Amity hums thoughtfully. Talking of siblings...

“Do you have any siblings?” she finally chooses.

“Naw, only child.” 

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like…,” Amity huffs with a rueful smile, glancing across the lawn as the sounds of chaos inside rages on. 

“Kind of quiet, boring.”

Amity blinks, gaze going back to her companion.

“What about your parents?” 

“It’s just me and my mom, and she tries, but she works all the time, so usually I’m on my own.” Luz shrugs, frowning. She hasn’t ever really talked to anyone about this before. Especially not her mom, it would only make her feel bad.

Amity hadn't ever really thought much about what her life would be like if she were an only child, having to carry all the weight of her parents' expectations. It probably would be kind of lonely too.

"My parents are usually gone too… but it's probably for the better," she mumbles the last part, never having intended to give it voice.

Luz wants to ask but she remembers what Willow said about Mr and Mrs Blight not being the most affectionate, so it might be a sore spot for her crush. She chooses to ignore it, for now. 

"You asked two questions so now I get to ask two," she says instead.

"I guess that's fair…" Amity nods.

"Why did you choose the abominations track?" 

"My parents" Amity shrugged. "Abomination magic is one of the hardest to learn, so it's the most prestigious…," she trails off.

Luz screws up her mouth, sensing a theme and decides she wants to stay clear of any topics that might involve the Blight parents.

"How come you dye your hair?" as soon as the question leaves her mouth she knows it's the wrong thing to ask.

Amity is making a face, lips pursed.  

She's quiet for a long few minutes and Luz is sure her question is going to go unanswered until Amity finally speaks.

"My mom makes me."

Luz can't win for losing it seems…

They're alone on the porch, and for reasons she can't explain she feels safe enough to talk about this with the girl sitting in front of her.

"She likes me and the twins to match, so I have to dye it green." she's pointedly not looking at Luz, who bites her tongue;hard.

She wants to say so many things, like how wrong that is, and if Amity doesn't want to color her hair she shouldn't have to, but she doesn't, because she realizes, for once, this is a situation out of her depth. As with her own mom forcing her to go to a boring summer camp to try and make her a little more normal. 

Living with Eda the last almost two months had given her more autonomy than she's ever known before, but Eda isn't her mom, and while she takes care of her, she's more like a wacky aunt, who lets her do things her mother would probably have a stroke over. So sometimes she forgets that they’re kids, and subject to the whims of their parents.

Luz tries to overlook it by knowing that her mom just wants what's best for her, even if she doesn't like it, but it doesn't feel that way with Amity and Mrs. Blight, but Luz knows enough to know that she doesn't know enough to say anything about it; so she doesn't.

Instead she says: "I bet your brown hair is really pretty." 

Which seems to be the right thing to say if the way Amity is now looking at her is any indication.

She smiles and reaches up to brush some free strands of hair away from her face. The pink of her cheeks not entirely hidden by her mask.

"Thanks"

Amity shared something that Luz thinks is probably personal, so it only seems right to share something back.

"My mom made me go to this boring summer camp to try and make me more normal," she says.

"Normal?" Amity's eyes narrow behind her mask. 

"Yeah, at my old school everyone thought I was weird, so I didn't have any friends and kept getting in trouble for being… a lot." She shrugs.

“Weird how?” 

“I just didn’t like the things other kids liked, or I guess actually the stuff I like is weird to them. I made a model of a griffin and everyone freaked out about the spider breath…” 

“But they do have spider breath, that's anatomically correct…”

“I know, right?” Luz threw up her hands. “Then I auditioned for the school play…” She tells the story and Amity is trying to contain her laughter behind a hand.

“It was just some sausages!” She stuck out her tongue. “But apparently my death scene was ‘disruptive and overly dramatic’.” she finger quotes with an annoyed look.

“That’s rather tame for a play at Hexside, last year the play lead was eaten by a griffin.” 

“Yikes…”

“They got him back… eventually.” She makes a face.  

“So what you’re saying is don’t audition for any of the school plays?” Luz laughed.

“Not unless being eaten by a griffin sounds appealing to you.” She smirked. 

“Noted” Luz holds up a finger.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You must have been lonely…” Amity breaks the quiet and Luz looks at her questioningly. “Not having any friends or siblings and your mom is always gone…,” she says peering sadly at the girl across from her. 

Luz looks down at her feet as she kicks them back and forth, probably scuffing the backs of her brightly polished shoes as they hit the stone wall she’s sitting on.

“Yeah…,” she says quietly, glancing back up to see those bright gold eyes looking at her and she taps her fingers on the cold hard stone beneath them nervously. “It was pretty lonely,” she admits. 

“Are you still lonely?” Amity asks.

Slowly Luz shakes her head.

“Not anymore.”  she smiles, and it’s more subdued than any of the other bright smiles of grins Amity has seen this evening but it has an undeniable sincerity to it that makes her smile back.

“We should probably head back inside…,” she finally says after a while and when she’s noticed that the commotion inside has been replaced with quiet music.

“Ah, right!” She vaults off the wall and lands with a quiet thump before offering Amity her arm. “Shall we?” she smiled in what she hoped was charming. She’s not sure if she pulled it off or not by the way Amity huffs a laugh at her, but she slips her arm through hers regardless.

“Lead the way.” she teases and Luz grins and even in the dark, it’s blinding.

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly prompt please? “For science!” and Friends to lovers!

Taken from my Trope Duos prompt list (prompts are now closed).  #16: “For Science!” and, #17: Friends to Lovers.

Two of my absolute favorite tropes together, you’d think it’d be easy to write… but NO, I stared at this prompt for WEEKS before I finally managed this fluffy bit of Teen!lock.  Please forgive my tardiness, and happy reading! (I hope…)

*

For Science

Molly Hooper.

Yes, she would make the perfect test subject.

For some weeks now, Sherlock had been forming an idea in his mind, an idea regarding his future.  He had no desire for the staid and proper career paths to which so many of his peers, and his superiors, subjected themselves.  He much preferred the idea of working on a freelance basis, particularly in regard to his field of choice: criminal justice.  Scotland Yard was out of the question, the “detectives” there were lazy at best, incurably stupid at worst.  No, he would be their consultant, offering a second (superior) pair of eyes whenever they were out of their depth.  It was quite genius, really.

Using the new memory technique he’d learned, Sherlock had begun constructing a palace within his mind, storing any and all information that might be relevant to his career.  Most of it could be found in books, on the internet, or buried within his subconscious, but there was one area in which these methods fell short.  Social and emotional context was best studied on another person, and also in person, with the subject providing both something to observe, and their own descriptions.

Which brought him back to Molly Hooper.  As a young woman who typically wore her heart on her sleeve, the observation aspect would be fairly easy, and despite her being a year behind him, she was in his chemistry class.  Therefore, she would provide much better insight than the other dullards in the school.

Also, there was the matter of her being his only friend.

Not that Sherlock minded, he couldn’t care less what the rest of the idiots in the school thought of him.  They were, as previously stated, idiots, and he aimed to keep such people at as far a distance as possible.  That said, it would be difficult to convince anyone with whom he was not on good terms to assist him in any experiments, much less this particular one.  Fortunately, he did have Molly, and her innate kindness and similar interest in the sciences substantially increased the chances of her accepting.

His decision made, Sherlock waited until lunch and sought her out in the dining hall.  As usual, he found her seated in a corner table, isolated from the rest of their classmates.  Unlike him, Molly actually liked people, but her shy disposition kept her from reaching out to them.  The two of them would never have been friends, had they not been assigned to one another as lab partners.  The year had set off to a rocky start (Molly timid and stammering and occasionally clumsy, Sherlock aloof and insistent that he preferred to work alone), but over time, he had grown to respect her intellect, so obviously above the cattle surrounding them.  In turn, she had found her strength, no longer stammered, and was unafraid of standing up to him.  Granted, some things had been easier before she’d grown a spine, but he found her much more interesting now, and, most surprising of all, she never bored him.

The focus of his thoughts lifted her head as he approached the table, her usual grin curling her lips.  “Hello, Sherlock!” she greeted cheerfully.

He offered a nod of his head, taking the seat opposite her.  “Molly.  Enjoying the roast pork?”

Molly glanced down at the barely-touched meat and gravy on her tray, wrinkling her nose.  “Not particularly, no.  The potatoes are rubbish as well.  Still,” she added, “it’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

“Mm, debatable,” he countered, and she rolled her eyes with a fond smile.

“Well, most of us need to eat regular meals, Sherlock.”

He groaned dramatically.  “How unbearably dull.”

Molly sniggered, then took a purposeful bite of the roast pork, holding his gaze the entire time.  She grimaced, but did not look away, even after she had swallowed the disgusting food.  “There, see?  I’m not afraid of doing unpleasant things.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her in response, then used her bold statement as his means of changing the subject.  “Speaking of which,” he began, “I have rather an unusual experiment I’m hoping to undertake, and I’ll need assistance.  After some consideration, I’ve decided you would be best suited to help me.”

It was Molly’s turn to lift an eyebrow.  “Had to sit and think about that one, did you?”

“Yes, well, I never said it was a lengthy period of consideration, did I?”

Molly speared another bite of pork.  “Right, come on then.  What’s this experiment?”

“Kissing.”

The fork clattered onto the tray, sending several drops of watery gravy splattering in all directions.  Sherlock frowned and scooted backwards to avoid the spray.  “What the hell was that about?”

Molly’s eyes, already bordering on too big for her face, nearly doubled in size.  “Y-you… you want to… that is…”

“Really, Molly, I thought we’d gotten past the stammering by now.”

“Don’t be a git, Sherlock,” she snapped, and he noted with satisfaction that her voice was much steadier.  “Explain yourself.”

Sherlock sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table (thankfully, the gravy eruption had not reached his side of the table).  “You already know my career plans, of course.”  She nodded in confirmation.  “It has recently come to my attention that certain behaviors, certain… reactions… would be most helpful to understand.  Particularly the reactions following specific forms of sexual stimuli.”

Molly blinked a few times.  “So… you want to know what it looks and feels like to be kissed?”

“That’s rather oversimplifying the matter, but… essentially, yes.”

She fixed her eyes on a spot of stray gravy, gnawing thoughtfully on her lower lip.  Sherlock waited, mustering no small amount of patience to do so, knowing if he pressed the matter, she would be far less agreeable.  Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his.  “This is all just… an experiment?  Strictly for science?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

Molly inhaled slowly, deeply through her nose, and Sherlock saw the decision in her eyes before she vocalized it.  “Okay.  I’ll do it.”

*

Two days later, on an unusually sunny Saturday, Sherlock and Molly took the weekly bus into the nearby town, and made for the most secluded spot available: a little cluster of trees within the town’s small park.  The boughs of four fir trees, standing close together, created a nearly fully enclosed space, the gaps just wide enough to slip through sideways.  Molly grinned to herself at the smell of pine and earth, grateful for the memories and the brief distraction it brought.  Too brief, she mused, as Sherlock sidled in behind her, reminding her of the reason for this unorthodox destination.

Her nerves were sky-high as he invaded her space, his fingers gently closing around her upper arm to turn her around.  Molly didn’t meet his eyes immediately, opting to focus on his shirt buttons (bad idea, they were straining to keep their place against his surprisingly toned torso), counting to three in her mind before finally lifting her head.

…And finding the same nervousness in his face..

“Right,” he murmured, his voice breaking so slightly, she thought she must have imagined it.  “So… shall we?”

Molly swallowed thickly.  “Well, ah…  first let’s… let’s talk about some of the… chemical reactions.  You’ve done, erm, some research on that?”

“Yes,” he said a bit too loudly, clearly grateful for the delay.  He cleared his throat.  “Preliminary research indicates that the act of kissing another human being produces a flood of dopamine, serotonin, and, in cases of great affection in one or both parties, oxytocin.”

��Mmhmm,” she nodded.  “What else?”

“Physiological signs of this release of chemicals include flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, elevated pulse, and labored, erratic breathing.  And, in the male’s case, there may even be an erection.”

Molly fought the embarrassed blush that bloomed beneath her cheeks at his use of… that word.  “Right, well… I think that, erm… just about covers it.”

Sherlock, whose expression had become passive as he recited the science behind kissing, snapped his gaze in her direction.  He looked… well, he looked properly terrified, to be honest, like she’d just told him his mother was coming for an impromptu visit (which had happened once, though the headmaster had been the one to inform him, rather than Molly).  Certainly not for the first time, Molly wondered if this really was such a good idea.  Yes, she’d secretly fancied Sherlock since she clapped eyes on him.  Yes, she’d fantasized about snogging him on numerous occasions, though usually in a more romantic setting.  And yes, she was also aware that this was as close to that fantasy as she would ever get.  But if he was going to be miserable the whole time… she couldn’t do it.

“Look, Sherlock, we don’t have to do this.  I know you want to gain as much knowledge as you can, anything that might help your career, but if you don’t want to kiss me—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted her, his eyes downcast.

“Oh… then… you do want to?”

“No.”

“No?” she parroted back, just a little bit hurt.

He hesitated, a familiar little crinkle forming between his brows as he pondered this.  Molly had a feeling that crinkle would become much more prominent in a few years, as often as she saw it.  Finally, he looked at her, his crystalline eyes wide and worried.  “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Molly paused, waiting for the rest of his explanation… but after a few moments of silence, it became clear that that was the whole explanation.  “Well, I sort of knew that… I mean, if you had, you wouldn’t be carrying out a snogging experiment, would you?”

Sherlock was perfectly still for fully ten seconds, before finally asking, “So… you don’t mind?”

“Of course not!” she laughed, taking care that she didn’t come off as mocking him.  “It’s not like I’ve been snogging boys left and right myself.  I’ve only had one real boyfriend, and... well... you know how that turned out.”

“Hm, yes I remember,” he mused.  "How is dear Jim faring in prison, I wonder?"

"Who cares?" she muttered.  "My point is, you don't need to be self-conscious."

"I'm not…" he began, but cut himself off when he saw the look of annoyance Molly gave him.  "Okay, fine.  I may be the slightest bit out of my depth here "

Molly smiled.  "I should be recording this."

"Don't make jokes, Molly."

"Don't be a prat, Sherlock."

"I'm not—" he was cut off again, this time by Molly, who had abruptly grabbed his face and crushed her lips against his.  Sherlock instinctively closed his eyes as his mind raced to process all the new data and stimuli presented to him.

Warm… soft… smells like cinnamon… wonder if she tastes like it too?  As if reading his thoughts, Molly's lips parted on a breathy sigh, and Sherlock slid his tongue out to taste her.  Mmm, yes, tastes like cinnam—oh, God…  Her hands had drifted upward, fingers carding through his hair, and he simultaneously shivered and flushed, heat spreading all the way down to his toes.

In the back of his mind, a voice whispered that he was supposed to be doing something… but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was.  All he could think was, not enough.  She wasn't close enough, he wasn't touching her enough.  Well, he soon remedied that, firmly locking his arms around her and lifting her off the ground.  Molly gasped against his lips, and the sound sent another flash of heat through him.  A quiet groan met his ears, and as her wide, startled eyes met his, he realized it had come from him.

They remained still, eyes locked and panting for breath, before Sherlock slowly lowered Molly back to the ground.  His arms dropped limply by his sides, and she took a step backward, avoiding his gaze.  At one point, her eyes did stray in his direction, and the pink blush on her cheeks darkened.  Sherlock followed the trajectory id that embarrassed glance, and found—oh.  Well, he had been enjoying himself, hadn't he?

"I-I’m sorry," she stammered.

He frowned.  "Why on earth are you sorry?"

Molly shrugged one shoulder, still not looking at him.  "I dunno… I just… it's fine," she mumbled quietly as her arms wrapped around her middle.

Sherlock watched her begin to shrink into herself, and felt a painful tug against his navel.  In his current, befuddled state, he did not pause to think about what he was doing, he simply acted.  His hands found her shoulders, gently pulling her back toward him. She stiffened, and he held his breath, as if the slightest puff of air would send her running.  Her dark eyes lifted, and finally, the scientific portion of his brain kicked in, noting the physiological signs in her.  Eyes dilated… face flushed… breathing irregular… his left hand shifted slowly up along her neck… elevated pulse.

He couldn't help the gratified smirk he felt stretching across his face.  Molly's eyebrowed pulled together in confusion.  "I'm afraid the results of this experiment were rather… inconclusive."  Cradling her face in both hands, he bent his head, his intent obvious.  "Further study is required."

Molly grinned, all shyness cast aside, and her fingers toyed with the collar of his coat.  "Well… I suppose I can manage that.  In the name of science," she added with mock seriousness.

Sherlock dove in and captured her lips again, hoisting her up off her feet as he had before.  This time, Molly's legs wrapped around his waist, and she eagerly kissed him back.  And as the endorphins and hormones flooded his brain once more, Sherlock decided this was easily the best idea he'd ever had.

[flooffybits]

History not Chemistry

Idol: Kim Minji (Dreamcatcher)

Request: Yep

Anon: Hello~ May I request a JiU highschool! au in which the (fem) reader is in need of tutoring for a subject and the teacher assigns JiU as the reader’s tutor. If your inbox is full of requests, I don’t mind you not doing this one because I don’t wanna overload you with any more requests 🥺👉👈

Author’s note: you’re not overloading me! feel free to send requests any time, I won’t mind

Staring at the little note your teacher had given you, you had to refrain from groaning as you entered the library and looked around. She suggested that you get yourself a tutor when she noticed the dip in your grades, so after a quick talk, you found yourself assigned with one of the school’s most popular girls as your tutor.

You just wanted to dig yourself a hole and be buried in it because of your embarrassment. It wasn’t even because you were dumb, you just struggled with finding the motivation to study about all the dead people who really didn’t interest you on how they made the world that it is, now. There was so much that you had to memorize that it only ended up frustrating you until you basically just said fuck it and moved on.

While you wallowed in your misery, you failed to notice three girls walking up to you until a hand was waving right in front of your face. You pulled your head back a bit, flinching before giggles invaded your ears. When you turned to look at the source, you shrank to see the three smiling at you. The one who was waving earlier, grinned at your expression before she decided to speak. “Hey, Y/n, right? Miss Choi told me you needed a tutor for history.” Her voice sounded so nice and you wondered how you never got to talk to her before this very moment.

“Y-Yeah. That’s me.” You said as you stood up and rubbed the back of your neck. “I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.” You apologized and she waved her hands in front of her, smiling more before she patted your arm. “It’s not a problem at all! I get that not everyone likes the subject.” She assured you before she turned to her friends. “This is Gahyeon and Yubin, by the way. They’re a year below us, but they wanted to come with me to the library for a project they’re working on.”

“Call me Dami.�� Yubin tells you, a friendly smile on both the younger girls’ faces. “We won’t disturb you guys. I hope your studying goes well!” Gaheyon said before raising her fist. “Fighting!” You couldn’t help but smile back at them before watching as they went to another area in the library.

Minji soon cleared her throat to gain your attention, her smile not once disappearing before she’s taking the seat across from you as you both sat down. She opened a notebook before looking up at you. “Okay, so can you tell me a bit on what you have a problem with in particular?” She asked, much more serious compared to her earlier facade and you blinked at the quick change.

“Oh, uh, I just can’t seem to find myself motivated to read up on corpses.” You say honestly and she pauses. Her head cocked to the side before slowly leaning back, her expression becoming a bit more amused while you shifted awkwardly in your seat. “Are you serious?” She chuckled and you looked away, your cheeks burning.

At least you were honest.

A little laugh fell from her lips before she’s closing her notebook and then putting it aside as she thought of something that could help you with your situation. “Well, this is… new.” She bemused while tapping her finger against the table. “How about we make the tutoring fun? That way, you won’t find it boring and we can both have fun while doing it.” She suggested and you slowly nodded your head as she clapped her hands. “Alright! Let’s get to it.”

Confused, you watch as she begins gathering her things while you stayed on the spot. She looked over at you before waving her hand. “Come on, Y/n, let’s get going.” You weren’t sure what she had planned out, but you grabbed your bag and followed her out of the library, unaware of the pairs of eyes that followed after you.

..

You and Minji agreed to meet every Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. That way, the topic would still be fresh in your mind and you wouldn’t be taking up too much of Minji’s time. Every Friday, you told her that you didn’t mind having a shorter period so she could have fun with her friends and do everything else she wanted to do, and she was pretty much agreeing to the arrangement without complaint.

The first session, she took you out to the park and began to add in some little facts about it. “I don’t get how this is helping me study.” You told her with the same confused look and she lightly smacked your arm. “I’m trying to tell you why it’s important to know where things started.” She tells you before she cracked open her notebook and began to associate everything from the past and present.

It was a bit bizarre at first, but after a while, Minji would take you to so many different places while talking about the topics that were covered in your class. And it did help with keeping things interesting. You were able to remember the things Minji would explain during your sessions and you found yourself not only learning, but enjoying the older girl’s company to the point you both considered each other as friends.

Minji, on the other hand, was enjoying this new approach. It wasn’t like her typical tutoring where they stayed at a cafe or library, but she was able to be more herself rather than just teaching another student.

And aside from the topics, when you would both take a break from studying, she found herself opening up to you and vice versa. She was able to notice the little quirks you had and how you would crinkle your nose whenever she said something cheesy or just roll your eyes then laugh when she pretended to be funny.

It made her happy that she was able to befriend someone so down to earth.

She took charge of where you would go for your tutoring sessions, just wanting to see how she could surprise you with the random places and seeing the cute confused puppy-like expression on your face when she does.

Your grades were slowly climbing back up and Minji could see the pure joy in your eyes when you excitedly showed her your test paper. She wrapped you in the tightest hug she could muster, squealing in excitement and then congratulating you with a smoothie during your next meeting.

“Okay, okay, so how about this one.” She said when she pointed to one of the stands and you hummed before looking at her. “I mean, it doesn’t look too bad.” You say as you further inspected the things that were being sold.

“It’s cute!” She exclaimed in protest when she grabbed your arm, making you laugh when she shook it. “I have these at home. It’s nothing new.” You tell her and she gasps when her head turns to look at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” But you shrug your shoulders while smiling at her in a teasing manner. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Who knows?”

Like your usual meetings, Minji has taken you to a different place, which so happened to be the fare that you’ve been excited to come to. When she learned that you weren’t able to come due to all the studying with exams coming along, she decided to make it her own personal mission to bring you, hating the sad look that appeared on your face when you told her about it.

“Oh, Jiu, I didn’t know you were coming here.” A voice behind the two of you said and you spotted Gahyeon and Yubin, smiling as you waved at them, then a few other girls that you recognize as her friends.

The redhead beamed at the others before she’s gesturing to you. “I wanted to take Y/n here since she needed something to help her.” She answered and the tallest among them looked confused. “Help her with?”

“She’s the girl Jiu unnie is tutoring.” Yubin told them and realization dawned on their faces before wide smiles spread on their lips. “Ah, so this is the girl you’ve been hanging out with.” The girl you recognize as Siyeon, smirked. “I’m curious how you’re able to teach her when you’re out doing all of this.” Handong, one of your classmates in literature, said with her head cocked to the side.

“It’s to make things more fun. History is a really boring subject so I wanted to make it less boring by hanging out!” Minji explained, her cheeks tinted with a light shade of pink when she felt the incoming teasing her friends were about to deliver.

The girl that spoke earlier, just smirked mischievously while nodding her head. “Well, we wouldn’t want to keep you from your studying.” She said before throwing her arm around Gahyeon’s neck then pulling her away. “Have fun!” Yubin waved before the rest of their group left the two of you and you looked to Minji, noticing that her face had gone red.

“Are you okay? You look flustered.” You ask worriedly and she quickly shook her head before flashing her signature smile. “Let’s just keep going.” She told you, gripping your arm gently as you both walked around the fare.

..

A week before the exams, Minji asked you to meet her at the cafe right outside the campus like she usually would when it came to your study session. You didn’t question it. When you got there, she was already sitting by the window with your favorite drink already there.

She looked up at you and waved her hand as you came nearer. “Hey. I know this is a little more mellow compared to the other places I brought you to.” She said while fidgeting her fingers under the table. “It’s fine, I don’t mind it. It’s relaxing.” You assure her before taking a sip of your drink.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” You ask her and she lifts her head up while scratching the back of it. “I, uh…” Her cheeks flushed and she was mentally cursing before the words fell from her lips. “I was thinking… we may not have history together, but we do have chemistry.”

You quietly put your drink down on the table, staring oddly at her as her face grew redder by the second. “I… what?” She groans while burying her face to her hands and shook her head. “God, why did I think Sua’s stupid line would work?” She mumbled to herself while you coughed lightly.

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, though you did admit that she was cute with how flustered she was being. “Where did that pickup line come from?” You ask and she takes a quick sip of her drink before clearing her throat, hoping to brush off the embarrassing moment before she looked up at you, but when she saw the light smile on your face, she quickly averted her gaze and whined.

“Stop looking at me and let’s just do this.” She complained, making you giggle before shaking your head. “Okay, okay. But just so we’re clear, we share history class together, which is why you’re the one tutoring me in the first place. But I do agree that we have chemistry between us.”

She was about to interrupt you before you could tease her, but as she heard the half of your sentence, she felt her heart leap in her chest as she looked at you with wide eyes. “You… I…” Hearing you laugh made her start smiling again before she quickly reached over and shoved you. “God, you’re such a jerk.” She laughed along with you.

“Well, judging by that really cringey pickup line, I’m making the assumption that you like this jerk.” She smiled lightly at that and sighed. “Well, you aren’t wrong.” You share a smile before you picked up your bag and drink, gesturing for her to do the same. “Come on, I think I have a place where we can study.”

Grinning, Minji picked her things up as well before she followed you out, her hand slipping into your own as you exited the cafe together.

[sciencestyled]

The Periodic Palette: How Chemical Elements Get Their Artsy Groove On!

Picture this: You walk into an art gallery, and instead of the usual Mona Lisas and Van Goghs, you see a giant painting of a flamboyant neon tube doing the Macarena. Welcome to the wild, wacky world of chemical element symbolism in modern art! If you think chemistry is just about boring old equations and guys in lab coats mixing weird stuff in test tubes, think again. We're diving headfirst into the bizarre and hilarious intersection of chemistry education with art, where elements get their groove on and artists get all scientific.

First off, let's travel back in time, like Marty McFly in a DeLorean, to when chemical elements were the rock stars of artistic symbolism. Medieval alchemists weren't just trying to turn lead into gold; they were creating visual symphonies of elements with symbols that would make your emoji keyboard jealous. Gold symbolized perfection and divinity—think of it as the Beyoncé of elements. Mercury, with its quicksilver dance, was all about transformation, like a magical wardrobe change at a Lady Gaga concert. Artists back then were like the original meme creators, using elements to convey deep, philosophical messages, much like how we use the crying-laughing emoji today.

Fast forward to the present day, and artists are taking these elemental symbols and remixing them like a DJ at a techno rave. Contemporary art has embraced elements with the same fervor as a Twitter feud. Let’s talk about neon, the gassy show-off that makes Las Vegas look like a glittery fever dream. Neon lights are the epitome of modern symbolism, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. It's like the element took a look at Picasso's Guernica and said, "Hold my electron."

Take Dan Flavin, for instance, the artist who decided that fluorescent light tubes could be more than just harsh office lighting. Flavin's work turns humble argon and mercury into glowing masterpieces that scream, "I’m fabulous and I know it!" Imagine a gallery full of Flavin's lights: It's like stepping into a cyberpunk nightclub where the bouncers are electrons, and the VIP section is reserved for photons.

And who can forget the quirky brilliance of Damien Hirst? This guy is like the Kanye West of the art world—controversial, ostentatious, and undeniably genius. Hirst's use of formaldehyde in his works is a literal embodiment of the phrase "preserve your legacy." His infamous shark, preserved in a tank of formaldehyde, is like the world's most macabre aquarium exhibit. If Finding Nemo had a Halloween special, this would be it.

But wait, there's more! We can't talk about chemical elements in art without giving a nod to the queen of radioactive elements: Marie Curie. Her discoveries in radioactivity have inspired artists to incorporate elements like uranium and radium into their works. Imagine an art installation that's not only visually stunning but also glows in the dark like a raver's dream come true. Sure, it might be a tad hazardous, but who cares about a little radiation when you're making art history?

Now, let’s slide into the DM's of education and art. The fusion of these fields is like a Marvel crossover event—unexpected, thrilling, and leaving you wanting more. Chemical element symbolism isn't just a nerdy niche; it's an interdisciplinary goldmine. Picture a high school chemistry class where instead of boring textbooks, students get to analyze Banksy's latest graffiti. Banksy, the art world's Batman, often uses elements like carbon (in the form of soot and spray paint) to make powerful social statements. Imagine the educational impact of discussing the properties of carbon while dissecting the layers of a Banksy piece. It's like learning chemistry through a Netflix binge-watch session��informative, engaging, and oddly addictive.

Educationally speaking, the potential here is like finding a cheat code in a video game. Teachers can use art to demystify the periodic table, turning it from a grid of confusion into a vibrant palette of stories. Each element has its own personality, much like the characters in a reality TV show. Take sodium, for example. On its own, it's a bit of a wallflower, but mix it with chlorine, and bam! You get table salt, the culinary superstar. Teaching chemistry through art is like giving students a backstage pass to the greatest show on Earth, where elements are the eccentric performers and the periodic table is the ultimate reality show.

Case in point: the work of Cai Guo-Qiang, the artist who decided that traditional canvases were too mainstream and opted for gunpowder explosions instead. His art is like a chemistry lesson wrapped in a Michael Bay movie. Guo-Qiang's explosive displays aren't just visually spectacular; they're a lesson in the chemical reactions that make fireworks possible. It's like watching MythBusters meets Cirque du Soleil—a sensory overload that leaves you both awestruck and slightly singed.

But the pièce de résistance of this wild ride through chemical element symbolism in art has to be the interdisciplinary learning potential. Imagine a project where students create their own elemental art, incorporating everything from neon light installations to graphite sketches. They could research the properties and historical significance of their chosen element, then use that knowledge to inform their artistic creations. It's like a science fair and an art exhibition had a baby, and that baby grew up to be the coolest kid in school.

In conclusion, the dialogue between chemistry and modern art is richer than a billionaire's bank account and more dynamic than a TikTok dance challenge. Chemical elements, with their unique properties and historical significance, provide a wellspring of inspiration for artists and educators alike. By exploring this vibrant intersection, we not only make chemistry education more engaging but also highlight the profound connections between science and art. So next time you see a neon sign or a preserved shark, remember: it's not just art—it's elemental.

[getinthering]

Taang Week Day 2: Modern AU

“Thursday, never looking back,”

[ @taangweek​ Day 2: Modern AU

After only two weeks of spring semester, Aang is fed up and ready to drop his geology class.]

A/N: i wanna redo this and make it better and i really struggled with the world-building here ngl so I couldn’t really come up with good names for the buildings or profs.  what can you do¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Inspired by tumblr user @rllyjohnrlly’s modern au, specifically this post.

Read on AO3

***

Science, as Aang was learning, was absolutely not what he had thought it would be.  When he was still in high school, he excitedly declared a zoology major on all of his college applications, thinking he would turn his love for animals into a lifelong career.

All it took was his first college-level biology class to quickly bury that idea.  Between that and chemistry for non-majors, he felt resigned to the idea that all science classes were a bad idea for him, and that he’d better just pick the easiest one in the catalog to round out his general requirements.  Which is how he found himself enrolled in the Introduction to Geology class his freshman spring semester.  He’d learned the three types of rocks and the basics in high school, how hard could it be?

(the answer was very hard)

(but slightly less hard than biology)

After the second week of class, he sat on the floor of Katara’s dorm, textbook draped across his lap as she sat at her desk, diligently working on her homework.  She really excelled at the very classes that almost killed him and he admired that about her.

“Ugh!” Aang groaned, slamming his textbook shut and throwing his head back onto her bed.   “Katara, this is awful.” 

She set her pen down and shifted in her chair to face him, the look on her face one of confusion and concern.  “What’s the matter?” 

“I can’t do this!  I hate this class,” he replied, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Aang, what are you talking about?  You can’t hate a class already, we’re only two weeks into the semester!  What could possibly be so bad about it now?” Katara asked, getting up from her chair and walking over to sit across from him.

He sighed and let his hands fall back into his lap.   He rolled his head to look at her.  “Because it’s awful!  I knew it probably wouldn’t be much fun, but I thought at least it would be pretty easy.  And it’s not!  It’s so hard and so boring and the professor is the most lame professor I have ever met.” 

(she couldn’t help but smirk at that)

“Okay, well, you’re not going to find a class that’s easy, especially in your weakest subject.  It’s just not going to happen.  Maybe it’ll get more interesting after the first few chapters.  Those are always just introductory anyway, they’re way more boring than the rest of the class.” She could see he wasn’t convinced and added, “The drop period was over Friday, anyway, so if you’re going to take a withdrawal, you might as well wait until after the first test.  Maybe it won’t be as hard as you’re expecting.” 

Aang sighed.  She was right.  He hated when she was right.  “Fine.  I’ll stick it out through the first test, but can we please take a study break now?”

***

Thursday morning, Aang walked into the lecture hall, trying his best not to drag his feet.  It took all of his determination that morning to make his way to class instead of staying holed up in his dorm, playing video games until he got hungry.  But he’d promised Katara and he knew he would get an earful if he broke his promise.  Maybe if he just pretended he was Katara for a period, he’d have more ease with the class.  Katara wouldn’t sit in the back, as was his first impulse, she would sit in the very first row.

He compromised and sat about four rows back.  Earbud in one ear, he set his notebook on the table and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the texts from his friends that he’d missed on his walk.  He didn’t notice when a dark-haired girl sat in the seat next to him until she tapped on his notebook.  Startled, he yanked out the earbud and looked at her.  “Um, hello?”

The girl looked at him 

(he couldn’t help but notice how pale her eyes were and the weird quality to her gaze that he couldn’t pinpoint)

and said, “You normally sit all the way in the back.  What are you doing up here now?  We haven’t even had a test.  Did you get in trouble or something?” 

His cheeks felt warm and he knew he was blushing.  “No, I just felt like maybe I’d learn better closer to the front.  This stuff has been kind of hard for me so far, I guess.” 

The look on her face was a little unsettling, like she was staring straight through him.  She finally shrugged, turning away from him.  “What’s so hard about geology?”

“I don’t know.   I guess science classes just don’t come very easily to me.”

“Well lucky for you, geology is, like, as easy as they get,” she said.  He didn’t feel especially reassured, but smiled a little anyway.

“So what you’re saying is you’ll help me study?”  Aang asked sheepishly.

She snorted, but replied, “Maybe I will.  What’s your major, anyway?”  

“Oh, um,” he stuttered, feeling the redness in his face deepening and rubbing his neck in embarrassment.  “I was a zoology major, but right now I’m undeclared.” He wanted to ask her the same question, wanted suddenly to know everything about this brazen, somewhat guarded girl who had sat next to him (and had noticed that it was not his normal seat), but was cut off by the professor calling the class’s attention to the lectern.

***

Seventy-five painstaking minutes of trying

(and failing) 

to pay attention to the powerpoint in front of him instead of the dark-haired girl leaned back in the seat next to him later, the class was dismissed.  The girl had stood, grabbing her bag, and Aang panicked for a moment, trying to think of something to say.  He finally settled on asking if he could walk her to her next class.

She paused, turning her head towards him.  “Well, it’s all the way over in the Humanities building.”

“That’s okay, that’s on the way to my dorm, and I don’t have another class for an hour, anyway.” He swore he saw her smile as she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.  You can walk with me.” 

They talked the whole way there, never seeming to run out of topics.  He was disappointed at how short the walk felt, having so much more to ask her.  He’d found out she was an architecture major with a lifelong special interest in geology, lived in the freshman dorms by the Physical Sciences lecture hall, and that despite being blind, she was as in-tune with her surroundings as anyone.  It was only after they said their goodbyes that he realized he’d never learned her name.

***

Her name, as it turned out, was Toph.

Every Tuesday and Thursday over the next three weeks, they sat next to each other and Aang walked her to her next class.  He actually found motivation to study his notes for the first time, if only for the fact that the recordings she shared with him featured their conversations in the background of the lecture.  

Once, he had been running late after sleeping through his alarms, and while his first impulse had been to go back to sleep and skip his first class of the day, he bolted out of bed and rushed to get dressed, worrying that someone would take his seat next to Toph.

(or worse, she wouldn’t even notice)

He nearly ran all the way across campus.  Heart pounding, he snuck through the doorway as the professor lectured on and slipped into his usual seat next to Toph.  She lifted her head; something he couldn’t quite place flashed over her face.

(relief?)

“Finally decided to show up, huh?” she whispered.

He started to explain himself, but stopped short, deciding on a better way to embarrass himself.  “Yeah.  I got caught up trying to figure out why you’re so good at this class.” 

“Did you figure it out?” 

“It’s because you don’t take anything for granite.”  He looked over to catch the way the corner of her lips tugged upwards through the taken-aback look on her face.

“That was awful.  Don’t do that again,” she hissed at him.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, chuckling to himself.  “You know what I would’ve been if I hadn’t shown up today?” 

“What’s that?”

“A skipping stone.” 

The irritated expression she wore intensified, fending off the smile he so desperately wanted to see.  “Seriously, you have got to stop doing that.  I don’t like puns, especially when they’re that bad.” 

“My sediments exactly.”  He almost expected her to hit him, but was delighted to hear a giggle escape.  A warm feeling spread through his chest and he knew then that he would spend every last moment he had for the rest of her life trying to make her laugh again.

***

“You guys!” Aang exclaimed, slamming the door to Sokka’s apartment closed a little harder than he had meant to.  He continued into the living room, all but throwing himself onto the couch next to Katara without so much as a “hello” to her, Sokka, or Suki.  “I had the most amazing date today.” 

Sokka looked up from where he sat, getting his hair braided, between Suki’s legs.  “You had a date?  With who?” 

“Was it that girl from your geology class?” Katara asked. 

“Yes!  Her name is Toph and I finally got her number and we’ve been talking, like, non-stop,” he blurted all at once.

“Slow down!” Katara giggled.  “Are you going to tell us about the date?” 

“Right, so I’ve sat next to her in geology since I’ve been wanting to do better in that class.  That’s been a bad idea as far as paying more attention, but spirits, it’s been the best.  I was almost late this morning because I slept through my alarms.”  Seeing the admonishing look on Katara’s face, he added, “I actually got up as soon as I realized and went to class, don’t worry, Momtara.  Anyway, I got to class just as the prof was starting the powerpoint, and when I first walked in, I was worried someone else might have taken the seat next to her that I’ve been sitting in, but no one had.  And she actually seemed like she was looking for me.  I mean, she can’t see, but still, when I finally got there and sat down, I swear it looked like she was happy to see me.” 

Not leaving room for Sokka to make a disparaging joke, Aang recounted the jokes he’d told her,

(which he definitely stayed up several nights in a row to come up with) 

how she’d acted like she’d hated them, but he’d caught her snickering a few times.  

“So you asked her out after class?” Suki asked.

Aang blushed and ran a hand through his short hair.  “Not exactly.”  He held up his hands in protest of his friends’ exclamations.  “I always walk her to her next class because it’s on the way to my dorm and I always want to keep talking to her.  Well, we get all the way to the Humanities building and she looks at me and says, ‘I don’t really feel like going to this class today.’” 

“She skipped class?” Suki asked with a mock-scandalous tone.  “Maybe you two are meant for each other.” 

“I know!” Aang said, ignoring the jab entirely.  “And, Katara, don’t give me that look.  I would have convinced her to go to class, but the opportunity was there and I couldn’t pass up taking her to lunch.” Grinning, he told them about how Toph had loosened up while they ate, even agreeing to try his favorite vegan restaurant in the main commons, how cute she was when she smiled at him.  She had even agreed to a study date the following night.

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face when he asked, “So would you guys be okay if she came to hang out with us this weekend?” 

[itsbeautifulhologram]

FatherHood [ch.2]

" This is happening so fast." 

[M/N] had wanted to go into the special child care courses they had at a college in Boulder or in Aspen and the possible idea of going all the way to Colorado Springs. They were costly, even with his two jobs, [M/N] knew a scholarship that he would get in the summer would pay everything from room and board to his parking lot badge. Though, only when he completed his hours working with kids and get a special letter from PC principal who would give it, after [M/N] helps a student in need for the whole summer: Babysitting, tutoring, cleaning, ect. Whatever the student in need was in need .

" It is happening fast." PC Principal said, he stood behind his desk as he talked to [M/N]. One of the good children at his school. " You're very fortunate that the student in need submitted a helper application this morning, and that it's barely the start of the brand new school year. So you have a long school year to work with them, they needed childcare so this should be easy as apple pie."

" Do I know them?"

PC Principal looked over the papers and nods his head, " Believe it or not, they are in your classes, same age and someone you have been with as a platonic friend." He said, reading over the chicken scratch and smiled a bit. " I have email their details and the meeting time, which is after school, and let me know through email if you accept the job. But remember, you're with them for the entire school year. If you chose to refuse then I have to wait for another application, and if only you can wait for that long. But then, you get your nice and juicy letter of recommendation."

" I got it, but I can assure you. I am more than willing to do this childcare, it's gonna be hard with my jobs but I'll do it." [M/N] said, smiling as PC Principal grins a bit, " Then you can go, have a nice day [L/N]." The teen stood up, he walked out his office and shut the door behind him and almost skips down the hallway, a bit bounce in his step. He didn't care who it was, but he literally got his ticket to the letter. Thank god for the stupid program.

He walked back in the door of his Chemistry class, the teacher practically sleeping at her desk as [M/N] took his seat in the middle table once more. " Did something happened with PC?" Stan asked, barely lifting his head up from the seat beside [M/N] they were table mates, the ravenette always cheated off him but [M/N] didn't care really. The poor thing always had a hangover headache during their second period. Plus, they were friends, why wouldn't he help him?

" I just got my first application." [M/N] said, as he looked at Stan who stared up at him. " Today after school, I'll be meeting with some adult or teen mom or something. I'll be working with them to take care of their kid." [M/N] felt giddy that he could have an opportunity like this. " Then I'll be far away from this fucking town."

" That's great, dude." Stan said, as he watched [M/N] practically sparkle as he spoke about his opportunity, the pure happiness made the ravenette feel some sort of envy. Not because he was able to work his way towards college and study whatever he wanted, no, it was just the pure emotion that Stan wished he could feel without the need for beer or weed. " Why do you want be a teacher again?" Stan asked, propping his head up with his hand. [M/N] glanced to Stan and opens his mouth only to jump a bit when he heard a loud bang ahead. They turn their gaze ahead and saw their teacher had fallen to the floor, dead asleep. She didn't even get up when she landed on the floor, instead she began to drool. 

" That." [M/N] gestures to the woman on the floor with a frown. " Is why I want to be a teacher, I can always fall back into daycare work if I need to. People are always plopping out kids." The bell rings and everyone stood up, hurrying out the door with their friends. [M/N] standing up and walked out the door with Stan, the other wobbling a bit and rubbing his temple. " what the hell did you drink this time around?"

" I can't remember, I think it was either bud light or cherry flavored vodka." Stan said as he looked at [M/N]. " You're not gonna tell Kyle, are you?"

" I'm not." [M/N] said as he glanced at the other, " He'll find out the second he smells your breath and your red puffy eyes." Stan groans, slouching a bit as he walked to their next class. Of course Kyle could smell the scent of alcohol a mile a way, and on Stan. He usually didn't drink this heavily but lately there had been reasons to drink. His dad for one, his mom ignoring everything around them, Shelly gone, Sparky getting old, his grades, pressure on the football team, everything seemed to be fucked up or going on to be fucked up.  The last thing he needed was to screw up his relationship with his friends. Wendy was gone and dating Token again, so that's a thing. Though, he wasn't really drinking because of that.

" I know, still, I hate it when he lectures me." Stan grumbled as they kept walking to their next class, kids bumping shoulders into his. He was even too tired to snap at them. " He acts more like my mom than my friend."

" He cares for you Lee," [M/N] said as he nudged the other with a smile, " Somebody has to care for your dumbass, I love you and all but I won't be around long." Stan gives the other a small smile. " See, you should smile more."

" And you should get laid more." Stan retorts and they both share a laugh as they entered their history class only to see their teacher eating a pot brownie, another movie day it seems. [M/N] rolled his eyes as he sits down, Stan going to his assigned seat behind him. [M/N] pulled his phone out like others as the teacher kept plugging the tv in and out of the power port. He was to high and hopefully it won't be something stupid. He was focused on the phone that he didn't hear the chair scrap next to him. 

" Hey, [M/N]." 

[M/N] mentally groans as he heard the voice beside him, he should've sit in the back with Stan. Since the junior year summer break, Craig had been a thorn in his side. He was annoying him, clinging to his side like a needy animal wanting to be pet and be given kisses. Everything he did, annoyed him. Craig first began asking about his day or try to converse with him in the summer, Craig then offers him extra things he accidently bought from stores, usually food. Free food, then it began asking to hang out but [M/N] actually couldn't do it because of work and college visits. Craig didn't know why he was suddenly too friendly but it kind of disturbed him. 

" Hey Craig." [M/N] said as he glanced at the ravenette. He looked still the same since he did when they were younger. Short black hair that hid underneath the dark blue chullo hat with a yellow puff ball on top of the dark blue hat. He wore his dark blue jacket with a bit of his black shirt peeking up and dark jeans as well. He also had black boots on too that replaced the dark blue converse he had as a kid. Craig still had his emotionless face but his dark eyes had edges of light grey in the corners. " How are you?" [M/N] asked politely. 

" Good." Craig replied as [M/N] nods, his eyes glanced away to the teacher who played with his pen, the movie read to be started as kids came inside the classroom. 

" I heard you got your first application." Craig said after a few minutes of awkward silence. [M/N] stared at him, wondering how he knew. " I was outside the office, I was late and I needed a pass. The door is super thin so I heard everything." Craig's eyes glanced to [M/N] who caught his gaze. " Congratulations." He said. 

" Uh, oh, thanks." [M/N] thanked the other, and looked back at the tv. " Though, it Is a bit rude for eavesdropping on conversations." He joked and Craig shakes his head a bit, a low chuckle made [M/N] smile a bit. 

" Well, maybe I like being rude to you." Craig said with a smirk as the bell rings, [M/N]'s cheeks turn a bit pink. " It's fun being rude to you too, you and your color changing cheeks." [M/N] scoffed, eyes rolling at the statement as the lights turn off and the history movie started. [M/N] kept watching the movie, leaning against his metal chair a bit but he could feel Craig watching him, he caught him a bit from the corner of his [E/C] eyes. Why is he watching me? Werido..

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The school day was boring, nothing really to learn from the teachers who were either crying, high or sleeping. That was High school for you in South Park. Another reason he wanted to be a teacher.

[M/N] walked down the sidewalk towards the meeting place at Tweek's coffeehouse. The person had said he would be late because their kid was having a fit. It must be a baby or toddler, [M/N]'s specialty. He kept walking down the street with a hum, seeing the coffee shop and hurried over. The smell of warm coffee and the sound of chatter was the first thing he had heard and smelled when [M/N] walked in. He can see Tweek twitching and taking orders, talking about the new specials and such. [M/N] sits his bookbag down as he sits down into a booth, he pulled out some math homework to do. 

He hated math but might as well get it over and done. He kept scribbling in the answers after figuring it out. His focus on the papers in front of him, his [E/C] eyes glancing up once in a while to see the possible parent and child but no one came towards him. He was getting a bit nervous and especially getting antsy. Maybe it was some rich socialite? Someone with too many kids and needed a lot of help? He didn't know and he wanted them to be there fas-

" [M/N]?" 

[M/N]'s head snapped up and smiled only for it to fall when he noticed who called him. His pencil falls and rolls off the table, Kenny noticed and a weak smile pulled on his pale lips. Yeah, I'm just as shock, Kenny thought as he  looked at his ex-boyfriend and opens his mouth but the baby who was sleeping in his make-shift sling began wailing when the door of the shop slammed closed with the jingle of a bell. People began sending Kenny dirty looks and teens gave them annoyed ones too.  [M/N] stood up once Kenny gently took the baby out, trying to calm him down and [M/N] grimaced. The baby was in clothes that was a couple months too big for him, he had Karen's smallest socks on his hands, probably to prevent himself from scratching at his face. 

" Hand the baby over, Ken." [M/N] ordered as he moved from the table and made grabby hands towards the blond who slowly hands his son over. [M/N] carefully took the baby, support his head and body. He cradles the baby against his chest and cooed over him, the baby kept crying as he stared up at the new person. His chubby arms moving around, the sock-gloves lightly graving [M/N]'s chin. " Hey, baby McCormick, don't hit me." [M/N] cooed as he looked at the baby, gently rocking him. " When was the last time you fed him?" [M/N] asked as he kept his gaze down on the baby. 

" Two hours ago." Kenny answered, as he watched [M/N] gently handle his son with wide eyes, he wasn't shock really, a bit that [M/N] went right to mother hen mode. Though, [M/N] was just natural with kids of all ages. " I need to get more formula." Kenny added, he had ran to the gas station this morning after dropping Karen off at her school. They had one can, but his son drank it all. 

" Go to Tweek, tell him you need baby formula." [M/N] said, " The one without meth too." Kenny checked his pockets and [M/N] sighs, using one arm to gently cradle the baby and Kenny watched anxiously as [M/N] used his now free hand, and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. " Here. Get me an ice vanilla coffee too." [M/N] throws the wallet and Kenny almost didn't catch it. [M/N] held the baby with both hands and arms just as Kenny hurried in line just as the last person left with their coffee. 

The baby kept crying, not as loud but it was still annoying people next to him. [M/N] smiled down at the baby and cooed, " Okay, Okay, get it out of your system." He smiled and the baby hand raised up, and grazed [M/N]'s chin with his gloved hands again. " You keep trying that, but you can't hit me little McCormick." [M/N] chuckled as he resumed his rocking, humming a bit.

"I'd heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? Well, it goes like this The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

[M/N] began singing sweetly, almost in a childish tone to the baby. He still moved his arms around but his crying is slowly reduced to whimpers. His bright teal eyes staring up into [M/N]'s soft [E/C] eyes. Small tears ran down his pale cheeks from his small crying fit, but seemed to slowly calm down to [M/N]'s singing.

"Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya She tied you to the kitchen chair She broke your throne and she cut your hair And from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

Soon the whimpers stop and the baby's arms stopped moving around, but his full attention was solely on the new person who smelled nice unlike the blond who held him. The stranger smelled way better than the woman too. His teal eyes watching him, and [M/N] smiled down at the baby. The smile made the baby smile back.

"Well baby, I've been here before

I've seen this room and I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew ya And I've seen your flag on the marble arch And love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

" Your voice has never lost it's pitch." Kenny said as he walked back from the counter, bottle in one hand and ice coffee in the other. He had heard the final verse of [M/N]'s singing and sat the coffee down. [M/N] sat down, using one arm again to hold the baby and used the other to grasp the bottle from Kenny's hand. He tested it against his arm before slowly feeding the tiny McCormick. [M/N] watched the baby drink the formula, holding him carefully. He was hungry, and probably startled when the door closed. " I didn't think they would send you for help, if you're the one I'm looking for." Kenny said, standing and watching his son eat. 

" Me either, nor did I think you'll have a son so soon." [M/N] said, not looking up as he fed the baby. " What's his name?"

" Uh, I..haven't give him one." Kenny said, watching his son eat. Smile on his lips, as his son ate instead of crying. He had been crying all day, used his diaper and ate. It was nice to see him eat and calm down. 

" Sit down Ken," [M/N] said as he placed the bottle down on the table once the baby finished eating half of his milk. [M/N] fixed the baby in the burping position and gently pats the baby's back and a large burp came out the baby boy.  " Good boy." [M/N] praised as he fixed the baby in his arms, he laid in his arms and kept watching [M/N] with bright teal eyes. [M/N] lifts his head up and looked at Kenny who pulled a chair from a random table. " I'm free in the mornings before school and I am willing to stay until 12 am at nights. Though, I can take him to my job at the daycare on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Friday." [M/N] explained, as he raised an eyebrow. " If you need me to watch him over the weekend then call or text me before hand. Because I may be hanging out with friends or-"

" We have the same friends." Kenny pointed out, and [M/N] narrowed his eyes at him which make the blond cringe. " Uh, you don't have to be formal with me either, I mean, I know you take child care seriously but jesus."

" Kenny, I have to." [M/N] said as he looked down at the baby, who immidealty gives him a toothless smile. [M/N] smiles back at the baby, " I want to keep us professional. Plus everything is paid for by the program at school which you would know, if you came." Kenny dropped out junior year after their broke up. He was surprise but then he heard rumors he dropped out for some hooker, [M/N] could be holding the hooker's son. 

" Low-blow, huh?" Kenny mutters to himself as he looked at [M/N]. He looked the same, Kenny had avoided the other for a bit after their break-up. He had his own things too, work, watching Karen, smoking, sex, and girls. [M/N] looked the same, minus the fact that he was bitter towards Kenny which made sense. " Uh, what's a good name for him?" Kenny asked, drawing circles with his fingers on the table top. Hoping [M/N] wouldn't be so cold when it went in the baby direction.

" I have no idea." [M/N] said, as he looked down, a smile still on his lips and the baby gurgled once the attention was on him again by the stranger. " He looks just like you."

" That's what Karen said. I think so too." Kenny said as he smiled, hearing his son gurgled happily. " I was thinking of Kenny Junior." [M/N] gave Kenny a bitch face and Kenny chuckled nervously. " Or not, if you think you can come up with a better name, then say it." So much for Kenny's idea of names. 

" I like Georgie." [M/N] said, as he waved his finger in front of the baby's face. The baby tried to take the finger but his gloved hands prevented him. " Georgie McCormick. I mean-" [M/N] glanced at Kenny and stared. "Like whatever, name him.." [M/N] didn't mean to say that out loud, the baby could have a name that the mom gave it but he didn't want to know the mother at all. She must've left Kenny after the birth since Kenny got him for help.

" No way," Kenny grins seeing [M/N] trying to keep his professional  tone and atmosphere. Kenny actually liked the name, it had a nice ring to it like [M/N] said with his surname. Georgie McCormick. " That's his name, it's cute." [M/N] nods his head as he sips his ice coffee, Georgie gently batting it with his gloved hand and [M/N] placed it down. He tried to ignore the buzzing and warm feeling of Kenny's approval, it has almost been a year and the feeling in him felt the same as it did when he was together with the blond.

" Anyway, do you agree with my terms?" [M/N] asked, as Kenny stared at the other than the look on Georgie's face. Peaceful, calm, safe. " Kenny?"

" Yeah," Kenny nods, a smile coming to his face. Safe, his son will be safe with [M/N]. " I agree. You're a life saver." 

" I know I am." [M/N] replied as he looked at the baby, another happy noise escaped from his mouth. Georgie moved, against [M/N]'s chest, a yawn escaping his lips and [M/N] smiled down at him. Even if he came from a hooker, [M/N] was kind of glad the baby looked more like Kenny than the mystery woman.